Marianna Baer - Frost

David still hadn’t answered my call. I needed to find him. I hadn’t told the dean about his part in this whole mess, especially not the fact that he might have been lacing the house with lighter fluid as we spoke, because I wanted to believe that he— we— could have a life together here at Barcroft for the rest of the year. A life without Celeste. If the dean knew he was going along with the whole haunted house thing, well, that wouldn’t be good. Maybe, just maybe, once he realized his sister was sick, he’d see that I’d actually helped save her. Maybe he’d see that I’d risked my own happiness to make sure she was safe. Maybe he would even realize it now. Maybe I wouldn’t have to wait.

My head was killing me. I searched the inside of my jacket pockets, in case I had any of my meds hanging around. Nothing. I’d get some at the dorm. Assuming it was still standing. No—that wasn’t really a concern—David hadn’t talked about burning down the whole place, and he certainly wouldn’t do it without telling me first, letting me get out the things that mattered to me. Still, I couldn’t help scanning the distance for any sign of smoke.

Branches swayed in front of the little house when I reached the driveway. My little old lady house. Vulnerable. But not on fire.

I opened the side door. The common room looked the same as ever; clueless as to what was going on around it. Waiting for us to come hang out and watch TV or make microwave popcorn. Or have another Sunday night dorm dinner. All the things I’d envisioned when we moved into Frost House. I automatically straightened the tapestry that covered the couch.

Once in the hallway, I heard the sounds. Objects moving, shifting, in Celeste’s room. I moistened my lips. It couldn’t be Celeste—she had classes straight through to lunch. And if the dean had called her immediately, she wouldn’t have come back here, would she? Would the dean call her? Or send people to pick her up at class in person? A vision of Celeste in a straitjacket flashed in my mind. Being carried out of her class, wrapped up like a lunatic.

Celeste’s door was closed. I kept my footsteps soft, so I could make it to my own room first and take at least a little something to help with this headache. The floorboards creaked and groaned.

Click . I stopped. The door to Celeste’s room opened. David stood there. His hair leapt out from his head in messy clumps. Circles of sweat darkened his shirt. From the look of the room he had been moving things out of her closet.

“Leen, hey. I’m so glad you’re here,” he said.

He opened his arms. My body fell into his. I was pulled in two directions. Pulled into his warmth, like I wanted to crawl under his shirt and hide there, as if I could be folded into his body and leave mine behind. But the buzz, the life I felt in his body also gave me strength to remember I’d done the right thing. Energy darted back and forth between us. When I felt the push rather than the pull I separated from him, taking that strength, feeling it in my bones. What I had to do now was a thousand times harder than what I’d already done. A million times harder.

“Did you get my message?” I asked.

“No. You called?” He patted his pockets. “Oh, right. My phone’s in my bag. I left it in your room. What’d you say?”

“Did you … did you need something in my room?”

“I borrowed a couple of tools.” He reached over to Celeste’s desk and picked up my hammer. He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “I have a plan. I would’ve called but I figured you were in class all morning. Shouldn’t you be at math?”

“David,” I said. “It’s too late.”

“Too late? For what?”

I filled my lungs as if preparing to be submerged underwater. “I told Dean Shepherd about Celeste.”

His head jutted back slightly, his chin pulled into his neck. “You what?”

“If she’s not sick, they’ll find out. And if she is sick, she needs help.”

Now he stepped back completely; I could no longer feel the heat from his body. The hammer dangled from his hand. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I knew that you were too close to her to do it yourself. And it had to be done.”

“You told the dean everything ?”

“Most of it. I didn’t tell her that you know. I thought … well, I thought it would be better to keep you out of it. Dean Shepherd might find it kind of odd that you believe all the haunted stuff, too.”

There were nails in his voice when he spoke. “What were you thinking?”

“We talked about this before, David. You know what I think. Celeste needs help.”

“I know she needs help. I’m the one helping her. That’s why I’m here.”

“Please, David. Please don’t be mad.” I wanted to touch him, but knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. I rested my hand on the desk, instead. “This isn’t the Dark Ages. They won’t just lock her up.”

“Shit.” He banged the hammer down with a jarring crash, barely missing my fingers. I snatched my hand back.

“This ruins everything,” he said. “What the hell do I do now?”

“David—”

“Shut up, Leena. Okay?”

He pushed by me, across the hall, into my bedroom. I leaned against the wall next to Celeste’s desk, pressed fingertips against my forehead. What had just happened? My whole body felt cold with dread.

I heard the sound of David putting his coat on, then metal jangling. He stood inside my room, near the door, where I’d hung my keys since the day Celeste gave me his room key. I assumed he was taking it back. Please don’t .

“I understand what you’re feeling,” I said, moving into the hall, closer to him.

He came out of my room, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his army jacket. “No you don’t. You don’t love your family the way I do.”

I froze. “What?”

His heavy lids narrowed his eyes into slits. His expression wasn’t just anger; it was disgust. “I would die for my sister. You … you don’t want anything to do with your family. You don’t even know what family means.”

“That’s not true,” I said, barely able to speak. It felt like he’d taken the hammer and driven a spike straight in my chest. “I love my family. And my … my friends are like family.” I did. I loved my family and friends—more than anything.

“Who? Viv? Abby? I don’t think so. And not me and Celeste, obviously. Unless you show your love through betrayal.”

Along with the throbbing pain in my ribs, a fire burned in my head, and coldness penetrated the rest of my body. Anger now. The voice echoed inside my skull. Cubby’s voice. The closet’s voice. Tell him , she said. Tell him, Leena.

“What about you?” I said. “You and Celeste are so bonded it’s creepy.” Tell him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one who’s been hurting her.”

The words sucked the air out of the hallway.

David and I stared at each other. His lips parted, jaw slack. As shocked as I was that those words had come out of my mouth.

“You think I would hurt Celeste?” he said.

Did I?

Of course you do .

I shook my head to clear her words out. “No. I don’t know. I know it wasn’t some … some ghost.”

“How could you be so close to me, and think I would do that?” he said.

“I didn’t. I don’t.” My brain was spinning. Had I ever really thought that? I’d had my suspicions, but did I really believe he was capable of that? “I just don’t understand how you can think she’s not sick.”

“Because she’s not!” he said. “How could you be with someone you think might be abusing his sister? God, Leena.”

“I don’t think that. Really. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I did.” I wrapped my arms around myself. I was shaking. “David, I told the dean because I’m worried about Celeste. I did it even though I knew it might mean I’d lose you. Doesn’t that tell you anything? I love you, but your sister is sick.”