Page 9 of She Haunts Me Still

Mallory narrows her eyes. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I’m obviously stalking you,” he says, and Mallory’s stomach flips. Ezra’s lips twitch in an amused smirk. “Kidding. I overheard the nurse talking to the receptionist about your prescription.”

Mallory exhales between her teeth. “So much for HIPAA.” She glances at her watch. Ten minutes until theater history. She needs to call that doctor.

“In all seriousness, though,” Ezra continues, “why did you lie?”

For a brief, nonsensical moment, Mallory contemplates giving the real answer.Because if I told her what really happened,I’d have to explain why I was distracted enough to stab my own hand. That I think something happened to my mom at this school and the same thing could happen to me.

But instead of saying any of that, Mallory forces a shrug. “It was an easier explanation than the truth.”

Ezra holds her stare, as though debating whether to ask the next logical question:And whatisthe truth, exactly?

“I really need to go,” she adds, turning.

“Wait,” Ezra calls before she can leave. “Just so you know—I’m good at keeping secrets. I won’t tell.”

She looks back at him, unsure what they’re even talking about now. The folder? Her hand? This entire conversation? “Thank you,” she replies carefully.

Ezra gestures to her bandage. “But if that gets worse, you should really quit lying about it. It looked painful.”

Mallory nods, instinctively cradling her palm against her chest. Ezra’s stare follows, and she can’t be sure if his eyes are lingering on the bloodstained gauze or the dip of her blouse. An unexpected warmth blossoms inside her, and she tugs on a swell of chestnut hair to hide the blush creeping into her cheeks.

“I should get back in there,” Ezra says abruptly. As if realizing she caught him staring. “Chronic migraines. Needed an appointment for medication—sorry, you didn’t ask.” He starts for the health center but pauses with one boot on the steps. “By the way—cast list went up. Congrats, Jules.”

“What?” Mallory scrunches her nose. “That’s not my name—oh.Oh.”

Jules.Juliet.

Thelead? She got the lead role? How? Her audition wasn’t the best—she knows she could have performed better if her hand hadn’t hurt so much. Still, a sugary grin cascades across Mallory’s face, and she holds on to the feeling. It reminds her of casting day in high school, how everyone would gather around the drama teacher’s door waiting forThe List. There would always be that moment of suspended hope as she scanned for her name, and when she’d finally spot it,everything else would become quiet. It’s why she fell in love with theater in the first place: the way she can slip inside a world that isn’t her own, like an escape, a drug. A lifeline.

“See you at the read-through tomorrow.” Ezra gestures toward her bag. “You should probably hide that before you go to class.”

He disappears into the health center, and his words drag her back to reality. She looks at her watch again. Shit.

Mallory shoves the folder farther into her bag and breaks out into a run for the theater. Her mother’s medical history will have to wait until tomorrow.

On the heels of that thought, her chest clinches with a distinct and palpable fear.

What if tomorrow is already too late?

3

That night, Mallory dreams of smoke.

Distantly aware that she’s asleep, she examines her surroundings: blackened, starless sky. Thick smattering of evergreens on all sides. A crackling bonfire a few feet away.

A forest in the middle of the night.

This is the same nightmare she used to have when she was small. Another thing that stopped after her mother died, like the visits from that terrifying woman.

Mallory inches closer, flinching at the squelch of mud beneath her bare feet. An acrid burning smell invades her nostrils as she ducks beneath distended branches. A circle of cloaked figures flickers ahead, like fuzzy static. There are about a dozen of them, huddled around the fire, wearing dark velvet capes and black masks with elongated beaks.

Making them look like a flock of ravens.

In the past, she’d always wake at this moment, jolted into a cold sweat by everything she didn’t understand. But now, curiosity outweighs her fear, and she approaches the small crowd to see what they’re looking at.

An altar of three engraved stones, displaying a wet, pulsating heart.