Page 7 of Mislaid in Parts Half-Known

Seraphina laughed again, and there was a note of cruelty there that all the beauty in the world couldn’t counteract.

“Why in the world would she have friends?” she asked. “Antisocial little loner in her very own remedial courses. She doesn’t needfriends. She needs a minder who can tell her who her real friends are. She needs us.”

“She sure does,” said Angela.

“Now, Antsy, I told you that you were going to help me,”said Seraphina. “And you are. You’re going to help me more than anyone else has, ever.”

“How?” asked Antsy.

“You’re going to find my door.”

5 INTO THE STRANGE, DARK PLACES

ANTSY BOTH DID ANDdidn’t want to do what Seraphina asked. She wanted to make Seraphina happy. But she was pretty sure that even if shefoundSeraphina’s door, the other girl would demand Antsy be the one to open it, rather than trusting her. Almost as much as Antsy wanted to help Seraphina, she wanted to stay someone who got older at the same speed as everyone around her, not someone who was chasing adulthood like a dog chasing a rabbit. Most of all, she wanted to never open another Door. Some days she missed it so much it ached, like all her hands had ever been intended to do was reach for doorknobs, all her arms were for was to pull them open, and her legs, oh, those only existed to carry her through.

Those two warring wants crashed together in the middle of her heart, sending up a wall.

“She’s fighting me,” said Seraphina. “Isn’t that adorable? She’s fighting like she thinks she canwin.”

The wall was coming down. It had only been a clash of contradictions, and it couldn’t last for long.

The final bit was crumbling away when the lights in the library went out, leaving them bathed in only firelight, and Antsy stumbled backward, gasping like she’d been struck. She could stillseeSeraphina, but with the fire to her back, the girl wasn’t as inescapably beautiful as she’d been in full light. She was still pretty enough to be unnaturally compelling.She wasn’t pretty enough to force someone to do something they truly didn’t want to do.

“Angela, what thehell?” demanded Seraphina.

“I didn’t do it!” said Angela.

Someone grabbed Antsy’s hand. She squeaked in surprise.

“Be quiet, new girl,” snapped Seraphina.

Antsy didn’t say anything as the person holding her hand tugged her away from the squabbling girls, or when Christopher’s voice hissed, “Come on,” next to her ear. Instead, she relaxed and nodded, trusting him to get her away.

Either Christopher could see in the dark or he had memorized the ever-shifting layout of the library, because he steered her around chairs, tables, and low shelves without hesitation, leading her to a door that had been half-hidden behind one of the larger shelves. “Through here,” he murmured, “But it’s going to let the light in. They may see us. Is your head clear enough to let you run?”

“Ithinkso,” said Antsy.

“Good. Make like Eurydice, and don’t look back.”

Antsy could hear the two girls pursuing them through the library, bumping into chairs and tables, Seraphina swearing every time she stubbed a toe or barked a shin. “I won’t,” she said fervently.

The dim shape that was Christopher nodded. Then he was pushing a door open, letting real light flood into the room. Antsy’s eyes had barely had time to adjust to the shadows in the library, but they still burned for a moment as they remembered what it was to see. Christopher’s hand was on her back, urging her forward, and she went willingly, stumbling into that well-lit space.

Cora was there. Solid, melancholic Cora, who looked herup and down with quick efficiency. “Did they hurt you?” she asked.

Antsy shook her head.

Cora exhaled. “Good. I didn’t think they would take their little mean-girl routine that far, but it’s hard to tell where someone will stop when they think they’re about to get the thing they want most in the world. Come on.”

“Aren’t we going to wait for Christopher?” asked Antsy.

“He’s a big boy, he can get away from the terrible twosome if they give him a problem, and he knows where we’re going. Come on.” Unlike Angela and Christopher, Cora beckoned for Antsy to follow rather than grabbing her hand, and Antsy found herself oddly grateful for that, even as she followed Cora down the hall and up a narrow flight of stairs she’d never seen before.

“This place is no Winchester Mystery House, but Eleanor’s parents were big rich, and so were their parents; this was the sort of ridiculous monument to generational wealth that you find in some of the old oil and lumber families,” said Cora, as they climbed. “They built the original house, and as the family grew, they kept building. Then, after it was down to just Eleanor and some cousins, she turned it into a school, andshekept building, too, until she reached what she thought was the maximum size she could handle by herself. Not that she does most of the day-to-day handling. She has a whole team of lawyers and property managers who make sure the taxes get paid and the grounds are kept up. But since the building is so old, we have a bunch of stairways and doors that were meant for the help, and Eleanor never thinks to include them on the orientation map.”

“Maybe she just thinks it’s fun to have a bunch of hidden passages for the students to find,” Antsy suggested.

“Maybe.” Cora glanced back at her. “Why didn’t you find them?”

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