Page 22 of The Narrow

I open the door. The night is quiet. Not troubled by a single drop of rain.

I step out onto the porch, feet bare, and stretch out my hand, waiting for a cold drop to land on my palm.

Nothing.

Nothing except the footprints. Bare, wet feet walking up to the door—and away again.

My heart beating wildly, I follow. Fear and fascination both wrap their thorny vines around my limbs.

The footprints follow the path. The concrete is rough against the soles of my feet. I pass the hedges that mark the edge of the yard outside Abigail House and keep going, though the lighting here is poorer, the tracks harder to follow. Then, abruptly, they turn from the path, vanishing as their trajectory takes them onto the grass. I peer in that direction, searching the shadows.

Among the trees, I think I see something. Someone. A figure, standing perfectly still. In the darkness, I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, but I know, Iknow, that as I look at them, they are looking at me.

“Miss White.”

I almost scream at the voice. I whip around to find Geoffrey Oster. He is standing fifteen feet away, under the puddled light of a lamppost. He’s carrying his jacket over his arm, a briefcase inhis hand. The light washes him out until he looks almost like a ghost himself.

“Dean Oster. You startled me,” I say.

“My apologies,” he says. “I was just heading home from a late night at the office.”

Very late. It’s past ten. “I stepped out for some fresh air,” I say.

“I imagine Abigail House can feel a touch stifling,” he says. He glances down, sees my bare feet. “Is everything all right? With your new accommodations?”

“Great. Perfect,” I say, too brightly. I’m still jangly with adrenaline, off my game.

He looks at me steadily, and I don’t think I’ve fooled him at all. “You don’t have any concerns?” he asks. “You’re comfortable there? You feel safe?”

“Why wouldn’t I feel safe?” I ask. “Because of what happened to Aubrey?”

“What happened to Aubrey was a terrible accident,” Oster says. “And perhaps a reminder that one shouldn’t wander the grounds alone at night. Can I walk you back to Abigail House?”

“I can find my way,” I tell him. He nods and doesn’t move, and I realize he’s waiting for me to leave. I steal one last glance at the trees, expecting to find that a few minutes and the presence of another living human has transformed the mysterious figure into a stump or a sapling.

Instead, it has vanished entirely, leaving only a gap between two trees.

I feel Oster’s eyes on me the whole way back to Abigail House, and it is only when I have shut and locked the door behind methat I realize that there is nothing on the path except this house. The only place Oster could have been going, this late at night and all alone, is here.

I left my phone in my room. By the time I get through changing and get back to my bed, the text messages have already been sitting there for several minutes.

She’s called the Drowning Girl.

I didn’t see her at first.

It’s not safe there. Be careful.

Keep the water out.

I type a single word in response.Aubrey?

I wait for a long time, but an answer never comes.

—

I dream, again, of rushing water and blinding pain, and the next day I move through classes sluggishly. I do not believe in ghosts, but I cannot deny that I have seen the impossible. Andsomethingwas out there last night.

The Drowning Girl, whoever that is?

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