Courtney's messed up and needs help."
He places a finger beneath my chin. "Under no circumstances are you ghost huntresses to attempt an exorcism on your own. Don't fool with that!"
Defending my group, I say, "We don't think it's something demonic; we think it's this Union soldier we've encountered over and over again who just generally seems pissed of fat everything." Ooops. "Sorry about that, Father."
"That's okay. 'Piss' is in the Bible." He pauses a moment. "Kendall, you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you've been taking advice very well. If you need me to intervene and talk to Courtney, I'll do it. But she has to know what's going on first. It has to be her decision."
"I know. That's the tricky part."
"Well, you'll think of something," he says with a devilish smile.
"Loreen said she'd help too."
Father Mass chuckles as he stands up. "It doesn't hurt to have all of your bases covered."
"Thanks, Father. I'll keep you posted."
As I head out of the church, he calls to me. "Kendall. If Courtney truly let a spirit inside her or is allowing it to manipulate her, only she can dispel it."
A moan involuntarily escapes me. "That's what I was afraid of."
The next day at school, my BlackBerry bbbbrrrrrringggs, signaling a text message. From Celia.
>More Courtney oddities.
>Dish
Two seconds later—
>Chk e-mail
Sure enough, there's detailed information from Celia.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Langdon Case
Overheard Mr. Preston, the band director, talking to the school nurse, known forward as Witness 1 and Witness 2. Seems C. Langdon was in the band room this morning sitting on a table, playing a brass instrument, thought to be a cornet perhaps. Witness 1 says C. Langdon doesn't actually play a trumpet or cornet that he's aware of. Witness 1 says C. Langdon was playing a "soulful rendition of 'Amazing Grace' and was crying as she was playing." Witness 2 reports that C. Langdon was brought to the office where she complained of having a stomachache. Tums were dispensed and C. Langdon returned to class.
Celia
She is such a dork. But I appreciate the information all the same.
I observe Courtney across the cafeteria. The girl has two trays in front of her and she is shoveling in food as if she hasn't seen a decent meal in months. (Which, considering her daily gastrointestinal pyrotechnics, is probably the case.) This is so not like her well-documented near-bulimic self. My God, there's so much food: Rice and beans. French fries. A cheeseburger with the works. Chocolate cake. Mac 'n' cheese. Carbs, carbs, carbs. There is no way in holy hell that I'm going anywhere near the girls' bathroom after lunch for what's sure to be a puke-fest for the ages.
Later on, in physiology, I'm busy working on our piglet while Courtney stares down at it as if she's hypnotized. And she very well may be.
"Courtney?" I prompt softly. "You okay?"
She hunches her shoulders and then begins scratching under her left armpit. Ewww!
"Damn lice," she mutters in a dark voice. "I've done everything I can to get rid of them"
My mouth gapes as I scrutinize her actions. Others around us turn to look.
I lower my voice. "Courtney, are you telling me you have lice?"
She starts pawing through her long blond hair. "With all of this, the bugs are liable to take root for years. Colonel told all of us to wash good with the lye."
Senses on overload, I'm picking up images of the Union soldier who entered her body at the Halloween party. He's in an encampment, sitting around a fire with other men. He's preoccupied and distracted. He's worried about getting dysentery. The image shifts and disappears as quickly as it came.
Courtney interrupts by saying, "So many of my friends have died from dysentery."
"Really? Like who?"
Picking at the pig with a scalpel, she says, "Mills, Doyle, Clark, and Dolan. Hell, Dolan was just a baby—only nineteen. Didn't deserve to die like that. Had a girl back home. He wrote to her all the time and carried her picture with him. No one ever wrote to me."
This isn't Courtney at all. Sure, physically it's her, but she's not alone in her body. The soldier from the party is with her now! He was the one making her act all weird at the football game. And here he is, right beside me.
Boldly, I take her hand and squeeze hard.
"Courtney. Are you in there?"
The soldier's ominous laugh echoes not only in my head but throughout the science lab. Pain like a steak knife slicing through a piece of