Dead Voices
She started to cross the room.
Gretel went along when Ollie pulled, but Ollie could feel her hand shaking.
“Gretel,” a girl whispered. She had swung her legs out of bed; now she was standing, blocking their way. Another girl got up behind her. And another. They were blocking the way to the door. “Gretel, why did you run away?”
“Let us through!” snapped Ollie, and began to shove her way through the dead-eyed crowd. Gretel’s hand was still shaking, and Ollie had started to shake herself. She felt like Mr. Wilson’s deer must have felt, right before they were dragged down and mounted on the wall of Hemlock Lodge. She pushed on. “Come on, Gretel!” she snapped. “Don’t stop.”
Suddenly all the girls fell back with frightened shrieks. Ollie turned and felt a huge relief. Gabe had come into the dormitory and was plowing across the room toward them, head down, shoving his way through. Moonlight striped his blue ski jacket. The girls scrambled to get out of his way. He cleared a path to the door for Ollie and Gretel.
“Gabe,” said Ollie. “Thank you so much.” All the small ghost girls were cowering, back on their beds. Mother Hemlock was nowhere in sight. It was going to be okay. Ollie reached for the door handle.
But Gabe was in front of her. Blocking her way.
“Gabe,” said Ollie, “Gabe, move.”
He didn’t move. He looked down at her. This time, Ollie was close enough and the moonlight bright enough for Ollie to see his eyes above the ski mask.
He had the saddest eyes Ollie had ever seen.
He crossed his arms. He didn’t move. He was blocking the door.
“No!” cried Gretel. “No, please let us out!” She tried to grab the doorknob. But Gabe just shook his head. He made the most terrible effort to speak that Ollie had ever heard. But nothing came out that she could understand.
Instead a voice spoke from behind her. Seth’s voice.
Slowly, Ollie turned around.
“He lied, you know,” said Seth. “Ghosts do not like to lie. But they can. If they are properly motivated.”
He looked like plain Mr. Voland. He was wearing his green shirt, his jeans. Even in the moonlight, she could see the freckles over his nose. But his eyes had a red gleam, like reflected firelight. Maybe it was just the guttering lamp in Ollie’s hand, shining in his eyes.
But she didn’t think so.
Then Ollie blinked and Mr. Voland was gone; instead she saw Seth as she’d seen him in the corn maze, with bone-colored hair and cold blue eyes. Ollie wondered, trembling, if he had a real face at all or if he just picked one as it suited him.
“Gabe’s been here a long time,” said Seth. “It was easy enough to prom
ise him freedom for a few lies, a little misdirection. And you made it so easy, when Coco stole my Ouija board.”
Beside Ollie, Gretel moaned.
“She wanted to warn you,” said Seth, with a jerk of his chin. “She might have tried, I believe. But the poor brave thing’s been here so long, she hardly knows what’s real anymore.” His smile was broad and hungry. Triumphant. He knew he’d won.
Don’t listen, Ollie thought in horror. Don’t listen to the dead voices. That was what Gretel had said. But Ollie had listened. She’d listened twice. And she’d been caught twice.
A horrible gargling sound came from Gabe’s throat. It took Ollie a second before she understood.
Sorry. He was trying to say sorry.
“Checkmate,” said Seth. “Not much of an adversary, are you, without your watch helping you?”
Ollie licked her lips, tried to think of something to say. Couldn’t think of anything. She had to get out of this room.
“Farewell,” said Seth, and disappeared.
The next second, Mother Hemlock burst into the bunk room. She was smiling. Ollie whipped around and tried once more, in desperation, to force a way past Gabe. But he blocked her, although he trembled as he did. “Have to,” he whispered. “Have to.” His eyes over the ski mask were dark and desperate.
“Girls,” said Mother Hemlock to the crowd of watching ghosts. Her thin, scratching voice rang with triumph. “Your little classmates have come back. But it seems they want to leave us! So soon! Do we want them to leave, girls?”