Page 57 of School Spirits
Before I could say anything, Romy rushed on. “Was it bad? I mean, I always thought Dex would be pretty good at kissing despite his general spazziness, but I could be wrong, and if I am, just tell me. I know he’s my Boy Best Friend, but you’re myGirlBest Friend, and that trumps him—”
I help up my hand like that could stop the rush of words. “No, it was not bad. And…I’m your best friend?” I’d never had a best friend unless you counted Finley. But even though she’d been my sister, and I’d loved her, it wasn’t like we’d ever painted each other’s toenails, and I shuddered to think of what she would’ve said aboutIvy Springs.
Romy smiled, almost shyly. “Um, duh, of course you’re my best friend. What do you think all this means”—she waved her hand, taking in the popcorn, the polish, the TV—“if not your initiation into Best Friendom?”
In my head, I could hear Mom’s voice:These peopleare not your friends, Izzy. They are a means to an end, and assoon as this job is over, you’ll never see them again.
But Romy was my friend. When she’d asked me to spend the night, I hadn’t agreed so that I could pump her for more information about the hauntings. I’d said yes because I’d wanted to hang out with her. To paint nails and talk about boys and watch Everton and Leslie make idiots of themselves.
“Okay, see, there you go with Sad Face again,” Romy said, and I sighed. “It’s just…the kiss with Dex was good. And I like him. Lots. But I can’t exactly do the boyfriend thing.”
Now it was Romy’s turn for Sad Face. “Why not?”
Because I’m a monster hunter and this whole thing was justa job and I have to tell my mom that Dex isn’t really Prodigiumsoon and then she’ll make us leave.
The words were right there, desperate to tumble out of my mouth in one big avalanche of overshare.
Instead I shrugged and said, “I need to concentrate on school. You know. For, um, SATs. And college. And…stuff like that.”
I expected Romy to argue, but she just sighed and picked up the nail polish remover. “I get that,” she said. “But it sucks. You guys seem like a weird fit at first glance, but I don’t know. I think you’d be good together.”
“Yeah,” I replied.
And then I got off the bed and restartedIvy Springsbefore Sad Face became Crying Face.
“Isolde. Isolde. ISOLDE.”
Blinking, I sat up. Ugh, another Torin dream. Some-thing I was definitely not in the mood for. “Go’way,” I mumbled at him. “Don’t wanna play dress-up.”
But when I flopped over onto my stomach, I realized I wasn’t in a ball gown. I also wasn’t in a ballroom or on a boat. I was lying on the trundle bed in Romy’s room, and Torin wasn’t in my dreams, he was in her mirror.
Fully awake, I shot out of the bed and made my way as quietly as possible to Torin. My face nearly against the glass, I hissed, “What are youdoing?”
“Dropping in,” he said, raising his hands innocently. “Isn’t that what blokes are supposed to do? Raid slumber parties?”
“No,” I shot back, my voice barely audible. “At least I don’t think so. But it doesn’t matter.Youshould not be here.”
Behind me, Romy made a snuffling noise in her sleep and turned over. I didn’t think it was possible to be any quieter, but I tried anyway. “Go. Away.”
“I miss you,” he said suddenly. Our faces were very close to each other, and even though I knew it was impossible, I could’ve sworn I felt a puff of breath on my cheek. “You never talk to me anymore. And that?” He pointed to the stack ofIvy Springs, eyes narrowing. “Traitor.”
“This is my job,” I told him, ignoring the pang of guilt in my chest. What was wrong with me? I didn’t have anything to feel guilty for. So I chose to watch the show with a real girl my own age instead of a four-hundred-year-old warlock trapped in a mirror. Surely, that wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. Or at least I thought it wasn’t.Sassy Misshadn’t exactly covered that.
“These people aren’t a job to you anymore, Isolde,” Torin said, voice low. “They’re your friends. And while it causes me actual physical pain to admit this, your mum is right. In the end, getting close to humans can only hurt you.”
I backed away from the glass, but he kept going. “I’ve watched generations of Brannick women get close to regular people. Fall in love, make friends. It ended in tragedy every single time, Isolde. I know you don’t believe a large percentage of what I say, but believe that I have no desire to ever see you hurt. And these people will hurt you.”
Romy rolled over again, and I looked back at her. “Romy is…she couldn’t hurt me.”
“Could she not?” In the glass, Torin walked over to Romy’s desk and opened the top drawer, pulling out something thin and golden.
My heart sank, but I made myself cross the room and open that same drawer. There, hidden under a stack of purple Post-its, was a charm bracelet. There was a ballet slipper and a tiny golden unicorn and horseshoe and what I think was supposed to be a pot of gold. And in between the slipper and the unicorn was a space where, I had an awful feeling, a heart was supposed to go.
I put the bracelet back where I found it, silently slid the drawer closed, and walked back to the mirror. “It makes sense,” Torin said as soon as I was in front of him. “She finds a harmless little love spell somewhere, decides to try it out. And then she tries another spell, and another. And what do you know, she runs a ghost-hunting club, but there are no ghosts. So she works a little hedge magic, does a summoning or two. Just to make things interesting. And then it very quickly gets out of hand.”
I wanted to deny it. To say there had to be some mistake. But Torin was right. It made total sense.
“What do I do?” I asked, but I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Torin or myself.
