A Lesson in Vengeance(66)

Ellis moves into the room behind me, cutting past the bundled-up blanket to gaze down at the herbs littering my floor. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t have to. The thin line of her mouth says enough.

I round on her, heat rising in my cheeks. “I swear it was here. Last night, it was on my shelf. And here—I dropped it right here. You believe me, don’t you?”

Ellis’s eyes flick sidelong to catch mine.

“It was here!”

“I believe you,” Ellis says, too slowly.

I shake my head, catch a lock of my hair, and start twisting it around my knuckles, tugging until it hurts. “Someone must have taken it,” I say. “Someone came up here, someone…”

“Who?” Ellis asks. She’s infuriatingly calm. “Who would have come into your room and stolen this book? What would anyone want with it?”

“I don’t know. I don’t—”

I shove past her, banging the door open and darting down the hall toward the stairs. Ellis is on my heels almost immediately, calling my name; I ignore her and clatter down the steps, spinning around the bottom landing fast enough the banister rattles under my grip.

I burst into the kitchen. Leonie is by the stove, an omelet sizzling in a skillet, Kajal cutting up a fresh bell pepper at the island. “Did you take it?” I demand.

Kajal puts down her knife. “Take what?”

“The book. There was a book in my room. Someone took it.”

I sense Ellis slipping into the kitchen behind me.

Kajal and Leonie glance at each other.

“I don’t think any of us would have gone into your room without your permission,” Leonie says, with a gentleness that is both surprising and irritating. It’s the same tone the nurses took with me at the facility: cautious, soft, like anything else would fracture me. Like I might get violent if they spoke too loudly.

All at once I’m aware of how this scene would look to an observer: Myself, wild-haired and hysterical at eight in the morning, demanding that someone confess to theft. Ellis, behind me, grim.

They think I’m insane. They all do.

“I’m sorry,” I gasp out, too late. “I’m sorry. I don’t…I barely slept. I…”

“It’s okay,” Leonie says, in that same too-calm tone.

I clench my teeth so hard my jaw hurts.

“Maybe a nice cup of coffee,” Ellis suggests at last, and she touches my elbow as she moves past me to the cabinet.

I stand there and stare at her back as she takes down the pour-over cups and filters, opens the ceramic box of fresh beans, and pours a tablespoonful into the grinder.

Leonie offers a hesitant smile across the island. “Do you want an omelet? We have plenty of eggs.”

I can’t speak. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll start crying and I won’t stop. So I shake my head, feeling my face crumple a beat before I escape the kitchen—back upstairs, back to my damn room with the dandelion on the floor and the scent of Alex’s perfume long since dissipated. I pace from the window to the dresser and back once, two times. It’s cold, it’s so cold.

The book was here. I know that much for certain. It was here, and then it was gone—the book we left at the cemetery, the book that smelled of Alex’s perfume.

She’s here.

I push the thought away, but a sick ribbon of nausea is tied to it. I can’t stop thinking about her.

She’s here.

I grab a candle from my collection and kneel down on the floor in the middle of that dandelion ring. I strike a match and light the flame, whisper, “Please go. Please. I’m sorry. Please leave me alone.”

I don’t know if I’m talking to a ghost anymore…or to something else.

A rap sounds against my doorframe. I jerk my head up; Ellis stands there with a mug of coffee cupped between both hands.

“I thought you might still like that coffee,” she says quietly.

I fall back onto my heels and exhale. At least when she’s here, the room feels warmer. “Thanks.”

I hold out a hand, and Ellis moves deeper into my bedroom, crouching down next to me and passing the mug. It’s still steaming hot; the liquid burns my tongue when I take a sip. I’m glad for the pain. It’s steadying.

I wish it were bourbon.

Only as soon as I think that, I think of my mother, with her empty wine bottles, glass shattered on the marble floor, and gag.

“I’m worried about you,” Ellis says.

I snort. “I know. So’s my mother. She called the other week to check in. For the first time all semester, but at least she’s performing her maternal duties.”

“What did you tell her?”

The coffee’s just as hot when I swallow it a second time. I clench my eyes shut and drink it anyway, my tongue numb and dry-feeling after. “I told her I was fine. I…” I laugh, “I told her I was going home with someone over break so I wouldn’t have to see her instead. I suppose I’ll have to get a hotel room in town.”

“Or you could stay here with me.”

My heart seizes in my chest. “What?”

“Stay here with me,” Ellis says again. Her hand finds my knee and squeezes once. “My parents will be traveling most of break, so I got special permission to stay at the school. My sibling, Quinn, is coming up to visit; I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”