No. Why? Is there something juicy in there for me to make fun of you for?
I’m pretty sure if it was her, she wouldn’t act like she has no idea what I’m talking about.
Never mind. I’ll leave you to get ready for tonight.
A shiver sneaks up my spine. The thermostat is low again, not as low as before but still lower than what I set it to by more than a few degrees. When I’d asked Lark earlier about hers, she’d said she hasn’t had any issues…
Cold air. Strange messages. The goosebumps streaking my arms. The way-too-weird-yet-obvious answer is standing in front of me: My room must be haunted. I blame Lark for making me watch too many supernatural reality shows.
“Hello. Mr.—or Mrs.—Spirit.” I swallow, trying to fight the dryness of my throat. “Are you still…h-here?”
I wait, ignoring the way my pulse ramps up, thudding over the silence.
There’s no response, but I’m officially creeped out.
I text Blake. Lark would chastise me for this, but there’s no reason for her to ever know. She and Delilah already have plans, so they won’t be here to glare at him for the short time he’ll be visiting. Maybe I’ll be able to convince him to stay the night this time. There’s no way I can be alone right now.
I wipe away the writing on the mirror, double lock the windows, and shower quickly. Every few minutes, I poke my head out of the curtain, checking to see if there’s a new message or anything else out of place.
As I step out of the stall, frosty air lashes my skin. I wrap my towel around myself tightly, eyes darting around the room, half expecting to find the window open. Tiptoeing to my dresser, I grab some leggings and an oversized gray sweatshirt. It’s cut along the neckline withThe Tempestscripted across the chest, the Institute’s logo emblazoned on the back. It’s something Iused to rock at rehearsals. Now it’s just another addition to my pajamas. Something I can’t wear outside these walls.
Not anymore.
Slipping on a pair of blue fuzzy socks with white snowflakes scattered across them, I leave my room. Lark and Delilah have already left, so I sit on the couch and wait for Blake to respond or just arrive at my door. I’ll take either option at this point.
After twenty long minutes of fidgeting with it between my fingers, my phone buzzes. I swipe off the lock screen, wondering how far out Blake is.
The Prince:
Hey, roads are a bit too slick for me to drive over tonight.
My stomach lurches.
Metro?
The Prince:
You know how I feel about public transportation.
I promise I’ll make it up to you.
Okay. How about a night out this weekend?
Is this a little desperate? Maybe. But Lark and Delilah will be away for a wedding. I don’t want to be alone with this Casper wannabe.
The Prince:
…
I stare at the tiny dots. Waiting…
The Prince:
Can’t. Traveling to NJ to see the fam.
I’ll text you next week once I’m back.
Okay. Sounds good.
