“I’m so sorry!” Lola says, her wings shuddering.
I nod and try for a sad smile. “It’s okay.” I mean, it’s not. But that’s what you’re supposed to say, right?
“Is that why you came back here?”
“What?” I ask much too quickly, anxiety crawling in my chest.
“To honor her. Prove that you’re good enough.”
“Oh,” I mutter. “Yeah. I guess so. She was opening up to the supernatural world more than I was in the last year. When she died, I decided to give it a chance.” My stomach sinks. I don’t like lying to people who are sincere. I want to tell them the truth. But could I really be honest about how I daydream of shoving a dagger through someone’s eye socket? The face is different each time, but in my mind, that person did it. They killed her. And it feels good to steal their life in return.
I swallow. I’m pretty sure I’m a terrible person, but I don’t even care. Maybe I’m as evil as the demons running this school.
But the difference is, no one knows it.
7
When Magic is Currency Human life is Worthless
I turnquiet once the sun sets and eventually excuse myself to my bedroom to be alone. Janet and Lola give me sad smiles and kind words of encouragement.
I’m glad I told them about Liz, even if it’s only a partial truth.
They’ll at least understand that I’m not okay sometimes.
Once I saw the dark sky taking over, it hit me that this is my first night in a boarding school without her. Usually, during our first time at a new school, we’d lay in one of our beds together, chatting about every moment of our day for hours.
Every person we met—the cute boys and nice girls, the jerks to stay away from, and the mean bully girls. The teachers or classes that were going to be difficult and the ones that would be cake.
Some of those things, I could talk with Janet and Lola about, but I’ve only known them for a day, and I’m keeping so much from them—it’s not the same.
So, heart heavy, I sneak away into my bedroom to spend time with Liz in my own way.
My bedroom is cramped and smells dingy. There’s one small window, but the curtains hanging on one wall are so long that it gives the illusion it’s massive. There are two twin sized beds with stiff mattresses and red sheets. My roommate is a sophomore witch, named Corrine. Janet told me she’s a little snooty but she won’t cause any harm.
She doesn’t so much as look in my direction when I enter the room, so that’s fun.
But that’s fine with me. It might be a little awkward but at least I’ll have some quiet time.
I pull out my plush blanket and wrap it around my shoulders. This is the same blanket I’ve had since our first year in boarding school. Liz had one too. It’s now sitting abandoned on her bed at home.
A bed she only slept in a few times in the last three years.
I only have a few pieces of her left, and the biggest one is staring up at me from my lap. I’ve read the stupid journal four or five times over since it showed up on my bedside table at home.
That’s when I knew the investigation was over.
I think my parents thought it would be a comfort for me, a way to feel connected to her again. In some ways, they were right, but I’m certain they didn’t expect me to obsess over it.
I’ve studied it, taken notes. Read and reread. For hours on end.
Istare down at the pink leather journal with silver gel pen doodles all over it.
The pages are worn and covered in scribbled handwriting that I sometimes struggle to read. On the front page is her name,Elizabeth Montgomery, embellished with stars and flowers and swirls in varying colors and dated from our last day of middle school, when our parents gifted us each a journal. Mine remained empty until this summer. Elizabeth’s is around three-quarters full.
I’d never even realized she wrote in her journal until after her death. The journal was turned in to the investigators, and that was the first time I’d seen it since we unwrapped them together.
But then, her murder case was deemed “unsolvable.” That’s a word that truly gets under my skin. The case isn’t unsolvable, they just don’t want to deal with the repercussions of investigating a powerful supernatural.
