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other.
    Surrounded by shadows, her head seemed to float by itself. She took in my appearance; the right half of her mouth drew up in a smile as she cocked her head, gazing at me as if there were something wrong, like I had food caught between my teeth or something.
    “Hi,” I replied, since it was such a startlingly original thing to say.
    “You have amazing eyelashes. We’re opening wine. Are you good with red?”
    “Sure,” I said, even though wine was forbidden. Maybe they were bribing their housemother to keep quiet, or maybe they were really good at sneaking around. But more likely, the rules just didn’t apply.
    “A girl after my own heart,” Mandy approved. “You’ve got potential.”
    I really don’t , I wanted to tell her. I don’t care about coming to your dorm. I don’t care if you notice me, or if you can change my life with all your money and your connections.
    But my cheeks warmed at the compliment.
    Then she opened the door wide. Beyond her, the room was pitch-black, and for a second, I had a strange feeling that I shouldn’t go in there. Into Jessel, the most haunted dorm at Marlwood.
    But I didn’t put much stock in strange feelings.
    So I ignored it and walked on in.

five
    Jessel.
    For a moment, I just stopped and stared at the interior. This was a dorm? The foyer was enormous, with a cathedral ceiling that rose at least twenty feet straight up, to a larger, fancier chandelier than the one in Grose. Swags of black-and-silver bat decorations were wrapped around the varnished oak banister of a staircase that ran along the far right side of the room, a balcony jutting out into the space, overhanging the back of the room.
    The dimly lit living room was crowded with Victorian antiques—ornate sofas upholstered in burgundy velvet with black fringes, overstuffed chairs in black and gold, elegant ferns splayed from ceramic pots, and ivory columns. I saw a half-opened cardboard box revealing what appeared to be bloody hands and feet. There were more boxes, all marked M. WINTERS, JESSEL HOUSE, MARLWOOD ACADEMY. Dozens, actually.
    “We’re the haunted house,” Mandy explained. “For the Halloween carnival. What are you guys doing?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. I just got here.
    “Well, the haunted house is the centerpiece of the whole carnival,” Mandy declared. “My dad gave me a budget of fifty but I said, ‘Hello? What can we do with that ?’” Without missing a beat, she added, “You’re Lindsay Cavanaugh.”
    “Yes.” Fifty thousand? Dollars?
    Kiyoko, in black pants and a sweater, was placing candles in white ceramic candleholders arranged on a grainy carved fireplace mantel. Black oil lamps flickered, etched with red roses.
    “Well, it’s looking good,” I admitted.
    “Oh, please. We haven’t even started,” Mandy replied, with a patronizing toss of her blonde head.
    I became aware of a clock ticking as our three shadows splashed across the brick wall fireplace, joined by a fourth that crossed over mine. I turned to see Lara’s vibrant red hair tied in an expert knot with loose strands; she was rubbing her pale, freckled arms, looking cold in a dark blue cap-sleeve blouse top over a jean miniskirt.
    “Lara, get the wine,” Mandy said, as Lara reached forward and moved one of the skull candleholders.
    “But . . . ” Lara began, glancing at me as if to say, In front of her?
    “It’s fine .” Mandy picked up the candleholder. “I liked it where Kiyoko had it. Keeks has great taste.”
    Lara huffed and sailed out of the room, disappearing through a doorway.
    “I swear, you can’t get good help these days,” Mandy said. Kiyoko only half-smiled, and I didn’t smile at all.
    As if by unspoken agreement, we moved from the mantel. Beneath the overhanging section, a huge plasma screen TV faced two of the overstuffed sofas and a couple of big chairs pushed together. Beyond, a panorama window revealed the stars, the mountains, and the inky blackness of Searle Lake. I knew