I thought I had found her. She stared at me, cold air wrapping around me like a hug, then she disappeared. She couldn’t mean for me to find her physical body. There was no telling when she died. It would be buried deep in the ground by now.

That made my stomach turn. I leaned against my bed; the frame digging into my back. What happened to her? If I found where she was buried, would that be enough for her to move on? But selfishly, I didn’t want her to move on until she helped me.

I pulled my knees up and rolled the back of my head against my plush bedding. Mom had said they lie. What if she was lying just to get what she wanted? Then it wouldn’t even be worth it.

My arms still had goosebumps, and I rubbed them away. She was really creepy, too. Maybe it would be best if I kept trying on my own. If Morrigan got too strong, maybe she could do more than fling a penny across the room.

***

The next day after lunch, I sat in the library out in the open for once, holding up my Detective Penny book rather than leaving it on the desk. Maybe that girl who was reading The Westing Game would be interested in mine. We had one book in common, there could be more.

It was taking a while. I read a whole chapter, peeking over the top of the book every once in a while, but she still read hers. Eventually, I caught her eye over the book, and I smiled. Her eyebrow twitched, then she gave a quick smile before looking back at the page.

I sighed. She probably just thought I was weird. I put my book in my bag and left.

***

I lay on my back at the foot of my bed, holding an open Penny book over my head. I tried reading, but I couldn’t concentrate. The words became a blur, my thoughts talking louder. I couldn’t be getting tired of my books, they were… me. I was a reader, and if I didn’t like my books anymore, then who was I? Sliding a whole stack of books off my shelf, I read for the rest of the day. But I kept seeing my journal out of the corner of my eye. I really didn’t want to bring her back. It gave me chills just thinking about it. But we could help each other.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Mom knocked, but I didn’t answer. I wanted to pretend I was taking a nap or something. If I could avoid her, she couldn’t see my mood. I knew how well she could read me. But she’d know something was wrong if I was napping, too.

“Emily, you okay?” Her voice muffled through the door.

I tried to sound sleepy. “Yeah, just reading.”

Silence rang between us as my stomach rose in my throat.

Then Mom spoke again. “You want dinner?”

“Yeah, in a second.”

I pulled myself out of bed and tried to change my attitude, but my thoughts continued to take over. I would just have to hope Mom wouldn’t notice. Skipping downstairs, I forced a smile. Was that too much?

“Well, what are you so happy about?” Mom asked.

“Just been reading Penny books all day. It’s been nice to read the old ones again.” The lie hung in my throat.

“Good.” Mom smiled. “I love reading my old favorites.”

***

After dinner, I went back to my room. I didn’t feel like reading, so I reorganized my bookshelf. I smiled at how good it looked nicely organized, but it likely wouldn’t stay that way for long. Taking my disposable camera off my desk, I snapped a picture.

I tried to read afterward, but my mind kept moving to other things. I couldn’t risk rejection and give the bullies more fuel.

I slid my Penny book back on the shelf and grabbed my journal, opening it to the board. But once I reached the page, it flipped shut. My skin froze, and I heard the girl whisper behind my left ear, “Tomorrow. Find me.”