𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐎 | ᴍɪʟʟᴀʀᴅ ɴᴜʟʟɪɴɢꜱ

𝟏𝟖] 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐄

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THIS CHAPTER WILL BE COMPLETELY DIFFERENT IN THE MOVIE!

"THEY MUST BE WIGHTS." The girl from earlier was saying. "Why else would they have been snooping around the old house like a burglar?"

     "I haven't the slightest idea," someone else said, "but neither, seems, do they." So she wasn't talking to herself, after all. Though from where I was lying, I couldn't see the young man who'd spoken.

     "You say they didn't even realize they were in a loop?"

     "See for yourself," she said, gesturing toward me. "Can you imagine any relative of Abe's being so perfectly clueless?"

     "Can you imagine a wight?" said the young man. I turned my head slightly, scanning the room, but still I didn't see him.

     "I can imagine a wight faking it," the girl replied.

    The dog, awake now, trotted over and began to lick my face. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to ignore it, but the tongue bath he gave me was so slobbery and gross that I finally had to sit up just to rescue myself.

     "Well, look who's up!" the girl said. She clapped her hands, giving me a sarcastic round of applause. "That was quite the performance you gave earlier. I particularly enjoyed the fainting. I'm sure the theater lost some fine actors when you chose to devote yourselves instead to murder and cannibalism."

     "Says the girl who held a knife to my throat."

     Jacob opened his mouth to protest our innocence--and stopped when he noticed a cup floating toward us.

     "Have some water," the young man said. "Can't have you dying before we get you back to the headmistress, now can we?"

     His voice seemed to come from the empty air. I reached for the cup, and as my pinky brushed an unseen hand, a redness came from my hand, shattering the mug on the ground.

     "No worries," the boy said (although I still couldn't see him). "Happens all the time."

     And suddenly all of the stories that Grandpa Portman had told us were rushing back to me. The ones about the house and the children that I had originally thought to be false and made up, but apparently they were true. He had never lied to us.

     You're the invisible boy, I wanted to say, but my mouth instead was held wide open. From the stories. Jacob, it's really him.

     "You're invisible," Jacob replied dumbly.

     "Indeed. Millard Nullings, at your service."

     "Don't tell him your name!" the girl cried.

     "And this is Emma," he continued. "She's a bit paranoid, as I'm sure you've gathered."

     Emma glared at him—or at the space I imagined him to occupy—but said nothing.

     The cup shook in Jacobs hand as he began another fumbling attempt to explain ourselves but was interrupted by angry voices from outside the window.

     "Quiet!" Emma hissed. Millard's footsteps moved to the window, and the blinds parted an inch.

     "What's happening?" asked Emma. "They're searching the houses," he replied. "We can't stay here much longer."

     "Well, we can't very well go out there!" Jacob protested.

     "I think perhaps we can," Millard said. "Just to be certain, though, let me consult my book."