Page 2 of Haunting the Deep

“No,” I say, doing my best to keep my anxiety out of my voice.

My dad’s home from the hospital, the kids in school don’t hate me, and with Vivian gone, my bad luck has basically vanished.Vivian.My stomach tenses. All I want is for things to stay normal; I’m happy for the first time in a long time.

My dad looks from Mrs. Meriwether to me. “Then why is Mae worried about a ghost appearing in your passengerseat?”

I push my plate away, avoiding the matching sympathetic looks from the Meriwethers. The words don’t want to leave my mouth. “I saw a spirit during the whole thing that happened last fall.” My cheeks redden. “But I haven’t seen one since.”I’m not seeing spirits again. I won’t. Elijah was different. He…he was just different.

The corners of my dad’s eyes wrinkle as he narrows them.

“Be sure to let us know if you do,” Mrs. Meriwether says. “The last time you saw a ghost, a whole set of unfortunate circumstances followed.”

My eyes meet hers. Is she saying that seeing a spirit is a bad omen?

“No more talk of…no more talk of training, Mae. She’s fine,” my dad says with such finality that Mrs. Meriwether raises a questioning eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go get dressed,” Jaxon says, sounding almost as uncomfortable as I feel and sliding his chair away from the table.

“Me too,” I say with a grumble.

My dad leans back in his chair, and the tension rolls off him. “Aaah. Now, there’s the cranky morning Sam I know and love.”

I pause, soaking up his dad humor. He’s said some version of this to me since I was little. “Don’t do that. I can’t make anyone believe I’m angsty if I’m smiling.”

We share a smile, and I can tell he’s relieved to have changed the subject.

I push back my chair, but what I really want to push away is Mrs. Meriwether’s comment about the last time a spirit showed up.

I’m the last one into homeroom. I slide into my desk beside Susannah just as the bell rings. Susannah, Mary, and Alice sit in a row, all wearing their trademark gothic-chic clothes. I wear black, too, but more torn and casual than their high fashion. Plus, they have that whole powerful, mysterious vibe that makes you want to compulsively steal glances at them. Maybe it’s because they’re descended from the accused Salem witches and I’m descended from the stodgy Puritan minister, Cotton Mather, who hanged them.

Susannah flashes me a smile and places her slender, black-nail-polished fingers over mine. When she pulls her hand away, there’s a small note tucked under my palm. I don’t know where this girl gets her stealth, but I’m definitely jealous.

Mrs. Hoxley clears her throat. “Quiet for the morning announcement, please.” She pauses until everyone settles. “It’s April fourth and two weeks until the Spring Fling. The student council has tallied the votes for this year’s theme and is ready to officially announce it.” She squints at one of the well-manicured girls in the back of the room. “Blair, if you’ll do the honors.”

Excited whispers fill the room. I’ve never seen people campaign as viciously as they did for the themes of this dance. For the past week the Borgias Masquerade Ball and the Enchanted Forest supporters have been practically fist-fighting in the halls. But then again, costume parties are to Salem what Christmas is to the North Pole. I’m desperately hoping the Enchanted Forest doesn’t win, though. The attention I got right after the whole hanging-in-the-woods ordeal was overwhelming. I’m pretty sure a forest theme would only bring up the topic again.

The Descendants haven’t really said anything specific about what happened, claiming shock and confusion. But the basic details about a mysterious woman trying to kill us all spread through the town faster than I could have imagined. And the only thing that doesn’t seem to die in Salem is gossip. The police are still searching for her; little do they know the crow woman was my stepmother, and she’s dead.

Everyone turns to look at Blair, who’s taking her sweet time sauntering to the front of the class. She leaves a scent trail of vanilla and hair spray, and her outfit suggests she just stepped out of the pages of a Ralph Lauren catalog.

“I’m thrilled to share this with you all.” Blair flicks her blown-out waves over her shoulder and scans the room. “While there wereverystrong themes this year, one stood out above the rest and got an almost unanimous vote.”

“It was yours, wasn’t it?” Alice says. “The idea that won.”

Blair’s smile grows and she looks coy. “We’re not supposed to reveal who came up with what theme, Alice. Buuut, I wasn’topposedto the idea.”

“Uh-huh,” Alice says. “Well, good thing you’re so subtle, then.”

I cough out a laugh, and Mrs. Hoxley gives Alice a warning look. Now that I’m not fighting with the Descendants, I can appreciate Alice’s dry humor. No one’s exempt from her scorn.

“Let’s just say I’m excited to announce that the theme of this year’s dance will be…” Blair pauses for dramatic effect. “TheTitanic!”

The room explodes with objections. Everyone starts yelling at once. The tension leaves my shoulders.Phew.

“You’re joking,” Mary says. “TheTitanicwasn’t even in the running.”

“Democracy’s dead,” Alice says. “The dictatorship of Blair and the fluff-ettes is now a disturbing reality.”

“Shush,” Mrs. Hoxley says to the class. “We’ll have none of that. Absolutely none.”