by Sarah Kuhn
“I’ll help you find a costume,” I said.
“What?!” Aveda blurted out. “But . . .”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. Shelby turned and stared at Leonora’s house again, as if in a trance.
“Something else is going on here,” I whispered, jerking my chin at Shelby. “Let me go with her, see if I can get it out of her. You try to track down Richard—maybe Scott can do a locator spell, go grab some of Richard’s possessions from the cottage. Somehow all these pieces fit together, we just have to figure out how.”
“All right,” Aveda said, frowning in Shelby’s direction. “But if it turns out that all she actually needed was a Halloween costume and the two of you come back with matching Sexy SpongeBob outfits or something, I will be severely displeased.”
“Jeez, of course not,” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “I’m much more of a Sexy Squidward anyway.”
* * *
I took Shelby to the best costuming source I knew—the Berkeley branch of my friend Shruti’s fabulous vintage boutique. Shruti had started off with a single tiny shop in San Francisco. A pop-up edition at Pussy Queen (yes, the same lingerie emporium with the demon portal on the floor) had grown her now-rabid fan base, and in the past year, she’d expanded to three new locations in all areas of the Bay.
Her Berkeley shop was positively palatial compared to the minuscule store she’d started with. It was two stories, crammed top to bottom with beautiful vintage finds, all organized by era, color, and style. An entire rack on the bottom floor was devoted to outrageous Halloween-worthy garments, and as soon as we entered the shop, I dispatched Shelby to go paw through it.
“Well, hello!” Shruti came bustling up to me, a bright smile lighting her face. Her gorgeous mane of black hair was twisted into an elaborate formation and piled on top of her head, and she was wearing a bright yellow satin frock with a nipped-in waist, a full skirt, and a glittery rhinestone-emblazoned collar. “I haven’t seen you in forever.” She swept me into a fierce hug, then pulled back, studying me. “Look at you, girl, you’re—”
“Do not say glowing,” I said, laughing. “I know that’s not true.”
“I disagreeeee!” Shruti trilled, linking her arm through mine. “But actually I was going to comment on this new glamour Scott has going on. It’s nice. Subtle.”
“Don’t forget to call me Eliza in front of Shelby,” I said, motioning to the girl, who was all the way across the shop, out of earshot. She was scrutinizing a long, black gown on the Halloween rack. “I have a cover to maintain.”
“Of course,” Shruti said, guiding me over to the rack. “This new mission you and Aveda are on sounds very exciting—and I love any chance to provide costuming.” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.
“Finding anything, Shelby?” I asked, as we approached the girl.
“Uh, yeah, I guess these?” Shelby held up a messy pile of clothes she’d amassed.
“Wonderful, let’s get you into a dressing room!” Shruti said, taking the clothes from her.
Shruti guided us to the back area of the shop, which featured a row of dressing rooms and a collection of funky flowered couches—perfect for a little fashion show.
I plunked myself down on one of the flowered couches and waited. Shruti stayed standing, occasionally glancing toward the front of the shop for new customers.
“Ooh!” Shruti said, when Shelby emerged moments later, clad in a brightly colored mini dress with a pattern of interlocking, psychedelic swirls. “That’s vintage Pucci, can you believe someone wanted to part with such a precious baby? So cute, so mod. Tease your hair up and add some go-go boots and you’ve got a costume.”
“Mmm, I don’t know,” Shelby murmured, tugging at the hem. “It’s a lot shorter than what I usually wear.”
“I think it’s perfect,” Shruti said, waving a hand. “Oops! Looks like I have a new wave of customers. If you’ll excuse me . . .”
She bustled off to the front of the store.
“Why don’t you look in the mirror?” I encouraged Shelby. “You really do look fantastic.”
Shelby shuffled over to the mirror, pulling self-consciously at the dress with every step. I pushed myself up from the flowered couch and joined her, both of us scrutinizing her reflection.
“Maybe with a pair of big hoop earrings?” I said. “Accessorizing is more Angelica’s forte than mine, but I bet she’d help.”
Shelby didn’t respond, just kept fiddling with the dress, turning this way and that. Hmm. If I just straight-up demanded that she tell me what was going on, she’d probably bolt. But what was with this charade of picking out a Halloween costume?
“Remember, you’ll probably want to wear tights under it anyway,” I blathered, deciding to just go with it for now. “The Courtyard Bash is outside and it’ll be cold tonight.”
“Good point,” Shelby murmured, her eyes narrowing as she zeroed in on a tiny piece of lint on the dress, then picked it off.
We stood there in awkward silence for a few moments as she picked a few more pieces of lint off the dress—some of them nonexistent. It felt like we were frozen in a very mundane moment, unsure of what to do next. I couldn’t help but feel that whatever I said next was very important, and would either take me a step closer to unlocking the truth about everything . . . or would shut that door forever.
“Shelby,” I finally said softly. “Honey, you know you can talk to me, right? About anything. I want to help you however I can.”
“I . . .” She looked at the floor, then met my gaze in the mirror, her expression growing more serious as she seemed to come to a decision. “You can’t trust Leonora—Professor Quinn,” she said baldly, her voice getting stronger with every word.
“Can you tell me why?” Aveda would be jumping out of her skin at this point, demanding answers. “I’ll listen, I promise. And I’ll believe you, Shelby. You don’t have to worry about that.”
“She . . .” Shelby grimaced, tugging at the hem of the dress again. “She and I were at the same, um, school. Before this. She was actually kind of my faculty advisor.”
“Oh, really?” I kept my voice neutral, even as my heartbeat spiked a little. Was this why there had been such a weird vibe between Shelby and Leonora at the ghost society meeting?
“I was kinda like her protégé?” Shelby screwed her face up, as if trying to decide if this was the right way of putting it. “She taught me a lot. But then I wanted to, um, change my major. And she got angry at me.”
“What happened?” I honestly had no idea what Shelby was going to say next, but my heartbeat sped up even more, convinced I was on the brink of something big.
“She . . . I guess you could say she blackballed me. At that college,” Shelby said. “I couldn’t seem to get a new advisor, my major change paperwork kept getting mysteriously lost. All my friends stopped talking to me. So I decided to transfer.”
“Didn’t Leonora start teaching at Morgan before you transferred in?” I asked, trying to follow her story. “Why did you want to go where she was going?”
“Um, yes,” Shelby said hastily, tugging at the hem of her dress again, her eyes going to the floor. “My transfer paperwork was held up. Because of Professor Quinn. By the time it went through, I’d already committed to Morgan. I had to go. And then I found out she was here, too.”
She met my eyes in the mirror again. Her expression was pleading, desperate. She knew there were things about her story that didn’t add up, but she needed me to believe her. And some part of it was true, I could see that very clearly. How had Leonora and Shelby ended up at the same campus, after all that? It was way too much of a coincidence.
“Why not report her?” I kept my voice soft and gentle, trying to convey that I was on her side. “That doesn’t sound like the behavior of a reputable professor.”
“I-I know,” Shelby stuttered. “But she
knows things about me. I . . . I did some stuff at my last school and she kind of helped me out of a jam and ever since I’ve been at Morgan, she’s threatened to expose me and I just can’t—” She stopped abruptly, her voice catching as tears filled her eyes.
“Okay—it’s okay,” I said soothingly. “Come on, let’s sit down on one of these nice couches and talk this out.”
I led her over to the squashiest of the floral couches and we sat down together. She kept toying with the hem of the dress, picking at loose threads.
“Shelby,” I said, trying to get her to meet my eyes. “I know there are things you’re not telling me—I want to help you, I want you to be okay. I want everything in the world for you. But you have to talk to me. Please.”
She raised her eyes, searching my face, her lower lip trembling. Then she burst into tears.
“Oh no, honey . . .” I murmured. I pulled her into my arms and she collapsed against me, explosive sobs wracking her body. “We’ll fix whatever it is,” I murmured, stroking her shaggy hair. “You can trust me.” That only made her cry harder, so I just kept stroking her hair, making soothing little noises.
“P-Pippa,” she finally snuffled out, her face pressed against my shoulder.
“What about Pippa?” I coaxed, pulling back and resting my hands on her arms.
“Sh-she . . . I’m worried about her,” she whimpered, scrubbing at her nose with the sleeve of Shruti’s beautiful dress. I tried not to wince, keeping my expression open, listening. “Leonora knows she’s my only friend and when Pips disappeared, I just thought . . .” Her face crumpled again, and she scrubbed more vigorously at her nose with her dress sleeve. An excess of snot now decorated those beautiful Pucci swirls.
“You thought Leonora had something to do with it?” I frowned, trying to work it out.
She nodded emphatically. “I-I don’t know how. But Leonora knows I care about Pippa and . . . and . . . it’s only a matter of time before . . .” She burst into tears again, pressing her face against her much-abused dress sleeve.
“Shelby,” I began—then I paused, gnawing at my lower lip. A hazy wisp of an idea was floating around the back of my brain, I just couldn’t quite figure out how to verbalize it. “I know this is difficult to talk about, but . . . do you think Leonora had anything to do with the courtyard ghost coming after you? Since the ghost seemed to know so much about you personally, all your fears and worries?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she whimpered. “Maybe.”
I paused as Shelby continued sobbing, running a soothing hand down her back. Was Leonora working with Richard? She’d seemed genuinely devastated by the whole affair. And their potential motives, on the surface anyway, seemed unrelated. Leonora had said Richard wanted me back, and Ghost Richard had indicated that Shelby and all the other haunting victims were chosen because their specific circumstances would hit me especially hard. Meanwhile, Shelby was saying Leonora wanted to get back at her for whatever she’d done at her old school. Could Richard and Leonora have joined forces to take care of all of these things at once?
“I don’t understand,” Shelby murmured, almost to herself. “Why didn’t she just keep coming for me? Why did she go after other people?” She shook her head. “I would’ve run from that courtyard ghost every night if that would’ve meant she stayed away from Pips. I mean, I even tried to listen to what the courtyard ghost was telling me, I didn’t run at first. Not until it seemed like she was going to run me over with her fucking horses. And then I went back the next night, but she didn’t show, and then . . .” She took in a great gulp of air and blew her nose loudly on the sleeve of Shruti’s dress.
“Wait a minute,” I said, trying not to think about all the damage that poor dress was enduring. “You stopped for a moment and . . . listened to the ghost? You didn’t mention that when we talked before, at the Mara Dash party.”
“Yeah.” Shelby nodded. “I thought . . . well, I dunno what I thought, it was early, I was still kinda soaking in the adrenaline from crew practice. But it seemed like she really wanted me to hear her.”
“You listened to her,” I murmured. For some reason, I was stuck on that. It seemed like such a small thing, and yet . . . wasn’t that what the woman who had become the courtyard ghost had wanted from the men in her wagon train, the ones who had completely ignored her? Shelby had given it to her so freely, even though she was being ambushed by a terrifying supernatural creature.
“Do you remember anything else about that night?” I said.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she snapped, looking overwhelmed. “I just know that all this bad stuff started happening after that and . . . I . . . I wish I’d never come to Morgan!” She burst into tears again.
“Shelby . . .” I said gently, reaching for her.
“No, stop—I can’t. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” She leapt to her feet, still sobbing, and bolted for the door.
“Dammit—wait!” I yelled, scrambling up from the squashy couch.
But she was already out the door, running away. I cursed myself for not having the power of super speed.
“Everything all right?” Shruti said, popping her head around the corner. “I mean, obviously not, but . . .” She trailed off, watching as Shelby tore down the street. Wearing her beautiful vintage dress with the now-destroyed sleeve.
“Yeah, not really.” I heaved a mighty sigh, and watched Shelby’s bright form get smaller and smaller in the distance. “I’ll pay for the dress, obviously.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“I CAN’T BELIEVE we’re doing this.” Aveda frowned in the mirror as she pulled her hair into its signature power ponytail.
“What? It’s kinda fun.” I stepped into mirror view next to her and grinned. “And you know, Angelica and Eliza would totally go as Aveda Jupiter and Evie Tanaka for Halloween. That’s just science.”
“As a science major, I take offense at your cavalier tone,” Aveda sniffed. She adjusted her ponytail and studied our reflections. “But I suppose this is kind of hilarious.”
It had only been a few hours since Shelby had run away from me, and we were preparing for the Halloween Courtyard Bash. I’d tried to get ahold of Shelby in the intervening hours, to no avail.
We’d decided to wear the official Evie and Aveda costumes Scott had sent over. With our glamours in place, the effect was downright eerie. Our real costumes were the ones we were wearing under the actual costumes. Of ourselves.
“I’ll probably talk about this next time in therapy,” I said, plucking at my cartoon duck shirt. “But for now, we should get out there.”
“Let’s do it,” Aveda said, putting on her game face. Or maybe it was Angelica’s game face. Whatever. “I’m still mad I spent all afternoon looking for Richard, and nothing—even with Scott’s locator spells. So now we’re keeping an eye out for Richard and Leonora and Shelby. Anyone else?”
“Hopefully not,” I said. “Untangling the lies all three of them have told us is more than enough to deal with—oh . . .”
Suddenly, I was doubled over, the sensation of pins and needles running up my arms as sharp pain stabbed at my abdomen.
And then I was on the floor.
“Evie!” Aveda was at my side immediately, her face panicked. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?!”
“I . . . I don’t know,” I gasped, clutching my stomach. The pain had been fast and brutal, a quick, decisive stab to the gut. Then it had just evaporated. “There was pain and now . . . now I feel totally normal. Maybe it was a cramp or a new pregnancy complication or . . .”
“We need to call Doctor Goo,” Aveda declared, her brow creasing. “Maybe take you to the hospital, just to make sure—”
“No,” I said, cradling my stomach, on high alert for more pain. “I mean, not yet, okay? Annie, we’re so close to figuring out what’s happening here at Morgan—I can feel it. And we’re the only
ones really protecting these students, considering all the shady administrators and lying faculty we’ve come up against. No one else is totally on their side. No one. We—I have to help them. Please.”
“Okay,” Aveda said, her eyes still full of worry. “But I’m keeping very close watch on you, and if I notice anything out of the ordinary—anything—we’re leaving. No arguing. Please, Evie.”
“Of course,” I said, squeezing her hand. I paused for a moment, letting myself breathe—but there was no more pain. Maybe it had simply been a weird cramp or something. “Look at you, being all mushy. You gotta get in character as the commanding, imperious, altogether confident Aveda Jupiter.”
“Ugh. Even Aveda Jupiter gets tired of being Aveda Jupiter sometimes.” She grimaced and squeezed my hand back. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
* * *
“Wow.” Aveda’s gaze swept over the courtyard. “This is quite the scene—a little more happenin’ than the cheese platters of the reunion, eh?”
I nodded, drinking it all in. The Morgan Halloween Courtyard Bash was yet another tradition I had no context for since I’d never been able to attend. There were twinkle lights in the trees again, but these were all orange and black—very festive. Long tables lined with pumpkins were set up with papier-mâché cornucopias stuffed full of candy and other treats. Some kind of “mist” drifted over the proceedings, perhaps piped in from a dry ice machine. But the crowning achievement of the event was most certainly the crowd of students, all done up in jaw-droppingly elaborate costumes. There were Sailor Scouts and Pokémon and witches of every kind, a colorful mass that made the courtyard look more alive than I’d ever seen it. Night was settling in, the stars coming into view. It was cold, but festive.
“Look,” I said, nudging Aveda. “I think I see someone else in an Aveda Jupiter costume.”
“What?!” she said, perking up. “Ooh! Perhaps I can assemble my army of Avedas after all.”
