Believing (Lily Dale #2)(10)

“Let me know when you change your mind,” Evangeline tells Calla.

Not if you change your mind. But when. As if she fully expects that Calla will decide to put her sixth sense to use now that she’s figured out she has it.

Everything happens for a reason. Mom herself always used to say that.

If that’s true, Calla’s coming to Lily Dale is no accident.

And Mom’s death might not be, either.

Maybe one even has something to do with the other.

As for the most recent visit from Kaitlyn Riggs, and Calla’s disturbing vision of the bloodied girl in pink . . .

It all means something.

She just has to figure out what it is . . . and what she’s supposed to do about it.

————

The corridor smells of hot food as Calla makes her way toward the cafeteria after social studies, her fourth-period class.

So far, so good. Things are going better than she expected, being the new kid for the first time since kindergarten. Wait, kindergarten doesn’t even count, because everyone else is new too.

Here, everyone else gives off the comfortable, easygoing attitude that comes with familiar territory.

This was familiar territory for Mom by the time she started her senior year here. Just knowing that this is where her mother went to school gave Calla chills when she first walked up the broad stone front steps.

Not you’re about to see a ghost chills. More like if you’re not careful, you’re going to burst out crying in front of everyone chills.

Calla quickly discovered that beyond the old-fashioned redbrick exterior of Lily Dale High are equally old-fashioned green chalkboards, banks of gray metal lockers, scuffed hardwood floors, and straight rows of desks.

This place is a world away from Shoreside Day School back in Tampa, with its state-of-the-art labs, indoor-outdoor classrooms, and lecture halls housed in a sprawling cluster of sleek, modern buildings that feel more like a college campus than a high school.

Here, she’s found her way to every classroom with little trouble—not all that hard, considering that the two-story school has simple L-shaped hallways on both floors. She’s been assigned a homeroom and a locker, memorized her combination, and accumulated a stack of textbooks. She’s even seen a few familiar faces: Lena Hoffman, who works at the Lily Dale Café, has the locker next to Calla’s, and Willow York, of all people, has turned up in most of her classes so far.

When they found themselves sitting across the aisle from each other in health class first thing this morning, Willow acknowledged Calla with a brief smile, which totally caught her off guard.

Not that she expected Willow to stick out her tongue, but still. As Blue Slayton’s barely ex-girlfriend, Willow can’t be thrilled that he’s gone out with someone else. And Evangeline told Calla that Willow knows all about that. “Lily Dale is smaller than any small town you’ll ever see,” Evangeline said cheerfully. “Everyone knows everything about everyone.”

Right. And sometimes even before it happens.

Well, Willow has class, Calla has decided. She’s not going to make a big deal out of Calla seeing Blue. Good for her.

And even better for me.

Pausing in the doorway of the cafeteria, Calla lingers to read the posted menu. Sloppy Joes today, like Evangeline predicted.

She reads the menu intently, checking to see what’s on it for the next few days. Then next week.

Then, when she can’t stall any longer, she forces herself to walk into the cafeteria.

This is what she’s been dreading all day: the prospect of eating alone. Unfortunately her one friend, Evangeline, isn’t here. When they compared schedules in the hall after homeroom, they found that their paths cross only once a day: in gym.

As Calla crosses the threshold into the cafeteria, her heart sinks. Instead of the small round tables that fill the cafeteria back at Shoreside, there are long rectangular tables. Most of them are filled with people who have known each other since kindergarten. It’s going to be impossible for her to duck over to a secluded table alone and hide.

Is lunch even mandatory here? She definitely isn’t hungry, thanks to Odelia force-feeding her mush and bacon. She’s about to flee when she hears someone call her name.

Looking up, she sees Blue Slayton beckoning from a table filled with guys.

Hmm. Maybe she’ll stick around. She walks over, tossing her head a little to get her hair out of her face without being obvious.

“How’s it going?” Blue asks when she arrives at his side.

“Great,” she says, noticing that he’s wearing a long-sleeved jersey in a deep indigo shade that matches his eyes—and his name.

He wears that color a lot, she’s noticed, and she’s sure it’s no accident. He has to be aware of the striking impact. And his clothes are expensive. She can tell by the cotton fabric that looks as thick and soft as his light brown hair, which he might wear in a wavy and slightly unkempt style, but she knows that’s no ten-dollar barbershop haircut.

No, everything about Blue Slayton is expertly and deliberately pulled together. The result is effortless good looks that take her breath away a little every time she sees him up close.

“So you haven’t gotten lost yet?” he asks Calla, fork poised above a tray that holds two of everything: two sloppy joe plate lunches, two bottles of juice, two ice cream bars.