School Spirits - By Rachel Hawkins Page 0,55
see if there are any clues.”
“Good idea,” Mom replied with a little nod. “Have you finished your homework?”
“Yes.” We’d had lots of extra time to wait while they towed the car and the dented bus, and I’d tackled the rest of my Macbeth questions as well as the first few paragraphs of my essay. Dex and Romy, thankfully, had made up. When a new bus had finally arrived, they were joking and teasing each other again.
“Okay,” Mom said slowly. When I glanced up, she was still hovering in the doorway.
“I thought we might go out to dinner tonight.”
“Does this town have restaurants?” I asked. “I mean, other than the Dairee Kween?”
Mom gave a snort that sounded close to laughter. “I passed that place today. I don’t think I can trust anywhere that mangles the English language like that.”
“I think I saw a Chinese place next to Walmart.” I said. “I could go for some lo mein.”
“Chinese it is,” said Mom, pushing off of the jamb. “Meet me downstairs in ten.”
The drive to the restaurant was quiet, but in a nice way. We didn’t mention the case during dinner. Instead we talked about school, and I told her about Romy and PMS and one of the articles I’d read on the bus: “Twenty Uses for Your Hair Dryer You’ve Never Thought Of!” Mom didn’t talk much, but she listened, and I decided that was good enough.
Once we were done and Mom had paid the bill, I figured we’d head home. I was kind of anxious to see if Torin was back yet. But instead, Mom started the car and said, “Why don’t we drive around for a bit?”
“Um…sure.”
If the drive over to the restaurant had been pleasant, this one was just…weird. When I flipped on the radio, Mom immediately reached out and turned it off. And she kept leaning over the steering wheel and peering out into the darkness, cocking her head like she was listening for something.
But it wasn’t until she pulled in front of a house and shut off the ignition that I finally got what was going on.
“A job?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. The other day I was having breakfast at the Waffle Hut, and these two guys there seemed shady, so—”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, everyone at the Waffle Hut is shady. That’s why they go to the Waffle Hut. To…be shady. And eat waffles. Shadily.”
Mom sat back in her seat. “I just…I needed to do something.”
“Something other than your research?” I asked, and Mom’s sigh seemed to come up from the soles of her feet.
“Why won’t you tell me what you’re looking into?” I asked, and to my horror, my voice came out thin and high, like I was on the verge of tears. “If it’s about…about Finley, at least let me try to help. I know I messed up that night, but I wouldn’t—”
She turned to me, and once again I was struck by how much she looked like Finn. All high cheekbones and pouty lips and strong jaw. “What happened to Finley was not your fault, Isolde,” she said, using that commanding tone again. “I don’t think that, and I never want you to think it, either.”
I tugged at the drawstring of my hoodie. “I miss her a lot.”
A car drove past us, and it must have been a trick of the light, because I could’ve sworn Mom’s lower lip trembled a little. “I know you do.”
It wasn’t, “me, too,” but at least it was something.
Leaning back, I thumped my head against my seat. “We’re not going to find her, are we?”
Mom was quiet for so long that I wondered if she would even answer. And then she said, “I don’t know.”
Something about being in the dark in the car made all of it easier to say. “What are we going to do? If we don’t find her. We’re the last two Brannicks in the world. Do we just keep hunting monsters even though it’s crazy dangerous? Until there are no Brannicks left?”
A muscle worked in Mom’s jaw, but she didn’t answer. For a long time, the only sound was the ticking of the cooling engine. Then, sounding as tired as I felt, Mom said, “I don’t know, Isolde. All I know to do is…this.” She nodded toward the house, but I knew she didn’t mean this specific job. “My mother died in the field. So did my cousins and aunts and nearly every Brannick I have ever known. But I don’t know what to do