Page 46 of Grave Matter

I open my eyes and glare up at Michelle, who is staring down at me, her eyes wild with fright, her lips a shocking pink. The room is bright, and I blink.

“I’m fine,” I say with a groan, sitting up. I look down and see a fleece blanket draped over my body, a star symbol stitched in the corner, but I don’t remember Everly putting one on me.

“Do I need to get David? Or Everly? Is it your head?” Michelle is flapping her hands like a bird.

“I’m fine,” I repeat. “Please. I was with Everly last night. I decided to sleep here. It was…warmer.” She definitely doesn’t need to know what happened last night.

“Oh,” she says, hand on her chest. “What a relief.”

Then she bustles off toward reception.

I exhale and look up at the wood beams, hearing footsteps and doors closing from above. The sun gets up so early here, and it’s already streaming in through the windows, making the dust motes dance. The idea of going to my room seemed impossible last night, but in the light of day, with students beginning to wake, I don’t feel as scared anymore.

I get up and fold up the blanket, taking it upstairs with me in case the power goes out again and I need the warmth. I stop outside my door, hesitating. Up here, there are no windows, and the hall is dim, though hearing someone’s alarm clock go off comforts me.

I insert the key and quickly open the door.

It looks the same as always, the covers pushed to the side. Whoever was in my room didn’t touch anything. Still, I slowly walk around to make sure. If my missing Miss Piggy shirt reappears like my shoes did, it really means I’ve lost my marbles.

But I don’t see it. I walk into the bathroom, to the mirror, and stare at myself. My face doesn’t seem as gaunt as it did a week ago, which is a good thing. I’m starting to look more like myself, more like the person I was before I came to Madrona.

I don’t want the lodge to change me, no matter what their motto is. I want to stay Sydney Denik, even though she’s a fucked up hot mess.

Who apparently has a ghost problem.

That had to be what it was, right? A ghost?

I know I saw that woman in the hallway.

But what if you didn’t?I think.What if you thought you did? What if it was Natasha, and she went into her room instead,and you got confused? What if it was Clayton who went into your room and locked you out? What if no one locked you out and you were just pulling on the door wrong, or perhaps because you left the key in the door, it somehow relocked itself?

And what if it was Kincaid?

I don’t know what to think, but the most logical reasoning is that there was no ghost, it was Natasha, and I was the one who locked myself out. It at least makes the most sense. After all, I did hit my head. Maybe it’s a delayed concussion fucking up my brain a bit.

I get dressed into a pair of ripped stretchy jeans and a long plaid shirt, tie back my hair, and decide to go for a walk before breakfast since it’s early enough. I bring my puffer jacket since the night had been so cold and head outside.

The morning is still bright, blue-skied, and filled with birdsong, the sunlight making me wish I brought sunglasses. I’ve barely had a need for them here.

I decide to head up to the logging road, wanting to feel the openness it affords and the sun on my face. I glance at my watch. If I go for twenty minutes, then turn around and come back, I’ll be just in time to catch breakfast.

I’m about five minutes into the walk, sweating enough to unzip my jacket, when suddenly, it goes dark.

As in, the sun justdisappears.

I glance up to see storm clouds, fluffy and charcoal-covered, making the world turn a shade of dark grey. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky earlier, and yet, like a switch has turned off, it’s overcast.

The air becomes chilled, and I shiver, zipping my jacket back up, but it does nothing to keep me warmer.

Something isn’t right.

All of this is terribly wrong.

I look around, trying to figure out what it is.

The light is different. It’s not just grey and dim, but…it’s weak.

I make a fist, my fingers already feeling numb. I hold my hands to my mouth and breathe on them, my exhale turning into clouds.

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