From Bad to Cursed

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she said, smiling like the Mona Lisa. “We asked you the question.”

“I love it,” I said. “I don’t know how to put it into words.”

“That’s not your job,” she said. “You’re a photographer. But yes, I love it too.”

I tried to smile back, but I’m pretty sure it came out as a lopsided smirk.

“You should wear your hair back more often,” Farrin said. “You have good facial planes.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to blush.

It didn’t matter, though—Farrin wasn’t looking at my face anymore.

“Let me see your hand,” she said, her voice hushed.

I lifted my right hand for inspection, thinking maybe there was some sort of ideal camera-holding bone structure.

Farrin touched my wrist and looked at me.

“I knew there was something about you,” she said. “But I would never have guessed…”

She let go of my hand, and I stuck it in my pocket.

“You don’t have a darkroom at home?” she asked.

I shook my head.

Mom was on her way back, close enough to be watching with intense curiosity.

“Please,” Farrin said. “Feel free to come here and use mine. Anytime.”

She took off, as excited as a kid getting saddled up for a pony ride, and all I could do was stand there and try to keep my jaw off the ground.

“What on earth was that all about?” Mom asked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

Either I had the best camera hands west of the Mississippi, or Farrin had been waiting a long time to find someone who liked “Can of Peas” as much as she did.

THE NEXT MORNING my skin looked as splotchy as a mud-spattered car, and I could see dark circles under my eyes, no matter how much concealer I used. My face seemed wider and my features seemed flat and somehow…swinelike.

Kasey stopped at the bathroom door and watched me studying myself. “Lexi,” she said, her voice cautious, “what are you doing?”

I leaned in to look closer, and immediately regretted it. My pores looked as big as craters. “Did it suddenly get more humid this week?” I asked. “Do I look bloated to you?”

“No.” She stood next to me. “You look perfectly fine. Same as usual.”

“So I’m usually a troll?” I asked. “Good to know.”

Megan picked us up, as petite and perfect as ever, making me feel even worse about myself. But after we parked, she flipped her visor down and began frantically primping.

“Megan, please,” I said. She looked a million times better than I did. For her to pretend she didn’t was actually a little insulting.

“I’m a gorgon,” she answered, using her pinkie finger to touch up the gloss at the corners of her lips.

If she was a gorgon—note to self, look up “gorgon”—what did that make me?

When she finally felt presentable, we went inside. Walking through the halls of the school was like torture, with the sheen of the fluorescent hall lights reflecting off my bulbous nose.

I sat down next to Carter on the courtyard wall.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday,” he said. “I overreacted.”

God, that was only yesterday? I felt like I’d lived a month since then. I could hardly even remember why we’d fought. “Me too.”

“We should go out to di

“Okay,” I said, but then I remembered—there was a club meeting every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. “Actually, I don’t think I can. I have a…thing.”

He looked up. “What kind of a thing?”

I didn’t want to say it was the Sunshine Club and ruin our delicate peace.

“A dentist appointment,” I said. “Maybe Thursday?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That should be fine.”

“How was your party?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“Oh my God,” he said, reflexively reaching up and covering his ears. “Shrill. Those girls are nice, but when they get excited, they do this screaming thing.”

“I’m sorry I missed it,” I said, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He laughed. “I’ll bet you are.”

And I knew we were good again.

For the rest of the day, I was so overwhelmed with relief that I couldn’t even get upset about my greasy face or my disproportionate feet or the scaly skin on the back of my hands. I sat next to Carter at lunch and focused on how good it felt to be forgiven, and how great he was for caring about me despite all of my very obvious shortcomings.

Kasey stood in my doorway, a strange look on her face. “Want to do some research?”

I sighed and sat up. “What hopeless cause are we Googling today?”

She didn’t answer. And instead of turning down the hall to our parents’ room, she went back to hers. I followed her.

“Kasey?” I asked. “What are you doing? Did you bring Mom’s computer in here?”

Kasey sat on the floor. “No,” she said. “We’re not using the computer.”

She reached under the dust ruffle and pulled out a Ouija board.

“We’re asking Elspeth.”

“What?” I asked. “No way! Where did you even get that thing?”

“Lexi, she knew about the libris exanimus. She might know more. She tried to warn us—she wants to help.”

“But she could be lying, for all we know!”

“We’re just looking for information,” Kasey said. “We don’t have to do what she says.” She pointed to a spot on the carpet. “Sit.”

Despite my reservations, the idea of maybe getting some real answers was tempting. So I sat and let my fingers rest on the planchette next to Kasey’s.

She looked at me. “What do we say? I’ve never done this before.”

I leaned over. “Um…hello? We’re looking for Elspeth?” I looked up at Kasey, who shrugged. “It’s Alexis and Kasey Warren from Surrey, California?”

Kasey sighed. “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Maybe there are multiple Elspeths,” I said. “Maybe one lives in Lydia’s board and one lives in this one.”

Kasey shook her head. “Don’t make jokes.”

My fingers lurched.

Kasey and I looked at each other as the pointer began to move across the board.

“For the record, I really don’t like doing this,” I said. “And I don’t like you doing it. I think we should find another way.”

“Stay,” Kasey said, her voice shaking.

“What?”

“That’s what she just spelled—stay.”

My stomach churned. We already had one supernatural problem. Wouldn’t inviting Elspeth back potentially make things twice as bad?

We still had two options: stay, or leave. I was leaning heavily toward leave, but Kasey swallowed hard and charged ahead.

“Elspeth, we need your help,” she said. “Can you tell us about Aralt?”

For a long, tense minute, there was no response.

This is useless.

But then the pointer began to move. We awkwardly tried to keep our fingers steady.

Utterly pointless. A waste of time.

I looked up at Kasey, her eyes wide and afraid, stretching her upper body to allow the planchette to travel across the board.

What kind of fool would think you could solve a ghost problem with another ghost?

T-R-Y

The movement was agonizingly slow, like watching a little old lady cross the street on the “Don’t Walk” signal. My frustration grew until I was on the verge of pulling my fingers away and telling Kasey I was done.

Without warning, the pointer jerked out from under our hands.

It moved fine—better, actually—without our help. I huddled close to my sister, gripping her elbow.

A-G-A-N

“Try what again?” I said, slumping back. I didn’t want to try again. I wanted to stop this, opening doors we didn’t know how to shut. Inviting trouble for ourselves.

She could be dangerous. We have no reason to trust her.

N-O-J-U-S-T-T-E-A-S-I-N-G

“See?” I said aloud, even though I hadn’t actually voiced any of my doubts.

“No, just teasing,” Kasey read. She sat back on her heels. “So…don’t try again?”