Chewing my lower lip, I try to decide whether I should be relieved or not. “Only if absolutely necessary” usually means it’s an unpleasant solution.
“It might help,” Ms. Alvarez says in a much softer voice. “Not only her, but also the other students. If our theories about Ms. Martin are correct, she could be putting everyone in danger.”
What in the realm of the dead?
“But with what little information we have about the situation…” Mr. Qureshi shakes his head. “Give Theo more time. If anyone can track down her records, it’s him. Then we can make a better-informed decision.”
Removing her glasses, Ms. Alvarez cleans them off on her scrubs, then replaces them on her nose. “I just want what’s best for Locklear, for all ghosts.”
“As do we all. But please, just give Theo a little more time.”
Ms. Alvarez glances back into the room and I shut my eyes, hoping she didn’t notice me watching them. “I can do that. Goodness knows I would prefer to avoid those steps as well.”
“All we can do is our best by them,” Mr. Qureshi says.
“Our best.”
I resist the urge to curl in on myself just in case Ms. Alvarez is still looking at me. Somehow that feels like it might protect my form from whatever horrible decision neither of them particularly wants to make. But the question remains, what on earth is Ms. Alvarez’ proposal about me, and why is Mr. Qureshi so opposed to it?
Chapter Seventeen
By day two of my confinement in the healing ward, cabin fever sets in hard. I sit on the bed, jogging my knee, and flicking the pages of the fifth book I’ve read in the last twenty-four hours. To say I’m no longer interested would be the greatest understatement of all time. I’m seriously contemplating mutiny.
The ugly wound on my shoulder isn’t nearly as dark as it was, and though it still hurts, if I lie really still I can barely feel the pulse of pain. I’m also having less dizzy spells. I gather all of this excellent evidence of my recovery in my head. If I present it right, maybe I’ll be able to leave earlier than Ms. Alvarez initially predicted.
I’m also itching to get away from the Healer after her conversation with the Headmaster. Straight up asking her about it crossed my mind, but somehow I doubt I’ll get the truth if I do. Especially with the general party line of keeping scary information away from the students lest they crumble into a crazy teen panic.
This is just another thing I’m going to have to get the Untwist the Mystery team researching.
I open my mouth, but Ms. Alvarez, who has her back to me, lifts a finger. “Don’t even think about asking.”
“You let Rafe leave this morning.” A whine I don’t like tinges my words. “And he had two gunshot wounds.”
“Yes, but he also wasn’t shot straight through the chest. Nor did he expend an extraordinary amount of magical energy against a group of Xers.”
“But I feel fine. Really.” I give her my best smile as she turns in her chair, crossing her arms.
“If you can walk from your bed to the door without looking like a drunken fool, I’ll consider it.”
I shove the book off my lap. “Watch my mad skills and prepare to be amazed.”
Sliding onto the floor, I’m very careful about how I stand. Any sign of weakness will leave me trapped in here for another few days. I grin at Ms. Alvarez, proud of my progress, then take my first step.
I flew too close to the sun. My feet tangle together and I sway to the side, very much like a drunken idiot. Even worse, waves of nausea float through me, and I cover my mouth. Can ghosts puke? Gripping the side of that stupid stiff bed — also known as my prison — I slide back onto the mattress and ease against the pillow.
“Still convinced it’s time for me to send you back into the wild?” Ms. Alvarez asks.
I groan a little, but concede defeat by pulling a tissue from the box next to me, and waving it white flag style. Guess the difference between sitting up and standing is a much wider gap than I originally assumed. Black dots pulse even in the dark of my closed eyes. My head pounds so hard I’m more than happy to resign myself to this bed as long as Ms. Alvarez commands.
Sudden exhaustion pulls me under, bringing relief. Our first foray out to try and deal with some unfinished business has triggered new dreams. I can’t say I’m not relieved to be done with the nightmares from before. Pieces of what I think is my life flash through my mind when I sleep. Images of Cody, the sound of a woman’s voice, a man’s strong hug.
My mind reaches out to these hints to try and pin them down, but they rush away, and a chorus of excited whispers pulls me slowly out of sleep. I blink in the stark light of the Healing Ward, staring up at Haya and Yasmin. They both have smiles on their faces, the pitying kind you only give to the very sick.
“Stop,” I say. “Please don’t look at me like I’m an injured dog you’re about to take out back and shoot between the eyes.”
Haya covers her mouth, but Yasmin laughs so loud it earns her a raised brow from Ms. Alvarez. The sound fills the whole room and lifts my spirits. Things have been way too quiet since the Healer shooed Rafe out. Wiping tears from her eyes, Yasmin grabs the backs of two chairs for her and Haya.
“And we’d come in here to cheer you up. How are you feeling?” Yasmin leans forward, elbows on her knees.
My roommate still has her mouth covered, and her eyes are a little shiny behind her glasses, like she’s fighting back tears.
