The Evil Within by Nancy Holder Read Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t compete with the ultra-high-end designer clothes of the other girls, and I had renewed my commitment to rebellious non-conformity. During my free time, at least. I would never let Dr. Ehrlenbach catch me in jeans like these.
    It began to snow as I quietly climbed out the bathroom window. I clicked on my flashlight and took one last look at the figure in the turret room. It still hadn’t moved.
    Anxious, I headed for Searle Lake. My breath was a ghost climbing out of my chest. My stomach tightened as my boots crunched on the snow mixed with the mushy, grainy soil of the shore. I walked past the large boulders and the NO TRESPASSING sign, which the Lakewood boys used as a tie-up when they snuck over to our side in rowboats.
    Fresh bouquets of store-bought flowers marked the spot where I had found Kiyoko’s body. Roses, chrysanthemums, daisies. My mind flashed to the wreaths and bouquets at my mother’s funeral. Kiyoko’s parents had held a memorial for her in San Francisco, asking for donations to the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine in lieu of flowers. Kiyoko’s eating disorder was public knowledge.
    Memmy , I thought, my pet name for my mom. I wish you were here. I wish I could tell you what is going on. I’m haunted, Mem. I need to get free of Celia Reaves, or I’ll never be safe or normal again. I’ll do anything . . .
    But would I really? My stomach clenched and my throat tightened. Could I get free of her?
    I picked up my pace.
    There it was, as before: a ramshackle hodgepodge of gables and tarps. I climbed gingerly onto the porch and swept the darkness with my flashlight, hesitating before I crossed the threshold into the deserted room. Reggae music provided an ironic backdrop to my high anxiety as I scanned the moldy couch spewing rotten stuffing, the shapes covered with shredded drop cloths. On the walls, shattered glass frames slashed the sepia faces of unsmiling girls in constricted, high-necked blouses from a century ago. Not Celia, or Belle, but other girls, long dead.
    What am I doing?
    The music grew louder, and I heard girls laughing and then a guy half-yelling. Three things were forbidden at Marlwood: cheating, drugs and alcohol, and guys. I had come to understand that rich girls didn’t break rules. They didn’t even ignore them. The concept was so foreign to them that they didn’t perceive their existence.
    Into the belly of the beast , I thought, as I clomped down the stairs. The music provided a perky counterpoint to my clunky rhythm. Susi Maitland and Gretchen Cabot stood at the bottom, sharing a flashlight, waiting for me to come down so they could go up. They were totally glammed in new big-hairdos, and I swear Susi had on false eyelashes. Their jeans had probably cost in the hundreds if not thousands of dollars, and were topped with silky gem-toned camisoles beneath wool coats with wide elaborate belts. Susi had a pack of cigarettes in her hand and Gretchen was carrying two plastic glasses of red wine. I thought everyone knew smoking was repellant. I had never seen Susi with a cigarette before.
    “Hey, Lindsay,” Susi said, blinking up at me. She swayed, already a little tipsy. “You came back.”
    Had they assumed I wouldn’t?
    “Who’s here?” I asked.
    “Oh, you know, the usual,” Gretchen replied, and they scooted around me to go upstairs.
    The crowded basement flickered with candlelight—another Marlwood tragedy waiting to happen—and at first I couldn’t make out any details, just silhouettes. Shadows stretched on the walls and I hesitated to enter—I was the one who had never belonged, and who still didn’t.
    As my eyes adjusted to the light, the first person I saw was Mandy Winters. Of course. She was standing sideways, so that I saw her profile, and she was laughing. It was bizarre, knowing what I knew about her—that she had allowed a murdering, insane spirit to possess her—but I still felt a warm glow as I stood in her orbit. Mandy had more