Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [13]
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By the time our tour ended, lunch was almost over and my stomach grumbled hungrily. After procuring my grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, I followed Cherie to a table where Brent and Steve were already sitting. Being near Brent made my heart beat a little faster than normal, and it kicked into overdrive when he scooted his chair closer, so our legs touched, soft as a whisper.
“We’re going to the pool after lunch,” Steve said. “Do you guys want to come?”
Not another trip to that creepy place, I thought with a sigh.
“We’ve already been this morning.” Cherie spread her napkin carefully across her lap. “Of course, you probably mean the swimming pool with water in it, right?”
Hope entered my heart as I remembered there was a normal pool, ghost-free and full of non-haunted water, making the invitation much more appealing. But then I remembered what happened yesterday and I began shaking my leg under the table.
“Of course. Water usually helps with the swimming.” Brent’s tone was one someone would use on a confused child.
Cherie paused dramatically with an impish grin. “We checked out the original swimming pool, the one that’s locked, off limits, and supposedly haunted.”
Understanding flickered across their faces, and I think the phrase ”off limits” especially caught their interest. Giving up all pretenses, Cherie eagerly told them of our morning adventure.
“You guys did that without us?” Steve complained. “We would have gone with you.”
Cherie dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “Honestly, I didn’t think you’d be interested.”
I doubted Steve was upset about missing the pool; I think it had more to do with missing time with my best friend.
“How did you even know about it?” Steve asked.
Cherie smiled demurely. “I did my homework before I came to school.”
“We’ve been down there before. I mean, everyone goes there at least once, sees it isn’t that big of a deal, and leaves. There’s no reason to go back—unless, of course, you believe in ghost stories.” Steve’s expression turned serious when he saw the looks on our faces. “Do you believe in the ghost stories?”
“No, of course not. It was just for fun,” I said before Cherie could answer. I knew for a fact that ghosts were real, but I had learned not to go around telling people that. Even without looking, I could feel Cherie’s heated glare and I determinedly avoided her gaze.
“So, do you guys have any other big plans as far as checking out old school rumors?” Steve asked, his crystal blue eyes watching Cherie.
“Well I thought about looking into the Pendrell curse,” Cherie announced, sipping the soup from her spoon.
Brent scoffed. “You really believe in the curse?”
“Don’t you? I mean you almost died, and with it being so close to the end of the second year, isn’t it almost time?” Cherie asked.
“I was choking— it wasn’t suicide,” Brent said, narrowing his eyes.
“I was meaning to ask you about that. What were you choking on? I asked around, no one knows what happened.” Brent didn’t answer, but the muscle of his jaw clenched. “I know they’re all found to be suicides. But maybe they’re not. Maybe they’re accidents or maybe even murders!” Cherie held up her spoon to emphasize her point. “That makes more sense than the brightest, most popular students of this school killing themselves every two years, doesn’t it?”
“Look,” Brent said, his voice chilly, “you just started here. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Steve tapped Brent on the back. “Yeah. It was usually about midterms or finals and everyone who knows the person who . . . dies agrees that they hadn’t been acting like themselves. They all had majorly traumatic breakdowns. Too much pressure. There’s no mystery.”
“Maybe.” Cherie leaned in, lowering her voice, her blue eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I’ll let you know what I find out at our next investigation.”
“When?” Steve asked. Even though I doubted he believed in ghosts, he wasn’t about to let that stop him from any activity Cherie was involved in.
“I haven’t