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“The things my father wrote about that night,” I say. “That was bullshit, right?”
“I don’t think so,” Hannah says.
I study her, seeking a tell that she’s lying. She levels her gaze at me, indicating she’s dead serious.
“So, what my father wrote about that night—”
“It’s all true,” Hannah says, without a moment’s hesitation. “Every damn word.”
JULY 7
Day 12
The day of the sleepover began like any other at Baneberry Hall.
Thud.
I got out of bed without looking at the clock—there was no need—and went downstairs, where the chandelier was aglow. I flicked it off with a heavy sigh and descended to the kitchen to brew a pot of extra-strong coffee. It had become my usual morning routine.
By then, exhaustion was a fact of life at Baneberry Hall. Almost as if the house was purposefully denying me a full night’s sleep. I counteracted it as best as I could with midafternoon catnaps and going to bed early.
But on this day, there would be no napping. The afternoon was spent preparing for two extra people in the house. Grocery shopping, cleaning, and making the place look like a happy home, which it definitely wasn’t.
The whole point of having the sleepover be supervised by Petrawas to give Jess and me some much-needed relaxation time alone. But when Hannah and Petra arrived bearing backpacks, sleeping bags, and a tray of cookies from their mother, I realized their presence only added to our stress. Especially when Maggie asked to speak to Jess and me alone in the middle of dinner.
“Can’t it wait?” I said. “You have guests.”
“It’s important,” Maggie told us.
The three of us went to the great room, leaving Hannah and Petra to eat their spaghetti and meatballs in awkward silence.
“This better be good,” Jess said. “It’s rude to leave your friends like that.”
Maggie’s expression was deadly serious. The cut on her cheek had healed enough that she no longer needed a bandage. Now exposed, it gave her a weathered, wizened look.
“They need to leave,” she said. “Miss Pennyface doesn’t want them here. She doesn’t like them. She’s been angry all night.” Maggie pointed to an empty corner. “See?”
“Now’s not the time for this,” Jess said. “Not with your friends here.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“But they could be,” I said in my most encouraging voice. “Just give it one night. Okay, kiddo?”
Maggie considered it, her lips a flat line as she weighed the pros and cons of friendship with Hannah.
“Okay,” she said. “But they’ll probably be mad.”
“Who’ll get mad?”
“All of the ghosts.”
She went back to the table, leaving Jess and me speechless. Maggie, however, was chattier than ever, and remained that way through the rest of dinner. And the ice-cream sundaes made for dessert. Andthe board games played after that. When Maggie emerged victorious after a game of Mouse Trap, she ran around the dining room cheering like she’d just won the World Cup.
It was so nice to see her having fun with other girls. For the first time since we came to Baneberry Hall, Maggie looked happy, even when she shot occasional glances to the corners of the room.
Those fearful looks grew more pronounced when the girls got ready for bed. While Petra engaged in a half-hearted pillow fight instigated by her sister, Maggie merely sat there, her gaze flicking to the corner by her closet. And when I lined them up to take a picture with the Polaroid camera, she appeared more focused on the wall behind me than the camera’s lens.
“They’re down for the night,” I announced to Jess after I’d turned out the lights in Maggie’s room and retired to my own. “Whatever else they need, Petra can take it from here.”