Under a Spell by Hannah Jayne Page B

A bristling howl—primitive, inhuman—and deafening. I clapped my hands over my ears, trying to press the brain-numbing sound out, but it only got louder. I hunched down into myself as each stall door barreled open on its own accord, the metal slabs clanking against each other. The toilets were next—one, two, three—exploding pistols of water straight up toward the ceiling. A chilling blue light swirled with the water and I pushed myself up, steadying against a sink as water swirled around my ankles.
    I gaped. The mirror was smeared with angry slashes of red, the words G ET O UT scrawled across the mirror, hacking through my reflection. I was screaming and crying, tears and snot rolling over my chin, throwing my weight against the bathroom door when a heavy force pushed against me. My legs were matchsticks and I crumpled back to the horrible pebbled tile and Will looked down at me.
    “Soph?”
    In an instant the bathroom was bright and dry. The mirrors reflected the unscathed Pepto-pink stall doors and the only sound was the slight hum of the overhead lights and my own thrumming heart.
    I could see that Will was geared to say something smart, but the second he saw me, he crouched down at my feet and pulled me to him, one hand on my shoulder, the other cradling my cheek. He thumbed a tear from the end of my nose. “What happened?”
    I looked over both shoulders, expecting singing birds or a giant neon sign blaring CRAZY PANTS with an arrow pointing to me.
    “There was, and then—” I sniffled. “Something happened in here, Will!”
    Will stepped around me, poking his head in each stall, doing a quick check. He turned to me and shrugged, his expression surprisingly sympathetic.
    “I—I don’t know what to say,” Will said.
    I pushed myself up and used the heel of my hand to wipe away the tears, then scanned the room myself from the safety of the doorway.
    “Lights were blinking, and then they went out and there was—” I paused while Will studied me. I couldn’t tell if he was listening hard or considering whether or not my family history of nuttiness and pure evil had seeped into my brain. “There!” I pointed to the ceiling, cocking my head. “There, you hear that, right?”
    The ominous squeak-squeak-squeak sounded again. I grabbed Will by both lapels. “Tell me you hear that!”
    Will slid his arms around my waist and carefully led me into the hall. His eyes were intense. “Yes, I heard that, too.”
    Part of me felt like collapsing in relief in his arms. The other part of me wanted to climb the length of his body and bury myself in his neck while we ran from imminent danger.
    “What is it?” I whispered.
    The triple squeak stopped, but my heart continued to hammer.
    “Wait,” Will hissed. “Listen.”
    Something heavy hit something hard. I could hear goo, something—blood?—sloshing and I started to heave. “That’s a body. That’s a body hitting the ground if I ever heard it.”
    Will took his hands off me and turned carefully. “Go back into your classroom and lock the door. Don’t come out until I tell you to.”
    I clung to his back, wrapping my arms around him and burying my forehead in the cleft between his shoulder blades. “No. No, no, no, no, no. I can’t lose you, too. I won’t sit by and watch you die.”
    He looked over his shoulder. “Thanks for your vote of confidence.”
    “There it is again!” I gripped fistfuls of Will’s shirt and moved with him, my eyes clenched shut.
    “This would go a lot more smoothly if you would let go of me.”
    “I can’t.” My muscles had seized up, my full body molded into the shape of ardent terror. “If I survive, I’m going to be in this position forever.”
    “Lucky me. Would you just—” He wedged his hand between my front and his back and I was forced to move a quarter inch. “I thought you were supposed to be some great crime-fighting asset. Weren’t you learning to be tough or something?”
    That’s right!