Call Spirits in Your Past **Book Two**

Chapter 36 (Wednesday)

Kwayo tried not to squirm under not-Cory's stare. "Cory says," the girl frowned. "He says he wanted you to hear that. He...doesn't usually talk out loud like that," her brow furrowed in concentration.

Do you have any idea what we're supposed to do? Kwayo asked, glancing toward Dryda. She shrugged.

Not-Cory abruptly stood. "Apparently, Cory introduced himself to you. Because apparently, total strangers are safer than Bea," Not-Cory eyed the ice covering the window. A steady stream of liquid flowed from it to a small puddle on the floor.

"So what's your name?" Dryda asked, smiling at not-Cory.

"I'm Sam. Nice to meet you. I guess," Sam snorted. "Nice to meet you, because apparently the alternative is getting abducted by you."

Dryda glared at Kwayo, and he raised his arms. "Don't look at me like that! Me and Bella were just peacefully getting some food and someone spotted us! We had to do something!"

"I mean, technically we were stealing it," Bella mumbled, "so there's that."

Sam stared. "Why were you stealing food? You can just go to a kitchen and get something whenever you want."

Kwayo stared at the ground.

"We're...not actually students here?" Rielle said. Kwayo snorted. That was an oversimplification.

"Then what are you?" Sam asked. "You're what, eleven?"

"Twelve," Tago said.

"Oh, because there's so much difference," Sam rolled...her? eyes.

"You're barely older than us," Tago shot back. "There's barely any difference."

"I'm--" Sam inhaled sharply. "This girl body is thirteen. I think. I'm seventeen. But I'm not the one here explaining themselves."

"We got here through a portal and now we're stuck," Dryda told them. "We're also trying to stop the bad things this school is doing."

Don't just tell them! Kwayo shouted at her, too late.

Sam turned away, "no, no, no, not--" Sam stumbled toward the wall, hands curling against it. "So, I remember--Cory doesn't believe we should be here," Sam whispered. "He doesn't think it's safe. Especially not for Ripple. What he thinks they want her to do. What--" they cut off, fists clenched tightly. "What they already did to her."

"Something bad happened?" Dryda asked softly.

Kwayo frowned at her.

Sam grunted. "It's a shared memory. Someone else's, originally. Now I have it too, and--" they punched the wall. "Maybe Cory's right."

The room went quiet. "I'm sorry," Kwayo said, because it felt like the right thing to say. "We shouldn't be here either. We got stuck, and now..." he glanced at Bella, Tago, Zillie, Rielle, Manuel and Dryda. "Now we're just trying not to get caught."

Sam grimaced. "Believe me, I know what that's like."

***

Kwayo went back for the sack of vegetables, since Bella thought he'd be less noticeable. He agreed at first, because green snakes blended into grass better than tiny humans, but now he doubted it mattered. A dark sack sliding through the grass looked incredibly suspicious, regardless of who was tugging it along.

He thanked the cover of night, though. No one was strolling across the grounds, heading to classes or...kitchens or...whatever else they had at this school.

Kwayo stuck his tongue out, tasting the air. He caught only grass, some trees, and dusty buildings.

Until vibrations carried through the ground, pulsing in his belly. He quickly slithered towards a tree, his tail wrapped awkwardly around the sack's mouth. He froze beside the tree trunk, tasting the air again. A pair of adults--he thought--came walking down the path. They were muttering, too softly to make out the words. Kwayo tasted the air again. They might just be talking about grades or the weather, but they also might mention something useful about the school that Kwayo and his friends didn't know. Or something. Ana was the one into spying stuff, not him.

He slithered after them, leaving the sack enshadowed by the tree. To catch up to the two men, he changed to a field mouse and scurried onto the sidewalk, fur blending into the lamp-lit night. One of the guys had solid black shoes, and the other wore pale blue sandals. Kwayo didn't have time to look up and study the rest of them, on account of busily sprinting to keep up.

"What do you mean, official word just reached us? We've heard enough about what happened up there to fill a week's worth of reports."

"I mean exactly what I said," the blue-sandals guy said. "Which is tellingly bad. It means none of the agents on-site survived, otherwise we would have heard from them before now."

A pause. "You don't know who sent this so-called official report? How do you know it's official then?"

"It came through on an encoded channel. No one else has access to it."

"No one has access to it, except the agents you said were dead," the black-shoes guy monotoned.

"And us. We have scouts in the area. Nearly every area. We tried contacting this source again, asking for a name or some way to identify them. But there's been nothing so far."

The first guy sighed. "I guess the mystery continues then. We still don't know what happened there, except apparently the fact that it's gone is 'official' now. How does an entire campus just disappear into thin air?"

"It was cloaked in the first place," blue sandals sounded timid.

"And we knew more about it when it was cloaked than we do now, with the cloaking defenses supposedly in ruins. How does that make sense?"

They slowly came to a stop, and Kwayo mentally thanked them, ducking into the grass and trying to get his breath back. He detested mice-sized marathons. And this had been his only one.

"We had people inside back then," the second one whispered. "Now we don't even know if we have people outside. Except a single undercover agent, who we have no way to contact in return."

"This was all much simpler when we had a plan."

"Or, when things were going according to our plan."

Black-shoes laughed abruptly. "True, true," he paused. "Goodnight, Erit. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, um, headmaster, sir."

Kwayo didn't move until they had both disappeared from his sight, walking towards two different buildings. He tried to memorize the shape of their silhouettes, sending everything he remembered to Dryda.

Then he scurried into the sidewalk, grabbing for the scrap of paper that had fallen from the first man's pocket. But he froze before touching it, because it lacked anything resembling a paper-like texture. It was like slimy scum over pool water. He wiped his paws on the sidewalk grooves, glancing back at the paper. It dissolved. Dark, wispy lines smoked away, and the paper crumbled. Kwayo shuddered.

Kwayo, were they talking about our school? Dryda asked.

A part of me hopes not, he hurried back to the sack of vegetables. He did not want to be anywhere near the remnant of those dark, wispy lines. Another part of me...already knows, and wants to make them pay.

Dryda sent a sensation of fidgeting. Antsy worry. Something...deeper, a question, a faint memory of a person. Me too. And that scares me.