“I’m sorry,” she finally says. “Things have been bad, but they’re getting better.”
They’re still silent.
“I know you all probably want nothing to do with me after how I’ve behaved, but—”
Alistair cuts her off with, “Are you coming back to us? Really?”
She smiles. “I’m back.” Her hand slides over Cassius’s knee. “I’m back.”
Cassius stiffens beneath her touch. He tries to fight the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His cheeks burn red. He turns to her and says, “Welcome home, Star Girl. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Alistair clears his throat, demanding her attention.
She smiles again. “I missed you the most, Alis.”
“Good,” he says with a wink.
“I’m so happy to see you well, Claudia,” Angel says.
Marcherie looks at her expectantly. “Did you missme?”
Claudia surprises herself when she says, “You know, I think I actually did.”
Marcherie smirks. “I think I missed you, too.”
Claudia gives them each a long, sincere look. Her gaze stays with Alistair. “I’m so sorry for everything. I promise I will never leave again.”
They speak rapidly, trying to fit weeks’ worth of updates into the short time they have before they’re supposed to go to class. Alistair and Angel recently celebrated their two-month anniversary. Marcherie wrote her first entire opera—libretto and all—that will debut next week. She’ll be playing the titular role of Antigone. Cassius has been laboring over a new piece for publication, tentatively titled “The Rhetoric of Sympathy: An Autoethnographic Exploration of How Others Speak to Survivors of Paternal Suicide.” The idea came to him after detention, he says. It’s the best, most honest, and most transformative piece he’s ever written.
Claudia has missed so much. Too much.
But she won’t miss anything ever again. After tonight, she’ll never be parted from this group as long as they live.
Halfway through describing the set design for her opera, Marcherie yawns and rubs her eyes. “Apologies. My sleep has been terrible lately. Last night was the worst.”
“Another nightmare?” Angel asks, and Marcherie nods.
“Nightmare?” Claudia asks quickly. “You’re having nightmares?”
“Is it any wonder, with all she’s been through?” Cassius says. “I’m surprised they only just started.”
“I’ve had nightmares about Odette before. But these are different. These feel—and look—so real. I almost wonder if—”
“Marchie, darling. Don’t go there,” Alistair says. “It’s not real.”
“But Isaw—” She stops herself and closes her eyes, chewing on her bottom lip. “You’re right. I know.”
Claudia can’t help but ask, “What did you see?”
Alistair kicks her below the table, but she ignores him.
“I saw Odette hovering above me, pale as the moon. Floating like a star. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot. And she had this awful, dripping smile that didn’t look human.”
“Oh gods, March. I’m sorry,” Claudia says.
Maybe Lamour is right. Maybe Odette is just a terrifying ghost haunting them all. If Odette’s ghost is here, it makes sense why she haunts Marcherie in such a vivid, visceral way.
