“Happy to help.” He smiled, and that strange sensation washed over me again. It was like the cool underside of the pillow after a long day or the way hot cocoa warms you from the inside out after you’ve been out in the cold for too long.
There was something oddly familiar about him, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?” I asked.
His smile faltered and his eyes seemed to cloud over. “No, I don’t think so.” He looked down at his feet, scuffing the tile with his shoe. When he looked back up again, however, his smile had returned.
“Right,” I said. “Well, I really appreciate your help. My name’s Lainey, by the way.” I held out my hand.
“Nice to meet you, Lainey.” He took my hand in his. “I’m Ty.”
“Lainey!”
I jumped as Maggie ran over and grabbed me by the arm, spinning me around in a circle. “Guess what?” she squealed. “That guy I was talking to just asked me to go grab a coffee with him!”
“That’s great, Mags,” I said, pulling myself from her grip with a laugh. I turned back to where Ty had been standing, but the patch of wall he’d occupied was empty. I scanned the crowd, but there wasn’t a single stitch of gray in the sea of color. He was gone.
I sighed and turned back to Maggie, who proceeded to tell me every single detail of her conversation with Heath, the boy in the newsy hat.
“I told him I’d have to take a rain check, of course, but it was so nice to be asked!”
I frowned. “Wait, why didn’t you say yes?”
“I promised I’d quiz you on your words if you came with me,” Maggie said with a shrug. “What kind of best friend would I be if I bailed on you like that?”
“And what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t let you off the hook.” I smiled at her. “You should go.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure? Because you, Lainey Styles, are the true love of my life, and you come first.”
I grinned. “I’m totally sure. I need to be home early tonight anyway. Go have fun.”
“It’s just so rare to find someone who actually understands that Gwen Stacy was Peter Parker’s one true love. Everyone is always Team Mary Jane.”
“See? You have to go.”
Maggie squealed again and threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “You’re the best!”
“Have fun—and text me when you get home.”
“Will do, Styles. Love you!” Maggie yelled over her shoulder as she scampered off.
“Well,” I said, hugging my SAT prep book to my chest, “guess it’s just you and me, then.” I sighed again and made my way toward the door.
Outside, the night air was crisp with a slight chill. Coats were usually unnecessary until the dead of winter—a “perk” of living in the Deep South—but October had brought with it some unseasonably cool temperatures. I wasn’t complaining; it was nice to be able to walk outside for ten minutes and not need a shower afterward.
The parking lot was less chaotic than inside the shop, but there were still dozens of people milling about. I dodged around a lightsaber fight and a very serious-looking game of Magic: The Gathering and made my way toward the sidewalk. My beat-up red Ford Escort was parked around the corner a few blocks down the street.
Lainey.
I jumped at the sound of my name and turned around. There was a family with two small children standing a few paces away and a group of middle-school-aged boys, but no one I recognized.
I looked around, shrugged, and kept walking.
Lainey.
This time the melodic, yet pleading voice was so close, it was as if someone were whispering in my ear. I shrieked a little and whirled around. “Maggie?”
There was no sign of her. A massive case of the heebie-
jeebies pricked at my spine, but I shook it off, squeezing my SAT prep book a little tighter to my chest. There was a round of loud shouting as the lightsaber duel intensified, and more people were pouring out into the parking lot.
I shook my head. Maybe all the studying was starting to have an adverse effect on my brain. “Adverse,” I muttered, turning back toward the street. “Preventing success or development; harmful; unfavorable.”
A tall figure emerged from the shadows of the building. She stood apart from the crowd, her long skirt rustling around her legs like a bell in the breeze.
I stared at her. Her costume wasn’t one I’d seen before. She looked like she stepped off the page of a history book instead of a comic. There was something about her that held my attention; it was as if an invisible tether was linking us together. I couldn’t look away.
As she stepped forward into a pool of light from one of the parking lot streetlights, all the blood drained from my face.
She looked older than me, but only by a few years, with long dark hair and hollow, sunken eyes, but it wasn’t her face that sent my heart into my feet. Her dress and long green overcoat were stained crimson with blood.
She stood there staring at me with sad eyes, blood pouring through her fingers from a wound in her stomach.
I gasped and stumbled backward, dropping my SAT book on my foot in the process.
“Are you okay?” The mother of the small children was staring at me, her eyebrows knitted together.
“That woman over there,” I said, nearly choking on the words. “She’s hurt!” I turned and pointed toward the shadows. “I saw—” I broke off.
There was no one there.
“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re okay?” The mother’s wide eyes searched my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
My eyes darted around the parking lot. But there was no blood, no body, no indication I had seen anything at all.
“Sorry,” I managed to squeak. “I thought I saw something.”
I didn’t bother with further explanation. I ducked my head and made a beeline for the sidewalk. My knees wobbled as I half ran to my car. Blood pounded in my ears, and a thick layer of goose bumps covered my skin.
Just think of something else. Anything else.
My brain was muddled but immediately began supplying me with the words I had been cramming into my head for weeks.
“Consternation. Noun. A feeling of anxiety or disbelief over something unexpected. Trepidation. Noun. A feeling of—”
LAINEY!
The scream roared to life in my ears, and I took off running. I jammed my hand into my pocket for my keys and collided with the driver’s side door. I fumbled for the right key, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold on to them.
I forced the key into the lock. My hand wrapped around the door handle, pulling it open, but then I stopped. The dim light from the streetlamp was casting just enough glow to see hazy reflections in the window. The outline of my head and shoulders was familiar enough, but something was moving behind me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. It’s not real. Just a really good costume. An early Halloween prank, even. You’re exhausted and your brain is playing tricks on you. It’s not real.