Shadow School: Dehaunting Read online

  Dedication

  For the teachers and students

  of Ridgewood Avenue School

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1Ghost Race

  Chapter 2Halloween in July

  Chapter 3Shadows in the Attic

  Chapter 4Ezra

  Chapter 5Mr. Derleth’s Discovery

  Chapter 6The Dehaunter

  Chapter 7The Missing Ghost

  Chapter 8The House in the Attic

  Chapter 9Vivi’s Party

  Chapter 10Window Room

  Chapter 11Test Run

  Chapter 12Mount Washington

  Chapter 13Blame

  Chapter 14Experiment

  Chapter 15Proof

  Chapter 16Faculty Meeting

  Chapter 17Reunion

  Chapter 18Ms. Dunsworth’s Story

  Chapter 19The Two Passageways

  Chapter 20Trust

  Chapter 21The Plan

  Chapter 22Trapped!

  Chapter 23Face-to-Face

  Chapter 24Mirrors

  Chapter 25The Gift

  About the Author

  Books by J. A. White

  Back Ads

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  1

  Ghost Race

  A man stood in the corner of Ms. Dalton’s social studies classroom. He looked slightly confused, like a visiting parent who had gotten lost. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was alive.

  Cordelia Liu knew better.

  She stepped closer, examining every inch of the ghost. Her gaze was steady, her breathing unhurried. Any other twelve-year-old would have run screaming, but Cordelia knew much of the lingering dead and found nothing here to frighten her. She calmly noted the tags from a dozen ski slopes dangling from the man’s winter coat, the chapped skin of his windburned cheeks, his woolen hat. After learning what she could from the man’s appearance, Cordelia slid into a chair in order to observe his actions. The ghost paid her no heed, focusing instead on a point far in the distance, perhaps seeing a world invisible to living eyes. After a few moments, he squinted and raised one gloved hand to his forehead, as though fighting the glare of the sun. Since the curtained windows permitted only a trickle of light into the room, Cordelia knew that the ghost wasn’t actually having trouble seeing. He was trying to tell her something.

  “Ski goggles,” Cordelia said.

  She slung her backpack off her shoulders and began rifling through its contents. The only way to free a ghost trapped within the walls of Shadow School was by delivering its Brightkey, which was an object that had been of special significance to the deceased. Since ghosts couldn’t talk, Cordelia had to rely on the clues provided by their appearance and actions. Often these clues were difficult to decipher, but sometimes, as with the man before her, the answer was obvious.

  “Goggles, goggles,” she muttered, digging past the other potential Brightkeys she had grabbed from their new storage room: colorful silk scarves, a battered copy of David Copperfield, three double-A batteries. “I know they’re here somewhere. . . .”

  She paused to flick the sweat from her brow. Usually the interior of Shadow School was as cool as a crypt, but the temperature had been hovering in the low nineties all week—a virtual heat wave for New Hampshire—and Cordelia’s tank top was soaked with sweat. The ghost, of course, didn’t seem to notice the heat at all.

  “Yes!” Cordelia exclaimed, spotting the ski goggles at the bottom of her bag. She yanked them out and checked the time on her phone: 11:58. Two minutes to go, she thought. The ghost stared at the goggles dangling from her hand, confused, then bent his knees and swiveled his hips from side to side.

  “You like to ski,” Cordelia said. “I’m on it. Promise. I’d give you these goggles right now, but I’m having this race with my friends to see who can rescue the most ghosts in an hour, and we’re not supposed to start until noon on the dot. Kinda silly, I know, but it was the only way to get my friend Benji to come help. He’s been sitting in his house playing video games since the beginning of summer.”

  Her phone dinged. “Here’s Lazybones now,” Cor-delia said. Benji Núñez had sent her a text:

  You ready to go down, Liu?

  Please, Cordelia texted back. Unlike u I have a plan.

  I don’t need a plan. I have SKILLZ.

  Maybe at soccer but I’m the GHOST MASTER.

  We’ll see about that. I’m sending 8 spooks home. At least.

  In an hour???? Nope

  Watch me

  U won’t top 5

  Still be more than you!

  A tiny photo of a platypus wearing a lab coat appeared as Agnes Matheson, the third member of their group, joined the chat.

  It’s adorable the way you two are fighting over second place. You both know I’m going to win, right?

  Check out Ag with the trash talk! replied Benji. We’ve taught her well.

  So proud, added Cordelia.

  I’m just happy that I can finally see them, replied Agnes, which prompted a flurry of smiley-face emojis from both her friends. The students and teachers of Shadow School were oblivious to the spirits that roamed its halls; to the best of Cordelia’s knowledge, only she, Benji, and Dr. Roqueni, the school’s principal, had the natural ability to see them. This had initially created some tension with Agnes, who’d felt like an outsider since the spirits remained invisible to her. Fortunately, she had discovered a special pair of goggles that allowed her to see them, and now the three friends were on equal footing. Cordelia suspected that helping the ghosts would be much easier from now on—and a lot more fun.

  The clock on her phone changed to 12:00.

  GAME TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Benji texted.

  Cordelia didn’t reply. Instead, she slid the ski goggles across the floor, expecting the ghost to eagerly snatch them up.

  He ignored them.

  “Come on, Casper,” Cordelia muttered, zipping up her backpack. “I haven’t got all day.”

  She couldn’t leave without visual confirmation that the ghost had been freed—otherwise it wouldn’t count toward her score. The clock was ticking, however, and she wanted to make sure she snagged some of the easier ghosts before Benji or Agnes got to them first.

  Her phone dinged.

  One down! Benji texted. The woman staring at that creepy glass carousel. Ticket to an amusement park. This text was followed almost immediately by one from Agnes: Wet guy! Umbrella!

  “You’re killing me here!” Cordelia told the skier. Then, realizing what she had said, added, “Sorry.”

  At last, the ghost’s eyes settled on the goggles. Cor-delia felt her shoulders tense as he leaned forward to pick them up. If they weren’t his Brightkey, his hand would pass right through them.

  The moment of truth, she thought, biting her lower lip.

  The ghost lifted the goggles with ease.

  “Boom!” Cordelia exclaimed.

  Above the skier, a black triangle appeared. As the entrance to the portal slid open, swirling snowflakes descended from the man’s Bright, vanishing the moment they touched the floor. From the world beyond the triangle, Cordelia heard the swish of skiers speeding down a slope, the grinding gears of a lift, laughter. The ghost smiled with delight and rose toward the portal. He pulled the goggles on—they were a little loose, but Cordelia had learned that such details usually didn’t matter—and raised his hands into the air, eager for the ski poles that would no doubt be awaiting him on the other side. Cordelia forgot about the hurry she was in and watched in fascination. The sight of a ghost being freed from Shadow School and transported to its own personal paradise never failed t
o fill her with awe.

  Her phone dinged again. Benji.

  Jogger. Shoelaces. THAT’S TWO!

  Cordelia grunted. The jogger, a new arrival who spent her days stretching outside Mr. Terpin’s math class, had been her next stop. Cordelia had been planning to try a pair of earbuds first, but she had also brought shoelaces just in case. A mystifying number of ghosts wanted to spend their afterlife jogging, and it was inevitably one or the other.

  Skier, Cordelia texted, already moving. Goggles. Just getting warmed up.

  She broke into a run, navigating the labyrinthine halls of Shadow School with practiced ease. Cordelia would be okay if Agnes beat her—well, sort of okay—but not if Benji did. I’ll never hear the end of it, she thought, sprinting past boxes of classroom supplies waiting to be unpacked and silent, summer-clean classrooms: chairs stacked, chalkboards scrubbed, sharpeners emptied. The school, for all intents and purposes, was in a state of hibernation until the students returned in six weeks.

  Asleep, Cordelia thought, but not empty. Shadow School is never empty.

  After her slow start with the skier, Cordelia found her rhythm and freed three more ghosts: a girl with a cool punk vibe chilling in room 222 (spiked leather bracelet); a businessman who looked inconvenienced by his demise, as though missing out on a few big deals were the worst of his problems (yesterday’s Wall Street Journal); and a gamer dude wearing a Pac-Man T-shirt whose Bright exploded with the sounds of an eternal arcade (handful of quarters). Unfortunately, not every Brightkey was as easy to identify. A boy wearing a baseball cap had no interest in mitt or ball. In the teachers’ room, a stern-looking old man wearing gardening gloves turned his nose at the trowel Cordelia laid at his feet.

  Still, with ten minutes remaining until the end of the race, Cordelia could practically taste victory. She had freed two more ghosts than Agnes, who insisted on immediately cataloging each emancipated spirit in her database before she forgot the “relevant details,” and remained only a single ghost behind Benji.

  I can do this, Cordelia thought.

  She paused to consider her next step. There were a couple of spirits nearby—a redheaded boy holding a wicker basket and a woman wearing a black bridal veil—but Cordelia wasn’t very confident about the Brightkeys she had brought for them. What if she had guessed wrong? Trying to help them might be a total waste of time. On the other hand, she was fairly certain about the Brightkeys that would free the two ghosts haunting the attic—but she’d have to cross the entire school to get there, wasting precious minutes.

  Take a chance? she wondered. Or go for the sure thing?

  Cordelia headed toward the attic.

  2

  Halloween in July

  Cordelia burst into the third-floor storage closet and pulled a hidden lever. A panel in the wainscoting clicked open, providing entrance to a dark, narrow passage that inclined toward the upper reaches of the school. Instead of rusting pipes and moldy insulation, as one might find in the innards of normal buildings, the bays framed elaborate wooden designs that resembled spiderwebs. Above Cordelia’s head, copper wire linked a series of hollow black pyramids that stood like power stanchions. These pyramids could also be found in a similar passageway that started in the boiler room and coiled around the chimney like a snake.

  Their purpose remained one of the many mysteries of Shadow School.

  But not for long, Cordelia thought. Now that we’ve found Elijah Shadow’s office, it’s only a matter of time before we unlock all of his secrets.

  With the help of her trusty flashlight, Cordelia navigated the narrow passageway to a trapdoor that led into the attic. Beneath the slanted ceiling, rows of architectural models sat on wooden pedestals like an exhibit of dollhouses. The models ranged from lavish mansions to humble cabins. Each of them was the tiny twin of a house that had once existed in the real world.

  Not a normal house. A haunted house.

  Elijah Shadow, for whom Cordelia’s school was named, had been a brilliant architect and an expert on ghosts. Unlike other authorities on the paranormal, however, he didn’t believe that ghosts remained among the living because they were angry or restless. Instead, Elijah had theorized that certain houses were more hauntable than others due to specific architectural characteristics. He used this idea—which he called archimancy—to build the ultimate haunted house. Elijah lived there for the rest of his life, studying its spectral inhabitants, and many years after his death, the house became Shadow School.

  As Cordelia could attest from firsthand experience, it was just as haunted now as it had been when Elijah had called it home.

  Cordelia climbed the ladder and closed the trapdoor behind her. She was relieved to see that Benji hadn’t beaten her to the two ghosts haunting the attic: a little girl wearing a witch mask and carrying a plastic pumpkin, and an old man sitting on a chest, tapping his foot soundlessly against the floor.

  She checked her phone.

  Five minutes left, she thought. More than enough time to free both of them.

  Cordelia decided to start with the trick-or-treater. After a solid minute of digging through her stuffed backpack, she finally managed to excavate a handful of soft miniature chocolates.

  “Hey there,” she said, kneeling so that she was eye level with the girl. She gently placed the chocolates in front of her. “These are for you. They’re a little melty. Sorry about that.”

  The girl didn’t seem to mind. She leaned forward, cobalt blue eyes widening behind the holes of her mask, and reached toward the chocolates. The neon light from the glow stick wrapped around her wrist grew in intensity.

  Just as the ghost was about to touch the candy, Benji popped his head through the trapdoor. “Wait!” he exclaimed, taking stock of the situation as he scrambled into the attic. He hadn’t gotten a haircut all summer, and his long, wavy hair flopped over his eyes. “You don’t want those pathetic little things! I have the real deal!”

  Benji produced a full-sized Hershey bar from a side pocket of his schoolbag and placed it on the floor. The trick-or-treater peeked over her shoulder and considered this new offering.

  “Seriously?” Cordelia asked. “You’re going to try to steal my ghost?”

  “Don’t blame me,” Benji replied with an innocent shrug. “It was your idea to turn this into a competition.”

  “That was the only way I could get you to come! Ever since summer started, it’s like you’ve totally forgotten about the ghosts.”

  Benji nodded. “It’s called a vacation, Cord. You should give it a try.”

  The trick-or-treater took a few steps in Benji’s direction, already reaching for the Hershey bar. “Good choice!” Benji said with a triumphant grin. Usually Cordelia liked his smile, but this one only served to annoy her further. How can he act like he’s better at rescuing ghosts than me when I had to make up this stupid game to get him here in the first place? She was angry, no doubt about that, but also hurt that she’d had to work so hard to convince him. Even if Benji didn’t care about the ghosts, hadn’t he wanted to see her?

  Cordelia pulled out a handful of chocolates, determined not to let him win. “One measly chocolate bar?” she asked the ghost. “Is that all he’s got? I have four different flavors over here!”

  The little girl turned to face Cordelia again and cocked her head to one side.

  “Are those itsy-bitsy chocolates melted?” Benji asked. Cordelia was gratified to see that the grin had vanished from his face. “I kept mine in a freezer all night. Right now it’s perfect.”

  “I have more!” Cordelia exclaimed, digging out new pieces of candy from the bottom of her bag. “Mr. Goodbar! Tootsie Roll!”

  “Nobody likes Tootsie Rolls,” Benji said. “Not even ghosts.” He unwrapped a corner of the Hershey bar. “Here, I’ll get this started for you.”

  The trick-or-treater turned from Benji to Cordelia, then back to Benji again. The plastic pumpkin shook in her trembling hand. She’s getting frustrated, Cordelia thought. It wasn’t the fi
rst time she had seen something like this happen. Sometimes ghosts got upset when she offered them too many incorrect Brightkeys.

  That had always been an accident, though, Cordelia thought as the ghost spun back and forth indecisively. This is completely different. We’re teasing this poor girl.

  “We have to stop,” Cordelia said, her cheeks warm with shame. “This is mean.”

  Benji, looking guilty, nodded in agreement. “We’re sorry,” he told the ghost. “Take any chocolate you want.”

  “Or take them all,” Cordelia added. “The important thing is that you go into your—”

  The neon bracelet wrapped around the ghost’s wrist exploded in a blinding flash of green. Cordelia shielded her eyes and turned away. When she looked back again, the trick-or-treater was almost upon her: floating, arms outstretched, the tips of her black boots barely touching the floor. Spirits couldn’t make physical contact with anything other than their Brightkeys and normally passed through the living with no ill effect. That changed when they were upset. They still couldn’t touch the living, but the passage of their fingers through skin and bone left behind a cold, numbing sensation. Cordelia had been “stung” in this way a handful of times. The feeling passed in a few hours, but that didn’t mean the ghosts weren’t dangerous. Until this point, she had only been stung on her arms and legs. She didn’t want to think about what might happen if a ghost’s fingers ever passed through her heart.

  Worried about just that possibility, Cordelia covered her chest as she leaped away from the trick-or-treater. She wasn’t quite fast enough. The dead girl’s fingers passed through her wrist, leaving behind a cold patch of skin. It was like being bitten by an ice spider. Cordelia ignored the pain and continued to stumble backward, windmilling her arms in order to maintain some semblance of balance. If she could only reach the end of the girl’s ghost zone—the invisible barrier that tethered each spirit to a specific area of the school—Cordelia knew she would be safe.

  “Behind you!” Benji exclaimed.

  Cordelia grunted, more in surprise than pain, as her backside collided with something solid. At first she thought it was the wall of the attic. Then she heard a loud crash and realized that she had knocked one of Elijah Shadow’s architectural models off its pedestal.