1
“This school is probably not the best place for your daughter, Mr. Esper,” the principal said with a slight frown. He was a very short man sitting behind a sprawling mahogany desk. The rest of the square office was decorated with all sorts of pictures, trophies, awards, and a few plants.
“But you’ll still take her?” My dad leaned forward in his cushioned chair, sweat beading on his face despite the cool air. He looked like he was about to leap over the desk, grab the principal by his tidy suit coat, and beg for what he wanted.
I sunk a little lower in my chair, wishing I was anywhere but this office. Heck, I’d take the chatty ladies at the front desk that wouldn’t stop commenting on how pretty my hair was, and how they wished I wouldn’t hide my face with it.
The principal crinkled his nose. “We’re legally obligated to accept her, Mr. Esper.” He leafed through a leather-bound folder that was my education from two other schools, four long years that were anything but fun. “Based on her transcripts, she’ll do just fine academically.” He flipped to the last few pages and read off some of the comments left by my previous teachers. “Antisocial… reluctant to interact with peers… hardly talks but testing shows that she performs at grade level… avid reader with top scores in reading comprehension and vocabulary… Yes, yes, that’s all very well and good but…” He flipped to the last page and his pale green eyes peered over the rim of his glasses at me. I sunk a little deeper in my chair. “She’s aligned with Dark.”
My insides squirmed. Those eyes held the same silent ridicule as everyone else had given her once they’d found out. Why did my last teachers have to be so mean and put something like that my her records? I bowed my head so my hair hid my face from the world.
“She’s never hurt anyone,” Mom said. She looked just as worried as Dad but without the sweat. “She’s only nine.”
The principal looked at the last page again. “Ghosts following her everywhere… scares fellow students and makes them feel uncomfortable… Sometimes scares staff.”
“They’re afraid of the ghosts, not her, Mr. Redd,” Mom said, edging closer as well, face creased with worry.
Mr. Redd closed the folder and gave Mom a look that said he wasn’t fooled by her words. “No, they’re scared of both, unfortunately.”
“I swear to you she’s never hurt anyone!”
He put both his hands up. “Relax, relax. I believe you.”
Mom sucked in a breath but stopped, mouth open. The room fell silent and she closed her mouth as she sank back into her chair, the wood creaking. “You do?” she said in a small voice.
“Oh, I’m sure she’s given a student or two a good fright on purpose but the personality description in her records makes it hard to believe she’d readily cause anyone harm. Besides, I’m sure life hasn’t been easy.”
I lifted my head enough to see the principal with one eye between my bangs. Did I hear him right?
“People don’t always react kindly towards what they don’t understand.”
He stood and I barely contained a snort of laughter. Mr. Redd had been sitting when the lady at the front desk had ushered us into his office. His size had caused my parents to pause inside the doorway. He’d been a little island of greying red hair in a sea of mahogany desk. Standing made him mere inches taller but he carried himself like a man who had all the confidence in the world.
He stationed himself between his desk and a desk-height cabinet with a bunch of pictures standing on it. “I myself don’t fully understand the powers of those aligned with Dark but I consider myself progressive on the matter. Times have changed. While most people are still afraid, I refuse to be. I’m trying to shape this school into being just as open-minded.”
“Trying?” Dad asked.
“I have been with this district for only a few years. Instilling progressive ideals in a community takes time. That’s why I’m hesitant to encourage you to enroll your daughter here at this time.”
“Where else would we go?” Mom asked. “We’re running out of schools to try. Everywhere we go, they end up expelling her because she’s Dark.”
Mr. Redd gave Mom a thoughtful frown. He turned to his photos, a collection of thin stone slabs with images expertly chiseled into them. The dyes soaked into surface were done so well that I had to do a double-take to absorb the fact that those weren’t real miniature people etched into stone. I half expected them to start moving like paintings did in some books I’ve read.
Mr. Redd plucked a photo off the cabinet, studied it a moment, and then showed it to me. “Miss Esper, which one of these students has died?”
That was the first time in my life someone had asked me something like that. I studied his calm gaze through my curtain of hair. He looked totally serious. This had to be a joke though. I looked to my parents and my mom encouraged me to answer the principal’s question. I looked at him again. Just because he said he refused to be afraid of people like me didn’t mean he actually meant it. My parents were a constant reminder of that. At least they tried hard to not show their fear.
Still, Mr. Redd didn’t appear to be afraid. He even hinted at understanding what it was like to be me. I was far from trusting him but it gave me reason enough to cooperate.
I looked at the photo. Four high school boys in team uniforms with big numbers on the front and pads protecting their shoulders, elbows, and knees smiled at me. Two of them looked really cute, one looked really scary and like his nose had been broken, and the boy on the right side was half a head shorter than everyone but looked like he could run really fast.
How was I supposed to know who had died just by looking at a picture of them? “I don’t—” A white orb shot out of the shortest boy and flew at my face. A flash of the boy’s face—not smiling but full of terror—appeared in my mind.
Get out!
I flinched at the voice and closed my eyes as a wave of cold air washed over me. I heard chairs creak. My parents must have jumped, too. I opened my eyes and sure enough Mom was clutching Dad’s arm. They stared at me with open fear. Mr. Redd, however, looked calm as ever, and like he was waiting for an answer.
“What’s wrong, Mia?” Mom said. “What happened?” She sounded like she really didn’t want to know but asked only to be polite.
One thing I’ve learned was to never tell my parents anything about what I’ve seen or heard that had to do with dead people. I turned back to the principal and pointed to the short, blonde boy, the one the orb had shot out of. “That one.”
Mr. Redd looked down and nodded. “You are correct. May I ask what made you flinch?”
I looked at my parents again. Mom’s knuckles were bright white against Dad’s reddening arm. Mom stared at me but Dad’s gaze was fixed on the sunny view outside the window, his face hard. If Mr. Redd hadn’t looked so calm, I wouldn’t have answered. I would have just sat there and pretended I wasn’t in the same room with my parents.
I didn’t see why this mattered but it clearly mattered to him. “A white orb flew out of the picture and right towards me.” It wasn’t the truth but it was close enough. Another thing I’ve learned is to not repeat mean messages from the dead. Besides, “get out” was a common thing for them to say.
Putting the photo back, Mr. Redd smiled. “Very good. That young man was Orton Totes. He should be a senior this year but he died from illness three years ago.” His smile vanished as he studied the photo. “It devastated the community to lose one so young. His parents still mourn him. Maybe you can show people your alignment can bring them closure. Can you connect with the dead on command?”
Okay, that was too much to ask for in front of my parents. I sat quietly, my hair once again hiding me from the rest of the world. I was still tensed from waiting to see if that high schooler’s spirit returned to say anything. I doubted it though. If he’d had more to say, he would’ve said it by now.
“Regardless of whether you can or not, maybe your powers will help you.” Footsteps shuffled away and a leather chair creaked as Mr. Redd took his seat. “And possibly not. The last time we had a Dark student was the year Orton died. That’s why I’m reluctant to enroll your daughter here. People may fear a repeat of history.”
“Did that student really cause the boy’s death?” Mom said.
I peeked at Mr. Redd with one eye.
He shook his head. “I highly doubt it but once a rumor is spread, it cannot be unsaid. Still, it’s been three years. That’s a long time to children. Maybe it’s been long enough for a fresh start. And maybe it’s the chance we all need to help the community accept people like your daughter.”
I didn’t care about being accepted. I just wanted to be left alone.
“And of course maybe it hasn’t been long enough. I don’t want to make your lives harder than they already are. Have you considered homeschooling or a private tutor?”
“We don’t have that kind of money,” Dad said flatly.
Mr. Redd nodded politely. I did the Dad-like thing and looked away from everyone.
Mom said, “What if we hide her alignment?”
In my peripheral I watched him place a hand on my academic records. “The teachers have to know. Part of a proper education is honing and strengthening our powers. Darks deserve the same education despite what others believe.”
“So will you take her?”
Mr. Redd retrieved a piece of parchment paper from a particular folder in a row of folders lining one wall and scratched something down with a fountain pen, then handed the paper to him. Dad snatched it up, crinkling the paper, and held it close to his face. His eyes darted back and forth several times, and then he thrust into Mom’s free hand. “Gotta get to work, Babe. See you later.” He pecked her forehead and whisked out of the office without so much as looking at me.
Mom read the paper, looked at the principal, and then at me.
For some crazy reason, she gave me a hug, tears in her eyes.
