Indelible Read Free Page B

eyes studying me. A boy around my age—cute, in a boy-next-door kind of way—leaned against the stair railing. He was tanned, with wheat colored hair that looked like it needed a trim, and a freckled nose. I paused, waiting to see if he’d look away, but he didn’t. Instead he raised one eyebrow and lifted his glass to me.
    He started in my direction, weaving through the crowd, his eyes never leaving me. I didn’t feel like making any more small talk. I wanted to cry on someone’s shoulder. Where were Brent and Cherie? My eyes swept the room and found Brent talking with Headmaster Farnsworth. Cherie and Steve were engrossed in a conversation with a gray-haired man I didn’t know. Brent must have felt my gaze; he glanced up and our eyes locked. He looked relieved to see me and began excusing himself.
    “Hi,” the boy said when he stopped in front of me. Up close he looked familiar. A half formed image teased my memory, but it disappeared before I could grasp it.
    “Hi,” I said, grabbing a shrimp appetizer from a passing waiter. I popped the shrimp in my mouth and chewed. “Some party, huh?”
    “Yep, too bad it’s not a good one.” He smirked and took a swig of his drink.
    My fingers fiddled with the amber beads of my necklace, and traced the wooden pendant, carved in the shape of the Pankurem flower. Touching this particular piece of jewelry comforted me. My vovó had given it to me last year and it had saved my life more than once. It had broken last year during my showdown with a ghost named Thomas and the first thing I’d done was re-string it. Now I never took it off, whether it matched what I wore or not.
    As soon as Brent made his way to my side, one arm went around my waist. “Hey, I’m Brent.”
    The stranger’s index finger tapped against his glass. “I’m DJ.”
    “Nice to meet you, DJ,” Brent said. “Are you having a good time?”
    “Yeah.” He leaned closer to the two of us. “You know, this house has some interesting stories that go along with it.” He sipped his drink again. “It’s rumored to be haunted.”
    I sighed. Of course it would be haunted. Why would anything related to Pendrell not be creepy?
    DJ grinned at me. “I heard your conversation earlier about believing in ghosts and thought that might catch your interest.”
    Fantastic. Other people had overheard my conversation with the Seagers. I lifted my glass to my lips and eyed him carefully.
    “I believe in ghosts, too,” he said when I didn’t respond.
    “Hmm,” I muttered noncommittally.
    “I didn’t always, but now I do.” He paused for a second, as if waiting for something. “This would be the point where you ask me why I now believe in ghosts, or who is rumored to haunt this house.”
    DJ took a breath, giving me a chance to comment, but when I didn’t, he scrubbed his face with his free hand and apparently decided to broach the subject on his own. “In this case, it’s good ol’ Christopher Pendrell’s wife who haunts the house. They used to live here.”
    DJ motioned to a large portrait hanging over the ancient brick fireplace. Within an expensive, gilded frame inlaid with an elaborate design, the man in the picture wore a puckered scowl that made him look as if he had sucked long and hard on a sour lemon. He wore a starched, high-collared shirt and his sideburns connected to his mustache. Despite the facial grimace, the oil painting was exquisite. Too bad it had such an unattractive subject.
    “Who’s the guy in the painting?” Brent asked before I had the chance.
    “That’s Christopher Pendrell. The founder of Pendrell Academy.”
    “Good to know,” I said.
    “You guys really didn’t know who he was? The founder of our school?” He sounded so incredulous you would think we’d never heard of the Declaration of Independence. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Will you guys come upstairs with me? There’s something I want to show you.”
    He began walking up the stairs backwards, his