The Summoning

"Derek isn't ru

She eased back against the wall again, drawing her knees up. "What if I met the club requirement? Would that snag me an invite?"

"What?"

"Your club. The special kids. The ones with superpowers."

I let out a laugh that sounded more like the yip of a startled poodle. "Superp-powers? I wish. My powers aren't wi

"Okay, superpower might be pushing it. But what if you could shove a kid out of your way with a flick of your fingers? Bet that would come in handy."

I swung out of bed and walked to the dresser. "Sure, but that's not what Derek did. He grabbed me. Believe me, I felt physical contact."

"I'm not talking about Derek. A few days before Brady got shipped out, he and Derek got into it. Or Brady was trying to. Derek wasn't having any of it, so Brady kept razzing him, trying to get a rise, and when he got in Derek's face, Simon flicked his fingers and, wham, Brady flew into the wall. I was there. Derek and Simon never touched him. That's why I wanted to see Simon's file."

"Well, as you saw, Simon doesn't have a file. He's here because of Derek. Their dad disappeared and Derek was sent here because of his problem, so they put Simon in the same place."

"How'd their dad disappear?"

I shrugged and pulled out a shirt. 'They haven't said much about it. I don't want to push."

A thump. When I looked over my shoulder, Rae had thudded back onto the bed.

"You're too nice, girl," she said. "I'd have been all over them for that story."

I shook my head. "I think I hear Mrs. Talbot —"

"You don't. It's Saturday. We can sleep in, and you aren't getting off that easily. I know Simon's got some magic power, like you. And I'm pretty sure Derek does. That's why they're so tight. That's why Simon's dad took Derek in, I bet."

I looked in the mirror and ran the brush through my hair.

"What makes me so sure of all this?" Rae continued. "Remember when I told you about my diagnosis? How it didn't fit? I didn't tell you the whole story. You didn't read my file, did you?"

I slowly turned, brush still raised.

She went on. "According to the report, I got into a fight with my mom and burned her with a lighter. Only I wasn't holding a lighter. I just grabbed her arm and gave her first-degree burns."

"Why didn't you —?"

"Tell you?" she cut in. "I was waiting until I knew you better. Until you'd believe me. But then you figured out you were seeing ghosts and I knew how it would sound. Like a little kid jealous 'cause his friend's going to Disney World —gotta show that he's special, too. And my power isn't like yours. I can't make it happen. It just does, when I get mad."

"Like with Tori. You did burn her, didn't you?"

She hugged my pillow to her chest. "I think so. But where's the proof? She felt like she'd been burned and there was a red mark, but it wasn't like I set her shirt on fire." She gri

My brain struggled to take it all in. I knew I should say something, but what? Admit? Deny?

Rae rolled off the bed to her feet, twisted her long curls back, and held out her hand. When I didn't move, she said, "Elastics? Behind you?"

"Right."

I tossed her one. She wrapped it around her ponytail and headed for the door.

"Wait," I said.

She shook her head. "You gotta talk to the guys first."

"I don't —"

She turned to face me. "Yes, you do. You should. Would you want them blabbing your secrets before checking with you? Talk to them. Then get back to me. Not like I'm going anywhere."

Thirty-seven

I ATE BREAKFAST WITH Tori. I'm sure, yesterday, she'd been hoping to see me carried from the house, tied to a stretcher, ranting, driven mad after hours bound and gagged in the dark. Yet this morning, she just sat there and ate, eyes forward, expression empty, like she'd given up.

If I'd told the doctors what she'd done, she'd have been booted out, no matter how important her mom was. Maybe, when I came out of the crawl space and didn't tattle, she'd realized how close she'd been to getting transferred. Maybe she'd realized her stunt could have been fatal.

Maybe she even felt bad about it. That was probably too much to hope for, but from the look on her face this morning, any feud between us was over. She'd gotten it out of her system and seen how close she'd come to making a very big mistake. As hard as it was for me to be near her, thinking of what she'd put me through, I wasn't giving her any satisfaction. So I sat down and struggled to eat like nothing was wrong.

Every mouthful of oatmeal I forced down sank to the pit of my stomach and congealed into a lump of cement. Not only did I have to eat with someone who could have gotten me killed but also now I had to figure out what to do about Rae. How would I tell the guys? Derek would blame me for sure.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that it wasn't until I was coming back down after my shower and heard the weekend nurse, Ms. Abdo, talking about a "door" and a "new lock" that I remembered our dry run the night before. Had we been caught?

"Dr. Davidoff wants a deadbolt," Mrs. Talbot replied. "I don't know whether they make them for interior doors, but if you can't find one at the hardware store, we'll call Rob to replace the door. After yesterday, Dr. Davidoff doesn't want the kids getting into that crawl space."

The basement door. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued down. I reached the bottom just as Simon peeked from the dining room.

"Thought I heard you. Catch." He tossed me an apple. "I know you like the green ones. Derek's been hoarding them." He beckoned me in. "Sit and eat with us. You'll need your energy. It's Saturday and around here, that means all chores, all the time."

As I passed, he leaned down to whisper. "You okay?"

1 nodded. He closed the door. I looked at the empty table.

"How's Derek?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

"He's in the kitchen, loading up. I hear you guys had a little adventure last night."

Derek had insisted on telling Simon that contacting the zombie ghosts had been his idea, so if Simon was put out by being excluded, the blame would fall on him. I thought he'd been trying to grab the glory —pretend he'd figured out what my ghost wanted. But Simon's expression told me he felt he had missed out on something. So I was kind of glad he didn't think I'd been the one who left him sleeping.

As I settled at the table, Derek came in, glass of milk in one hand, juice in the other. Simon reached out for one, but Derek set them both down at his plate with a grunted, "Get your own." Simon pushed to his feet, slapped Derek's back, and sauntered into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" I whispered.

Derek's gaze shot to the closing kitchen door. He didn't want Simon knowing he'd been sick. I wasn't sure I liked that, and we locked glares, but the set of his jaw told me it wasn't open for discussion.

"I'm fine," he rumbled after a moment. "Tylenol finally kicked it."

His eyes were underscored with dark circles and were faintly bloodshot, but so were mine. He was pale, his acne redder than normal. Tired, but recovering. There was no fever in his eyes and by the way he attacked his oatmeal, he hadn't lost his appetite.