A Lesson in Vengeance(60)

I glance toward the headstone again, as if to see if Alex is paying attention. The stone is as gray and faceless as before.

I keep reading anyway, all through chapter one and well into chapter two, until my throat starts to feel dry and hoarse. I close the book and, after a beat, lean forward to rest it against the headstone. Another gift to a girl who has no need for gifts. Not anymore.

Something painful catches in my chest, and I press my brow against the chilly soil, eyes clenched shut. A tear leaks past my lashes and drips onto my fingers. Useless, this is all so…I’m so useless.

I shouldn’t be here. Alex was always the smart one. Alex was going to be somebody. You could tell by the way the instructors fawned over her work, how effortlessly everything came to her. She would write an essay overnight, drunk with a joint in one hand, and next thing you know she’s won the English department’s Best Paper Award. Alex was applying to the Ivy League. We all knew she’d be accepted anywhere she wanted to go.

Not like me. I’m the spoiled rich girl who lurked at the fringes of Alex’s halo, stealing her light.

The crunch of frozen ground breaking makes me look up. Ellis stands by the stone with her weight braced against the handle of a shovel.

“I think we should dig her up.”

I gape at her, my heartbeat suddenly beating hard and high enough that it feels like I’m gagging on blood.

“What?”

Ellis is as placid as ever. “You said the grave was empty, right? So there’s nothing to be afraid of. There’s no body to desecrate. Maybe seeing that for yourself will give you closure.”

I stumble to my feet, dirty hands tangling in my skirt. “No. Absolutely not.”

“You can put the book in her coffin,” Ellis suggests in a very rational tone. “You can perform a spell to put her spirit to rest.”

“Ellis, digging up Alex’s grave isn’t going to fix anything.”

“And ignoring the problem will?”

I can’t. I can’t do this. I turn away from her, staring out into the forest instead, the blackness of night somehow more complete now than it was when we first came.

“Where did you even get the shovel?” I say. I’m aware of how my voice sounds: wild, hysterical, cracking on the word shovel like I’m a breath away from total delirium.

I make myself twist back toward Ellis, who’s still standing there like this is a perfectly normal conversation to have in a graveyard past midnight.

She gestures vaguely over one shoulder. “The caretaker’s shed. The lock was easy to pick.”

I’m not hearing this. This is absurd.

“You’re insane.”

Ellis shakes her head very slightly. “I’m not the one who’s seeing things, Felicity. I’m not having breakdowns in the woods and warding off ghosts.”

I press both hands over my face, careless of the way it smears grave dirt on my cheeks. God. God.

“I’m not digging up that grave,” I say.

“Fine, then we won’t. It was only a suggestion.”

Ellis takes the shovel back where she found it, and I stay there, my feet planting roots in the earth. This time in Ellis’s absence, the air is colder. I feel Alex’s ghost like breath on the back of my neck.

Maybe Ellis is right. I am crazy. Just like my mother.

We drive back to the car agency in relative silence, Ellis’s gloved thumb tapping against the wheel and my hands gripping my knees.

It’s past two by the time we’re home, but as late as it is, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.

“Are you okay?” Ellis asks once we’re back inside Godwin House, lingering on the second-floor landing. The light from the overhead lamp casts odd shadows on her face. “I didn’t mean to push you. I wasn’t trying to—”

“I’m fine,” I interrupt. “Sorry. I just…”

Why am I apologizing? Of course I didn’t want to exhume my ex-girlfriend’s grave. Ellis is the one who should be asking forgiveness.

Even so, I can’t find the nerve to say as much. I chew at my lip and brace my back against the wall, both arms wrapped around my stomach. Ellis’s thumb scrapes at the finish on the stair banister.

“Look,” Ellis says at last. “I only want to help. You know that, right?”

I stare at her in silence.

“You already knew that grave’s empty. I thought this would give you closure. I want you to understand….I can’t keep seeing you torture yourself like this.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so painful for you,” I snap. It feels like I’m biting the words off a sheet of ice. “Seeing me. Like this.”

“Felicity—”

“I’m going to bed.”

I take the stairs up to the third floor two at a time and kick my door shut so hard it slams. I brace, anticipating the rap of Alex’s broom handle against the floor.

But it never comes. Alex’s ghost, if it exists, doesn’t care about noise.

The only thing down there, I tell myself, is Ellis Haley.

And Ellis Haley can go fuck herself.





My intent beinge only to construct a School for Young Ladies, a Place of refuge and education in Etiquette, soe these imperiled Young Ladies might prove usefull to Society and to God.