Page 33 of Haunting the Deep

Susannah touches her forehead with her fingertips. “The farther away we get from that class, the walls become more solid and the floor sloshes less.”

Alice pushes the bathroom door open. Susannah heads for the sink, turns on the cold water, and splashes it on her face.

I check the stalls to make sure we’re alone.

Susannah pats a paper towel over her face. “It was a spell. At least, I think it was. It started the second I touched the raffle ticket. And I could practically smell the ocean. Almost like seasickness.”

Alice cracks her knuckles. “But how could it have been the ticket? We all got them and no one else almost puked, so it makes it less likely or more difficult. Blair would have had to set you up to get a specific one. She’s not a Descendant, and she doesn’t know jack about magic. And Matt isn’t even from Salem.”

“I know,” Susannah says. “But the feeling went away as soon as I left the ticket behind.”

“Just like the dress,” I say. “I mean, it can’t be a coincidence that two times in the past twenty-four hours we’ve come into contact with objects that have spells in them.”

The bell rings.

“No, it’s not,” Alice says. “Andifsomeone is doing magic that way, that person could be clever enough to deliver the objects through other people. It’s not easy, but it’s also not impossible.”

The bathroom door opens and Mary walks through, holding our bags. “Please tell me that wasn’t a spell.” She looks at Susannah and then at Alice for confirmation. “Damn. But it’s gone, right?”

I take my bag. “Gone. But I think we should avoid anythingTitanic-related for the rest of the day to be safe.”

“Agreed,” Alice says.

Susannah frowns. “A weak spell is almost worse than a strong one. It’s like someone’s just toying with us….And casting it in public like that? The person either doesn’t think they’ll get caughtordoesn’t care. Like the way serial killers send letters to the police.”

The warning bell rings. Mary opens the door.

We say our goodbyes, and I speed-walk to Wardwell’s history class. The bell rings just as I enter. I freeze. Jaxon’s laughing with Niki, who is sitting on his desk.

“Seats, everyone,” Mr. Wardwell says.

Niki slides from her perch, grinning at me. What is it with these girls recently? She flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and touches Jaxon’s arm. I plop down in my chair.

Wardwell grabs a stack of thick paper packets. He drops a few of them on each of the front-row desks; they make a weighty clunk as they land. “These packets are divided by categories. You’ll be expected to learn or, better yet, memorize them.”Clunk.“Because…next Friday we’re having aTitanictrivia contest. And the winning team will be excused from the test with an automatic A.”

There’s a murmur of excitement from the students. Raffles and trivia contests. I’ve got to hand it to this school; it has have the carrot method down.

“Let’s get you used to theJeopardy!categories by starting with some of the passengers we learned about this week. I want a name, what you know about the person, and if they survived.”

A few hands shoot up around the room. Wardwell points to Dillon, who is once again in his lacrosse jacket. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without it.

“Joseph Laroche,” Dillon says. “He grew up in Haiti and was working as an engineer in France. He’s thought to be the only black dude on the entire ship. His wife and two daughters were on board with him. They got into a lifeboat, but he didn’t. He went down with the waves.”

“Correct.” Wardwell nods and points to a girl in the first row.

“Margaret Brown. She was the only first-class passenger who came from nothing. She and her husband got rich in the mining industry. She was a feminist and suffragette and known for her philanthropy. She helped load passengers into lifeboats, and even rowed in her own boat. She survived.”

“Great, perfect,” Mr. Wardwell says, and points to Niki.

“Henry Harper,” Niki says.

I jerk my head up.Harper. Uncle Harry. Harry could definitely be a nickname for Henry.

“He was one of the owners of the Harper and Brothers publishing house and one of the few men who survived with his entire family. I think because they were in one of the first boats and everything hadn’t gone crazy yet? Anyway, Henry, his wife, and even his Egyptian valet survived.”

All the blood drains from my face. Seeing Elijah threw me for such a loop last night that I didn’t consider that the man who called himself my uncle on theTitaniccould have been my actual ancestor. I raise my hand.

“Exactly right,” Mr. Wardwell says. “Samantha?”