I smile despite myself. Lottie accepts Darnell with all his faults—no pursed lips or judgment. I wonder if that’s because she’s been judged so many times herself. Miss December claps her hands, and we file into class and take our seats. I sit in the back row. Sandi Cardoza sits in the front, in the seat that used to be mine.

A flash of movement catches my eye, and I turn to see Darnell Parns hanging upside down from a tree branch. His fingertips tickle the long grass, and the sound of his laughter comes in through the window. Darnell might be bad at math and hopeless at reading, but right now, he’s the happiest student at Keziah.

8

Ignorant

Electric lights go out at eight sharp, and we light candles for the free hour we have until bedtime. Girls visit different rooms in the flickering glow. They gossip and try on each other’s clothes and shoes. The naughty girls smoke cigarettes and dabble with lipstick and eye shadow, both of which are forbidden at Keziah. They share news of the day: how Mr. Newman “accidentally” touched their shoulder in class, the moment that one of the senior boys looked across the lawn and licked his lips at them, the math test that was either too hard for some or too easy for others.

No one visits Dead Lorraine’s room. Any shadow on the walls could be her ghost coming back to steal the breath from your mouth or suck the blood from your veins. I’d laugh at the girls’ stupid fears, but what Lottie said about there being no spirits has got my mind ticking.

I think that Lottie is wrong. Her father may not float through the air or kiss her goodnight, but he is present. Not as a ghost, but as a powerful memory. And maybe that’s what spirits are: just memories. I like that idea. And, when Mother is dead and gone, my memory of her will keep her alive, even when all that’s left are bones.

I’ll still hold my breath whenever I pass a graveyard, but here in the room, I know I’m safe. Lorraine’s memory has no hold on Lottie or me. Besides, Lottie is a clenched fist held up against the world, and if Lorraine’s ghost does appear, I’d like to see her try and haunt Lottie Diamond.

I sit on the edge of my cot and listen to the muted voices in the hall. I could go out and talk. I have news to share. Being hit by the Elephant and spilling not one tear would get me into almost any room I want. I’d show everyone the cuts on my hands, tell them how much it hurt and how hard it was to stop from crying.