The Year of Shadows by Claire Legrand Page A

rehearsal room door—da da da-da da . . . da da!—the Maestro had gone to bed.
    “Well?” he said, as I let him in. He had this big lumpy backpack on his shoulders. “What’s your decision?”
    I kept thinking of the Maestro and his fliers, no matter how hard I tried not to. Hot lumps in my throat made it hard to breathe. He thought he saw Mom. He thought he saw her in the shadows. That wasn’t possible. Unless he was crazy. Or unless . . .
    A horrible thought occurred to me, so horrible I couldn’t get the words out.
    “Olivia? What’s wrong? You’re staring at me.”
    I spun on my heel and ran out onto center stage, Henry hurrying behind me, whispering for me to slow down.
    “Ghosts,” I hissed, once we got out onstage. I swung my flashlight around like a searchlight. “Get out here. Now. ”
    “Olivia,” Henry said. “You don’t order ghosts around. What’s the matter with you? What’re you gonna say?”
    Before I could answer, Frederick, Tillie, Jax, and Mr. Worthington manifested right before our eyes. Henry staggered back.
    I was too angry for surprise. I plunked a finger in the middle of Frederick’s chest. Cold shot up my arm, turning my skin white as snow and my veins purple. I didn’t care.
    “You’re messing with the Maestro. You’re making him see things that aren’t there. Aren’t you?”
    Frederick’s expectant smile disappeared. “I beg your pardon!”
    “Don’t mess with him. I need him to stay sane. I need him to make money. Or else . . . or else . . .” I trailed off, shaking, with a fear so deep it was hard to stay standing. “I’ll do it, okay? I’ll help you move on. Just leave him alone. Leave us alone. And if you go anywhere near Nonnie, I swear I’ll make you sorry.”
    Henry pulled back on my arm, and Frederick held up his hands. “Olivia, please! Slow down. We haven’t ‘messed with’ your father, nor with your grandmother. Nor with you, for that matter. I don’t know what your father saw, but it wasn’t us.”
    I yanked my arm away from Henry, tears wobbling at my eyelids. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. “You promise?”

    Before I could answer, Frederick, Tillie, Jax, and Mr. Worthington manifested right before our eyes.

Frederick floated down to my level. Tillie, Jax, and Mr. Worthington hovered solemnly behind him. “We promise you, Olivia. Cross my heart and hope to . . . well, stay dead.”
    “Cross your human heart? The one you used to have?”
    Frederick drew an X over his chest, leaving dark ripples in the grayness. “Absolutely.”
    Henry was staring at the ghosts hard. “ Did Olivia’s dad see something? Do you know what he’s talking about?”
    The ghosts looked at each other uncomfortably.
    “It’s possible we know,” said Tillie.
    “We might know something,” said Jax.
    “But you’re not going to like it,” they said together.
    “What does that mean?”
    Frederick’s shoulders rippled darkly; his head drooped. “I suppose I should show you.”
    “Frederick, don’t!” Tillie said.
    “No, Frederick,” said Jax.
    “You’ll scare them away!”
    Mr. Worthington shook his head, staring at the ceiling.
    “They deserve to know,” Frederick said sharply. “Everyone, gather at the backstage door. Olivia, please switch off your flashlight. We’ll wait there.”
    Henry grabbed my hand in the dark. I didn’t mind one bit; Frederick’s expression scared me. “Wait for what?”
    “You’ll see.” Frederick shuddered; it felt like drizzling ice against my skin. “It won’t be pleasant, and it’s actually quite dangerous for us ghosts. But not with you close by.”
    I didn’t know what that meant, but I was too afraid to ask. The darkness had swallowed up my voice. We waited in the doorway for what felt like hours, Henry’s hand crushing mine. Then the red exit sign at the back of the Hall flickered.
    “There,” Frederick whispered, pointing at the ceiling.
    In the moonlight streaming through the