“Peyton?” Bailey asks, her voice light and curious.
I smile at her. “Bailey?”
“Did you see any ghosts when you were at the rink?”
She blinks at me slowly, her doe-like brown eyes glimmering. When Bailey’s not flipping burgers at the diner, defending the forwards with her life, or playing a roleplaying game that takes too much creativity for me to understand, she’s researching—in deep detail—how to be medium. And the presumed ghost haunting Greenrock University is her first subject.
I shake my head, flashing her a sorrowed look. “Sorry, Hams. No ghost.”
She lets out a soft sigh, turning back to the stove. “I’ll have to look for her at practice then.”
Harlowe erupts with a booming laugh. “The only ghost you’re going to see at practice is Peyton when Darcy gets her hands on her.”
I frown, crossing my arms. “Funny.”
She shrugs. “I know.”
“I still don’t understand why you hate each other,” Bailey cuts in, the pan sizzling beside her as she flips over a perfectly browned pancake. Harlowe grins.
“Because Peyton’s a try-hard,” she taunts, and I stick my middle finger up right in front of her nose.
“I don’t hate her,” I correct. “But shedoesact like she’s God’s gift to hockey. I mean, she literally said it herself. She only played when she was young. Then she strolls in, guns blazing, whistle blowing like she’s some sort of expert?”
Harlowe hums, which is something she does on the rare occasion she chooses to bite her tongue. Surprisingly, Bailey doesn’t hesitate to fire back.
“Love you so much, Pey,” she begins, and I can already feel the sweet burn coming. “But maybe sheis?I mean, her mom’s a professional coach. You of all people should know how muchinfluence a parent has on their kid. Sounded like she knew what she was talking about to me.”
My stomach sinks as the words set in, and I slump back in my seat. Darcydidsound like she knew what she was talking about. Maybe she just threw out enough hockey jargon and got lucky. But the play she called… it made sense. Too much sense for someone who gave it up so quickly.
“Yeah, that was some pretty good advice,” Harlowe chimes. I shoot her a betrayed look, and she shrugs. “What? You’ll always be my number one.”
“I know you guys think I’m crazy,” I say. “But there’s something off about her. And I’m going to figure out what it is.”
Seven
Peyton
FINAL CHAT FR THIS TIME
CAPTAIN CLARKE
My dad sent us a disgustingly massive box of gel packs. They’re in the lounge, take as many as you want!
Z
please tell me they’re not the espresso flavor
CAPTAIN CLARKE
They’re raspberry lemonade
BRADY
Let’s goooooo
YERSIE
Hell yeah, Mr. C! Tell him thanks for me.
