Free Carry On by Rainbow Rowell Page B

to attack the picnic at the start of our fourth year, and the Humdrum never tries the same thing twice. (I guess he could send something other than flying monkeys.…)
    After the sun sets, the littluns all head back to their rooms, and the seventh and eighth years stay out on the Lawn. The three of us find a spot, and Penny spells her jacket into a green blanket for us to lie on. Which Agatha says is a waste of magic when there are perfectly good blankets just inside. “Your jacket is going to get grass stains,” she says.
    â€œIt’s already green,” Penelope dismisses her.
    It’s a warm night, and Penelope and Agatha are both good at astronomy. We lie on our backs, and they point out the stars. “I should get my crystal ball and tell your fortunes,” Penelope says, and Agatha and I both groan.
    â€œI’ll save you the trouble,” I say. “You’re going to see me bathed in blood, but you won’t be able to tell whose it is. And you’ll see Agatha looking beautiful and swathed in light.”
    Penelope pouts, but not for long. The night is too good for pouting. I find Agatha’s hand in the blanket, and when I squeeze, she squeezes back.
    This day, this night, it all feels so right. Magickally right. Like a portent. (I didn’t used to believe in portents—I’m not superstitious. But then we did a unit on them in Magickal Science, and Penny said not believing in portents was like not believing in beans on toast.)
    After an hour or so, someone crosses the Veil, right out onto the Lawn. It’s somebody’s dead sister; she’s come back to tell him that it wasn’t his fault—
    I put my blade away on my own this time, without Penny telling me to.
    â€œIt’s amazing,” she says. “Two Visitings in one day, and the Veil is just beginning to open.…”
    When the ghost leaves, everybody starts hugging each other. (I think the seventh years have been passing around dandelion wine and Bacardi Breezers. But the three of us aren’t class monitors, so it’s not our problem.) Somebody starts singing the school song again, and we join in. Agatha sings, even though she’s self-conscious about her voice.
    I’m happy.
    I’m really happy.
    I’m home.
    *   *   *
    I wake up a few hours later, and I think Baz must be back.
    I can’t see him—I can’t see anything—but there’s someone in the room with me.
    â€œPenny?”
    Maybe it’s the Mage again. Or the Humdrum! Or that thing I dreamt I saw by the window last night, which I’m only now remembering …
    I’ve never been attacked in my room before—this would be a first.
    I sit up and turn on the lights without trying. That happens sometimes, with small spells, when I’m stressed. It’s not supposed to. Penny thinks it might be like telepathy, skipping the words to get straight to the goal.
    I still don’t see anything, though I think I hear a rustling sound and a sort of moaning. The windows are both open. I get up and look outside, then close them. I check under the beds. I risk an “Olly olly oxen free!” —then a “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” that sends all my clothes flying out of the wardrobe. I’ll put them away tomorrow.
    I go back to bed, shivering. It’s cold. And I still don’t feel alone.

 
    15
    SIMON
    Baz isn’t in our room when I wake up.
    *   *   *
    I look for him in the dining hall at breakfast, but he’s not there either.
    His name is called during my first lesson—Greek with the Minotaur. (Our teacher’s name is Professor Minos; we call him the Minotaur because he’s half-man, half-bull.)
    He calls out Baz’s name four times. “Tyrannus Pitch? Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch?”
    Agatha and I look around the room, then at each other.
    Baz is supposed to be in Political Science with