Ever Lost (Secret Affinity Book 2)

by Melissa MacVicar

  “Are you going to say anything?” she asks.

  “I don’t like lying, Jade. I especially don’t like lying to people when I don’t even know why. I feel like a really bad person right now, and I’m pissed that I let you talk me into doing that.”

  “I know it seemed bad, but I had a really good reason, a reason that the Averys would agree with if they knew. It’s not going to make sense to you right now, but maybe I can tell you soon.”

  I stop at a light and look over at her. “You don’t think he killed himself either, do you?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” She focuses her eyes on the marble.

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t tell you. Can you try to just believe me about this?”

  I sigh. “I wish you’d just tell me what’s going on. I can handle it.”

  “I know. I should. I just need a little more time. I promise I won’t make you lie to them again.”

  The light turns green, so I face the front again. “Fine. But only because I can tell you aren’t lying to me right now. At least, I don’t think you are.”

  “I’m not. I swear I’m not.”

  I tap my index finger on the stick shift, thinking about what I know about Jade. One minute, I’m not sure I can believe anything she says, but the next, I think I can. I’m almost positive that she hated lying back there as much as I did, so she must have a good reason. After a few minutes, I say, “I believe you.”

  “Thank you. Let’s just forget we even went. Do you wanna come over and study for physics?”

  “Okay.” I’m unable to resist her. She has me, and she has no idea. I have fallen so hard and so far I can’t even tell which way is up when it comes to her.

  Later that night, when I’m lying in bed, unable to fall sleep, I keep trying to process why. I wonder what she’s up to with this whole Avery thing. There must be a reasonable explanation, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t come up with one. Jade can’t be crazy. I’ve never been that wrong about a person, but maybe my feelings for her are clouding my judgment.

  I decide to try researching Avery’s death. At the time it was all going on, I watched the news stories on television and read a few articles online. But Jade’s focus seems to be the suicide aspect of it, so I get on my laptop to search for more about that. Nothing new pops up, though, and I quickly give up.

  She says she’ll tell me eventually, so I guess I’ll just have to wait and see. With Jade, that seems to be the only thing I can ever do.

  Jade

  Chapter 21

  Fraser places my most recent quiz facedown on my desk and whispers, “I’d like to see you after class.”

  Crap! My grade must be a big fat F. Dad is going to flip if I start getting bad grades here. All he’s been hearing from Mom is how smart I am. I turn over the paper.

  A red B minus. Huh? A B minus on a quiz this hard seems fine to me. I’m not sure what Fraser and I need to talk about, except maybe his unnatural obsession with teenage girls and how he’s being haunted by a man he might have murdered.

  We get through class without a visit from Avery. I haven’t seen him in a few days, and now would be a convenient time for him to appear and make Fraser forget he wants to see me. I decide not to summon him, though, because I don’t want him to do anything to me in front of the whole class. Ghosts do have moments of clarity, but for the most part, they’re bat-shit crazy.

  When class is over, I pack up quickly. I glance at Fraser, and he’s looking down at his plan book. Trying to move toward the door with the others, I position myself behind a tall boy. Maybe Fraser will forget. Maybe he won’t remember until I’m gone.

  Just as I’m about to step over the threshold, he says, “Jade?”

  I veer toward his desk, creating a small traffic jam. That’s me, always going against the grain.

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “Did you forget?”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” I force a smile.

  “Can you come after school today? I’d like to speak with you about some of your answers.”

  “Could we go over it now? I have lunch.” I reach into my bag and pull out the quiz. Any way I can avoid returning to his office is a win for me at this point.

  “No. After school is fine.” He grins, large and wolfish. I think the big bad wolf is flirting with me.

  “I’m supposed to get picked up right after school.”

  Noemie is coming. She’s taking me to do a banishment with her in the city.

  “It won’t take long. Just come for fifteen minutes or so.”

  I stand there, holding my quiz and trying to plan my next move. Finally, I just say, “Okay.” He wins this round. He gets to try to corner me in his office again and show me more of his Renaissance porn.

  I walk down to lunch, all sorts of thoughts running through my head. I want to find Avery’s datebook. I’d like to search Fraser’s office and maybe even his house, but I realize now that I might have created a problem by visiting the Averys. If they call the school and ask for the date and plan books, they might let on that Mateo and I visited. Depending on who they talk to, this could alert Fraser to my snooping, which would not be good. He already seems to think that I know more than the average kid about what’s happening to him, based on my reflexive responses to Avery’s antics.

  In the cafeteria, I take my seat at Kira’s table. The other girls are all already there. My lunchtime protocol is:

  1. Keep head down.

  2. Stay out of everything.

  3. Smile and listen and agree.

  Blair giggles. “Jade, Mateo’s staring at you. Again.”

  Reluctantly, I raise my eyes. He’s in the grill line, drilling holes in me with his eyes from across the room.

  “You should just do him and get it over with,” Britney says. She smirks and twists the top off her iced tea.

  “What?” I mouth at Mateo.

  He waves me over.

  I sigh and get up. “What?” I ask when I stop beside him.

  “Friggin’ Fraser asked me about you. He wanted to know if we’re dating.”

  “So?”

  “So he’s a perv, and you’re definitely his new target. You need to stay away from him.”

  I glance around to be sure no one is listening. “Yeah, that’s going to work. Seeing as he’s one of my teachers.”

  “I mean don’t go for any more extra help. Don’t be alone with him,” he says, putting his tray up so the lunch lady can give him a burger.

  I shake my head, but I’m not going to argue with him. “I’m going home right after school. A friend of my dad’s is picking me up.”

  “Who?” he asks.

  “A friend. A woman. Don’t worry so much. I’m fine. Call me tonight.”

  “Okay. Be careful, though. Please?”

  I nod and smile before turning away. Fraser is the least of my worries today. Being part of a spirit ceremony in Boston is a far more pressing concern right now.

  Jade

  Chapter 22

  I blow off Fraser. I’m too wound up about meeting Noemie, and I don’t care if I get in trouble. I’ll just tell him I forgot. Noemie is parked in the turn circle. I hustle to her car, glad to be escaping Layton. My anxiety about the banishment has grown as the end of the day drew closer and closer.

  When I get in Noemie’s Camry, she peers up at the stone and columned façade. “Your school is so beautiful.”

  “Yeah. It’s very fancy.”

  “You like it here?” she asks, looking over at me.

  “It’s okay. I miss my old friends, though. And Charlie.”

  “I am sure. Are you ready for today?” She starts the car.

  “I guess. Are you ever really ready for these things?”

  She starts down the long,
tree-lined driveway. “I am ready, chou chou. You should be, too. Only strength. Only courage. This is what I have told you about these feelings of fear.”

  “Only strength. Only courage.” I repeat her words, even knowing that it won’t help. I think I will always be afraid of ghosts, no matter how many times I face them.

  “And I promise this one will be easy. I have already laid the groundwork.”

  Noemie puts on the radio. It’s nice to be able to be with someone and not have to talk.

  I settle back in my seat and think about Charlie. He texted me earlier that he beat someone up at school, and he’s in huge trouble for it. Now that he doesn’t have Brendan to spar with and me to make him happy, he’s spiraling downward. I pull out my phone and send him a text.

  Me: Why did you do it?

  Charlie: He pissed me off.

  Me: How?

  Charlie: Talking shit about Nick. I warned him to shut up.

  I sigh. This is a really dumb reason, even though I know how loyal he is to his friends. I don’t want to make him mad at me by lecturing him, but he needs to get a grip on himself. I worry more and more about Charlie, and I fear that he’s becoming a different person because of our parents separating us. The thought of losing Charlie fills me with a feeling so terrible I don’t think I can bear it. That’s how much I love him or need him or both. It’s scary to love someone this much.

  Me: Don’t mess up college. That would be bad.

  I close my eyes and zone out.

  We come to a particularly jarring halt at a light, and I sit up and look around. The skyline of Boston is just ahead. We cross a drawbridge, and smokestacks and brick factories whiz past outside the window. Seeing the skyscrapers in the distance makes me think about my Nana O’Neil.

  Nana O’Neil was not happy about my mother marrying my dad then having me. My mom tried to make it work, but whenever Nana got drunk, which was pretty often, she’d make some nasty remark about black people that would piss Mom off.

  My mother never really had a father. Nana had an affair with a member of the Winter Hill Gang, the famous Irish mafia in Boston. They called him Paulie the Joker because he had flaming-red hair. Because Nana was his mistress and my mom has bright red hair, everyone knew my mother was his child, including Paulie’s wife. The wife had seven children with him—all boys with varying shades of ginger hair. My mother never got to know any of them because their mother and Nana O’Neil hated each other—for obvious reasons. Wives didn’t have friendly get-togethers with their husbands’ mistresses, even in Southie.

  On occasion, Paulie would sneak over and see my mom. When Mom got older, he’d give her money, probably because giving Nana O’Neil money was a bad idea. She’d have spent it all on alcohol.

  I turn to Noemie. “My grandmother on my mother’s side lives in South Boston. I think it’s near here.”

  “Yes. Southie is nearby. I can take you there sometime if you want.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. Nana and I aren’t… close. The last time I saw her, I was like seven. She and my mom had a big fight.”

  “But you are curious about her.”

  “Yeah, but she has a drinking problem, and my mom told me she’s kind of a racist. She can’t really help it because of how she was raised, but I don’t know if she’d even want to see me.”

  “Don’t be sad,” Noemie says. “These things happen. This is too bad for your Nana, though. She has a very special granddaughter who she doesn’t get to know.”

  “I guess.”

  “We can go by and look at her house after we’re done if you’d like.”

  Noemie reading my mind is kind of annoying, but I say, “Okay,” because she’s right.

  “This couple you will meet, they are young and rich. They live in a condo near the monument. Bunker Hill. Do you know this place?”

  “Yes, from the Revolutionary War.”

  She nods. “The building is a row house built during the late 1800s. The problem is, even with renovations, the ghosts stay.”

  “Yeah, that’s what happened at my house in Nantucket.”

  She bobs her head again. “So you know how stubborn they can be. When I talk to these people about their ghost, just listen, chéri. I have to make them see the ghost when she goes so they will know she’s really gone. And then they can call me if they keep having problems. But that never happens because I am always able to do the work. The spirits always leave for me. They will give me two thousand dollars for this.”

  I wonder if I should tell her about Aunt Livvy, about her dying at the hands of a ghost. I decide that now isn’t the best time for that particular story, not when we’re about to meet one who may or may not be angry.

  Noemie glances at me. “Are you clear about the chant if she tries to overtake you?”

  “Yep. I’ve got it.”

  “Good, good.”

  “Can you tell me about this ghost?”

  “She was killed by her husband back in the 1930s. She’s terribly mixed up and sad that he murdered her. He was an evil man who tormented her, but she thought it was love. Some people are very mixed up about love, chou chou.”

  “Yeah. I know,” I say, remembering Jeanette and her baby obsession.

  We take the narrow, winding streets through Charlestown. We pass shabby-looking tenements, but as we get closer to the monument, the building exteriors become nicer. When we finally reach the street right beside the monument, the neighborhood looks really nice.

  Noemie points out the windshield. “That is it, the one with the blue trim. What do you see?”

  I look at the red brick buildings. They’re all connected but clearly have their own separate identities. The one with gray-blue trim has picture windows that jut out and repeat all the way up to the fourth floor. The roof above the last set of windows has a decorative overhang, and the second-floor windows have elaborate black metal gratings. A portico held up by gray-blue Greek-style columns hangs over the carved wooden doors of the entrance. The tiny yard in front is well kept and surrounded by the same black metal fencing as the second story. The basement windows are protected by arched concrete wells.

  “It’s very pretty.”

  “Yes. Nice place. But do you sense the ghost?”

  “Not really. I’m too nervous, I think.”

  “Okay. Let’s go in.”

  When I step out of the car, I look up at the huge Bunker Hill obelisk. The sand-colored monument towers over the surrounding park, houses, and streets, a tribute to independence and the spirit of freedom.

  I follow Noemie to the building entrance. She raps on the door. A few moments later, the door pops open, and a woman peers out at us. She’s younger than I expected. Her face is smooth and free of blemishes. Her sleek black hair is pulled back and secured in some kind of fancy knot at the nape of her neck.

  “Hello, Veronica,” Noemie says.

  Veronica darts her dark eyes to me. “Who’s this?” she asks Noemie tightly.

  “My assistant. Jade. May we come in?”

  There’s a weird pause as if she actually has to think about it before she finally steps aside and gestures for us to enter. Inside, the décor is perfect, as if this lady chose a picture from a magazine and duplicated it down to the tiniest detail.

  “I came home early from work for this. How long do you think it’s going to take?” Veronica starts rubbing her hands up her arms, mussing the soft silk of her blouse. She also wears a pencil skirt and stockings. I assume she works in a high-rise office downtown, trading stocks or something like that. I notice a pair of expensive-looking black pumps under the entry table, along with a Coach bag.

  “As I told you, these things vary. It is not a science. We need to set up on a table. Kitchen or dining will be fine.”

  “This way,” V
eronica says briskly.

  We follow her through the entry hall, which sports an elaborate crystal chandelier, and into a living room with a cathedral ceiling. I look around but try not to seem awed by how gorgeous the place is, modern and chic—nothing like the historic exterior.

  The kitchen is open to the living room but doesn’t have the same high ceiling. The hallway upstairs is exposed, protected by a balcony railing. Colorful artwork is placed sparingly on the walls.

  Noemie goes over to the table, where she opens her bag and begins unpacking her candles and oils.

  “Do you need anything from me?” Veronica asks.

  “Just your patience, ma’am. And the payment.”

  “Yeah, my husband wanted me to ask you about that again. What happens if she doesn’t really leave?”

  “As I told you, you will see her go. You will know.” Noemie begins lighting the candles. “But if you want, we can stop now. It is your choice.”

  Veronica huffs. “Fine. I’ll be right back.” She marches out of the room.

  Noemie gestures at a chair. “Sit, chéri. You will only cause problems with this tension. Our spirit is close at hand, and I need you to help. Put this on your wrists.” She gives me a bottle.

  When I uncork it, the scent of lavender wafts out. I dab the oil on my wrists. It does seem to help calm me.

  Noemie is lighting the last candle when Veronica strides back into the room—a wad of cash fluttering in her hand. I avert my eyes from her sour face because it annoys me, and I’m trying to give off good energy right now.

  “Here,” Veronica says, thrusting the money at Noemie. “It’s all there. You can count it.”

  Rude!

  “Merci.” Noemie takes the cash and tucks it inside her bag. “Sit, please, ma’am, and prepare to meet Mrs. Lockwood.”

  Veronica takes her place at the table. I see her skepticism melting away in the face of Noemie’s confidence.