Free Say Her Name by James Dawson Page B

everything was online. Why don’t we all know about this? My mom might have sent me to a different school … ’
    ‘Who’d believe it?’ Bobbie’s eyes were wide. ‘Bloody Mary is a ghost story. Hundreds of kids must do it every day … only the ones who do it
here
vanish in a puff of smoke. And do you know what the really funny thing is? We can’t say we weren’t warned! Sadie told us exactly what was going to happen.’
    ‘Bobbie. We’re going to disappear aren’t we? Something’s going to come for us.’
    Bobbie wanted to say,
Yes, it looks pretty likely
, but she couldn’t – she couldn’t say it to Naya and she couldn’t admit it aloud. It felt like quitting. ‘No. We still have three and a half days. We can … stop her somehow.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘I … I don’t know. I’ll think of something. I’m sure we’ve been given five days
for a reason
. In my dream … I … she didn’t
feel
evil. She mainly felt
sad
.’
    ‘Maybe if we spoke to Sadie’s sister or something … ’
    The final search on the first Google page caught Bobbie’s eye. ‘We might not have to. Look.’
    Haunted Piper’s Hall. The TRUTH about Abi and Taylor.
    Bobbie clicked on the link at once. It was a pretty basic online journal. In the pursuit of a single-minded obsession, no creativity or thought had been taken with the layout of the blog. Every post was about Bloody Mary. The most recent post, at the top of the page, was little more than stream of consciousness.
    The more I say the less people believeme I don’t know why I bother or howmany timesi can say it … what they don’t undersatdn is that she is in my head. She is watching me too.
    The blog’s author was one Bridget Horne, according to the banner at the top of the page. Even the most recent post was almost ten years old. Bobbie scrolled down. The older the posts got, the more cohesive and sane they seemed. Naya stopped her. ‘Look at that one.’
    I told the police everything I knew. I told them about the dare. I told them about BM. I’m sure you can guess what their reaction was. I don’t know what else I can do except warn people. Never, ever say her name.
    ‘A bit late for that, isn’t it?’ Bobbie tugged her hair off her face. ‘Wait! If this Bridget was a Piper’s Hall girl … ’ Bobbie switched tabs back to the Piper’s Hall alumni pages. Sure enough there was a Bridget Horne on the list. One click and it brought up her contact details. ‘Ta-da!’
    ‘You think the contacts are kept up to date?’
    ‘They should be – they send out a newsletter and invites to the yearly luncheon and stuff. You know the motto … ’
    ‘
A lasting, lifelong sisterhood
.’ Naya did a pretty good impression of Dr Price.
    ‘It’s worth a go.’
    They went to lunch as normal, aware they’d missed the entire morning session. Bobbie couldn’t bring herself to swallow even the smallest amount of food. The one mouthful of soggy pasta bolognese she attempted turned to cardboard on her tongue, requiring a gulp of water to force it down. She was like a dog with a rag. Her foot tapped impatiently under the long dining bench, waiting for the bell for the afternoon session to sound so she could continue with her mission.
    This afternoon she had a proper free period, but Naya once more had to cut class. It was getting a little risky.
    There were so many rules at Piper’s Hall, and she had obeyed them without question for so long that Bobbie often forgot how ludicrous they were. Right now, the fact they were only allowed to use mobile phones from 7 to 10 p.m., and only then in their dorms, seemed especially insane. But this was the institution that had special paths and corridors for Uppers and a blanket ban on black socks. Another rule was that girls weren’t allowed into the dorms between lessons or during study sessions, the (accurate) thinking being that girls would use their frees to sleep.
    As the bell rang out and everyone else made their way to period four,