I don’t respond immediately. I’m trying to keep the tears burning my eyes from spilling down my face. I take a shaky breath and say, “She just seemed to think she wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“Thank you, Miss Silby,” Mr. Rivera says. “If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch. If you would like to speak to a counselor, they are available to you. In the meantime, all homecoming events are cancelled. Classes will resume Friday.”

Once we’re outside Mr. Rivera’s office, I glance at Mom, whose face is unreadable.

“I don’t want you to think I can’t do this,” I say. “Please don’t send me away.”

Her face falters at that. “Oh, honey,” she says, wrapping her arm around me. “None of this is your fault.”

She has no idea.

From this moment on, I’m not looking for a coin but for the person who took it and put Vera’s soul into Lily’s body. I’m looking for Lily’s murderer.

Chapter Twenty-One

Shy and the Life That Goes On

It takes the police too long to get Lily’s body down. I consider doing it myself—just shifting in front of all these people, cradling her against my chest, and cutting her down with my scythe. Jacobi knows what I’m thinking, because he puts his hand on my shoulder. It’s his way of anchoring me, yet I feel anything but grounded as I stare up at Lily, lifeless, tethered to the end of that rope, her soul missing. Something is very wrong.

Jacobi and I leave Lily when we’re forced inside the school by officers and medics. She hasn’t been dead fifteen minutes, and I’ve already been summoned to the Compound. At some point, I’ll have to answer the summons, but right now, I really just want my mom. As I climb into my Jeep to leave, Natalie calls my name, running toward me. I tense, and it makes me realize that anytime I hear her voice, I expect a fight. My stomach clenches.

Damn, that sucks.

“Hey.” Her voice is softer than usual, clouded with a throat full of tears. She pauses a moment, studying me with red-rimmed, watery eyes. She doesn’t ask if I’m okay, thank Charon. I know it’s because she feels like I feel—disoriented, numb, shocked. I hate that it’s the only thing we’ve been able to agree on for the last four months.

“Come over this evening. We can sit outside by the fire at my house. We don’t have to talk, but I…want us all together tonight.”