Page 9 of Haunting the Deep

I throw my phone onto my bed and backstep.Unless, it’s like those other dreams, the ones I had of Cotton. Only those weren’t really dreams at all; they were warnings that started right after I saw Elijah for the first time and everything spiraled out of control.I push my palms against my eyebrows.

And it was only yesterday that I saw that spirit girl. Could Mrs. Meriwether have been right? Was seeing a spirit a sign of bad things to come?

“No. And no. And also no.”

My literature teacher, Mrs. Powell, passes out copies of Archibald Gracie’s bookThe Truth About the Titanic.Her box braids are swept up into an elegant high bun, and her suspenders and white blouse are way more fashionable than most teachers’ pantsuits. She’s by far my favorite teacher. She doesn’t put up with nonsense from anyone, but she’s always fair. And she was one of the few who didn’t reflexively turn on me after John died and Lizzie blamed me for it in front of the whole school.

“Colonel Archibald Gracie was cutting the last collapsible boat free from its ropes when the waterloggedTitaniclifted into the air,” Mrs. Powell says as she makes her way down the rows of desks. “He was pulled down by the suction created from the weight of the ship as it sank, and he was lucky enough to free himself and emerge not far from that same collapsible boat. Unfortunately, it was overturned and covered with men. He and the others hung on all night until one of the lifeboats eventually found them. They were in the Labrador Current at the time, and the water was no more than twenty-eight degrees.”

Mrs. Powell plops a copy of the book onto my desk. The black-and-white photo of the large ship on the cover reminds me of my dream. I immediately turn it over. The upper left corner is frayed, and I run my thumb over the worn bit.

“This book is not without its faults. You’ll find that the third-class passengers are often neglected and that their nationalities are generalized. Keep in mind that this is a first-person telling of what happened. The colonel died in December of 1912 from health complications related to the exposure and hypothermia he suffered in the water. He didn’t live to see this book published.”

The bell rings.

“Remember, if you keep a journal about your reading progress, you get thirty points extra credit. Some of you are in desperate need of those points,” Mrs. Powell says as everyone stands up.

I shove the book into my bag and head into the hall. There’s no way I’m reading this thing. From now on I’m steering clear of all thingsTitanic,avoiding the painting in the hall, and definitely not going to the dance.Done and done.

I twist my combination lock and open my locker. Blair passes with a group of girls.

“Hey, Sam,” Blair says, and stops.

“Hey?” First Niki talked to me, and now Blair?

“Sooo, I wanted to ask you about something.”

Oh man, not this. Her long lead-in is a dead giveaway. “Is it about someone in your family who died?”

Blair’s face lights up. “How did you know that? That’s crazy. The thing is, my dog died a few years ago. And ever since then my mom keeps finding these unexplainable holes in her garden. You know, almost like someone or something was digging, and sheswears—”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“You haven’t even heard the question yet.”

Damn that school assembly where I announced that I could see spirits. Anywhere else, people would think I was off my gourd, but here they all think I should come check out their attics and basements for dead grandparents and stray cats. “I know. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”

Blair crosses her arms, and for a second we just stand there in awkward silence. “Any new leads on who attacked you in the woods?”

I turn away from her and take my lunch bag out of my locker.Please just let this whole topic go.“Not that I’ve heardof.”

Blair plays with her hair. “I can’t believe you guys got hanged and this mystery woman is just gone. It’s so wrong. And my dad was saying that the police aren’t even looking anymore. Like it’s okay to just leave that psycho out there.”

“So wrong,” the group parrots.

People talk about the worst thing that’s ever happened to me like it’s nothing more than entertaining gossip. I slam my locker shut.

I turn away from them and head down the hall.

Blair snickers behind me. “Wow, someone’s in a mood.”

I pick up my pace and make a fast left around a corner, walking smack into someone wearing an old-fashioned suit and a hat.The butler from my dream.I scream and stumble backward.

He lifts his head and his hat, revealing a grinning Dillon. “Whoa, sorry, Sam.”

I exhale.

“Dude, you look like you saw a ghost. Oops. You do see ghosts. I guess that actually makes sense.” Dillon laughs at his own joke.