at the wording on the back of the picture. “What, exactly, is it that they know you can do?” His thick mustache was tinged with the same gray streaks as his close-cropped hair.
My life always seemed to come back to this one truth. Cherie took my hand and gave it a reaffirming squeeze.
“I can see ghosts.”
They both paused in their note-taking, but neither burst out laughing like I thought they might. Their facial expressions didn’t even change, but Roberts cleared his throat. “Okay. Well. Are you thinking a ghost did this?”
“No.” The corners of my mouth twitched. I bet that was the first time he had to ask that question. “The men following us were very solid. Brent can’t see ghosts and he saw them too.”
“That’s good.” Robert gave me a grin. “I was always rather fond of that friendly ghost.”
Velasco leaned forward, tapping her notebook against her knee. “There isn’t a lot we can go on right now. We’ve dusted for fingerprints, interviewed your neighbors and we’ll be checking the security footage. Police work isn’t like the movies; it takes time. My advice is to be careful, be aware, and call if something feels off. Here’s my card; don’t hesitate to call. And if you can’t reach us, call 911. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, call.”
A few minutes later Mr. Crosby came into the room, carrying a box of pizza and some soda. He walked over to us, worry lines creasing his face. “I just saw what’s left of your room. Are you two alright?” His eyes flicked between Cherie and me.
“As okay as we can be,” Cherie said.
“Are you Mr. Farnsworth?” Velasco asked.
“No, I’m Mr. Crosby, Assistant Headmaster. I was sent by Headmaster Farnsworth to make sure that the girls were okay and give you whatever assistance you need.” Mr. Crosby turned to us and continued, “The headmaster wanted to come himself, but an issue came up with maintenance, and he had to see to it. I figured you didn’t get a chance to eat and I thought you might need something.” He handed us the pizza and sodas.
“We do have some questions for you, Mr. Crosby, if you don’t mind.” Roberts stood and motioned for Mr. Crosby to follow him.
Mr. Crosby gave us a friendly smile—one missing the usual political veneer I had seen. “We truly are sorry girls. We’ll do our best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
We thanked him as we dug into the pizzas. Mr. Crosby followed Roberts out into the hall.
My slice was warm with a soft, buttery crust. Mozzarella cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth, burning it, but I kept shoveling the pizza in. It wasn’t as high on my comfort food list as Mexican food and chocolate, but pizza was a close third.
By the time the detectives left, my eyes wanted nothing more than to fall shut. Mercedes had brought our backpacks, toothbrushes, and pajamas down to the spare room in Mrs. Hewett’s suites. I was glad we weren’t staying in our room. I didn’t think I could handle that right now. Mrs. Hewett had done a couple loads of laundry for us, washing the things that had been dumped on the floor. I cringed to think of some stranger pawing through my underwear. I wanted to call my mom and dad but it was almost eleven and I knew that all it would do was upset them. Not to mention, I was fine. Well, for the most part.
By unspoken agreement, Cherie and I huddled side by side under a blanket, our backs against the wall on one of the beds, and our legs hanging off the edge.
“You know, if they were searching for something, they could have done it better. That was sloppy,” Cherie said, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “They wanted us to know they’d been there. Part of it had to be intimidation.”
“Well, it worked.” I let my head fall back against the wall. “You know what else happened today? I saw DJ. And I’m pretty sure someone went through my backpack.”
I thought about that and changed my statement. “Okay, I’m not
My life always seemed to come back to this one truth. Cherie took my hand and gave it a reaffirming squeeze.
“I can see ghosts.”
They both paused in their note-taking, but neither burst out laughing like I thought they might. Their facial expressions didn’t even change, but Roberts cleared his throat. “Okay. Well. Are you thinking a ghost did this?”
“No.” The corners of my mouth twitched. I bet that was the first time he had to ask that question. “The men following us were very solid. Brent can’t see ghosts and he saw them too.”
“That’s good.” Robert gave me a grin. “I was always rather fond of that friendly ghost.”
Velasco leaned forward, tapping her notebook against her knee. “There isn’t a lot we can go on right now. We’ve dusted for fingerprints, interviewed your neighbors and we’ll be checking the security footage. Police work isn’t like the movies; it takes time. My advice is to be careful, be aware, and call if something feels off. Here’s my card; don’t hesitate to call. And if you can’t reach us, call 911. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, call.”
A few minutes later Mr. Crosby came into the room, carrying a box of pizza and some soda. He walked over to us, worry lines creasing his face. “I just saw what’s left of your room. Are you two alright?” His eyes flicked between Cherie and me.
“As okay as we can be,” Cherie said.
“Are you Mr. Farnsworth?” Velasco asked.
“No, I’m Mr. Crosby, Assistant Headmaster. I was sent by Headmaster Farnsworth to make sure that the girls were okay and give you whatever assistance you need.” Mr. Crosby turned to us and continued, “The headmaster wanted to come himself, but an issue came up with maintenance, and he had to see to it. I figured you didn’t get a chance to eat and I thought you might need something.” He handed us the pizza and sodas.
“We do have some questions for you, Mr. Crosby, if you don’t mind.” Roberts stood and motioned for Mr. Crosby to follow him.
Mr. Crosby gave us a friendly smile—one missing the usual political veneer I had seen. “We truly are sorry girls. We’ll do our best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
We thanked him as we dug into the pizzas. Mr. Crosby followed Roberts out into the hall.
My slice was warm with a soft, buttery crust. Mozzarella cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth, burning it, but I kept shoveling the pizza in. It wasn’t as high on my comfort food list as Mexican food and chocolate, but pizza was a close third.
By the time the detectives left, my eyes wanted nothing more than to fall shut. Mercedes had brought our backpacks, toothbrushes, and pajamas down to the spare room in Mrs. Hewett’s suites. I was glad we weren’t staying in our room. I didn’t think I could handle that right now. Mrs. Hewett had done a couple loads of laundry for us, washing the things that had been dumped on the floor. I cringed to think of some stranger pawing through my underwear. I wanted to call my mom and dad but it was almost eleven and I knew that all it would do was upset them. Not to mention, I was fine. Well, for the most part.
By unspoken agreement, Cherie and I huddled side by side under a blanket, our backs against the wall on one of the beds, and our legs hanging off the edge.
“You know, if they were searching for something, they could have done it better. That was sloppy,” Cherie said, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “They wanted us to know they’d been there. Part of it had to be intimidation.”
“Well, it worked.” I let my head fall back against the wall. “You know what else happened today? I saw DJ. And I’m pretty sure someone went through my backpack.”
I thought about that and changed my statement. “Okay, I’m not
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