Sunlight streams in through my window. The sound of birds chirping fills my ears. I roll over to get a good look at my alarm clock. It says seven thirty am. I figure that that’s good enough sleep wise and roll out of bed. 

I sluggishly walk down the Grand Staircase to get to the kitchen. I figured that Gemma might’ve put out some cereal or something, but I was wrong. She made a full English breakfast complete with black tea and everything. 

“Wow! I didn’t know she would make all of this!,’’ I exclaim to myself.  

I grab some toast, eggs, bacon, beans, mushrooms, tomatoes and sausages. I also pour myself some tea. I sit down to eat when I suddenly realize that I’m all by myself. Wyatt’s not here, neither is Dylan or my mom (though when given the choice, my brother isn't awake until noon). But that’s okay, I actually prefer a quiet breakfast. I’m starting to butter my toast when I hear faint footsteps on the old, creaky floor. I turn around to see who it is.   

“Just so you know, don’t get used to this, you’re having cereal tomorrow,’’ Gemma says, swinging the duster that she’s  holding in her hand. 

“Do you know where Wyatt’s at?,’’ I ask her. 

“He’s outside gardening,’’

“Cool, I might join him after I eat my breakfast and get dressed. Oh, and thanks for making all of this.” 

“No problem, your mum actually pays me more if I cook as well as clean.’’ 

I figure that, if I’m going to basically share a house with Wyatt, I should get to know him at least a little bit better. That’s why I want to talk with him. Not just because he’s cute.  

So I quickly finish my breakfast and rush upstairs. I get a speedy shower and blow dry my hair. I throw on a green crop top and jeans before walking downstairs to grab my jean jacket and black sneakers. Now I just need to find Wyatt. 

I throw open the front door and exit the manor. The cold late October air hits me like one thousand knives. I shiver and button my jacket. When I reach the garden gate, I spot Wyatt on the other side, trimming a row of flowers. Strange, Wyatt must have a key, I don’t know how else he opened the gate. Since I still want to talk to him, I walk through the open metal gate to join him. 

“Hi Wyatt,” I call out to get his attention. 

 “Oh, Hey Max,’’ Wyatt replies softly, continuing to trim the flowers.

“Wanna talk?,’’ I ask. 

“Sure,’’ He replies. I walk up beside him.  

“I’m not trying to be rude or anything, I’m just curious, do you normally do garden work at eight thirty in the morning, or is that just a one time thing?’’ 

 “I actually do it pretty often, I just like it. It’s kind of a routine thing. Some people take morning runs, I take morning gardening sessions. By the way, when do you and your brother start at boarding school?’’  

   “Oh, I’m not going to boarding School. I’m just going to go to school here. My mom would never send me and Dylan to a boarding school. She thinks that it’s not healthy for teenagers to be away from their parents for weeks at a time. Why would you think I would go to a boarding school?,’’ I reply, surprised that he would think that about us. 

 “Well, I mainly guessed that because Harri and Annie went to a boarding school from year 10 until year 13. I think Annie hated it so much that it was her main reason for running away. Though your grandmother said that she still wished she had sent them earlier. I thought that maybe your mum took her suggestion and enrolled you and Dylan. Your grandmother also said that Harri hated going as well, but he was just ungrateful,’’ Wyatt explains. 

“Yeah, sounds like grandma Enid. By the way, why doesn't your dad live with you? If you don’t mind me asking,’’ I ask, dropping my voice. 

 “Ah, I knew that would come up at some point in time. It’s kind of a sensitive topic for me, but I think that you would understand. He and my mum never married and had a rocky relationship, so after my dad found out that my mum was pregnant with me, he ran off to London. Eventually the authorities were able to track him down and make him pay child support. Now he’s out there, somewhere, running around ruining other peoples lives,’’ Wyatt says, his voice at a bitter tone. 

    My eyes drop to the ground and I suddenly become very interested in my shoes. I understand why Wyatt talked about his dad so bitterly. Heck, If I had Wyatt’s dad as my father, I would be just as angry.

      In some ways, his situation is actually quite similar to mine. We both never really got to know our fathers. Of course, Wyatt’s dad is still out there, but at least I know that my dad actually loved me.    

 “Oh, I’m sorry, that sounds rough. Do you and Gemma at least have a good relationship?,’’ I choke out, trying to change the topic. 

“Yeah, she’s a great mum. She’s very kind and pretty funny. She’s also a great cook. Her fruit tarts are out of this world,” Wyatt says, his voice at the same longing tone as mine. 

We then stand there in awkward silence for a solid three minutes until he pulls something out of his pocket. I soon notice that that something is a red rose. “Is that for me,” I say, a smile forming at the edge of my mouth.

 “Yeah, it is. I found this earlier today before you came out here. I thought that I would give it to you so you could put it in your room and give that dusty old space some life,” Wyatt says, beaming as well. 

He turns around until his blue eyes meet mine and hands me the rose. My face turns about as red as a tomato. I feel like my voice is on mute, like I can’t say anything even though I want to. 

“I- I need to go to the bathroom,’’ I say, making up an excuse to get away from this awkward situation. 

“After you’re done you can come back out here if you want. Or you could just stay inside. Either is fine with me,’’ Wyatt tells me, still making eye contact. 

“Well I-I-I need to go, like right now,’’ I stammer. 

“Ok, bye then,’’ Wyatt says, turning around to face the rose bush.  

I run inside and close the front door. I need to use the bathroom, really? That was the best excuse you could make up, Max? If you couldn’t already tell, I definitely have feelings for Wyatt. I sigh and put the rose in my pocket. I don't know what I’m going to do today, but I certainly know that I won't be talking with Wyatt for at least another hour or two after what just happened. So after a few minutes of deep contemplation, I decide to go upstairs and finish my gazebo drawing. 

  After about four more hours of intense concentration and painful hand cramps, I finally finish my drawing. I hold it

up with a feeling of satisfaction. It captures the beauty of the garden well. Not as well as a photograph, of course, but still well. Most of the adults in my life say that I'm a good artist, and I believe them, but I also doubt myself severely. 

I decide to hang this one up in my new bedroom among the many other pieces that I took with me from New York. I grab four tacks from the desk drawer, place the picture on the wall and shove the tacks in place. Feeling satisfied with my hanging job, I collapse onto my bed. 

From the angle in which I’m positioned on my bed, all I see is the huge closet in my room. It’s painted a peachy tan color and for some reason, it draws me to it. I walk over and open it. The closet is completely empty except for a box labeled D&M baby photos. I’m assuming D&M stands for Dylan and Maxine. I open the box by stabbing the taped center  with a pencil. 

In the box I see a huge photo album titled 2005- 2011. My parents got married in 2005 and we moved to New York in 2011. Since that was a very eventful six years for my family, it makes sense that we have a lot of photos from then. On top of the photo album is an envelope labeled David Wilson pictures, which is probably from when me and my family all got our photos taken professionally. I open the envelope and I pull out the photo on top. 

The photo is of all four of us together, standing by a fence. My mom looked so young, though I guess that’s expected because the photo was taken twelve years ago. She was wearing a white cardigan with blue jeans. She had a black braid going down her back and was clutching Dylan’s hand. 

If you could even tell that it was Dylan. I had forgotten that his now jet black curls had once been light brown. His gray eyes looked fully awake and he had just about the widest smile that I had ever seen on a little boy. On the other side of the photograph was my dad. He had the warmest smile out of all of us, even warmer than his ginger hair. He was wearing a blue button down shirt and jeans. He had on his clear glasses that mom said he always wore and was holding my hand.  To be honest, I feel like I forgot that I was ever that tiny. I also forgot that I had really chubby cheeks when I was a toddler. My red hair was put into a fishtail braid and I was wearing a blue dress with ruffles.

Back then, we were so complete and happy. I hurriedly place the photograph back in the box, not able to handle the emotions flooding over me. I grab both of the closet doors and pull inwards. Right as I’m about to close them completely, I notice another box. Curious, I walk over and peel off the tape. Inside the first box is another box. Except this one is fancy and labeled with the words Vibro. 

Inside that box is a real, incredibly sharp, dagger. It has a steel blade with a wooden handle, which is carved to say Annelise Wessling, my aunt’s full name. The handle also has three stones on it: a black onyx, a turquoise and a moonstone. A dagger! Nobody told me that there was a dagger hiding in my room, that’s so sick! I take it in my hands and wield it like I'm fighting some epic battle. It definitely adds some cheerfulness to my current somber mood. But it still raises some questions. Questions like where the heck did my aunt even get a dagger? 

Then suddenly I hear footsteps followed by a knocking noise. I freeze in place like a statue. 

“Hey Max, can ya open up!,’’ Dylan yells. Whew, it’s just my brother. I quickly put the dagger back in its box. 

“What do you want?,’’ I yell back. He opens the door. 

“Why are you sitting in the closet?’’ 

 “Because I want to,’’ I reply, turning around. Dylan takes a seat on the edge of my bed. 

   “So did you come in here just to stir up trouble, or did you actually want to tell me something?’’ 

“Yeah, I did come in here to actually tell you something, I came in here to tell you that Gemma just put out lunch. It’s a charcuterie board. I also came in here to tell you that after lunch, mom wants to go into town and have a look around. She wants to give me and you a tour,’’ Dylan says in a sarcastic tone. 

     “Okay, if that’s the case, then I’ll be down in a minute,’’ I say, glancing around the room. I desperately want him to leave so that I can get back to investigating.  

      Dylan scans the room, but to my relief, doesn't seem to notice the dagger case. He adjusts the blanket, opens my door, and walks out of my bedroom. Since I’m quite hungry, I quickly put the dagger case back in the closet and follow my brother to the kitchen. When I get there, I see that my brother, my mom, Gemma and Wyatt are all either sitting at the table or grabbing things from the charcuterie board. I grab a plate and walk over to the counter. When I get there, It takes me a minute to realize that I’m standing right next to Wyatt. 

“Hi, Max,’’ Wyatt says, waving to me. 

I flush bright pink. What, I couldn’t help it. As soon as I look away from Wyatt, I see Dylan, who’s standing across the counter from me, start to giggle. I want, so hard, to slap him across the face, but refrain from doing so. For lunch, I grab some cheese, thinly sliced ham, and grapes. I decide to sit next to Gemma, in the farthest possible spot away from Dylan. I don’t want to sit next to him because he’ll probably bug me over and over again about liking Wyatt.

“Ok, Max, Dylan, listen up!,’’ my mom says, clapping to get our attention. Me and my brother turn our heads to our mom. “This is the last time that I’m telling you about our plans this afternoon. Once everybody is done with their lunch, I was thinking that we could tour around town for a bit. We can go to Rosemary Ellis’ shop, Sacred Grounds, and then visit a nice, cute little bookstore that I used to always go to. Touring around will be the perfect way to get reacquainted with Glenmoor again.’’ 

In response to my mom’s information, Dylan just nods his head, his jett black curls jumping up and down. 

“Yeah, I think that’s a great way to see the town, I just need to finish up my lunch,’’ I reply. I load up my last cracker with ham and swiss cheese and stuff a few grapes into my mouth before going back to my room. When I reach my room, I return to examining the dagger. 

I open the box again and take a picture of it. I also deicide to Google the word on the dagger’s box, Vibro. Nothing comes up, at least not anything relating to a dagger. I take a quick glimpse at the clock. It says 13:15. It’s probably about time for me to get in the car. 

So I grab my jean jacket  and head downstairs. I open the outside door and walk down the front steps. The freshly fallen leaves crunch under my feet as I walk down the driveway. I see my grandmother’s teal convertible out towards the middle of the driveway, my mom in the front seat. She starts waving me over. I pick up my pace a little bit until I get to the car. When I do, I open the door and slide into the passenger seat. My grandmother’s cars were some of her prized possessions, so she kept them in the best condition possible. Though I just know that me and Dylan will absolutely ruin her leather seats.  

“So Max, have you seen your brother?,’’ my mom asks, turning towards me. 

“You know what, I haven’t seen Dylan at all since lunch.’’

 “How about you go find him then,’’ my mom suggests, smirking.

 ‘’Ugh, do I have to,’’ I groan. 

“Yep, go get him,’’ my mom says. Since whatever my mom says goes, I sigh, run back to the manor, and open the door. 

“DYLAN! Get your lazy butt over here,’’ I yell to get my brother's attention. Then all of the sudden, he materializes in the hallway. 

 “What? I just needed to grab my journal, you didn’t need to scream my name,’’ Dylan retorts. 

“I know I didn’t have to scream your name, but I wanted to,’’ I say, smiling smugly. 

“Whatever, can we just get to the car?’’ 

“That’s where I'm heading.’’ I open the door and step out onto the driveway. I pick up my pace to a jog to try to get my brother to match my pace and go a little faster. He doesn't, of course, and just kind of  meanders. I get to the car first and take the front seat, as planned, and Dylan takes the back.

 “Okay, I’ve got both of you, I didn’t forget anyone, right?,’’ my mom jokes. 

“Yep,’’ I answer. My mom starts the car and we drive down the driveway. 

 Soon we turn onto the gravel lane that we drove down yesterday in a taxi. Outside the car, I see the tree leaves in rich fall colors. Dark red, yellow, auburn, burnt orange. It’s gorgeous. The chilly fall air blows over the top of the convertible. I look to the back of the car. Dylan is scrawling something in his leather covered journal. 

Dylan’s journal is his prized possession. If I ever laid a finger on his journal, he would surely skin me alive. Since I currently have all of my skin on me, I have no idea what’s in my brother’s journal. It’s probably just poetry, but for all I know, It could be a list of his mortal enemies. 

After about ten minutes of driving, we pull off of the backroads and onto the main road.  As the trees clear out, I can start to see the town come into view. First I see one of Glenmoor’s two primary schools, Oak Grove Primary School. 

Then I start to see the sloped townhomes and local business of downtown Glenmoor. Finally the secondary school that Dylan and I will be starting at tomorrow comes into view. My mom pulls into a parking lot right by main street. 

“Okay, remember to be polite and respectful to the town and the locals, got it? ’’ my mom says. We both nod and exit the car. I run around the back and open the trunk, boot, whatever you call it, to get a tote bag to carry books in. I see my brother slip his cell phone into the pocket of his jacket. 

“I don’t want to see either of you on your phones, so hand ‘em over,’’ my mom says, her hands out in front of her. “Mine’s at the Manor,’’ I say truthfully.

 “Yeah, mine too,’’ Dylan says, sporting a slightly panicked look on his face. My mom just rolls her eyes. 

“I know it’s in your pocket, now hand it over.’’  

Dylan groans and with much protest, deposits his phone into my mom’s hands. If there’s one thing you need to know about my mom, it’s that she can read my brother better than anyone else in the world can read him. Even better than I can. 

“Thank you, now I would like to get going so we can be back by five. I have renovators coming and I need to be there when they show up,’’ my mom says, taking out a map of downtown. I peer over her shoulders, but she folds up the map before I get a chance to see it. Then she starts walking toward a huge gateway sign that says Welcome to Downtown Glenmoor. Me and Dylan quickly follow behind, having no idea where we’re going.

 English Ivy hangs from the brick houses. The smell of cinnamon and coffee fills the chilly air. The sound of people talking and the jazzy tune of a street musician add sound to the delicate atmosphere. The uneven cobblestone brushes up against my feet. It kind of reminds me of the park by our neighborhood in New York, except with fewer pigeons. 

We eventually reach a sign that says Sacred Grounds. The interior is visible through four large glass windows. Inside, the decorations are made up of inspirational quotes and prints of famous artworks. Five circular tables sit on each side of the room. 

 “Max, do you see the door handle, it’s kind of neat,’’ Dylan whispers. I glance down at the door handle. It’s shaped like a coffee mug. Pretty cool. We open the door and walk up to the counter. There, we see Rosemary manning the checkout desk. “Hi Tabitha! How are you? I see you decided to come support a local business,’’ Rosemary says in a welcoming tone. 

“Yeah, we were bored, so we decided to tour around town. We’re planning on getting some coffee here and then checking out Bea’s Book’s afterwards. it says on last year’s Glenmoor’s best that you have the best coffee and scones in the whole town. Is that true?,’’ my mom asks, making friendly conversation with Rosemary. 

 “I mean, my customers say so, so yeah.’’ 

             “Is Willow here?,’’ I ask. 

“No, she's at her cousin Brett’s birthday party. She didn’t want to be there, but William insists that she retains a good relationship with her cousins. I bet she would love to talk to you If she were here, though.’’ 

“Rosemary, I kind of want to talk to you about something in private, without Dylan and Max around,’’ My mom says, leaning over the checkout desk.

 “Sure, I can just get Sarah to take your kids’ orders. Sarah! Come here!’’ 

 After Rosemary finishes alerting what I assume to be her employee, she and my mom disappear around the corner of the kitchen. What could my mom possibly be talking about with Rosemary that could be that secretive? Just then, a middle aged woman with strawberry blonde hair walks out of the kitchen. 

“Hello, I’m Sarah. I heard you're the Wessling kids that Rosemary’s been talking ‘bout. Wessling Funeral Service Wessling, right?’’ She asks. 

Wessling Funeral Service is the company that made my family so rich. My great grandfather started it in Swansea, Wales, and my grandparents expanded it. We now have over fifty locations in the UK under our belts. When my grandmother died, she left the company to my great uncle who will run it until Dylan comes of age. If Dylan decides that he wants to run the business and go into school for it, then it gets passed to him. If he doesn’t want to take it over, it gets passed to me. If I don’t accept it, then it gets passed on to another family member and so on and so forth. So me and Dylan are basically funeral nepo babies.     

 “Yeah, I’m Max and this is my brother Dylan,’’ 

       “I knew it, you look so much like your aunt. She was a year below me in school and I looked up to her a lot. She was just so cool to me, I guess. She was rich, fun, and full of life. She also always seemed to know everything. One day when I was in year five, she told me that I had a bright  future ahead of me before sprinting to class. Guess that was the one thing she was wrong about. I got pregnant at sixteen, never went to college and ended up as a barista my whole adult life. But enough about my woes, I want to know something from you. Have you ever heard the story of Cora Deering?’’ 

“No,’’ I reply. 

“I know,’’ Dylan says. He looks up from the floor and his face twists into a creepy grin. I know that my brother doesn’t tell me much about ghost stories, but if there was a supposed ghost in the manor, I'm pretty sure he would let me know. 

 “The story of Cora Deering goes like this: the year was eighteen seventy eight and what is now known as Wessling Manor was just finished being built. A girl named Cora lived in the village orphanage. She was a polite and kind young girl, but she had a secret. Her secret was that she was a witch. One day, she was walking down a dirt road when a group of girls came up to her. One of the girls was the daughter of the man that had the manor built. Her name was Elizabeth Reed. 

The girls started teasing Cora until she was so infuriated that she caught Elizabeth’s dress on fire with her mind. Elizabeth ran away screaming and the others quickly followed. Miraculously, Elizabeth survived her burns and made a full recovery. But unfortunately for Cora, she had told her dad. Her dad, Edward Reed, was a big believer in witchcraft being real and being dangerous, so he rallied up parts of the village against Cora. They kidnapped her and took her from the orphanage to the manor. They tied her hands to the tower part of the manor, which is probably a good 50ft off the ground. They figured that if she was a witch, she would float back up when they cut the rope, but if she wasn't, she would plummet to her death. She had no parents to stop them from going through with it, so they cut the rope and sure enough, she fell and died. Legend has it that Cora’s ghost still haunts the manor to this day,’’ Sarah recites.

“That’s horrible! Did Elizabeth’s dad at least get the punishment he deserved?,’’ I exclaim. 

“Sadly no, In those days barely anybody did. The mayor tried to punish Mr. Reed, but he kept bribing them and finding ways to escape jail time. Eventually the Reed family went into debt in the nineteen thirties and had to sell the manor. But that was a good thirty years after Edward died.’’ 

Suddenly, My mom and Rosemary walk in. “Did you take their order?,’’ Rosemary asks Sarah.

 “Oh shoot, I forgot, what would you two like to drink?’’

We order and Sarah hands us our drinks. I can’t stop thinking about what Sarah said. I know that ghosts and witches aren’t real. After all, I'm fourteen, not five. I guess it just piques my interest, especially with the lighting incident yesterday.

After we finish our drinks and check out the bookstore, we head home for the rest of the day. The rest of the afternoon isn’t that busy. I spend most of it relaxing and trying not to worry about school tomorrow. I’ll try my best to ensure that my first day goes well, but in the end, it’s all up to fate.  

The sun peeks through my window at around six thirty, just in time for me to awaken. I begrudgingly accept the sun’s wakeup call and get out of bed. 

I stumble towards my light switch, flip it on, walk downstairs, and practice my normal morning routine. Gemma and my mom are too busy with renovations for either of them to put out breakfast, so I just make myself some toast with peanut butter. I burn it, of course. Then I pack my bag and change into my school uniform. 

   Thirty minutes later, I finish fussing with my braid and making sure my uniform is creased to perfection. I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to first impressions. They mean a lot to me, I guess. My brother is quite the opposite, really. Back in New York, my mom had to force him to shower and get his uniform on every day, since we went to a private school. 

I take a quick glance at the clock (yes, we have a clock in the bathroom) and notice that it’s five minutes past 7:30, which is the time that my mom told me we had to leave at. I curse and run out of the bathroom. I race down the hallway and yank open the front door. Acknowledging that my grandmother’s teal convertible is pretty close to the manor, I sprint to it like I’m doing a hundred yard dash. Dylan opens the door for me before I could get to it.

“What took you so long?’’ he asks, looking kind of annoyed.

 “None of your business,’’ I say smartly. 

“That’s my sister, now get in,’’ Dylan replies, opening the door wide, even wider than his smirk. I hop in and slide into the right seat. My mom starts the car. 

“Who do you have for your classes? I want to see if I have any with you,’’ Wyatt questions, turning around to face the back. I nearly jump backwards in surprise. I honestly forgot that Wyatt was going to be riding to school with us. 

“Sure, can you also tell me a bit about the teachers?” I ask, handing over my binder. 

“Let’s see, first Period, English with Ms. Styles. She’s really nice, everyone that has her seems to like her. Unfortunately, I don’t have her at all. Second period, art class with Mr. Tomas. I don't know him, I’ve never taken art class. Third period, maths with Mr. Kumar. Yikes! He's really strict, yells more than he talks, I reckon. The only class I have with you is chemistry. It’s a large class with both year tens and year elevens and is a bit chaotic at times, especially when we do experiments, but fun nevertheless,’’ Wyatt tells me, handing me back my binder. 

`“Are you two excited for school?’’ my mom inquiries. I look up. 

“Yeah, attending a new school in a new country is definitely new,’’ I reply, smiling. 

“What about you, Dylan?’’ my mom asks, trying to encourage  my brother to actually socialize. 

“Eh, it really doesn’t matter, I'll still be miserable if I do school in the UK, it’s not that different,’’ Dylan responds, not looking up from his journal. 

“Would it kill you to cheer up?’’ I ask my brother. 

“Yes, I'm actually highly allergic to it,’’ Dylan replies sarcastically. My mom parks in the school parking lot. A sign that says Glenmoor Secondary School looms above us. We grab our backpacks and exit the car. 

“Have a good day!’’ my mom yells to us, waving good-bye. Then she drives off, leaving us stranded. At least that’s what it feels like. 

I look towards the main entrance. There are all kinds of kids entering the school, each from very different grades. There’s what appears to be a year seven talking with her friend. They both look so young and small. Then I see a large group of Six formers entering through the far side of the building. I heard that they’re called the Elites here.   

“Hey Max! We’re over here!,’’ Dylan shouts. I turn around. I spot him and Wyatt standing by a tree and jog over there to join them.

 “Hello, did I miss anything?’’  

“No, you didn’t. Just so you know, I'm going to leave now. My teacher would be quite mad at me if I'm tardy, so see ya,’’ Wyatt says, sprinting away from the group. Wow, he seems eager to get away from us. Is Dylan that off-putting?

“Yeah, I’ve gotta go too, the year 11 hallway is all the way over there,’’ Dylan declares, pointing at the second entrance. 

“Okay, that’s fine. I can just get Wyatt to help me find my first class,’’ I tell my brother, eyeing the entrance. Wyatt’s not even outside anymore, he’s already in the school. So it might take me a while to catch up to him. Especially in these uncomfortable dress shoes. 

 I sprint to the school entrance and push past a large mass of people to get to the main hallway. Once I’m there, I scout around for Wyatt. I finally see him talking with another boy and tap him on the shoulder. 

“Hey Wyatt, I’m kind of confused about where everything is, so can you help me find my first class?” He turns around. 

“Sure. Elliot, I can talk to you later, gotta show the new girl around,” Wyatt says to the boy he was talking with. He then walks over to me and stands by my side. “So what’s Ms. Styles’ room number? You have her first period, right?”

“Yeah, I think she’s in room B-2,’’ I reply. 

“Cool, I’m pretty sure I know where that is. Come on!,’’ Wyatt remarks, signaling for me to follow him. I break into a trot and follow Wyatt Miller through the crowded hallways of Glenmoor Secondary school. I file up behind him to make sure not to block the path for incoming students going the opposite direction, since the halls of this old school are extremely narrow. Hm, crowded and narrow, the perfect combination. 

“So who’s that guy you were talking with? Elliot, right?,’’ I inquire. 

     “Oh, Elliot. He’s in my maths class. Yeah, we were just talking about you, actually.’’ My heart thumps.

“What kind of stuff were you saying about me?’’  

“Just that your family moved back into the manor, that’s all,’’ Wyatt replies. Okay, good, at least he wasn't spreading nasty rumors about me or my family. Though Wyatt doesn’t seem like the person to spread rumors. But hey, what do I know, I met him just two days ago. 

We turn a corner into the combined year nine and year ten hallway. Soon I spot a young woman with blonde hair and light blue glasses shuffling kids into a classroom and handing out worksheets. 

“Yep, that's Ms. Styles. Hope you have a good day,’’ Wyatt tells me. He waves good-bye and soon disappears around a corner, abandoning me. At least for the time being. I guess there’s only one thing left to do now, introduce myself to my new English teacher. 

I take a deep breath. Introducing myself to new people, especially adults, makes me extremely nervous. I always feel like I’ll screw something up or something will go wrong. I know this might sound quite strange to you, but I kind of wish that Dylan were here with me. I know that he's annoying and all, but he has a certain way with people. A sort of charm to him. He’s very charismatic, if you couldn’t tell already. 

Suddenly, my teacher, who just finished handing out worksheets, catches my eye and walks over. I paste a forced smile on my face. She stops a few feet away from me, a small smile marking her face as well. I can’t tell if it’s forced or not, but a smile on the face of somebody who teaches ninth graders all day, is rare.     

“Hi, I’m Ms. Styles! You’re Maxine, right?,’’ she asks. 

“Yeah, but I prefer to be called Max.’’

“Max is a good nickname. Where’d you move from?’’

 “Oh, New York City, The Big Apple, The Empire State, whatever you want to call it.’’

“Ooh, you’re from across the pond. We don’t get many Americans in Glenmoor. Anyways, you can just come in and pick a seat, I don’t assign them,’’ Ms. Styles says, gesturing towards the classroom. 

“Great, I’ll just- I’ll go in,’’ I stammer, making my way towards the open door. When I get to the door, I twist the doorknob and push it inwards. “You can do this, Max,’’ I whisper to myself. 

 Inside, I see about twenty teens sitting at their desks. They’re all either working on an assignment or chatting with their friends. Then I see Willow, all the way in the back, waving her hand back and forth to signal me over to the empty seat beside her. I walk over and slide into the empty seat and desk.  

“You know, you could have made it clearer that you wanted me to sit next to you. I don’t think you made it clear enough,’’ I joke. Willow laughs. 

“Well I didn’t even know that you were in this class, I only found out when I saw you talking with Ms. Styles out in the hallway. You’re right about me not being clear enough, I should’ve also yelled your name.’’

 I laugh a bit from picturing Willow with her hands waving in the air, yelling my name. Right then, the classroom door opens and all eyes dart towards Ms. Styles.

 “Okay class, listen up! Today we will continue working on our reading group book presentations with your groups, but before that, I’ll talk about the guidelines for the presentation.’’

Because it was my first day here, I had no idea what Ms. Styles was talking about. So after she finishes talking, I walk up to her to get some clarification. 

“Ms. Styles,’’ I say to get her attention. 

“Yeah, do you need anything?,’’ she asks, turning around. 

“I was just wondering, should I join a book group?” 

 “Yes, even though you joined late, you still have to do it. The theme of these book groups is old English literature, and most people are still finishing up reading. Only one group has started their presentation. Why don’t you join Willow’s group? Willow, James and Lewis are all really nice. They’re reading Macbeth,’’ Ms. Styles suggests. 

“Yeah, I'll just join Willow’s group,’’ I say, walking back to my seat. I sit down at my desk, relieved. Even though I hate book groups, I can at least share that pain with Willow.   

“Do you know which book group you’re joining?,’’ Willow asks. 

I look up from my desk.  “Yes, I'm joining your group.’’  

“Great, we could really use you,’’ Willow says optimistically. 

 “Teacher's pet,’’ I hear the girl at the desk couplet across from me  mutter. 

“What’s her problem?,’’ I whisper to Willow. 

“That’s Jessie, she hangs out with the popular girls. I would avoid her at all costs.’’ 

“Hey Willow, I heard you made out with Emily’s boyfriend,’’ Jessie says in a teasing tone. 

“I did not!’’ Willow bellows, raising her voice. 

“Yeah you did, Emily saw you two kissing by the fence. French kissing by the fence. I also heard from Emily that he asked you if you wanted to stay over at his house for the night,’’ Jessie says, smirking. That part garners up a few “Oohs,’’ from the crowd. Willow’s face turns from light brown to bright red. I could practically see her blood boiling.

 “STOP! It’s not true,’’ she yells out in anger. Suddenly everybody's eyes are on Willow. 

“Jessie! Exchange seats with Lewis. I want you away from Willow,’’ Ms. Styles orders. Jessie groans and moves up to the front. Not a word is heard from her for the rest of class. 

After about an hour of reading and working with book groups, the second bell rings.  “Ok, you all are dismissed, except Willow and Max,’’ Ms. Styles announces.

 “What did we do wrong?,’’ I ask Willow, my voice showing my surprise.  

“I think it’s something about Jessie,’’ Willow replies.

 “Yeah, I guess that’s probably it.’’ We wait for everyone to leave the classroom before we go up to Ms. Styles. She notices us and speaks before we do. 

“Wow, you two actually stayed behind, people rarely do when they hear that I have to talk to them. Just so you know, neither of you are in trouble.  I just want you to know that if you feel like you’re being bullied by Jessie or any of her friends, you can always talk to me.’’ We nod.

“I was bullied a lot as a kid. Mostly because I was a little nerdy. Okay, I was very nerdy. But the point is, bullying  diminishes your self esteem. Don’t believe the things that those girls say, they don’t know you. Since I made you stay, I’ll write you a pass to your next class,’’ Ms. Styles continues. Towards the middle of that, I was beginning to wonder if Ms. Styles doubles as the school guidance counselor. 

“Here you go, bye,’’ she says, handing us a Sticky Note. I sigh and exit the classroom. At this school, homeroom is after first period, so that’s where I’m going next.    

“Hey Max, I think we’re in the same house since the emblems on our ties match,’’ Willow points out, keeping a steady pace behind me. I glance down at my tie and then look over at her tie. They both have an emblem of a lion. I think all of the houses in this school are all named after animals, so me and Willow are both in the lion house. Or house of lion, or however you say it. 

“They do, maybe we can walk to homeroom together. You can show me where it is,’’ I suggest.

 “Our house meets in A-9, which is the band room, so let’s go!,’’ Willow replies, turning into the main hallway. Honestly, after what happened in first period, I’m kind of worried about the mean girls here. It’s only a matter of time before they get tired of picking on Willow and turn to me for their next victim. To prevent them from doing just that, I’ll have to watch where I tread.              

 ***********************************************

“Max, you need to get your stuff together. I've got lunch duty,’’ Mr. Tomas says, grabbing his tote bag. Homeroom, as well as Art class, has come and gone and now it’s time to clean up. Unfortunately, my workspace is still a huge mess.

 “Yeah, I'm almost done,’’ I yell back. 

 I throw two paint brushes into the sink, sweep colored pencil shavings into a trash can, and shove my art piece into my backpack. Mr. Tomas is standing outside of the classroom, holding the door open. 

“One last thing, Max, please don’t throw my paint brushes. Also, can you remind me to put Oliver on my mental list of people to keep far away from the hot glue guns. I had no idea that he could manage to almost catch the classroom on fire twice, in one day,’’ Mr. Tomas says through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. Who plugs in a glue gun right next to the sink and then washes their hands?’’ 

‘'Apparently Oliver. Anyways, have a good lunch, Max.’’ 

After Mr. Tomas leaves, I begin to walk towards the cafeteria. To be honest, when I first walked into my art class, I didn’t  think my teacher would be a first year teacher fresh out of college that barely knows how to control a classroom. I actually feel quite sorry for him. If I had to teach that class, I would go half mad trying to deal with the popular girls and the boys in the back that don’t even want to be there. 

As I’m approaching the cafeteria, my mind wanders off to thinking about who I’m gonna sit with. Even though I’ll probably just sit with Willow, I decide to scan the room for other potential tablemates. There’s the Jock table. The nerds. The artsy kids. No group particularly piques my interest until I look at the table left of me. I see a girl that looks pretty nice, and she’s also sitting by herself. Pretty low risk of rejection. Suddenly the girl looks my way.    

“Are you new here? You can sit with me. I have a few other friends coming, though,’’ the girl says. She does sound nice, so I might as well sit with her. Plus, If I want to do well socially, I need to get to know more than three people that go here. For those reasons, I take a seat. 

  “What’s your name?,’’ she asks sweetly. 

 “Max, what’s yours?’’ 

“Linh, just Linh,’’ she says, smiling. 

“What are you doing Linh! We don’t sit with random new kids!,’’ a voice behind me yells out. I turn around to see a pretty, blonde (probably bottle blonde) girl with heavy makeup and a sour look on her face.  

“Sorry, could you please leave? Emily's orders,’’ Linh says, a sincere look on her face. I feel like a lump of clay has suddenly been stuffed down my throat. I want to retaliate, but I can’t seem to muster up the courage to stand up for myself. As much as I want to fight back, I don't want to be defeated by mean girls today. So with anger still boiling inside me, I grab my backpack and leave. 

Since I obviously can’t sit there, I scout around for Willow. I finally see her at the back of the cafeteria, sitting by herself. She sees me and waves me over. I walk over and sit down. 

“I saw that you tried to sit with the popular girls,’’ Willow says, her voice in a bitter tone.  

“Yeah, though when I sat down, it was only Linh sitting there. She seemed nice, at least until her friends came.’’ 

 “Oh, Linh Nguyen, I actually feel bad for her. She's a really nice girl, really smart too. She just can’t seem to figure out that her so-called “friends” are just using her, shame,’’ Willow says, shaking her head.

“Do you know why they made up a rumor about you kissing Emily’s boyfriend?’’ 

“They probably made it up just because. They do that all the time. They feed off people’s gullibility like predators feed off prey. One especially ridiculous thing they do is; Every year they make a list of the “hottest” boys that go to this school. Most of those boys are “big tough’’ rugby players. It’s so stupid.’’

 While Willow continues to drone on and on about why she hates the popular girls, I glance around the cafeteria. In one of the far corners, I see Wyatt standing by himself.   

“Hey Willow, do you mind if I ask Wyatt if he wants to come sit with us?’’ 

 “Sure, you can ask him. The more the merrier.’’ 

I slowly walk up to him. Wyatt soon notices me, a kind smile on his face. “Hi Max, what do you want?’’  

“I was just wondering, do you want to sit with us?’’ You better not blush, my brain hastily reminds me.

 “Sure, I haven’t even started eating my lunch yet,’’’ Wyatt answers, picking his backpack up from the tile floor. He follows me back to our table.

 “Wyatt! I’m glad you could join us! We don’t have anyone else sitting with us so you can sit wherever you like,’’ Willow exclaims, turning to face me and Wyatt. Of all the places he could choose, Wyatt chooses to take a seat right by me. I blush a little before I start to speak.

 “So what electives do you guys take?’’ I ask the group. 

 “I do drama and yearbook. Did you know that Dylan’s in my drama class?’’ Wyatt replies.

 “Wait what? I had no idea. What's he like in that class?,’’ I ask Wyatt.

 “Well, he didn’t really say anything when the teacher was having a full class discussion. However, when we did a practice play, he was a total attention thief, and not in a good way. He’s quite talented, but refuses share the spotlight.’’                     

“Yeah, makes sense. He’s like that sometimes. You just got to get used to it.’’      

 “It makes sense that you took drama, you seem like such a theater kid. What did you choose, Max?" Willow inquires. 

  “Me? I chose art and French. I love art, making it and looking at it, and I chose French for a language credit.  What did you choose?’’

      “I chose choir, and art on the opposite day as you. Not to brag, but my choir instructor said that I have one of the best voices in the class. Do you want to hear a bit?,’’ Willow asks. 

“Yeah, I’d love to,’’ I reply with. 

“Sure,’’ Wyatt says.

    Willow starts to sing. Her perfect rendition of Riptide blew my mind. I had no idea that her soothing voice carried over to singing. We talk and laugh and tell stories for the rest of lunch. Soon the bell rings and I have to go to Math class. 

Math flew by. Mr. Kumar was as strict as Wyatt made him out to be. We did a test that I know I failed. He yelled at one of my classmates for having the wrong pencil. How does having a different pencil affect your ability to do well on a test?   

 My last two periods passed as well and I soon found myself waiting at the pickup line wondering where the heck my brother and Wyatt are, how I will complete the mountain of homework all of my different teachers assigned to me and why I don’t see a teal convertible anywhere. 

I decide to pull out my phone and text Dylan. Where R u? I wait a few minutes for him to reply. No response. 

“Max! We’re right here!’’ I hear my brother shout. I turn around. I see Dylan and Wyatt dashing down the sidewalk before stopping a few feet in front of my face. 

“What took you guys so long?’’ I ask, slightly annoyed. 

“We were going to meet you out here as soon as fifth period ended, but then Dylan had to get his gym trainers from his locker,’’ Wyatt explains. 

    “Hey, I think that’s our car,’’ Dylan says, pointing in front of him. I turn to look where my brother’s pointing. I see my mom’s convertible parked in the school parking lot, with my mom in the front seat.

“Dylan! Max! Come on! We don’t want your mum to drive away without us!’’ Wyatt says, running out ahead. 

“Okay, I’m coming!’’ I yell back, picking up pace. 

After I get back to the manor, I only have two things on my to do list. Do my homework and research the story that Sarah told me about. After what she told me yesterday, I was quite curious, furiously curious, to separate fact from fiction. Especially since it involves Wessling manor, the place I just moved into, because I’m pretty sure that nobody wants to live in a haunted house.   

Knock-knock. “Who is it!,’’ I yell, raising my voice so that whoever is on the other side of the door could hear me. The door opens. It’s just my mom.

  “Hi, just popping in to tell you that dinner’s ready, you don’t need to yell,’’ my mom chuckles. 

“Yeah, sorry, I thought you were Dylan. He has a tendency to barge in my room uninvited, especially when I’m busy. Anyway, I’ll be down in a minute, I just want to finish up this one math problem.’’

“Okay, but hurry up before your food gets cold,’’ my mom says, closing my door. 

I sigh and scribble the answer to a geometry problem down on my paper. Then I grab my phone out of my backpack. I told myself that I would research the history of Wessling Manor after I finished my homework. I’m still only halfway done, but I’m pretty confident that I can finish quickly. My mom probably won’t let me look at my phone at the dinner table, but I’m gonna take it anyway, just in case. For research, of course.  

Overall, dinner went well. However, my mom wouldn't let me look at my phone, Which meant that I couldn't research the manor. Since I still wanted to finish my homework before doing research, I ate quickly and took my desert back to my room. After grinding for about twenty minutes, I’m able to finish my last two homework assignments, which were a sheet of math problems and a chemistry practice quiz.  Finally finished with my homework and feeling satisfied with myself, I pick up my phone and type in the keywords Cora Deering. The first result is a digital copy of a newspaper from November 11th eighteen seventy eight. I click on it. It reads…

Local girl dies at the hands of millionaire businessman Edward Reed 

November 11, 1878

Last week, a ten year old schoolgirl named Coraline Deering was pushed off of the roof of Reed Manor by none other than respected businessman Edward Reed. She was accused of witchcraft and was taken from Glenmoor orphanage to Reed manor. A witness, a maid whose name is Martha Smith, said that he pushed her off of the manor because he thought she would float back up if she was a witch and fall down and die if she wasn’t. Since witches are merely fictional, she fell and died. Her body was recovered from the cellar of the manor and buried in Reed cemetery. We think Edward might be facing hanging, but a man as rich as him could easily bribe his way out of it.

I shudder. Sarah definitely wasn’t lying. Cora was murdered. Though of course the witch part isn’t true, it’s just some sort of local legend. I try to dig up as much dirt on the manor as possible, but all I come across are dead ends. I get so invested in this that I spend hours going through an internet rabbit hole until: 

“Max! Dylan! Lights out!’’ my mom yells. Her voice is muffled because my door is closed, but I can still hear her clearly. I plug my phone in, turn off the lights and hop into bed. My search resumes tomorrow.      

At around midnight, I wake up to the sound of my blinds rustling. It must just be the wind, I reassure myself, slamming my face against my pillow. I really need to fall back asleep soon, I have a chemistry quiz tomorrow. Suddenly, I hear a voice       

 “Maxineee, Maxineee Wesslingg, where are you?’’ a voice says, sounding very shrill and creepy. I must just be hearing things. My blinds rustle some more, this time up and down. Wind doesn’t move blinds up and down. “Maxineee I’m coming for you,’’ the creepy voice says. I pull my comforter up to my chin. You’re just letting your head get to you, Max. No matter how creepy Wessling Manor may seem, it’s not haunted. 

“It's over Max,’’ the voice says ominously, every word bouncing back to me in the form of an echo. Fear courses through my body, making me feel nauseous. Luckily, my brain was there to save me.  You need to think rationally, ghosts don’t exist. So it’s either Dylan, or you’re just hearing things. 

“Dylan! Are you here!’’ I yell, still shaking. Muffled laughter fills my ears. A real ghost wouldn’t laugh if I asked if it was my brother, so it’s definitely Dylan. 

Furious beyond comparison, I march over to my light switch and flip it on. I scan my room. No Dylan. Then I start to suspect what my brother did. So for background information, Dylan has this Bluetooth speaker that he uses to amplify his tunes. His speaker also connects to a microphone, so he can use it as an intercom. He often uses that function to annoy me. Since my blinds were moving up and down, my brother’s probably out on the balcony. That’s plausible because his balcony and my balcony connect. 

I trudge over and yank open the sliding door. I see Dylan sitting out on the deck. His phone is turned upside down on his lap and his phone light is on, thus illuminating his shocked expression. My blood starts to boil. 

“Dylan! What the heck! You scared the crap out of me!” I yell.

 “Hopefully I didn’t literally scare the crap out of you,” Dylan says, his expression turning from shock to amusement. 

“Pranking your sister isn’t funny!” 

“Yeah, well my friends in New York will think it’s funny,” Dylan smirks. He pulls out his phone and shows me a video of myself being pranked, every vital moment caught on camera. My anger intensifies with every second. About halfway through, I crack. 

 “If you send that video to your friends then I swear, I will, I will, ” I stammer, struggling to think of a threat. My mind goes blank. No matter how creative I am, I still can’t think of good ways to blackmail people. A skill I don’t possess. 

“Hah, that’s what I thought. JT will love this, you were so scared,” Dylan laughs, turning off his phone and walking away. It’s pretty clear who won that one. Dylan one, Max zero. I’m  furious at my brother. He can be a real pain in the butt sometimes, but I’m gonna get him back. Though I don’t quite know how. 

I walk back to my bed, turn off the lights and lay down, trying to get the memories of tonight’s little incident out of my head. I can get my sweet revenge on Dylan tomorrow.

************************************************

“Max, wake up! There’s something that you need to see,’’ Dylan says urgently, his eyes so wide that he almost looks awake. I groan. The light from my window already woke me up about half an hour ago, but I was still tired, so I decided to lay in bed for a bit. I’m still untrusting of my brother because of last night’s prank and the fact that when Dylan acts like something is urgent, he usually means something along the lines of “ mom ate the last Hot Pocket ” or “ I have a funny video of cats falling off of furniture that I need to show you.”  Something unserious like that.

“What is it that you need to show me?’’ I ask, rubbing my eyes. 

“It’s something on my mirror, you need to have a look,’’ Dylan says, waving me out of bed. 

“Okay, but you better not be pranking me.’’ 

I get out of bed and follow Dylan out of my room and into his. I honestly don’t know why I decided to follow my brother into his room when I thought he was going to prank me after he pranked me last night. My brain works in weird ways sometimes. 

Once we enter the room, I Immediately see Wyatt sitting at the end of Dylan’s bed. 

“Good Morning, Max,’’ Wyatt says in his usual peppy English accent, waving at me. 

“Good morning Wyatt,’’ I say, waving back. 

“You can say hi to Wyatt later, I really want to show you the writing on my mirror,’’ Dylan says urgently, almost sounding concerned. He continues to pull me along. I scoff. Whatever’s on my brother’s mirror must be really important if he doesn’t even want me talking to Wyatt. Dylan drags me into his bathroom and closes the door behind us. “Look, see the writing. It’s all the way at the top,’’ he says, pointing upwards. I jolt my head up. There, in shaving cream, read the words: I'm coming for you, Wesslings.  

Fury overcomes me. That jerk pranked me again! 

 “How lazy are you? You wrote a message in shaving cream on your mirror and wanted me to believe it was a ghost!’’ I spit out angrily.

 “How would it be me! It’s not even MY handwriting! After I got a shower, I went to change in my room, but I left a little bit of shaving foam in the cap. When I got back, I just found the writing. It’s a sign that Cora’s dead but kicking,’’ Dylan defends. 

“I’m not falling for your tricks again! I’m leaving!’’ I say hotly, storming off. 

“Fine, but when Cora comes after you next, don’t come crying to me! ’’ Dylan shouts, crossing his arms in anger. 

I ignore my brother, slam the door, exit the room, and furiously march down the stairs. I can’t believe that Dylan would try to prank me, twice. Well actually I would. He's pulled some pretty vile pranks on me over the years. The worst one to date was last April Fools Day. It involved a bucket, slime, a trip wire, the door to my room, and of course, me. It had my brother trying to clean slime out of my carpet for hours after it was pulled. 

I walk into the kitchen and grab a muffin from the plastic container that Gemma picked up from Sacred Grounds. “I’m gonna get him back,’’ I mutter under my breath before shoving the muffin into my mouth. 

"Is something wrong?’’ my mom asks me, turning around to meet my eyes. Shoot, I forgot my mom was even here. I swallow the muffin bite before I answer her. She thinks it’s rude to talk with food in your mouth. 

“Dylan pranked me twice! The first time, he put his speaker in my room and pretended he was a ghost, and the second time he wrote some stupid message on his bathroom mirror and tried to make me think it was a ghost.’’ if you can’t already tell, there’s a recurring theme here. 

“Were they mean pranks or like, funny pranks?’’ my mom inquires, grabbing a muffin for herself. 

“Definitely mean pranks, he scared the crap out of me with the speaker one.’’

“Well, I'll talk to him about it and tell him that if he does it again, I’ll take his phone, his laptop and his new wireless earbuds,’’ my mom says, listing my brother’s possessions on her fingers. See, you can always count on my mom to trust me over Dylan.  

“Thanks, I’m going to go get my uniform on,’’ I say, getting up from the table. 

School was almost the same as it was yesterday. Except instead of chemistry, I had geography, and instead of Art, I had French Class. It was actually better than yesterday because Emily and her friends weren't teasing or spreading rumors about me or Willow. At least that I knew of. Speaking of Willow, I sat with her at lunch again. I told her about the pranks and we talked about how to get back at Dylan, but came to the conclusion not to stoop to his level. 

The day ended the same way too, with me being exhausted, drowning in homework, and standing in the pickup line waiting for my brother and Wyatt, who have both still ceased to show. 

I pull out my phone to rage text Dylan when I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn around. I see Wyatt standing  right behind me, his smile warming my soul. 

“Hi Max, how was your day?’’ he asks me. 

“Oh, good,’’ I say, fidgeting with my backpack strap. He moves closer, now at my side. I mask a smile. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to study with me this evening. We can work on our homework together. What do you say?’’ Wyatt asks, still grinning. 

“Um, Yeah, that would be great,’’ I reply, looking into his eyes. Pale blue, the kind you could get lost in. 

 “We can study at my house. My mum has a record player and a whole record collection we could listen to, plus our kitchen stools are really comfy.’’

“Okay, That sounds perfect. By the way, what are your thoughts on the weird mirror writing in Dylan’s bathroom? You were in there when he showed me,’’ I query, thinking back to this morning.

 “Oh boy, I knew you were going to ask about that. Well, here’s my side of the story. Around twenty minutes before you came in, your brother asked me if we could talk in his room. I wanted to be courteous, so I followed him there and we talked about a great deal of things, but mostly about our upcoming play in drama class. Then he said that he forgot to shave and left his pajamas on the bathroom floor. 

I said no problem, I'll go in there with you. So we went into the bathroom and I noticed it first, the writing on the mirror. Dylan’s expression was beyond shocked. It was a very real shock too, definitely not an act. He said that he needed to go get you. So I sat on his bed, waiting. I don’t know if it was real or if he was just pranking us,’’ Wyatt explained. Huh, that's strange, at first I thought it was definitely a prank, but now I’m not so sure.

“Hey Wyatt, I’m giving you your soccer ball back!” Dylan yells. 

I turn around, but Wyatt doesn't, so the soccer ball slams right into his back. Thump. Wyatt turns around and picks it up. 

“Just so you know, it’s a football, not a soccer ball, and probably the best thing you could do right now is apologize to your sister,’’ Wyatt says, standing up for me. 

 “Whatever, our car’s right over there,’’ Dylan says, pointing and rolling his eyes. He then starts strolling toward the convertible. 

“Hey Dylan, tell your mum to wait for me and Max. We want to have a talk!’’ Wyatt yells.

 "Okay!’’ Dylan shouts back. 

“So what’s your plan to get your brother to apologize to you?’’ 

 “Oh, we don’t usually apologize to each other when we have a disagreement. We usually just give it a few days of not talking to each other, then Dylan might yell at me for leaving my clothes in the bathroom or something. I go in and we just start talking to each other again, it works every time,’’ I reply. 

“That doesn’t really sound like a healthy way of dealing with sibling disagreements,’’ Wyatt says, cocking his head.        

“You reek with only child odor,’’ I say, hopping off of the curb and onto the parking lot. We move closer to the car until Wyatt can open the passenger door.

 “Do you want to sit in the passenger seat or in the back?’’

 “I’ll sit in the back so that you don’t have to deal with Dylan,’’ I say, closing the front door. Honestly, with my brother’s recent mischievous streak, I was doing him a big favor. 

Unlike yesterday, the car ride home was as quiet as a tomb. Except for my mom asking me about how my day was, there wasn't much conversation between the four of us. Dylan didn’t try to pull anything either, he was on his phone for the whole ride. As soon as my mom parks, I climb out of the car and wait for Wyatt. I want to know if he’s still up for studying at his house. After noticing me waiting for him, Wyatt pushes open the passenger door and steps out, clutching his navy blue backpack with both of his hands. I wait for him to get within earshot of me before asking him my question.

 “Are you still up for doing homework with me?’’ 

“Yeah, so did you want to go over to my house now, or wait about a half an hour?’’ He inquires, sliding his backpack on.

 “We can go now.’’

 “Great, I assume you have all of your homework in your backpack?’’ Wyatt says. I nod. 

“Okay, follow me,’’ He declares, walking forward in great strides. 

I gingerly follow him across the driveway to a sign that says trail. Beside the sign, there’s a worn path coated with freshly fallen autumn leaves. Wyatt steps onto the path. I still stride far behind, but am able to keep a pretty good pace. The only sound I hear is the soft crackle of leaves crunching under my feet as I walk underneath towering oaks and rows of ash trees with thinning red leaves. 

    “Where is it?,’’ I ask.

“We’re almost there, just a bit more,’’ Wyatt answers, turning around the bend. I continue following him, unsure of where he’s trying to lead me. Then we make a final turn that leads to a clearing.

In the clearing sits the cottage. It’s quite small, probably only having two bedrooms, but is very aesthetically pleasing with a kind of countryside feel to it. A small garden also surrounds the cottage. Patches of herbs and flowers grew about. Towering over the rest of the flowers were a small clump of sunflowers, dead and dropping seeds. 

“Well, here it is, me and my mum’s humble abode. Did you know that back in the day it used to be the groundskeepers house? Though when your grandparents bought the house and didn’t choose to hire any servants, it fell into ruin. But when your grandmother hired my mum, she promised her a place to live. When she showed my mum the cottage, my mum just said that there’s nothing a bit of  work can’t fix. In just one year, we were able to fix it up completely,’’ Wyatt says, trying to educate me on the history of his home.

“Cool, but I really want to see just how soft those stools are.’’

“Well okay, come on then!,’’ Wyatt exclaims, grabbing my hand. 

We race to the door. Wyatt pulls a key out of his pocket and shoves it in the lock. Click. He pushes the door in. 

The interior of the house is also decorated quite cozily, with the small living room housing a plush couch and a large fireplace. Its décor style kind of mirrors the main manor, so maybe Gemma borrowed some furniture from my grandmother.  

“You can kick your shoes off right here, I'll get our workspace set up. You can also hand me your backpack.’’ 

“Here you go, thanks.’’ 

“No problem, you can walk over there and get comfy,’’ Wyatt says, gesturing to the kitchen. Taking note of where Wyatt’s pointing to, I stroll through the entryway divider that separates the living room from the kitchen. When I get to the kitchen, the first thing that catches my eye is the ancient-looking record player. Curious, I walk over to it. After wiping a bit of dust off the lid, I see that It’s engraved with the word Crosley. Beside it is a wooden box filled to the brim with records. 

“Did you know that you’re examining my mum’s prized possession? It was her aunt’s in the sixties, but still works today. My mum found it when she was cleaning out her aunt’s attic after she died. You know, some people get manors, others get record players.  Anyways, do you want to help me pick out a song? ” Wyatt pipes up, putting our binders on the counter.  

“I guess so,’’ I reply.

 Wyatt walks over and starts sifting through the bin of records. “Just about every record in here is from over fifty years ago, so if you’re not into vintage, there’s pretty much nothing you’ll like in here. Oh, what about Jazz? Do you like Jazz?’’ 

“Sure, that’s fine with me.’’ 

“Okay, just let me try to get this under the counterweight,’’ Wyatt says, sliding the record into the record player. After he adjusts it, a soft jazzy tune starts to play.  I walk over to  the counter and sit down. Wyatt wasn't lying, these stools are as soft as clouds. A few minutes later, Wyatt walks in and takes a seat. 

  “How about we get cracking on some geometry problems?,’’ I say, grabbing my math worksheet.   

                ********************************

I grab my loose papers and clip them into my three ring binder before sliding it into my backpack. I also grab my math notebook and shove it in the back pocket. Wyatt taps me on the shoulder and gestures towards the door.  “Can you hurry up a bit? I kind of want to eat.’’ 

 “Chill Wyatt, dinner can wait.” 

“I’m still hungry though.”

 “Be patient, I'm coming, just give me a minute,’’ I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. Now that me and Wyatt have both finally finished our homework, our main concentration is getting back to the manor in time for dinner. 

I hurriedly make my way across the kitchen and join Wyatt outside on the steps. Together, side by side, Wyatt and I start down the twisty path that leads back to the manor. Bright rays of  sunlight filter through the umbrella-like canopy of leaves, making Wyatt’s hair turn an interesting shade of golden yellow. 

 “I’ve been meaning  to ask, how do you like the school here?,’’ Wyatt inquiries, wiping some of his hair off of his handsome face. 

 “It’s pretty good, except the popular girls, but those come with every school.’’  

“Yeah, they’re real jerks, you know. They’re kind of like the Mean Girls, but instead of a burn book, they have the hottie list. Which is kind of like the opposite of a burn book, ‘cause everybody wants to be on it. To be honest, I watch too many American high school chick flicks.’’ 

“Yeah, they are kind of like that. Did you hear the rumor that they made up about Willow? They said that she tried to hook up with Emily’s boyfriend.’’ 

 “Wow, really? They’ve reached a new low. I honestly feel bad for Willow.’’

 “Speaking of Willow, do you think she’d be a good person to hang out with?’” 

 “I think so, she’s super sweet and seems to make everyone feel included,’’ Wyatt states. I nod. Right then, we pass the sign that says trail again. We make our way across the driveway and open the heavy wood door. The smell of shepherd's pie permeated through the dusty old hallway. I guess I know what we’re having for dinner.  

I slide my bag onto one of the gold hooks, walk into the kitchen, and take a seat next to my brother. My mom and Gemma are also sitting at the dining table, eating dinner. My mom finally takes notice of me and turns my way.  

“Ah, you and Wyatt are finally here. I served dinner about twenty minutes ago, so your plate may be cold,’’ my mom remarks, a hint of annoyance in her voice. Dang it, Maybe I should’ve started packing up earlier, then my mom wouldn’t be mad at me for being late to dinner. 

I turn to Dylan, who’s trying to balance his fork on top of his water glass. He seems to be ignoring me. Good. I pick up my fork and dig into my shepherd's pie. 

“Hey Max, what were you and Wyatt doing?,’’ Dylan inquiries. I turn around. Since his voice seemed to be at a tone of genuine curiosity instead of teasing, I decide to answer him. 

“Oh, we were just doing homework at his house.’’

“Nice, what’s it like over there?’’

“Good, Wyatt’s house is actually quite cozy.’’         

“That’s cool,’’ Dylan says, fidgeting with his hoodie drawstring. Is it just me, or is Dylan actually trying to be nice?  Maybe he just feels guilty about what happened this morning. I want to know if  the shaving cream thing was a prank, but if I pester him about it, we might fight again. I don’t like fighting with my brother, so I keep my mouth shut and go back to eating my dinner. A few minutes later, Dylan finishes his dinner and gets up. I see him pull his phone out of his pocket to look at. Then, an idea forms in my head. 

Since Dylan is constantly texting his friends, maybe he texted one of them about the mirror writing. Given that I’m itching to know more about what happened this morning, I get up out of my seat and follow him down the hallway. In the living room, I see my brother set his phone down on the coffee table and walk away. Well, looks like my time to shine. I wait for him to start walking up the stairs before putting my plan in action. I race over to the coffee table and pick up his phone.   

        Unluckily for me, his phone is locked, but I know his passcode. 21308, his birthday. Bingo, I'm in. I go to his messaging app and see that his latest text is to his best friend Kai. For your information, Kai is one of my brother’s “better friends’’ which means that my mom lets Dylan text him. So no trouble there. I click on the text conversation. 

My blood runs cold. The first text was a picture of Dylan’s shaving cream covered bathroom mirror from this morning. 

 Just found this on my mirror this morning, do you know who might’ve done it? Wasn't me, Dylan texted Kai. 

Was it Max trying to get back at u for the prank u pulled on her? 

No, Max wasn't even awake when I found it.   

Huh? Was it that other boy that lives with U? Kai said through text.   

You mean Wyatt? Nah, he was with me when I found it.     

Ghosts???    

Well a girl did die here. Dylan replied.  

 See! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, that creepy old manor is haunted.    

 I put his phone down. How could this be? The mirror writing has to be one of Dylan’s stupid pranks, there’s no other way to explain it. A chill runs down my spine. Unless Sarah was right about the manor being haunted. I look up from the coffee table and spot my brother coming back down the stairwell. In fear of getting caught, I stumble away from the table and walk in the other direction. I don’t even know what to think anymore, or who to trust. If Wessling manor does have a ghost, who’s the main target? Gosh, I hate unanswered questions.  

Soon I find myself doing what I do every evening before bed, trading my day clothes for pajamas. It’s a bit chilly tonight, so I throw on a sweatshirt over my white tank top. Thanks to Wyatt’s record player, the same jazzy tune seems to be playing in a continuous loop in my head. Even though it’s late, I still have something important that I need to do. I had done almost all of my homework at Wyatt’s house, except the thirty pages of Macbeth that Ms. Styles wanted me to read. Since I usually get up pretty late in the morning, I have to do it tonight. It’ll also hopefully distract me from our little “ghost” situation. I can’t seem to find my book anywhere, but I think I left it on the dining table. 

So I adjust my sweatshirt and head downstairs. I hop off at the bottom of the stairwell, my bare feet sliding on top of the elegant oriental rug. 

On the wall, I notice a picture of my grandparents In a golden frame. I pause to look closer at it. First, I notice my grandma Enid. Her black dress is draped over her thin figure like a blanket and her curly auburn hair streaked with white hangs just below her shoulders. Her solemn expression  makes it look like she’d just been told bad news. 

Then my eyes jump to my grandfather, Henry. His mop of gray hair hangs like wet spaghetti noodles on his head. Unlike my grandma, he wears a warm half-smile on his face. His light gray eyes bore through his black glasses and his eyelids are heavy, just like Dylan’s.

 I never got to meet him though. He died of cancer seventeen years ago, three years before I was born. I’ve heard that my parents were considering naming my brother Henry as a first name, but it ended up as his middle name instead.   That was before they even knew that he had his eyes. 

Like with my father, I have no memories of him and rely only on stories of family members to craft an understanding of what he was like. It’s hard to miss a person that you don’t remember or never even got to meet.  

Right then, a distant noise fills my ears. “You can’t see me,’’ a shrill, high pitched voice sings. It sounds like the fake voice that Dylan used to trick me last night. So that means that this is probably just another one of his stupid speaker pranks.  “But I see you,’’ the voice says louder, still in tune. 

“That’s it Dylan! I’m done with your stupid pranks! Just give up!,’’ I yell angrily. Suddenly, I see my brother pop out from behind the bend where the living room intersects with the main hallway.

“Speaking of the devil,’’ I mutter to myself. 

“What prank were you yelling about? I thought we were over last night.’’ 

 “I just heard some sort of weird ghostly singing, were you responsible for it?’’

 “No, and I-I didn’t hear anything,’’ Dylan stammers, his face as white as sheet 

I roll my eyes. “Well then I must be paranoid,’’ I say jokingly. Then the lights shut off. No, let’s rephrase that, every single light bulb in the manor shuts off. The hallway turns as dark as a tomb. “Who did that?’’ I exclaim, frantically whipping my head back and forth. A bulb bursts from above my brother’s head.

 “Ah! What the heck! I’m glad I still have my shoes on!’’ Dylan yells, startled. 

At this point, every fiber, every bone in my body wants to run as far away from this as possible, but I stand my ground. Terrified and surrounded by darkness, my thoughts go wild.  

“You can hear me and I can hear you,’’ the voice warbles, now louder than a flock of calling birds. I plug my ears. All I want is for this to be over. “I'm coming to get you, Now!’’ the voice screeches, dropping down several octaves at the end. Once the voice finishes, the lights flicker on and off for a few seconds before going dark again.    

 Now that the voice has silenced, I uncover my ears and Dylan turns his phone light on. 

“We need to start looking for the light switch,’’ he suggests.

 “I don’t think that looking for a light switch would help, I think the power’s out.’’ 

 “Yeah, you’re probably right, but I'll try anyway.’’  My brother flips the light switch on and off, but it doesn't do anything.

 “I’ll go find mom and tell her to check the breaker,’’ I say, still a bit spooked. 

 “I don't think it’s the breaker, I think it’s Cora,’’ Dylan says in a worried tone. I would like to say that I didn’t agree with my brother, but if I did, that would be a lie. 

Suddenly, the lights switch back on. “I guess we don’t have to see mom about the breaker now,’’ I comment. I still want to see her though, just to make sure she’s okay. Leaving Dylan behind, I race towards the dining room, the legs of my baggy pajama pants brushing up against each other. In the evening, my mom’s usually writing. At our old house, she either wrote at the kitchen table or at her desk in her bedroom. So I think I know where to find her. 

I turn into the dining room and see that my mom’s at the end of the table, slouched over her computer. Good. 

“Hi Max, are you here for your book?” 

“Yeah, do you happen to know anything about the power shutting off?’’ I ask, leaning against the doorway to catch my breath. 

 “You know what, I’m not actually sure, but I think this house has some sort of lighting issue. Hopefully it isn’t too expensive to fix,’’ my mom answers, closing her computer.

 “I’m sorry for interrupting your writing, I just have to grab my book and leave.’’  I pick my book up, adjust the bookmark and head out of the dining room. No matter how much I want to investigate all of this weirdness, homework has a deadline, ghost hunting does not.  

“Max! Can I come in?,’’ a muffled voice asks from behind my door. I immediately place the voice as Wyatt’s and set my book down. I can finish the assigned reading in English class tomorrow.

 “Sure!,’’ I yell back. Wyatt turns the doorknob and enters softly. 

“So I heard about the paranormal incident that happened this evening from your brother.’’

“Oh the singing, you don’t happen to know anything about it that me and Dylan don’t?’’

 “No, I was all the way at my house when it happened, I just heard about it from Dylan.’’ 

I groan, No evidence there. “I have a question for you, Wyatt, do weird paranormal things usually occur around here, or have they just started happening when my family arrived?’’ 

“Nope, at least nothing to that degree. I think you should go talk with your brother about it, see what he thinks.’’

“Yeah, I've been wanting to talk to him about it to see his side of the story. I might as well go do that now’’ I say, getting off of my comfortable bed. 

“So you’re just going?’’ He looks at me, puzzled. 

“Yep, bye-bye.’’ I close my creaky blue bedroom door and step out into the hallway. What really freaked me out about the latest weird encounter was the fact that Dylan couldn’t have done it. He was with me when it happened. I guess Wyatt could’ve tried to pull something, but if that's the case, then what about the broken bulb? Maybe Dylan knows more about all of this weird crap than I do. That's why I need to talk with him, to find out. 

I creep down the hallway to make sure not to wake my mom (who’s probably already asleep). Unfortunately, the floorboards in this house will not give me peace and are very complaintive. Creak-Creakkk, they groan. I lighten my steps. 

 A few minutes later, I reach my brother’s room. It has a huge poster of a raven on the door, Dylan’s favorite animal. Which I can understand, ravens are dark and mysterious, just like him. I rap on the door with my right hand. knock-knock - knock. No response. “Hey Dyl, are you actually in there, or are you just trolling me?” 

Silence. Still no response. Then it hits me, Dylan’s lights are off, so that means he’s probably already asleep. Which is weird because he never goes to bed early. I guess today was tiring for all of us though, even Dylan. If I wake him up, he’ll probably be pretty ticked off, so I decide to just leave. I can talk to him tomorrow morning. Right now, I need to get some sleep. 

I go into my room to grab my comforter, sheet, pillow,  phone and earbuds. Satisfied with my stash, I drag everything into the hallway and set it down right outside of my mom’s room. Please, for my sake and yours, don’t judge me. I know already that I'm acting like a five year old who's too scared of a little ghost to sleep in her own room, but it actually kind of comforts me. Having someone I know right there and able to help, puts me at ease. 

Before I lie down, I spread my comforter out like a mattress and place my sheet on top. I also grab my pillow and slide it under my sheet.  After that, I sit down on my makeshift mattress, cover myself with my sheet and allow my body to slip into a world of slumber.     

I creep along the side of a moist brick wall.  A drop of water drips from the cracked basement ceiling and lands on my neck. I hold up my flashlight, trying to look brave, but feeling terrified inside. The flashlight illuminates the mound of boxes about five feet ahead of me. On top of the stacked boxes, sits a large, covered object. 

I walk over and peel the cloth off of the object. I rub my hand over it. It feels like a damp burlap sack. The object underneath is a mirror covered with dust. That mirror also has one large crack running down the center.  I start to wipe off some of the dust with my left hand.  When I finally wipe off enough to see a reflection, that reflection isn’t mine. A face as white as a sheet  stares back at me with a ghostly grin. Then it lets out a blood curdling scream. 

I lurch awake, drenched in cold sweat. It was just a dream. Good. 

“It’s just a dream, Max, just a dream,” I say to comfort myself.  My heart seems to be beating faster than a drum and my mind is racing from replaying every single terrifying moment of my nightmare. I turn on my phone. It’s only three thirty. I need to go back to sleep. To calm my racing mind, I decide to play some piano music. I open Spotify,  hit play on a playlist titled peaceful piano, and close my eyes. 

                *****************************       

It took me forever to fall asleep. No matter how hard I tried to think of better thoughts, my mind just kept replaying that freakish nightmare over and over and over. Though eventually, I was able to get a little bit of control over my mind and fall back to sleep.  Whatever happens, I’m determined to make today better than yesterday. I’m going to have a good talk with Dylan about what happened last night and hopefully get some ideas, or even more evidence, from him. I’m also going to try to tell Willow about all of the craziness that’s gone down since we last talked. Maybe then she can give me some feedback on what I should do. 

If I go downstairs and eat breakfast, then maybe I can catch my brother when he wakes up.  Plus, breakfast is an amazing distraction. So it’s settled, I stand up and tiredly make my way out of my room and down the hallway. The longing for tea and bagels gets me down the stairs and across the main corridor, but upon entering the kitchen, I see my mom and Gemma holding brooms and sweeping up shards of porcelain. Oh no!          

“Wait, What happened here!,’’ I yell out. 

 My mom pauses sweeping to answer my concerned cry.  “So about fifteen minutes ago, I was in the living room when I heard something that sounded like glass shattering coming from the kitchen. I went to check it out and sure enough, I saw your grandma Enid’s set of fine china broken and splayed out all over the kitchen. Your brother and Wyatt were standing right by it. I asked which one of them did it and you know confessed? Dylan did. I don’t really care too much about your grandma’s fancy dining sets, but I wanted to teach your brother a lesson, so I grounded him,’’ my mom says, her face going from anger to smugness. 

My body feels like it’s drowning in a pit of worry. Cora struck again. At least Dylan took one for the team. Not only do I feel bad for my brother, I also feel bad for my mom. She doesn’t even have a clue about this ghost thing, and I don’t think she’ll believe me if I try to tell her. So I move on and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.  

“Can I get through here to toast my bagel?’’ I meant to sound normal, but the words came out kind of choked.

 “Sure, there’s a path on the left side, no pieces made it all the way over there,’’ Gemma replies. I walk carefully through the path that Gemma pointed out, trying not to get any broken plate pieces lodged in my foot. 

I don’t even end up toasting my bagel. I just slather some cream cheese on it and exit through the dining room. I eat my cold bagel in my room, trying to come up with ideas to solve this weird ghost problem. Unfortunately, nothing good seemed to come to me. But I often come up with some of my best ideas while drawing, so I decide to do just that. 

I tear a piece of paper out of my sketch pad and place the tip of my pencil down. I start to draw the cherry blossoms that bloom in Central Park every spring. The flowers are always beautiful, especially when coated with drops of rain or sparkling morning dew. They’re one of my favorite things to draw, and I usually make at least one art piece based off of them every year. 

After about thirty minutes of drawing, it was almost seven fifteen. I couldn’t think of any other ideas, so I guess it’s  time to find Dylan. For real this time too, I’m not just going to retreat back to my room and eat a cold bagel. I step out of my room and run into my mom, who’s on the phone.

 “Do you know where Dylan is ? ’’ I ask quietly, careful to not interrupt her phone conversation.  

She pauses and holds her phone away from her face to talk to me. 

 “That’s a good question, but I actually have no idea. I would hope that he would be in his room having a good think about what he did, but since we both know him pretty well, we can confirm that he’s probably not doing that. He might be in the car already. Though before you talk to him, you need to get your school uniform on. We leave in twenty minutes,’’ she says before resuming her call. 

I silently protest, but still follow my mom’s request. I tromp downstairs and hurriedly put on my uniform. I don’t braid my hair today in order to save time.  If I really need to, I can pull it up later. I push the bathroom door open and walk up to the front door. I jerk it open and head across the wide, open driveway.  

 I then glance around and notice that my brother is not in the car, but rather sitting underneath one of the large oak trees with long branches of elegant foliage. As always, he’s scrawling something down in his notebook. I stroll over and take a seat beside him.

 “Look, Dyl, I mean Dylan, I’m sorry for being a jerk yesterday and blaming you for the mirror writing.’’ 

 As expected, he ignores me and continues to write in his notebook. I’m tempted to snatch up his stupid journal and keep it until he answers me, but instead, I just calmly comment “ I see that this morning you decided to take the blame for the smashed plates, why’d you do that? ’’ 

He looks up, a serious expression on his face.  “Eh, mom would’ve blamed me anyways, I thought that I might as well take the fall. I also want to apologize for pranking you, I really do. I guess I just thought that I was being funny and somehow getting revenge on you or something,’’ He says, actually sounding sincere.

“Yeah, I want you on my good side so that we can work together to solve this ghost dilemma. By the way, do you have any suggestions?”

 “Not any that I can think of off the top of my head, so no.’’

Dang, nothing from Dylan, but that’s okay, I've still got Wyatt and Willow to ask. Just then, Wyatt and his mom push through the heavy front door. Wyatt waves to me and Gemma turns to us like she’s going to tell us something.

 “Your mum’s busy again, so I’m driving you today. And right now it’s time to leave. So up up up,’’ Gemma says, doing an upward gesture with her hands. We stand up and start walking towards the car. Suddenly, I notice that my brother left his notebook underneath the tree. I hurriedly dash back over and pick it up.

 “Hey Dylan, you left your notebook under the tree!’’ 

He turns around, glares at me, then walks over. “You didn’t look in it, did you?’’

“No, but take it before I do,’’ I Insist, holding it out. He grabs it from my hands and walks away.  

I run back to the car, open the door, and take a seat in the back, right across from Wyatt. 

“Can we talk about the elephant, er, ghost in the room,’’ I whisper, leaning over Wyatt’s shoulder. 

“We can talk about it later, I don’t exactly want to discuss it in front of my mum,’’ he whispers back. 

“Okay,’’ I scoff. I don’t know why he wouldn’t want his mom overhearing. Maybe he doesn’t want her to accidentally get involved with this, or it could just be another weird teenage boy thing. I know that my brother also doesn’t like discussing secrets that close to our mom either.  

The car ride to school was silent again. With a secret going between me, Dylan, and Wyatt, I'm not really surprised. Like most secrets, it’s not something that you want to talk about, but rather something you need to talk about. I mean, it seems like a ghost has been causing all these problems, but I might just be imagining things. But if I’m just imagining things, then why did Dylan hear the singing too? 

                **********************************

I went through the first part of my school day like a robot, my brain on autopilot. I sat through Ms. Styles’ boring lecture in English class and a huge dispute between the popular girls in art class. I was so anxious to talk to Willow that I did a full on sprint to the cafeteria, with my backpack on, after art class came to an end. I scout around for Willow and eventually see her at the end of the cafeteria, waving me over. 

Today, she has her hair in about ten different braids and earrings with hoops as big as the palm of my hand dangle from her ears. I jog over to her and thrust my backpack down. 

“Is something wrong? you look quite upset. Oh, what did Dylan do this time?,’’ Willow says, her voice going from concern to intrigue. 

“No, he was actually pretty tame today.’’ 

“Was it Wyatt?’’ 

 “Nope, it was actually something else, come with me,’’ I say, walking towards the cafeteria entrance. Willow tags along, gingerly avoiding the hard edges of the lunch tables. I find a good spot right outside of the cafeteria and sit down. Willow takes a seat beside me. 

“So what kind of secretive things do you need to tell me ?,’’ she asks. 

I lean over and whisper in a low voice “I know that you’ll think I’m crazy, but just listen. I think that Wessling Manor is haunted.’’ 

Willow just chuckles and says “Yeah right, and I'm the ghost.’’ 

“Trust me, I have proof, look.’’ I pull out my phone, click on the photos app and pull up a picture of my brother’s mirror. “At first I thought it was Dylan who did this, but then I went through his phone and found out that he had no idea what caused it either.’’ Then I swipe left to reveal a picture of the main hallway after haunting number two.

  “This was where the second haunting took place yesterday evening. I was in the main hallway when I heard singing. Ghostly singing, almost like moaning. I called Dylan in because I thought he did it, but then all of the lights shut off and a light bulb broke above my brother’s head and-,’’ I continue before Willow interrupts me.

 “How do you know it wasn't Wyatt?,’’ she interjects. 

  “Because, because I trust him, ok?,’’ I stammer, accidentally raising my voice.

 “Ooh,’’ Willow whispers. 

“Anyway, this morning there was a third haunting. I woke up and went downstairs to find a kitchen full of broken plates, cups and bowls made of china. I asked my mom about it and she said that Dylan confessed to doing it. However, when I asked him about it, I found out that he didn’t do it and just confessed to take one for the team,’’ I say, scrolling to the last picture on my phone. It was the one I took this morning of the third major haunting. 

“Wow, that definitely sounds suspicious. Now I don’t believe in ghosts, but if I were you, I would keep investigating. How about we exchange phone numbers? Then you could call me if anything new happens,’’ Willow suggests.

 “Sure, just let me pull up my contacts.’’  After I got mine pulled up, we both added each other’s numbers to our phones. As soon as we finish with that, Willow takes a glance at the clock and then turns back to me, a look of surprise on her face. 

“Sorry, but I have to go now. A girl from my choir class wanted me to eat with her, but I got distracted with you and- you know what, I’ll just go to the cafeteria and apologize to her, okay,’’ she says in an urgent tone, standing up from the tile floor.

Really? I can’t believe it- she’s ghosting me. “Okay bye, I guess.’’ I say, sighing and sliding my phone into the smallest pocket of my backpack.  So maybe Willow wasn't the best help ethier, but I’ve still got Wyatt to ask.   

For the rest of lunchtime, I distract myself by eating and working on my language arts homework. When the bell rings, I walk slowly to my math class, pushing past the crowds of people talking and laughing with their friends. Right after I walk through the door, Mr. Kumar has us take out our notebooks and write down a set of problems from the quiz. 

“Let’s go over the ones you all commonly missed,’’ he says in his usual monotone voice. 

I groan and slam my head down into my notebook. I hope that Mr. Kumar didn’t see that (and he probably didn’t because I'm in the back) but with his eagle eyes, you never know. I know that I don’t want to be here, but I don’t want to be back at the manor either, so I imagine myself in the garden with Wyatt. That puts a smile on my face and sends me drifting off to sleep. 

          Next thing I know, my school day has come and gone and I’m in the front seat of our teal convertible listening to my mom talk her head off about something that happened  during a zoom meeting with her editor. While she’s talking, I have my ears on off mode so that my brain can focus on my plan for the rest of the day. Eventually, she pulls into the driveway and parks. We all open our doors and step out. Wyatt taps me on the shoulder. I turn around.  

“Hey! Do you want to go with me to the gazebo? I have a possible solution to our ghost problem to propose to you,’’ He says. My ears perk up. Finally, I found somebody else who’s thought of something! 

“Yeah, let’s go,’’ I respond with. So, walking shoulder to shoulder, Wyatt and I stroll over to the garden entryway. He slips the key out from his pocket and starts to unlock the garden gate. Click. We step inside. Wyatt leads the way as we walk through the rows of flowers in silence. The only noises that fill my ears are distant bird calls. I keep wanting to say something, but I’m afraid that it would come out slurred or choked. Finally, we reach the gazebo and sit down underneath its magnificently carved roof.   

“It’s beautiful,’’ I remark, breaking the silence. 

“Yeah, it’s a shame that the first frost is coming soon. After that, all of the flowers will wilt and die.’’ 

“So what did you have to tell me?’’  

“As much as I hate to say it, I think it’s time we venture beyond the realm of science and conduct a séance,” He suggests, a hint of worry in his voice. 

    “Really? Does anybody here know how to lead one?”

“Maybe, I saw a Ouija board hanging out of one of Dylan’s suitcases, is he like a supernatural expert?’’

     “I wouldn’t say that he’s any sort of expert, but he and his group of friends did a “séance” in his friend JT’s apartment building's mechanical room. Turns out, the only thing you can contact down there is tetanus if you’re not up to date on your shots,’’ I add.

 “Well that’s better than nothing,’’ Wyatt grimaces.         

     “I’m not really sure about the séance thing, but I’ll keep it in mind, maybe if we have another haunting. Though right now, I need to do my homework,” I say, getting up and walking away from Wyatt. Could doing a séance help us, or should we stick to the more sciencey side of things? I don’t know. Then my brain hits me with a  realization so hard that it felt like being wacked in the head with a baseball bat. There will be more hauntings if you don’t do anything about the ghost problem. You can’t distract yourself forever, Max. I tell my brain to shut up and keep moving towards the manor. 

    Inside, I slide my backpack off of my shoulders and amble my way to the kitchen. I take an apple from the fruit basket and sink my teeth into its juicy flesh.

 “What’s the matter, Max? Bad day?,” my mom asks, looking up from her computer. 

“You could say that.” 

“Maybe some of my homemade Mac and cheese will help with that.”

“Wait, really!,” I exclaim, bursting into a grin. My mom’s mac and cheese is one of my favorite foods. It’s also a family recipe, only my mom, her sister, and my grandma know how to make it.

          “Yeah, I can make it for you. It’ll take me a while though.” 

       “Okay, thanks in advance. I’m gonna to go do my homework in the living room,” I remark, feeling a little better than before. 

I quickly grab my binder and my book. Only after I take a seat in the living room do I realize that Wyatt and Dylan are sitting on the other couch, also doing their homework. Wyatt waves to me, but Dylan, however, just gives me side eye. I wave back to Wyatt, ignore Dylan, and take out my phone to play music.  

The rest of the evening was pretty normal, though I had a weird gut feeling that there would soon be another haunting, and this time, it would be way worse. By the time nine thirty came around, I had my brain on alert mode, ready to notice anything unusual or even slightly off par. I still don’t know if the ghost wants to harm us or just wants our attention, but it’s good to be safe rather than sorry.

 When I have to get a shower, I leave my door cracked and place my phone on the bathroom counter.  I start to undress when I suddenly notice a stray hair in the middle of my face. I pull my hand up to fix it when I catch my reflection starting to disappear. My mouth widens in surprise. That’s not supposed to happen!    

 A face as white as sheet soon materializes and breaks into a grin, just like what happened in my dream.  I scream and stumble backwards before scrambling for the bathroom door. I open it and race to my bedroom door. I yank and struggle with that doorknob, but it won’t budge. No, no, no, no! This can’t be happening!

 “Help! Somebody help me!,’’ I cry out in distress. I feel like I’m stuck in an episode of some ghost hunter show, but I accidentally skipped too far ahead and don’t know what the heck is going on. Then the lights shut off and darkness fills the room. Fear seeps into my body. “Help! Please, I’m trapped!’’ I yell, banging on the door as hard as my fists will let me.

 A loud banging sound fills my ears, like furniture getting knocked over, coming from across the room.  I sprint  back into the bathroom to grab my phone and call for help. To my horror, I soon realize that it’s dead. Great, now I’m trapped in my bedroom with a ghost who insists on terrorizing my family and I can’t get help ‘cause the door’s locked and my phone’s dead!

“I’ll always be watching you, Maxine,’’ a high pitched, very creepy voice says. This time, the voice doesn’t sound like Dylan. 

      Soon after the voice dissipates, the lights turn back on. A feeling of relief washes over me, it’s finally over. I nervously walk over to my bedroom door and turn the doorknob. This time, I’m able to push it open. I breathe a sigh of relief and start down the hallway. I need to tell Wyatt about this so that we can decide if we want to do his plan or not. Though I don’t know where Wyatt could be. My best guess is that he’s in my brother’s room, since I saw him walk in there before I went to get a shower. So I guess that’s where I’m going. 

        “Hey, can one of you open up!,’’ I yell, rapping my fist on my brother’s door. A few seconds later, Wyatt opens the door. 

“What happened Max? You look like you’ve seen a- oh no.’’ 

              “Oh yeah, and apparently ghosts can fly out of mirrors. You see, I was just going to get a shower in my bathroom when I saw a ghost face in my mirror. After running to my bedroom door, I found out that It was locked. I started screaming and banging on it before realizing that my phone was in that bathroom. Then I heard a spirit-like voice that said I’ll always be watching you, Maxine,’’ I say, shuddering and tripping over my own words.       

 “That sounds bad, do you think we should try to conduct this séance?,’’ Wyatt asks, the mother of all worried expressions pasted on his face. 

“Not before telling Dylan, he needs to hear about this,’’ I insist. 

“Hey Dylan! Your sister wants to talk to you!,’’ Wyatt yells over his left shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, just let me get changed. Trust me, you do not want to see me half naked,’’ my brother shouts back with much irritation. A few moments later, he pops out of the bathroom, walks to the door, “politely’’ pushes Wyatt out of the way, leans his elbow against the doorknob and starts to run his hand through his hair. 

“What is it that you needed me for?,’’ Dylan asks, rolling a finger around one of his dark coils. 

“So earlier this afternoon, Wyatt proposed to me a solution to our ghost problem. He suggested that we conduct a séance-.’’

 “Wait, hold on, I thought I was the ultra believer. Now you and Wyatt want to contact a ghost?’’ Dylan interrupts. 

“Well it's actually kind of a last ditch effort. We've had a multitude of serious hauntings and it’s starting to become clear that this ghost isn’t exactly friendly. It’s only a matter of time before the ghost, supposedly Cora, starts to cause some real problems,’’ Wyatt states. 

 “Okay, that sounds like a decent plan. We can do it, but only if I get to lead it. I mean, I do have the Ouija board that we’re using,” Dylan says, smirking. 

 “Fine. You can lead it,” Wyatt scoffs. 

“Could I call Willow to ask her if she wants to join us? She’s pretty trustworthy,’’ I inquire. 

“Yeah, I guess she can join in as well. She’s smart and she can keep a secret,’’ Wyatt responds. So I pull out my phone and prepare for one of the most awkward calls of my entire life.           

I slide my notebook into the middle portion of my backpack as I catch the last bit of my French teacher, Prof St. Clair’s, goodbye message.

 “Okay class, it is almost time to leave and I have two things to say to you: don’t forget your homework and Au revoir, je te verrai bientôt! Goodbye, I’ll see you soon!,’’ She says in her usual commanding voice. 

I walk to the door and join the crowd of people standing by the doorframe. Right now, I’m basically itching to talk to Willow. Not only do I want to socialize with her, but I also need to tell her some very important information. Last night, I called Willow and told her about the plan (she said yes) but I didn’t get to tell her the details or the time we were doing it. That’s what I need to tell her today. 

Finally, the clock switches from eleven nineteen to eleven twenty and we’re officially allowed to leave class. After I push through the door frame, I scout around for Willow. I then see her walking by herself and weave through the crowd of people to join her. 

     “Hey Willow, can I join you,?” I ask, coming up behind her.

She turns around “Sure, I’d love to talk,” she replies, a smile spreading across her face. I move to her side and we start to chat. “So when do you want me to arrive at the manor for the séance?,” she asks, lowering her voice. 

      “Probably around six thirty, that should be right after we eat dinner,”

     “Great, now I know when to ask my mum for a ride. I’ll just lie and say that I’m coming over to study with you.” Right then, we stroll through the cafeteria entryway.

     “Unsurprisingly, I’m very overwhelmed with starting at a new school, moving into the manor and all of that problems that entails, so can we talk about something else to get some of that off of my mind?,” I suggest, grabbing a chair. 

“Sure,” Willow agrees cheerfully. With a mischievous grin she adds “On a scale of one to ten, how cute do you think Wyatt is.”

   “Willow! Really?,” I exclaim, nudging her with my words.
“You can criticize me all you want, but you can’t ignore the fact that you fancy him,” Willow remarks, sounding the sassiest that I’ve ever heard her sound.   

  “But you can at least stop pestering me about it,” I rebuke, flipping her sassiness right back on to her. 

   “Fine, if you really want to talk about something else, then we can talk about the fall fair.” 

     “What’s the fall fair?,” I quarry, probably sounding like I’ve lived under a rock. 

          “Really? You’ve never heard of it? It’s like the biggest celebration in Glenmoor. There’s music, tons of food, and a huge parade that goes right through Main Street. There’s also a history exhibit that showcases the Gemini diamond. It's the same crystal that was owned by the Reed family at the time of Cora Deering’s murder.  The festival is held annually every Saturday or Sunday before Halloween, and this year it’s on a Sunday,” Willow fills me in. Okay, so I did sound like I’d lived under a rock. At least something there sounds like it’s related to Cora. 

    “So are you going this year?,” I inquire.            

        “Yeah, I go every year. You know who else is going this year? Your wannabe boyfriend.”

I roll my eyes and say “I told you that I didn’t want to talk about Wyatt.”

      “I was just teasing, are you going to go?” 

“Maybe. As you can tell, things have been quite unpredictable recently, so I don’t really know,” I answer honestly. 

        Willow quickly glances at the clock. “Shoot, I offered to help the librarian organize some books at eleven twenty five, and it’s currently eleven twenty seven, so I’ve gotta go,” Willow remarks, thrusting her backpack over her shoulders.

    “Wait! You’re leaving already! You always find some way to ditch me!” I remark jokingly. 

“I’ve only ditched you twice,” she yells back. I see her run through the entrance and think to myself well this is lonely

                                                                                                **********************************

Soon, the three of us (me, Willow and Wyatt) are standing underneath the door frame of Wessling manor’s very own séance room. To be honest, I was today years old when I found out that Wessling manor has a dedicated séance room. I also just found out that said seance room is very, very dusty. It probably hasn't been used in ages. 

   I wipe a clump of dust from the doorframe and hold it up to inspect. Willow sneezes.

 “Bless you,’’ Wyatt says dutifully.

 “Where’s Dylan at?,’’ Willow asks, wiping her nose. 

     “Apparently he’s getting the supplies ready. I have no idea why it’s taking him this long though,’’ I reply. Just then, my phone dings. I turn it on. A text from Dyl Pickle, (my brother’s contact name which I refuse to change despite his many requests) shows up on my phone screen, front and center. Do you know where the candles are? 

       “I just got a text from Dylan, he wants to know where the candles are,’’ I relay.

      “I know where the candles are, I can help him,’’ Wyatt offers.

 “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. You can go help my brother while me and Willow stay here and have a look around.’’ 

“Cool, I’m gonna try and find him now,’’ Wyatt says, stepping through the door frame. He runs down the hallway and up the basement stairs while Willow and I step through the door frame. I scan the run-down séance room to see what we’re working with. In the middle of the room, there’s a small table with four banged up chairs. On the left side, an empty bookshelf with multiple cobwebs sticking out from the curved  bookends, stands crooked. The concrete walls are bare, cracked and caked in dust. 

    “You’d think that with how rich your grandparents were, they'd put some more money into their séance room,’’ Willow remarks, pulling out a chair.

 “Well it probably wasn't their top priority,’’ I suggest, taking a seat beside Willow. 

    “Yeah, that might be it.’’       

My eyes venture to the empty bookshelf, then to the door, and lastly to the blank walls. Is there any room more boring than this one? Willow fiddles with one of her cornrows, then adjusts the neckline on her shirt. She looks bored half to death too.

“Hey Max, do you know when they’re going to be back?’’ 

“No, I don’t even know where the heck they are,’’ I say, annoyed. If five more minutes go by and Dylan’s still not here, I’m gonna march down that hallway and drag him back to this old, dusty room. Then I hear noises coming from the basement hallway. Two familiar voices echo off the walls. Dylan and Wyatt. 

“Finally! They’re back!,’’ Willow exclaims, waving her hands up in a sarcastic gesture.   

They swerve through the door frame while carrying huge boxes of candles and other mystic supplies. Dylan puts his box down first and immediately starts a sneezing fit into the sleeve of his sweatshirt. 

   “Geez, why is it so dusty in here?,’’ Dylan remarks.

 “I don’t know, you tell me,’’ I mumble.

 “Can we get this séance started,’’ Willow requests, sounding a bit demanding.        

 “We can, Dylan and I can help set up his Ouija board and you and Max can put up the candles. You two can also spray the frankincense,’’ Wyatt pipes up, setting his box down. So, in response to Wyatt’s request, me and Willow dig through Wyatt’s box. We find four candles, a match box, a bottle of frankincense extract, and a mysterious, jagged, dark violet crystal. 

“Hey Wyatt, do you know where this crystal is from?,’’ I ask. He turns around. 

“Oh, yeah I don’t know, Dylan just sort of found it in the back of the storage closet. We thought it might be useful for the ritual.’’ I take another look at the stone. I read online that certain stones can enhance psychic abilities, but others can attract evil spirits. It’s about a fifty fifty shot, but hey, what do we know? We’re just four teenagers performing a séance for the first time in the basement of a haunted manor. Like something could ever go wrong.

“Okay, we have all of the supplies ready. We just need to gather at the table and wait for Dylan to get off of his phone,’’ Wyatt announces.

I put my box down and walk over to the small table. Once we’re all gathered there, we take a minute to wait for my brother to get off of his phone. Eventually, Dylan puts his phone down, the black case adorned with skulls facing upwards.    

 “I just got done researching how to actually do this thing through a WikiHow page and I think I finally got the hang of it. So first, I want you all to silence your cell phones and look at me.’’ All eyes gravitate towards Dylan, even mine. “Okay, now everybody hold hands and meditate for a few minutes to really get involved with the spirit world.’’ 

  I Take both my brother’s and Willow’s hands in mine and close my eyes. If I said that I actually meditated, I would be lying. My mind was racing and worrying needlessly about what could happen to the point where I thought that it might explode. Eventually, Dylan’s cold voice cut through the clatter in my mind. 

       “Okay, now that everybody’s done meditating, let's turn out the lights and get this thing started.’’ That sentence was clearly said by my brother, except he didn’t quite sound like himself. He sounded nervous and scared, like he has his own worries about the ritual. Which is odd, because he’s usually Mr. calm, cool and collected. It seems to me, who’s known him all of my life, that it would take more than just a ghost to scare him. 

Willow runs over, turns off the light switch, sits back down, and grabs my hand again. The candles soon become our sun in the room, the only source of light that is present. I see all four of our faces illuminated by the flickering flame. Dylan pulls out the Ouija board planchette from his pocket and places it on the spirit board. His finger jumps to the planchette, which is cleverly situated on top of the sun character. I slide my pointer finger over to join his, just barely touching the letter marked O. Wyatt and Willow soon follow suit and all four fingers are piled on top of the teardrop shaped pointer.         

“Are we ready to do this?" Dylan whispers, his eyes fixated on me. We all nod in agreement. “As the voluntary medium, I, Dylan Henry Wessling, open myself up to the spirit world. I would like to ask the first question, is a spirit present?’’ the planchette moves to yes. My heart thumps. Willow’s eyes bulge half out of her head. “Is the spirit present named Harri Wessling,’’ My brother asks, his eyes jumping to the table. The planchette moves to no. Why would Dylan think that the ghost  is our dad? He wouldn’t try to hurt us, unlike our actual resident ghost, who we think is Cora. 

I nudge my brother’s shoulder. He looks up. “Is your name is Coraline Deering?’’ Dylan says anxiously. The counter moves to yes. The surprise I felt was unmatched. This is it!

“Why are you angry?,’’ I blurt out loudly. Then a draft blows through, snuffing out the candles.

 “Um, what's going on!,’’ Wyatt cries out, his voice filled with confusion. The whole room soon starts to shake. At first, it’s just a light rumbling, but then it turns into a full on earthquake. My chair starts hopping up and down and the 

bookshelf comes crashing to the floor with a bang. My chair slides out from under me and sends me tumbling onto the ground. I frantically scramble up and start fumbling for the light switch, terrified. Suddenly, the light flickers back on and relief comes upon me again. I glance around the room, checking to make sure everyone’s alright. 

Willow is standing by the light switch, scanning the room with her eyes. I would assume that she’s the one that turned the light on. Wyatt is sitting in a corner on the other side of the room, his face showing the fact that he’s still processing all of the craziness that just went down. Whereas Dylan’s standing beside the bookshelf, trying to stand it back up. 

“Is everyone alright?,’’ Willow asks.

 “Yeah,’’ I say. 

“Yep,’’ Wyatt answers.

”Yes, mostly,’’ Dylan mumbles.

 "That's good, everybody’s okay. It was probably time for our séance to be wrapping up anyways,’’ Willow remarks, still sounding a bit startled. 

“I also think we should start packing up, you know, before any of our parents start to get suspicious,’’ Wyatt suggests, standing up. We all follow Wyatt’s suggestion and help pack up the boxes. With four sets of hands working together, we’re able to get all of the supplies contained within the boxes in less than five minutes. 

“Willow has to go, so me and Dylan can take the boxes back to the storage room. As long as everybody vows not to tell a single soul, our secret should be safe. Okay?’’ Wyatt says, leaning over one of the boxes. We all nod. 

“If we start to have more ghost problems, should we try to get some sort of priest to perform an exorcism?,’’ I inquire.

 “Well even though I’m not particularly religious, I do know that performing an exorcism is kind of a last resort thing, so we might want to wait a bit before doing that. What do you think, Dylan? You’ve been awfully quiet, mate,’’ Wyatt replies, turning towards my brother.

 “Oh, me, I don’t really know. I’m quite tired, if you can’t already tell,’’ Dylan says, fake chuckling. Then he turns toward me and we lock eyes. I could swear that, just for a moment, his eyes seemed to turn from light gray to blood red.

“Okay, I for sure have to go right now. My mum just texted me saying that she  pulled into the driveway. So let me know later if anything else crazy happens, ‘cause I’ve got to go,’’ Willow says, sliding her phone into her pocket. In less than a minute, she’s out the door and down the hallway.

“Do you want to help us take the boxes back?,’’ Wyatt asks me. 

“No thanks, I’ll pass, I’m kind of tired as well.’’ 

“Okay, your loss, box hulling is incredibly exciting stuff,’’ Wyatt jokes, walking out the door. Dylan soon follows him, brushing a cobweb off of his sweatshirt. But right as he goes through the door frame, I see him slip the purple crystal into his back pocket. 

After the boys leave, I linger in the room for just a bit longer. I prop up the bookshelf, straighten the table, and turn off the lights before walking through the door frame. My mind is still racing, just not as much as it was before. The séance did not go well at all, not by anybody’s standard. We barely got a chance to talk to Cora. Who knows what she’s planning to do next. She could stop haunting the manor and leave us alone, but why would she. She already has a huge grip on our lives. 

I guess if things get really bad, we can convince my mom that we have a ghost and leave Glenmoor. However, the truth is, I don’t really want to go back to New York. I never quite fit in there and was having all sorts of friendship problems before we left. Even though I’ve only been here for less than a week, I already have a love interest and hopefully, a future best friend. If we left, I’d lose all of that.

“We’re finally done with this stupid week,’’ Wyatt mumbles to himself, his head pressed against his navy blue backpack. I push my head back against my headrest and sigh. Wyatt was right about the week being over, the school week at least. It’s been almost two days since the last haunting and nearly one day since we performed the séance.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

        Maybe, just maybe, Cora has finally decided to leave us alone. What am I kidding, she’s a ghost out for revenge on the living. She’s not gonna just leave us alone.   

      With it being the weekend, we won’t get the seven hours of relief that we usually have and we’ll have to put up with Cora for the full twenty four hours every day. Easier said than done. 

My mom parks. Dylan hops out first and runs straight inside. Ever since the séance, he’s been acting a bit strange. He’s been uncharacteristically cold and unusually quiet. It’s probably just a mood swing though, he gets those all the time. I slide out and walk up to the door. Wyatt soon catches up and taps me on the back. I turn around. 

“Hey, do you want to do your homework at my house again?,’’ Wyatt asks, looking at me sweetly.

 “Sure,’’ I say, a grin splitting my face. 

     “Come on then, let’s go!’’                    

           ***********************

Overall, homework at Wyatt’s house went well. We went over geometry problems and played some oldies off of Gemma’s record player. Wyatt even made tea. Chai tea, my favorite. I knew hanging out Wyatt would bring another round of boyfriend jokes from Dylan, but hey, at least that’s better than dealing with Cora. 

      Dinner was great as well. Gemma made chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans. Dylan took his dinner back to his room. My mom usually wouldn’t let him do that, but he had “homework” to do. I don’t know if he actually had an assignment to do, or if he was just avoiding us.  After dinner, I have some free time, and it’s quite nice outside. So I grab my book and head out the door. As soon as I step onto the driveway, a cool fall breeze blows through, sending whiffs of fallen leaves and spices up my nose. The sun is waning, but it’s still  bright enough out here for reading. A perfect evening. I pick a grassy spot by the gate to sit on and flip open my book. 

About twenty minutes later, the sounds of crackling leaves and footsteps fill my ears. I look up from my book. Lo and behold, it’s my older brother walking across the driveway. His face is scrunched up in a way that makes it look like he just tasted sour milk.

 “Hi Dylan, is anything wrong?,’’ I ask as he nears me. He walks right past without saying a single word. Geez, talk about rude. He pulls out the gate key from his pocket and shoves it in the lock. Wonder how much he had to bribe Gemma for that. Dylan strolls through the gate and locks it behind him. He soon disappears into a row of chrysanthemums. 

I wonder what he’s doing out in the garden right before sunset. He’s probably just out enjoying the nice weather like I am, but with him, you never know. Due to his past behavior, I’ve learned to always pay attention whenever my brother does something even slightly suspicious.

 I’m pretty sure that going out into a garden at sunset is kind of suspicious. So I watch him as he walks down the row of flowers. When he gets to the end, he turns and veers into the forest. Wait! the forest! There’s pretty much nothing back there! Why would anybody go out that way? My thoughts scream.  

 With burning curiosity, I stand up and start to follow him. I squeeze through the gate and slowly creep along the side of the row of flowers. When I get to the end, I see a medium sized oak tree with a small splotch of red spray paint running up the side of it. A slightly worn trail path sits by its side. For some reason, even though I’ve been in the garden three times since I arrived here, I’ve never noticed the trail.  

Noting that this is probably the way Dylan went, I step onto the trail and start to follow it. The sun shines its final rays of light  through the bottom of the trees before setting completely, leaving only splotches of color in the sky. I’ll be out of here soon enough, I just have to find out what Dylan’s up to. I scoff. Easier said than done. You see, my brother’s like an open book, if that book was locked up and thrown into the Mariana Trench. He’s quite the secretive fellow. 

Then the trail suddenly reaches a dead end. I gasp in shock. What lay in front of me is a small cemetery with about twenty graves. Not just any cemetery though, Reed Family Cemetery. Where Edward, Elizabeth and all of the other scum sucking Reeds lay to rest. Dylan’s here as well. He’s standing towards the middle of the cemetery, right beside a statue of an angel. Somehow, this doesn’t even come close to the weirdest thing I’ve discovered all week. Heck, I thought all haunted houses had secret cemeteries. 

Right that second, my brother turns around. I quickly scamper behind a tree. There’s probably no way in heck that Dylan would tell me what he’s doing, so It looks like I have to play detective and figure it out myself. He turns back around and I sprint through the cemetery gate. I crouch behind a tombstone, pull out my phone, and listen. Peering out from over the gravestone, I see my brother put a violet crystal into the angel’s open hands. Wait! It’s the same crystal from yesterday! Then he turns my way.  

“This is it! This is what I’ve been waiting for for almost one hundred and fifty years! I can finally bodyform!,’’ Dylan announces. I almost double over from shock. I know that that piece of dialogue came from Dylan, but It definitely didn’t sound like my brother. It kind of sounded like a little English girl. It sounded like, oh no!.. Cora! 

Before I could even process this, he pulls out a slip of paper from his front pocket and begins to recite the following “Oh great spirits, I, Coraline Louise Deering, would like to be returned to my human form. So I shall no longer walk among the dead but rather among the living. I will trade you a life for a life. I know that I promised you Maxine, but I couldn’t get to her, so I brought you her brother instead. I hope he’s good enough.’’

This has to be some sort of sick joke, right? I think to myself, my stomach turning inside out. Then, out of nowhere, a booming thunder fills my ears. A bolt of lightning strikes a tree about two hundred yards away. What if it’s not a sick joke! 

“Ah, good, I have obtained your attention. Now, let us get to the bodyforming!’’ Dylan says, still doing the accent. He places his right hand on the crystal, which is still in the hands of the angel. He then mutters something that sounds like 

complete gibberish. While he’s talking, I notice his eyes flashing back and forth from gray to red. Soon, a ghostly outline starts to form on the other side of the statue. Dylan, whose eyes are now alight with excitement, continues chanting. 

Suddenly, a flashing light followed by a dreaded cracking sound fills my ears. Pieces of crystal fly everywhere. Severely startled, I duck down and cover my head. A few seconds later, the sound of chaos  stops and I peer out. I see Dylan gathering himself by the now broken angel statue. I decide that with Cora distracted, now was the time to get the heck out of here.

 I put my phone in my pocket before turning and dashing heedlessly towards the trail. I sprint all the way to the garden before stopping to catch my breath. So let’s recap what just happened. I found out that one, my brother is  possessed, and two, Cora wants to ‘“bodyform”. I have no idea what bodyforming is, but my guess is that it’s not anything good. There’s only one way to find out, by doing some research.         

The minute I step inside, I can tell that either my mom or Wyatt’s mum had lit some candles, because the whole place smells like warm cinnamon and pumpkin spice. Though right now, I’m too busy to pay attention to fall fragrances. Right now, I need to be researching how to stop this ghost mess. 

But since the internet has proved me time and time again that it’s not trustworthy, I've decided to go old school and dig through the thousands of books in Wessling manor’s study room. With any luck, I should be able to find at least a couple on ghosts or ghostly possession. Especially with how weird my dad’s side of the family is. I can’t let anything distract me. Not even Wyatt, who I don’t feel like telling yet. 

Eventually, I reach the study and begin my search. According to the Dewey Decimal System, which most libraries are organized using, you can most likely find information about ghosts in the religion section, which is 200-299. So that’s where I’m going first.

After about fifteen minutes of intense searching, I came across nothing relating to ghosts. Nothing! So I sigh and try to think of somewhere else books on ghosts might be. Then I notice something I hadn’t noticed before; a small notch on the side of the bookshelf. I wonder what this is? 

Though I’m definitely eager to find solutions, I probably should be wary. You know what they always say, curiosity killed the wannabe supernatural investigator. Still, I pull out the notch. To my complete surprise, the whole bookshelf swings open, revealing a secret passageway. You know, I’m actually not that surprised. I mean, a secret passageway is just another thing that you would expect to find in a creepy, haunted manor  So, not having anywhere else to look, I decide to follow the now not so secret passageway.

 I walk through the gap and shut the door behind me. It creaks closed before leaving me in complete and utter darkness. Shoot. I dig through my pockets for my cell phone. The only thing I find is a paper clip and a penny. I must have left it in the library. Okay, so no phone, that’s fine, I can just creep around in the darkness. Then, as if reading my mind, an entire row of candles suddenly bursts into flames, illuminating the entire hallway. 

“Creepy mind reading candles,’’ I whisper under my breath. The hallway has a ceiling height of about six feet and a width of about three feet. A narrow fit for some, but with me being relatively small, I can easily slide right through. It smells weirdly moist and earthy, like a greenhouse. Patches of moss line the sides of the brick wall. I bat a cobweb off of my face. I can infer that this place hasn't been walked through in quite some time. 

After what feels like an eternity of walking, I finally reach an old wooden door. I grab the door handle and yank it open. It leads me to a small, unlit room. I feel around the wall for a  light switch before finding it and flicking it on. 

A single bulb in the middle of the room lights up. A desk with papers and books piled on top of it comes into view. I  sit down in the chair beside the desk. Beside the table, a cardboard box with about five books inside of it grabs my attention. I lift  the first book off the top and flip it over to the title. The ultimate guide to ghosts, Ghouls and spirits. The cover is almost completely ruined from decades of use. It also smells faintly of mold, but it’s exactly what I’m looking for.  

 I flip the book open to the index and trace my finger down the list of page numbers. Then I see it, spirit possession, page numbers one hundred forty to two hundred. Heart racing, I flip to page one forty. 

There it was, a page titled all about spirit possession. The first page talks about the difference between demonic possession and ghostly possession with a fun little illustration of a demon that looks like it could haunt your nightmares. Fun. I skim through the first page before a tiny bit of information catches my eye.  One difference between  spirit possession and demonic possession is that with demons, you only can unpossess a person by performing an exorcism. But with spirits, you can also use a crystal to get the job done. 

Huh, interesting, Cora wants a crystal anyway, so that might be my unpossesion strategy. I flip to the next page and start reading through the first section. If you choose to use a crystal, the last thing you want to do is find out that it does not hold the correct amount of power. Oftentimes, a crystal may explode or turn on the user in the middle of use if it doesn't hold the power you need. Sometimes ghosts may also use crystals to bodyform. If you do not know what that is, here is the simplest definition; bodyforming is when a ghost uses a crystal or a relic to get his or her earthly form back. To know more about  crystals, flip to the next page for a list of fifty magical relics from around the world.  

 So that’s why the stone blew up, it didn’t have enough power. Bursting with curiosity, I move on. The next page has the heading: Magic  relics from across the globe and their opposing weapons. I read on through the first page. It talks about the Red Tree Amulet, the Verede stone and the Krowe crystal. They each had some sort of weapon, whether it was a sword or a bow or a knife. That must be what an opposing weapon is. I flip the next page with anticipation, waiting for everything to suddenly click. 

Then, on the next page, the first relic that’s listed is the Gemini Diamond! I couldn’t believe my eyes. It seems like the Gemini diamond listed here is the same one that Willow was talking about yesterday, the same one that’s coming to Glenmoor in less than two days!

Trying to process this bizarre information, I grab the book and slide it under my arm. I start rushing down the hallway in hopes of finding my cell phone. I race past the creepy candles and open the weird notched door. I soon enter the study and do a one eighty degree turn to scope out my phone. I finally spot it laying on the coffee table and dash over and pick it up. I type in the keywords “Gemini diamond”. The first page that pops up is the official Fall Festival page. I click on it. It reads: Come join us at seven o’clock for a showcasing of the legendary Gemini diamond. 

It couldn't be, it can’t be! I have to learn more! I flop the book down onto the coffee table and turn to the page I left off on. I glance to the opposing weapons section and notice that the weapon is a knife called the Three Stones Dagger. The picture captioned under it looks a lot like the picture I took of the dagger that I found in my closet. I pull up the picture that I took on my phone. My heart thumps. 

The picture in the book looks exactly like the dagger that I found in my closet. Right then, everything just seemed to click together. Cora wants to bodyform. The only way she could do that is by possessing Dylan, so she took possession of him during the séance. After the séance, she picked up the nearest crystal she could find and tried to use it in her ritual. Soon, she figured out that that wouldn’t work, so she’s setting her mind to the closest crystal that she knows will work, the Gemini diamond. 

But here I am, and destiny had it that I’d end up with the only thing that could fight it, the Three Stones Dagger. I have to stop Cora, I know I do, but first, I need a team. So that brings me to what I’m doing now, calling Willow. I pick up my phone and scroll straight to the W’s on my contact list. I click on the one labeled Willow Ellis and hit call. I wait for what feels like forever, until finally, her pretty voice rings clear. 

“Max, is it you?’’ 

“Yep, and I have something to tell you.’’ 

“Well couldn't you have waited ‘till later? Right now, my family’s finishing up dinner,’’ Willow 

retorts, clearly ticked.

“I promise you, I'll make it quick.’’ 

“Then what is it?’’ she asks impatiently.

“I know that you’re probably not  going to believe me, but I’m speaking the truth, so just listen. Dylan is possessed,’’ I blurt out. From the other end of the phone, I hear booming laughter. See, I knew getting Willow to believe me wasn't going to be easy. Then I remember a crucial piece of information. I have video proof of the ritual.    

“Hah, you were just prank calling me. I’m not even close to gullible enough to fall for that one. I’m hanging up-’’

“Willow, just wait, I have video proof. I can send it to you, then you’ll believe me,’’ I insist. 

“Fine, but as soon as I can tell that it’s edited, I’m stopping it.’’ 

“Okay, I’ll send it in a minute. I promise you, I’m not playing a prank.’’ As soon as I finish that sentence, Willow hangs up. I sigh and quickly text her the video. Then I plop down on the couch and rub my temple, which is now aching from a stress headache. I spot Wyatt walking in and briefly wave to him. I know I have to tell him soon, and since we’re in the same room, I might as well do it now. So I start to trail behind before calling his name. “Hey Wyatt,’’ I say, leaning against a bookshelf. He turns around and smiles sweetly.

“What do you want to tell me, Max?’’ he asks. 

I take a deep breath and prepare my speech.  

“Ow!,’’ I exclaim, grabbing my hair.

 “Well sorry, but if you want me to braid your hair, then it’s going to hurt a bit,’’ Willow says, annoyed. 

“Fine, but can you at least be a bit gentler.’’

“I’ll try,’’ Willow scoffs, continuing to braid. Right now, it’s finally Sunday, the day of the festival. My nerves are on Max power, no pun intended, because I have to stop Dylan- Cora, whatever- from stealing a magical crystal. Not your average outing. At least yesterday was kind of relaxing. Me, Dylan, my mom and Wyatt went to a pumpkin patch and bought half of their inventory to decorate the manor. That was fun. Cora didn’t even lash out or anything. She just kept quiet. I wonder if she knows. 

 What wasn't fun was working with Willow and Wyatt to come up with a plan to stop Cora, our resident evil ghost witch who possessed my brother, from getting a magical diamond to get revenge on whoever she felt like punishing, which is probably all of Glenmoor. Do you want to hear what our plan is? Let’s just pretend you want to. 

We plan to keep an eye on Cora until the crystal arrives by van like it does every year, according to Willow. After the van parks, Willow will distract the people from the Glenmoor Historical Society, who own the van, while me and Wyatt slip around the back and grab the crystal display case. Wyatt and I will then take the crystal to Sacred Grounds (which will be closed today because Rosemary’s running a stand on main street) and get it out of its case. Next, Wyatt will trick Cora into coming in the shop where I will be waiting to do the unpossession ritual. So I’ll do the ritual (which I read about in a different book) Dylan will be unpossessed, and this stupid ghost thing will finally be over. It’s sort of just a rough plan, and I’m sure we’ll improvise it along the way. 

Anyways, to cheer me up, Willow decided to give me a mini makeover. She did my makeup, straightened my hair, and is now braiding it. 

“There, it’s all tied. You can check your reflection now,’’ Willow remarks, handing me her hand mirror. I glance at my reflection. Willow actually did a pretty good job. It isn’t exactly how I wanted it, since I let Willow have creative freedom. Still, she did my makeup much better than I could do it myself. 

“Do you like it?,’’ Willow asks.
“Yeah, I think it looks great. I like it.’’ 

“I think Wyatt will like it as well, since he already thinks you’re cute,’’ Willow smirks. 

“Willow! Why do you keep making fun of me for having a crush on him?’’  

“Relax, I’m just joking, gosh.’’ 

Then I hear a light Tapping sound coming from the other end of my door. 

  “Open up!,’’ I yell. The door opens and Willow’s dad walks in. 

“I’m just popping in to tell you two that it’s almost time to leave. By the way, do you want to hear a joke?,’’ he asks, a grin splitting his face.                

   “No, no, no,’’ Willow says frantically. 

“Sure, I’d love to,’’ I reply politely. 

“Alright, you asked for it. What’s a mummy’s favorite genre of music?,’’ Mr. Ellis says, laughing to himself.

“Oh, I’ve heard this one before, it’s rap!,’’ I exclaim. 

 “Yep, you got it,’’ he answers. 

Willow rolls her eyes and says “He tells the worst jokes.’’

“Anyway, you two can come down when you’re ready, I’ll go ahead and get out of your hair,’’ Willow’s dad says, exiting and closing the door behind him. I wait until I no longer hear footsteps troding down the hallway before whispering to Willow. 

“Are you ready to put the plan in action?’’

“Yeah, I’m ready,’’ Willow replies confidently. 

“Great, can we go downstairs now?’’ 

“Yeah, come on,’’ Willow says, propelling herself off of my bed. I feel around my messenger bag for the dagger. It’s still there. I’m bringing it just in case we need a little extra help. Hopefully it passes through security. I doubt that there’ll be security though, since it’s a small fall festival in a tiny English town that we’re going to.   

I step through the door frame and peer over the guardrail. All of the adults, Wyatt, and Winonia (Willow’s baby sister) are downstairs talking. I speed up a little and shuffle down the stairs. At the bottom, Wyatt catches my eye and walks over. He’s dressed up fancy as well, in a patterned button up shirt and a nice pair of light blue jeans.  

“I love your makeup. You look great, so pretty,’’ Wyatt compliments, his face lighting up like a lightbulb. 

“Thank you,’’ I blush. 

“Yeah, I did it for her, thinking it would take her mind off this whole situation,’’ Willow says, trying to direct some attention to herself.           

  “Cool, you did a good job,’’ Wyatt says cheerfully, flashing his million dollar smile. 

“Since you two just came down, all we have to do is wait for Dylan before we can leave,’’ My mom announces. 

   “I can go get him, if you need me to,’’ I offer. 

“Oh, no need. He’s right up there,’’ Gemma points out. I turn around. Sure enough, he’s walking down the elegant grand staircase wearing a black leather jacket, the sourest of expressions pasted on his face. 

          “Hey Dylan, lookin’ good,” my mom jokes. Cora just ignores her and takes a stand by Wyatt. She’s now standing right across from me, gray eyes like daggers, glaring into my soul. A shiver runs down my spine. 

“Okay, it’s time to go. Gemma, you can go ahead and start up the car,’’ my mom announces. 

“Right on it,’’ Gemma says, pulling out the keys from her pocket. She walks out the door and we all follow behind. We wait in the driveway while Gemma runs into the garage and pulls out in my grandmother’s convertible. She parks in the driveway and we all hop in. Gemma and my mom are in the front, and me, Dylan, and Wyatt are in the back. 

 Dylan’s in the middle seat, probably because he doesn’t want me and Wyatt talking to each other. I take a seat on the left side because that's the only seat not taken. As soon as I click in my seatbelt, The subtle sound of the ignition starting fills my ears. You’ve got this, there’s no need to worry, I think to myself. Gemma twists the car around and we roll down the driveway.

              **********************************

About twenty minutes later, we park in the grassy overflow parking on the other side of the road from the main entrance. The festival hasn't even started yet, but parking is almost completely filled up. I have no idea if this is normal or not, but It’s like every person in Glenmoor has decided to attend this year, and every single one of them has chosen to come early. 

With a wave of a crossing guard’s batons, we walk across the street and take the main path to get to the gateway entrance. Since the festival’s not going to start for another twenty minutes, we’re just supposed to wait around by the entrance for the mayor to come up on the little stage that the festival organizers set up and deliver some speech. Because there’s no other way to get in, we have to just suck it up and wait among the small crowd of other festival goers.  

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, we were all starting to get a bit antsy. Luckily, right then, I notice the Ellis’ walking down the main path. I get permission from my mom to go over there to talk to Willow, since I need to remind her of the plan. I push through the dense crowd and weave my way towards Willow. 

“Hey Willow,’’ I whisper, nudging her. She turns around. 

“Hm, What?,’’ she asks, flashing her gorgeous brown eyes at me. 

“So after the mayor gives her speech, we just kind of tour around and keep and eye on Cora until the van arrives, right?’’

“Yeah, I suppose so,’’ she says, eyeing the stage. 

“Hey look! It’s Mayor Clancy!,’’ somebody calls out. I turn towards the stage. Sure enough, Tonya Clancy, mayor of Glenmoor (who’s dressed like a black widow) steps up onto the stage. One of her assistants hands her a microphone as Rosemary’s mouth twists into a frown. Ouch, guess she didn’t vote for her. 

“Good morning Glenmoor! It’s time for our 50th annual fall festival! Fifty years! That’s a big anniversary! I haven’t even been around for fifty years. I’m forty five and half, so this festival’s older than me. Though seriously, Glenmoor has changed a lot in the past fifty years. In ninety seventy three, Glenmoor had a population of two thousand people. Now it has nearly four thousand people! Seriously, we’re almost a city by this point. Anyways, this year is supposed to be a blast! As always, we have the parade, the vendors, and the crystal showing. We’ve even decided to add a dance floor for both  families and couples alike. So let's get this on!’’

Another one of Mayor Clancy’s assistants hands her a giant pair of scissors and she cuts the thin, red festival ribbon. Cheers erupt from the onlookers as the ribbon hits the cobblestone street. A horde of people rush forward and we move with them to keep up with the crowd. 

“So I was thinking that me and William would go help Sarah out with the stand. Since she’s just an employee, it might be a bit overwhelming for her to run it alone. We’ll take Winona with us since we don’t want to trouble you and Gemma with babysitting her. We figure that Willow wants to do the festival with you, if you’ll take her,’’ Rosemary proposes. 

“Yeah, I want to tour around with the Wesslings and not be stuck in a boring festival stand all day,’’ Willow chimes in. Rosemary rolls her eyes while my mom just laughs. 

“I think we can handle another sassy teenage girl for a day. We can take her with us to watch the parade or something. Do you want to meet us for dinner somewhere?’’

“Sure, that would be great, I can call you around five thirty.’’

With that, we say a temporary good-bye and Willow’s family splits from mine. After Mr. and Mrs. Ellis are out of sight, my mom turns to my brother and says: 

“Hey Dylan, since you haven’t been talking much, I really want your opinion on this. Where do you think we should go?”

“Oh, I don’t really know, but I kind of want to go see some of the vendors,’’ Cora says. I don’t know how she does it, but somehow, she makes her voice sound exactly like Dylan’s. Not just kind of like his, identical to his. It might be some sort of ghost hack, or maybe a type of spell or enchantment. I could be either one of those, since Cora is both a ghost and a witch.  

“We can do that, we just have to turn around.’’ 

“Yes, let’s do that,’’ Cora says. I can see that sadness in his eyes. The sadness and the spite. I actually kind of feel sorry for her. She didn’t deserve to die. At least not that young and in that terrible way. Elizabeth set her up. Her dad should have at least gotten what he deserved. Which frankly, I do think he deserved to be hanged. You know, for child murder.

 As bad as I feel for Cora, she definitely could have found a better way to get our attention. Better than haunting us half to death and then possessing Dylan to carry out her plan of bodyforming and causing chaos to Glenmoor. At least that’s what I think she’s doing. 

Then Cora turns around to shoot me a look before mouthing “You’re dead!’’ 

I jumped back nearly two feet  and I’m pretty sure my eyes went as wide as dinner plates. Yep, there goes my sympathy. Every single bit of it. Though if the plan goes well, she should be gone in a few hours. If it goes well.

                    ********************************

         Looking at festival stands went well. Lunch went well. The parade went well. Dinner went surprisingly well. I’m amazed that Cora didn’t lash out while I was eating my fish and chips. Look, if you ever want to visit Glenmoor (assuming that Cora doesn’t tear it to oblivion) you should definitely stop by Matt’s Pub, they have the best fish and chips. Anyway, after dinner, we decide to kill some time on the dance floor.  I might even dance with Wyatt. You only live once, right? 

“Well this is it, the Dance floor,’’ Gemma says, pointing to the large pavilion with about twenty different couples  twirling and twisting around. I chuckle a bit at how Gemma pronounced it. 

“Daans floor,’’ I whisper under my breath in my best British accent. It’s not just Gemma, all of them say it funny. 

“Hey, Max, do you want to dance with me?,’’ Wyatt asks. My face lights up. He actually asked me! This is great!

“Yeah, I would, that’d be great!,’’ I exclaim cheerfully. I turn around and spot Willow standing right by Cora. It’ll be okay, she’ll watch her, right? She has to, she can’t let me down while I’m having the time of my life. 

“You watch her, okay,’’ I whisper, leaning over into Willow’s ear. She nods and grips Dylan’s arm tightly. I grab Wyatt’s arm and we walk over to the dance floor.

When we get to the pavilion, Wyatt takes my hand and says “Just so you know, I don’t dance very much, but I can give it a try.’’

I chuckle a bit and say “Yeah, me neither.’’ 

Wyatt smiles and we take a few steps backwards. Then we take a couple steps to the right before I grab Wyatt’s arm and spin around. He pulls me closer and we start to slow dance. The sound of soft violin music coming from the speakers behind us floats through the stage as we sway back and forth. 

“So are you liking today?,’’ Wyatt asks me, the soft glow of the evening sun reflecting off of his glasses. 

“I actually am, especially given our current situation.’’ 

            “Good. After we finish dancing, I think we have to meet back up with Willow and find the van. By the way, I like your lipstick- like the shade and everything. It suits you well.’’ 

I blush. “Thank you, my lipstick is actually the only part of my makeup that I personally put on, the rest was done by Willow.’’ 

“I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I ruin it.’’

“Wait, what?’’  

 Before I could even get an answer, Wyatt leans in to kiss me. Since I’ve never been kissed before, I just decide to go with it. So we kiss. And yeah, probably about a hundred people were watching us, including both of our families and my gossiping new best friend, but we didn’t care. After what seems like forever, he finally lets up and says “That was nice.” 

Since I don't know what to say to that, I just stand there awkwardly and fidget with the hem of my blouse. 

 Then I see Willow parting the crowd, an ugly look on her face. That can’t be good. She takes a stand by me and leans over to talk to, no, probably yell at Wyatt. 

“Look at this, huh? Cora just ran off and you two blokes are Kissin’!’’  

“Wait! Cora ran off!,’’ I exclaim, not being able to contain my surprise. 

“Yeah, about two minutes ago, when you two were making out!,’’ Willow yells out, enraged.

“Wasn't it your job to stop her though?’’ Wyatt asks, basically telling Willow to kill him. Surprisingly, Willow keeps her hands to herself. 

“Well if you two weren’t off dancing and kissing and watching Cora instead, then she might not have run off!’’

“Hey guys, can you two stop! It’s all okay, we can just find her and make her come back,’’ I suggest. Both Wyatt and Willow look at me like I’m a complete Moron. Really, the guy that just kissed me is looking at me like I’m a moron. What a hypocrite. After a few seconds of complete silence between the three of us, Willow finally speaks.

“The van arrived five minutes ago, so she’s gonna be after that,’’ Willow says, sparing no emotion. 

“Okay, then we have to go after her.’’ 

“Yeah, what are we waiting for, let’s go!,’’ Wyatt exclaims urgently, jogging ahead. I speed up and follow him. Once we’re all at the same pace, I decide to ask Willow my crucial (and slightly sarcastic) question.  

“Since you clearly know so much about this van, do you know where the diamond gets dropped off?,’’ I ask. 

“Yeah, they drop off the diamond about a half a kilometer away from here, I’m not an idiot,’’ Willow says bitterly, practically spitting out the last part.  

“Geez, it looks like someone forgot her morning coffee,’’ Wyatt jokes. I don’t even laugh. I can’t right now, I’m just that worried. Maybe we’ll run into her on the way over. I shake my head. Yeah right. 

After about another minute of trying to process all of this absurdness, we finally speed up. Since Wyatt and Willow are much more athletic than I am, I struggled to keep pace with them. Even though my lungs felt like they were burning, I didn’t stop until I made it to the end. Though at the end, the scene of chaos that unfolded was definitely something. Every single movable object, like paper and trash cans, are knocked over and strewn about. The people that were supposed to be delivering the diamond, the people from the Glenmoor Historical Society, all look completely and utterly frazzled.

       “Well, it looks like Cora’s already been here,’’ I comment, feeling hopeless. 

“Maybe you should talk to that volunteer over there. She might be able to answer some of our questions,’’ Willow suggests, pointing to her left. I turn to see where she’s pointing. At the tip of her finger, I notice a young woman with straight  blonde hair and a confused look on her face. I walk over to her. 

 “I’m sorry if this sounds weird, but have you seen a teenage boy with black curly hair that has a voice that sounds like a little Victorian girl.’’ Yeah, that didn’t come out nearly as well as I thought it would.  

Her eyes widen and her level of shock nearly doubles to a point that I didn’t think was physically possible. 

“Yeah, actually I have. She just came in here and threatened to kill us. Since we didn’t want to lose our lives, we backed away and she grabbed the diamond. She also left a note on the side of the van. I think she left it for you,’’ the lady says, trembling and handing me the sticky note. I take it.

Meet me at the tree of light, I’ll show you what I’m made of - Cora.

At that exact moment, about a million thoughts start to race through my mind. The first one is: What the heck is a tree of light?  Wyatt and Willow quickly run in and come up right beside me. 

“What does the note say?,’’ Wyatt asks, panting down my neck. 

“It says something about a tree of light, I don’t know what that is.’’ 

Wyatt takes the note from my hands. “Yeah, I don’t know either.’’  

“Here, give me that!,’’ Willow demands. She pries the note from Wyatt’s hands to take a look at it herself. “Oh yeah! I remember what that is! A tree of light is a tree that witches use to extract power from. The trees were one of the main elements in the Glenmoor Witch Trials.’’  

“Then do you know where it is?,’’ Wyatt insists, impatient.

“No, I don’t. It’s not like I can remember everything from year eight history class,’’ Willow says sourly, scowling.

“Well then I guess we’ll just have to wait for a bloody miracle!,’’ Wyatt exclaims loudly, throwing the note up into the air.   

I put my hand on his shoulder and say: “ It’s okay Wyatt, I’m sure it’s somewhere close by, we just have to look around for a little bit.’’  

    Then suddenly, we get our bloody miracle. The dagger in my bag lights up like a glow stick, casting a pinkish glow. If that’s not something, I don’t know what is. 

“Take it out!,’’ Wyatt exclaims excitedly. 

I reach into my bag. Lo and behold, the Three Stone Dagger, a noble weapon cast in gold and silver, is glowing like a lightbulb. When I hold it up to examine, it jerks forwards, pointing in a straight line. It seems to push me forward, and fast too, I almost fall flat on my feet. 

“What the heck! I think it wants us to follow it,’’ Willow exclaims. 

“I mean we’re kind of stuck here, so it’s our only choice,’’ I add. I then close my eyes and walk forward. I feel the dagger twist me around a bend before slamming me right into a tree trunk. Okay, I should at least open my eyes and not trust this thing completely blindly. I grit my teeth and get to my feet.  Before I know it, this thing pulls me directly into a crowd of people. Great, nothing to see here, just a teenage girl being pulled forward by a magical dagger.

 About five different people turn around and stare directly at me before this cursed dagger drags me into the forest. I notice Wyatt and Willow pushing through the crowd, trailing right behind me as I step onto a narrow path that cuts straight through the forest like a knife. The dagger slows down and lets me just stroll through this weird, creepy forest.  Coincidentally, it’s twilight right now. And there’s fog. Great, this place looks like somewhere a colony of Vampires would inhabit. Or maybe Werewolves. You take your pick. 

  “You know those forests in horror movies, well this looks exactly like one of ‘em,’’ Wyatt remarks, coming up beside me. The moonglow reflects right off one side of his face, casting a creepy shadow over the other side. Hey, he kind of looks like a Vampire. Minus the large fangs, and the thirst for blood.   

“Yeah, there’s probably bodies buried around here,’’ Willow chimes in. 

“Hey Max, you might want to look up ahead,’’ Wyatt comments, pointing at something in front of me. I turn around. Sure enough, there it was. The tree of light. At least that’s what I assume the glowing tree with bluish lights on every branch is called. The dagger stops pointing forward and drops down at my side. I halt to a stop. 

“Wow, it’s stunning,’’ I gasp. Suddenly, right after I finish my sentence, a shadowy figure leaps out from behind the tree like a cat. In fright, I raise my dagger. I hear a flashlight click and immediately, the mysterious figure is illuminated. It’s…Cora? 

“Hah, look who the cat dragged in. The Wessling girl and her weak sidekicks. Look, Maxine, I have a deal to offer you,’’ Cora announces in her regular voice. 

“What it is!,” I bark, both angry and curious at the same time. 

Cora laughs “I was thinking that we could fight, and not just playfully, but rather to the death.”

My heart stops cold. Cora has definitely gone off the deep end. You have to be crazy in order to want to fight someone to the death. I have to hear her terms. 

“What for?” 

“I was thinking that we could fight for the diamond. If I win, you’ll be dead and your friends will have to watch me bodyform and destroy all of Downtown Glenmoor. If you win, you get the crystal and your brother’s body back and I’ll be trapped in the diamond, do you get it?” 

“Show me the diamond!,” I demand. Hey, before I decide to fight this chick to the death, I at least want proof that she actually has the Gemini diamond. She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a medium sized jade green diamond.

 “Here, are you happy? Now answer my question, do you want to fight me?’’   

The words reverberate several times off of my eardrums as I stop and think for a minute. The main things I think about are A: What does she get out of this?  Easy, eliminating an enemy, and B: What should I do? Should I fight Coraline Deering to the death? Well, you know what, I don’t decide. I tackle her instead.  

                  ****************************

       You probably already know that most guys are bigger than most girls, which is exactly what’s true with me and Dylan. He’s probably about three inches taller than me and a good thirty pounds heavier, yet he toppled like a flour bag when I jumped on him.  

Cora’s screams of terror and shock could be heard from a mile away. Good. Even though Cora is technically my brother (which sounds so wrong) I show no mercy. We roll around in the dirt for a solid five minutes, me trying to pry the diamond out of his clammy hands and her trying to choke me.

 “You will Die!,’’ Cora exclaims, trying to knee me in the stomach. 

“Never!,’’ I shout, kind of making it sound like a battle cry. Then I feel a soft thud coming from on top of me. I hear Cora’s scream of pain and quickly free my eyes to get a look at what’s happening. It’s Wyatt, kicking Cora with the toe of his boot. Yes! Finally, I have a distraction! Two against one, sucker! Cora loosens her grip on the diamond and I snatch it from her. I quickly free myself and dash away, but Cora grabs my braid before I can even make it five feet. 

  “Hah, I’ve got you now!,’’ Cora exclaims, yanking on my braid as I try to escape. Suddenly, I remember that the thing I’m holding in my hands is a fully functioning dagger. I hold it up and chop off a good bit of my straightened out orange locks. After I'm free, I quickly resume running and join Wyatt over by a tree. I look back to see Cora get up, enraged. 

        “What do we do now!,” I frantically whisper to Wyatt. 

         “I don’t know! I guess we just run!,” Wyatt whispers back, sounding just as frantic. 

       “Well I would if I knew where the heck Willow is!” 

   “I think she’s behind a tree somewhere. I saw her run off, I just don’t know where she went,” Wyatt replies, his voice breaking. I figure that Willow’s probably safe. I mean, she’s not the one Cora’s directly after. 

        So I run. Leaving Wyatt behind, I bound over tree roots and weave in and out of tree gaps. But eventually, Cora catches up to me. As soon as I felt her come up behind me, I knew that she was going to bring hell.                          

         She loops her arms around my neck and starts to press down. I thrash around, fighting for my life. I feel my last breath leave my body and start to suffocate. This could be the end. Then the sound of branches cracking and rushed breathing fills my ears. 

      “Stop hurting her!,” I hear a voice scream. 

     Cora’s so startled that she rips her arms away from my neck. I breath a few ragged breaths before turning to look at my savior. It’s none other than Willow Ellis, the girl that I was so worried about. Thanks Willow. 

      I spot the diamond in Cora’s left hand. Without thinking, I grab her arm and stab it with my dagger. She lets out a howl of pain before dropping the diamond. I hurriedly pick it up from the dirt. That’s when the realization hits me. I just stabbed my own brother. 

Darn it! What have I done! He’ll probably be fine though, It’s not that much blood, right? I look down. Seeing blood gushing out of the fresh stab wound I created, I panic.  Actually, that’s a lot of blood! What if he bleeds to death?!  I should probably stick around to make sure my own brother is okay, which is the sensible thing to do, but instead, I grab Willow by the jacket collar and bolt away from this terrible scene. 

 “Dude, you just stabbed Dylan!,” Willow exclaims, sounding like I’d done some heroic task. 

“Yep,” I say through gritted teeth. 

“Do you think he’ll be okay?,” Willow asks. 

“I honestly don’t know,” I reply, biting my lip. I hope he’s okay, otherwise, I won’t have a brother to unpossess. 

    “So do we just run?” 

“I guess so, Wyatt can fend for himself” I say, still feeling a bit lost. I put the gem in my jacket pocket and pick up speed. I keep running, Willow right at my side, for about seven or eight minutes. We’re almost to the edge of the forest before I hear the dreaded voice of Cora Deering. 

“Oh Maxine, I've found you again!” 

 My heart suddenly stops cold and I twist around. It was Cora with Dylan’s leather jacket off, his left arm perfectly fine. Wait, it was the left one I stabbed, right?

“You know how you shoved your dagger in my arm, well I can self heal,” Cora sneers. She holds up his arm. I look closely. There’s not even as much as a scratch or a scar. I’m pretty sure that someone who hasn’t been dealing with a ghost witch for the past week, would’ve fainted. But I have been dealing with a ghost witch for the past week, so I didn’t even gasp. I actually kind of expected it. “Pretty cool, huh.”

 “Yeah, have you seen Wyatt lately?,” I bark, giving Cora absolutely no nonsense. 

“Yes, I have, I actually ran into him on the way here,” she says, her grin twisting into a smirk. 

“What’d you do to him!,” I yell defensively. 

“Let’s just say that he’s probably still unconscious and tied to an oak tree.” 

“You sicko!,” I scream, lunging forward. I was furious, even though I’d helped put him there. Willow grabs me and holds me back, struggling against my weight. 

 “So what do you want with us?,” Willow asks calmly. 

“I already told you, I want to fight your little ginger friend here. To the death,” Cora replies, her mischievous grin returning. Yep, she definitely has a murderous kick to her. “I was thinking that we put the diamond in the center and sort of duel, with magic of course.” 

I let that sink it for a minute. Now that I've heard all of her terms, It actually seems plausible. I mean, I have a magic dagger, I just don’t know how to use it. I bet I can find out pretty quickly though. 

“You know what, I’ll do it,” I say bravely. Willow looks at me like I’m crazy. 

“What are you thinking! She’s gonna kick your butt!” 

“Relax, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves.” 

“Great, now place the diamond on the stump,” Cora orders. I tighten my grip on the Gemini Diamond. I can’t exactly trust her after all that she put us through in the past week, but I have to if I want to kick her butt.

“Fine, just don’t grab it and bolt, you promise?” 

“I promise,” she says, smiling sweetly. I still don’t trust her one hundred percent, but I cooperate and place the gem down. She walks past the stump and turns around. “I have decided ten paces for this duel. You will obey. Got it?’’

       “Yep, uh huh,’’ I say nervously. If I was wearing boots, I would probably be shaking in them. You could say that I was shaking in my Converses, but that doesn’t have the same ring to it.  The point is, I’m nervous as ever. I have to beat Cora. I just have to. Not only does my life depend on it, but so does the lives of my family, friends and pretty much everyone else in Glenmoor. That’s a lot to lay on a fourteen year old.  

“Go!,’’ Cora screams. I’m so startled that I twist around and half-heartedly strike first. I shoot a bolt of lightning straight at her, but she dodges it. Then she delivers her blow. A rumbling earthquake shoots through the ground beside me. I fall flat to my feet and stay down, clinging to a tree, until Cora finally lets up. It kind of reminds me of what happened during the séance, you know, with the whole earthquake thing. 

“Did you like that? Well I’m just warming up,’’ Cora says, chuckling. I growl. I sort of want to tackle her again, but then I remember that I can do much, much more. I get to my feet. Rage burning inside of me, I point my dagger and release flames. Cora goes full on panic mode, jumping all over the place and trying to avoid getting turned into barbeque. I don’t point it directly at her, ‘cause I don’t want to barbeque my brother. I just want to scare Cora. 

After my anger subsides and the flames start to cease, Cora starts rubbing her hands together. At first, I thought she was just trying to warm her hands, but then sparks start forming and flying out in all directions. Super static. I really feel like I want to disappear when she directs the sparks at me. But I stand my ground and point my dagger outwards. I aim it at Cora and give it a little shake. The powerful blast knocks her over and the rain of sparks stops. I see her get up, an expression of pure rage pasted on his face. Now is the time to make my fatal blow.   

“You know what Cora, you can take that diamond and shove it!,’’ I scream, feeling satisfied. I point my dagger straight at the diamond and channel every single drop of my body’s energy into it. I feel it heat up. I jerk the dagger forward. That’s when I lose control. The sheer energy, the electricity, is just too much. I fly backwards. Searing pain travels through my body before everything seems to black out.  

Moonlight pours into my eyes. Where am I? 

As I look around, my vision seems to unblur. A few seconds in, I realize that I’m still in this creepy forest. Only now, it’s completely dark. At least yesterday was a full moon. That helps light things up a bit. 

“Willow! Cora! Wyatt! Where are you!,’’ I yell, forcing myself up. I can taste blood in my mouth. I bet my lip’s bleeding. At least I still have my dagger with me, I woke up with it right in my hands. Now, since I likely don’t need it, I slide it into my bag. 

“I’m right here!’’ I hear Willow yell. She turns her phone light on. Her face is now visible and the whole right side is coated in dried blood.  

“There you are! I was worried- about you anyway.’’

She laughs. “We did it! You did it! You beat her!,’’ Willow exclaims, holding up the diamond. It’s like it was before, only now it had the portrait of a young girl, Cora. I had read about this, whenever a spirit was trapped in a crystal, it would show their image. That means that we did it. We trapped her! That also means that Dylan is finally unpossessed and is somewhere around here, hopefully uninjured. 

“Where’s Dylan and Wyatt?,’’ I ask franticly.

“Oh, They’re over by that tree. I think Dylan’s still unconscious,’’ Willow replies, her voice losing its enthusiasm.  I have to get over there. I have to make sure my brother’s okay, I think to myself, my thoughts finally beginning to unscramble. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket. It’s completely broken and won’t turn on. Definitely some internal damage. Great.

 “Can I borrow your phone? Mine’s broken.’’

“Sure, just don’t run the battery out,’’ she says, handing me her phone. 

“Thanks.’’ I take off, leaving Willow behind. “Wyatt! Where are you?,’’ I call out. 

“I’m right here!,’’ I hear a voice call back. It’s Wyatt. He’s close. His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere to the left of me, so I run that way. Soon I see Wyatt kneeling beside a tree. Right next to Dylan, Who’s still unconscious, his nose bleeding. A nauseous feeling of panic fills my body. What if I accidentally killed him?  As annoying as he is, I couldn’t possibly imagine a life without my brother. I kneel beside Wyatt. 

“Is he okay? Please tell me he’s okay,’’ I say, my voice rushed. 

“I don’t know, it depends on your definition of okay. I mean, he still has a pulse,’’ Wyatt responds, his
voice wavering. 

I take one of my brother’s hands in mine and whisper “Please, Dylan, just wake up. Mom will murder me if you don’t come back and I’ll  never forgive myself if this is how you go. I’ve been such a crappy sister lately, and frankly, you haven’t been a much better brother, but if we work together, we can finally have a real bond. For real this time. I hate to be all Hallmarky, but I love you a lot, and I think, deep down, you feel the same. Just wake up.’’

A few tears come to my eyes and I wipe them away with my scratched up hands. “What should we do?,’’ I ask Wyatt, my words almost a plea. 

“I don’t know,’’ he says solemnly, looking into my eyes. Suddenly, I feel Dylan’s fingers twist around my hand.

  “Just so you know, I love you too.’’ 

Dylan! He’s finally awake. I turn around. He has a smile on his pale face. Sort of a smirk, like always. 

“I heard you talk. I was awake for all of it. I love being praised. You should really do it more often.’’ 

“Dylan Henry Wessling! You sly fox! I should’ve known, I really should’ve. You were awake the whole time. When did you wake up?,’’ I exclaim, laughing loudly.  

    “Right when you started talking. I was sort of vibing with it. Can you tell me where I am now?,’’ he replies. 

I sigh “ You know what, Dylan?  All that stuff I just said, well I actually meant it.’’ 

He looks at me with a glare that seems to be both stern and curious. “Yeah, but seriously though, can you tell me where I am? The last thing I remember was being in a dusty séance room and now I’m in a forest, with a bloody nose. How’d that happen?,’’ Dylan asks rudely. I should’ve known, he never was particularly sentimental. 

“Wyatt can catch you up, I have to go find Willow.’’ I take my hands off of my brother and start retracing my steps. Hopefully Willow’s right where she was when I left. If not, then I’ll have to go search for her. “Hey Willow! Where are you!,’’ I yell, hopefully getting her attention. 

“I’m right here! Turn on my phone light,’’ Willow requests. 

“Okay,’’ I mumble, turning on Willow’s phone. As soon as I hit the flashlight icon, her face becomes illuminated again. “How about we trade, the diamond for your phone.’’ 

“Sure, by the expression on your face, I’m gonna guess that your brother’s okay,’’ Willow says, placing the diamond in my hand. 

“Yeah, he is, he’s just a bit startled. I was thinking that we should leave soon. You know, get back to civilization,’’ I reply, handing Willow her phone.

“I agree, we probably should be heading back now. I bet my parents have already called the police.’’

“Well, come on then,” I say, starting to walk forward. Willow soon moves out ahead of me, lighting the way with her phone. We walk through the mossy forest floor, a large copse of oak trees looming over us. To my left, I see Wyatt and Dylan waiting underneath a tree. Dylan’s standing up this time. Wyatt is too. They’re both kind of leaning up against the tree, talking. As soon as Dylan spots me, his eyes light up. 

“Hey Max, Wyatt told me everything. I wonder why Cora decided to possess me and not you. I bet there’s some special reason why. He also told me that you stabbed me and I healed myself. Wow, too bad her powers didn’t transfer to me or something like that. That would be sick,’’ Dylan says rapidly, running his hand through his messy black curls. Yeah, he probably told you everything, except that we kissed.       

     “So are we ready to go back now? My mum’s probably worried sick,’’ Wyatt asks, kind of side-eying me. 

“Yeah, the path’s right there.’’ Willow says, pointing out the moonlit trail that we took to get here. 

“Hey Wyatt, can I borrow your phone?,’’ I ask, remembering that mine’s completely broken.

     “Sure, for what though?’’ 

“Just to call my mom when we get back to civilization.’’ 

“Oh, yeah, that sounds reasonable.’’ He nods understandingly and hands me his cell phone. I slide it  into the pocket of my jeans. Then I remember my promise to patch things up with Dylan. It seems that this near death experience has made me want to be a better sister. Now seems like a good time to start, so I grab my brother’s hand and head towards the trail.

“What are you doing, Max?,’’ Dylan asks rudely. 

“Relax, I just want to talk to you,’’ I answer, letting go of his hand when we reach the trail.   

“You and Dylan can go out ahead of us. Me and Willow can stay behind,’’ Wyatt suggests. Thank you, Wyatt. You must have picked up hints. 

“Let’s do that, come on Dylan,’’ I say, trying to encourage my brother to keep up with me. He rolls his eyes and speeds up, eventually keeping a steady pace. We walk in silence for a couple minutes before he finally speaks.

 “So, are you and Wyatt going strong? ‘Cause I know you like him.’’

I gulp. Should I tell him? I mean, he’s my brother and he’ll probably find out sooner or later, so I guess I should just suck it up and confess. 

                “Yeah, me and him, uh, kissed,’’ I say slowly.

“Wait what! I never thought you would actually get a boy to kiss you. Never mind a cute one!,’’ Dylan exclaims with mock surprise. 

“Hah hah, very funny. You notice how I’m not laughing. Also, if you keep talking to me like that, I will disown you,’’ I say, annoyed. “By the way, do you have your mind on any Glenmoor girls?’’

His cheeks flush bright red “Sort of, I mean, there’s this one in my drama class. Her name’s Amanda, but she goes by Mandy. She’s an amateur poet too, and a great actor,’’ he says, sighing. I’m pretty sure that if he was an anime character, my brother would have hearts in his eyes right now. 

“So how many poems have you written about her?’’ 

    His face twists into a frown  “Max! Shut up! My writing is completely private. Though, to be honest, I have tried to workshop a few similes about her long blonde hair.’’

The last part makes me chortle “How about this, Dylan, how about you just talk to her. That’s how it all starts anyway,’’ I suggest. 

“Yeah, I should probably try to do that, maybe at school tomorrow,’’ Dylan replies, sounding distracted.  I look up ahead. I can see street lights, which means that we’re almost back in Downtown Glenmoor. 

A few minutes later, we step off of the dirt trail and onto the concrete path. Since it’s dark and the street lights are all lit up, I don’t need to use Wyatt’s phone light anymore. Nobody’s out wandering around, the festival is probably even over. 

“Wow, it’s practically dead out here,’’ my brother remarks, surveying the area. 

“Yeah, though I think I have enough bars on Wyatt’s phone to call mom, If you’re cool with that of course.’’ 

“You should do it, she’s probably worried half to death,’’ Dylan insists. 

So, to my brother’s request, I turn Wyatt’s phone on and scroll through his contact list. To my surprise, my mom’s number is actually on here. I take a deep breath, hit her contact, and tap the call button. 

“Wait, Wyatt? Why are you calling me?,’’ my mom asks through the phone, her voice filled with surprise.  

“No it’s Max, and I’m sorry for running off. I just need to know where you’re at.’’ 

“I’m at Sacred Grounds with Gemma and the Ellis’. Where are you at? You’ve been gone for more than an hour. What were you doing? Is Dylan with you?’’

“I can answer all of your questions when I get there. Right now, I’m safe and on my way to you. Okay, bye,’’ I say, hanging up. 

“What did she say?,’’ my brother asks. 

“She said to meet her at Rosemary’s coffee shop. Come on,’’ I reply, walking up ahead. 

“Maybe we should wait around for Wyatt and Willow, since I don’t think you want to leave your boyfriend behind,’’  Dylan teasingly suggests. I roll my eyes, but still accept his proposal. We find the nearest lamppost and wait underneath it for the two other members of our group. Eventually, I hear a voice call out.

“There you are! We thought you two left us!,’’ I turn around. It’s Wyatt, with Willow at his side. Overjoyed, I walk up to him, Dylan trailing slightly behind me. 

“I just want to let you guys know, I called my mom and she told us to meet her at Sacred Grounds, which is where me and Dylan were headed. At least before we decided to wait for you.”

“Super, let’s get on it!,’’ Willow exclaims. 

So then Wyatt takes a stand by Dylan and Willow stands by me. We walk forward into the night, lit only by street lamps and the moon. Wyatt and my brother start to make some sort of small talk, but things are quiet between the rest of us. For the first time, I feel like our little group here actually means something. It actually feels like a group and not just a ragtag gang of teenagers thrown into an extremely odd supernatural situation. We might even be able to develop this into some sort of friend group, maybe even in the near future. 

Now that Wessling manor is rid of its resident ghost, me and my family can, hopefully, enjoy our new home. At least for a bit anyway, I’m sure the old manor has plenty of other secrets and puzzles to solve. Like with my dagger. It could have some sort of connection to my missing aunt. Imagine that, a new hot item in a missing person case that went cold over a decade ago. That’d certainly be exciting. 

I guess the move to Glenmoor was somewhat of a blessing in disguise. I’ve only been here for a week and formed two new bonds as well as helping rebuild me and Dylan’s broken one. I got a taste of thrill and adventure, though it might have been a bit too much. I’ve learned so much about my dad’s side of the family, especially my aunt. What’s next? You may ask. Well, I guess I’ll just have to find out.