Keeper(23)

I blinked. “The veil between us and the spirit world?”

“Yes, the veil. Try to keep up, Styles. We’ve already missed the Autumnal equinox, and Halloween is still two weeks away. I think this is the closest thing we’re gonna get.” Maggie looked at me expectantly. “So what do you say? Are you in?”

I thought about it for a moment. “A good scientist examines the evidence, right? Well, a dead girl attacked me on the road, I’m having visions or dreams about said dead girl, and so far, despite everything I’ve tried, all I’ve figured out is that there’s some connection between her and my mom.” I let out a breath and shrugged. “I need answers. I need to find out why all of this has happened and what is has to do with my mom. This goes beyond logic and reason, so I need to look at the other variables.”

I tapped the paper. “If we’re gonna do this, we better start researching supermoons.”

Maggie squealed and clapped me on the back. “That’s the spirit, Styles!” She laughed. “See what I did there?

Maggie was too busy cracking up at her own joke to notice that I wasn’t laughing.

Someone moved beside me. I had looked up, making eye contact.

Standing a few feet away, and staring directly at me, was Josephine.



The paper fluttered slightly, before landing on my desk. The flash of white startled me enough to erase the image of her face. Even though three days had passed since that day in the cafeteria, Josephine was still everywhere I looked. I would turn the corner, and there she’d be, staring at me with those sad, knowing eyes of hers. It was seriously creeping the hell out of me.

“Just think of it like this, Styles. You’re like that kid from the Sixth Sense! How freaking cool is that?” Maggie had said. She, of course, grew more ecstatic after every new Josephine sighting. I, however, did not.

I glanced at the paper, my eyes slow to focus. It was my latest history essay about the Great Depression and FDR’s New Deal. But the grade circled in red ink at the top right corner was foreign to me. C+. I double-checked the name to make sure I had the correct paper. My stomach flip-flopped at the sight of my name written in my own, curling script. I’d never gotten a C before. Not even close.

I eyed the book sitting on the corner of my desk. Supermoons: Warnings from Beyond the Grave? Several pages of notes stuck out from the corners.

It had been an easy transition for me—throwing myself into the research—and I didn’t realize how much my focus had shifted until now. My Ivy League dreams sputtered to life in my mind, but that red “C” glared at me from the corner of the page.

“Damn you, Josephine,” I muttered under my breath, fighting the urge the crumple the paper. A lump was forming in my throat, but I swallowed a few times to dislodge it.

It’s one paper. Don’t panic, the voice inside my head reasoned as I shoved the paper into my binder, the lump growing bigger. Just one paper.

“Yeah, but scientists don’t get Cs,” I muttered, silencing the voice.

When the shrill bell rang signaling the end of class, I stood quickly, eager to escape.

“Lainey?” Mr. Reinhard, my history teacher, called out. He was staring at me over the rim of his reading glasses. “Can you stay for a few moments, please? I’d like to speak with you.”

“Yes, sir?”

Mr. Reinhard trained his eyes on me, his forehead furrowed. “Lainey, about your latest essay. I—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” I interrupted, “but please. I know it wasn’t my best. It’s been a weird few days. I haven’t been sleeping well, and I—” I broke off, not sure how to explain it further. “I’m just off my game right now, Mr. R.”

Mr. Reinhard nodded. “We all have off days, Lainey, but I’m concerned. This week, you’ve seemed really distracted. I’ve never known you to get anything less than an A.”

His voice was kind, but that only made the lump in my throat triple in size. “I know. I’ll try harder.”

Mr. Reinhard raised an eyebrow. “Is everything okay at home, Lainey? I heard about what happened in your English class when you—well, have you considered speaking with someone? Our counselor, Mrs. Fox—”

I shook my head. “It was just a nightmare. Stupid, really. I’m fine. I’ll do much better on the next essay, I promise.”

The lines around Mr. Reinhard’s eyes softened and he sighed. “Just go home tonight and get some rest. Okay? I think you need it.”

When he dismissed me, I practically ran toward the exit. I needed some fresh air.

Hissing through gritted teeth, I waited until I was safely out of the building before I let out a frustrated yell. A few people walking by stared at me, but I didn’t care.

There was a small grove of trees up ahead and a courtyard with benches and tables designated for students. It was mostly empty; a couple was making out on one of the benches, and one of the art kids was stretched out on the grass, sketching in a notebook. There was also someone else, a guy, propped up against one of the trees, his face hidden behind a book.

Plopping down on a patch of shaded grass, I closed my eyes and let out a long huff.

“Bad day?” a voice called out.

You have got to be kidding me. I opened my eyes and sure enough, a familiar pair of blue eyes were looking straight at me. Ty was leaning around his open book, the usual smirk on his lips.