“If Mary doesn’t talk about something, there’s a reason,” said the Ping-Pong boy.

But Allie already had her argument well rehearsed.

“Mary says there are things we shouldn’t think about, and shouldn’t do—but she doesn’t flatly forbid anything, does she?”

“Because we always have a choice.”

“That’s right. And Mary respects our choices, right?”

No one said anything.

“Right?” insisted Allie.

The kids halfheartedly agreed.

“Well, I choose to talk about those things we shouldn’t. And by her own rules, Mary has to respect my choice.”

Several of the kids were suitably confused. That was okay. Shake them up a little, get them to see things in a new way. This was a good thing.

One girl stepped forward. It was Meadow—the girl they had met on their very first day here. “So, like, what do you want to know?”

“I want to know about haunting—and how we can communicate with the living world. I want to know if there’s a way back to life—because no matter what Mary says, we’re not entirely dead, or we wouldn’t be here. I want to know about the McGill. Is it real, or is it just something made up to scare little kids?”

By now all action had stopped in the room. The routine had been broken. She knew the moment she left, everyone would get right back to it, but for now she had their attention. One kid left a game of pool and approached her—but he still held on to his cue, as if worried he’d need to use it to defend himself.

“No one knows if the McGill is real,” he said. “But I think it is, because Mary won’t talk about it. If it wasn’t real, she’d just tell us so, right?”

A few of the other kids mumbled in agreement.

“How about leaving Everlost? Is it possible to live again?”

Meadow spoke up, blunt, and unsympathetic. “Your body is in a grave, or worse, it’s in ashes. I don’t think you want it back.”

“Yeah, but there are other ways to be alive …,” said a kid quietly from the corner. When Allie turned to him, he looked away.

“What do you mean, other ways?” asked Allie.

When he didn’t answer, Meadow spoke up. “He doesn’t know what he means.”

“But you do.”

Meadow crossed her arms. “There are … talents … that some people have, and some people don’t. They’re not nice talents—and they will bring you a world of bad karma. Mary calls them ‘The Criminal Arts.’”

By now everyone had begun to gravitate around Allie and Meadow. By the looks on their faces, some kids seemed to know what she was talking about, but most seemed clueless.

“What kind of talents?” asked Allie. “How would I know if I have them?”

“You’d be luckier not to know.”

“Excuse me,” said a voice from the back. Everyone turned to see Vari standing there. There was no way to know how much he had heard. Meadow instantly put distance between herself and Allie, going back to the game she had been playing. The rest of the kids moved away from Allie as well, as if she was poison.