But the girls were gearing up to play Acheron’s big rival, Birnam Academy. Birnam had won the Virginia state championship two years in a row, and all the girls on Acheron’s team were freaking out about the game. Why? He couldn’t really say. It wasn’t like any of them would need scholarships to go to college.

Some people thought the Kingsley Prize committee cared about the team’s record, but Mateo was pretty sure that theory was mostly bullshit. Just like the Kingsley Prize itself. He hadn’t even bothered to put his name in for the thing. Delilah Dufrey had it in the bag.

Mateo liked Delilah. They’d been friends since Mateo first transferred to Acheron in ninth grade. He could’ve been the weird new brown kid at school—and the gay one, to boot—but Delilah had started hanging out with him right away. When he told her he wanted to start a Gay-Straight Alliance, she said she’d be vice president. Thanks to Delilah, joining the GSA became cool, and so did Mateo.

But if anyone had asked his opinion of the Kingsley thing, he’d have said that if some rich, dead dude wanted to give out a free ride to college, he should give it to someone who actually needed one. Not someone whose parents could afford the most expensive school on the planet four times over.

The championship game was a matter of pride for Maria and the others, though, and Mateo certainly understood about pride. Soccer was the whole reason he’d come here. Acheron had recruited him from Birnam back in middle school. Offered him a full scholarship in exchange for captaining the soccer team and upping Acheron’s diversity quotient. Getting into college didn’t feel half as sweet as listening to that crowd cheering your name.

Just then, the air conditioner stopped humming. The hall light went out. The room sank into dim candlelight.

Great. Another power failure. Acheron’s electrical system was about as old as the house itself. Someone, somewhere, was probably microwaving popcorn.

The room fell silent. Even Delilah’s giggling trailed off. Emily, who’d just been dared to dance like Beyoncé, stopped mid-hip-thrust. Mateo rummaged in his pocket for the matches they all carried and lit two extra candles on the bedside table. Across the room, Austin lit three more.

A sharp clang came from the far corner—the dark, empty corner near the boarded-over fireplace, on the wall the room shared with the old dining hall.

Caitlin squealed. Everyone turned to look in the direction of the clattering sound.

“Emily, was that you?” Mateo asked. Emily had been closest to that side of the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Emily shook her head. “I mean, no. Whatever that noise was, I didn’t make it.”