Free Ephemeral (The Countenance) by Addison Moore

strong to the residue of our love, and it proved every bit of him a liar.         
     
     

 
     
     
     
    7
    To Die For
     

     
    The damp morning fog presses against the window, washing the backdrop of Ephemeral out of existence as I stare glassy-eyed from my room. The school itself is the only visible structure, the towers spear into the air like a castle in the sky. They point upward as if praising God, succumbing to his glory while holding all of its secrets from us like a poker hand.  
    It’s as though all of this, the mist, the fairytale setting of the forest, and the gothic relic of the school proper is trying to tell us something, affirm the fact there’s more going on than we can see or believe.
    “Everything looks like a dream,” I say, sitting on the fat ledge of the windowsill.
    “Get used to it.” Casper runs her fingers through her short hair, spiking it up before patting it back down into submission. “Fall hits hard around here, then, winter. Don’t get me started on the snow. It’s like being buried alive in a freezer for months.” She comes over and sighs into the window, traces a heart into the glass then erases it as if she were disappointed in all the world had to offer.
    “We didn’t get much snow in Cider Plains. I’d love to see more of it.” Not that I’ll stick around. Once I convince Wes and Fletch who they really are, I’m sure we’ll catch the first flight back home. I feel horrible looking forward to something like snow when I know Lacey and Mom are probably grieving my absence. “You ever miss your family?”
    “I hardly remember them.” She picks up the brush and sweeps it through her shorn locks. “Isn’t that terrible?”
    “You have Flynn, though.”
    “He’s not my real brother. He was assigned.” She grabs a gold barrette off the vanity and clips it by her temple.
    I cringe when she says “assigned.” It sounds completely insane.
    “Anytime something doesn’t sit right with you, get it on paper. I have a ton of notes—theories I’ve jotted down over the years. But make sure you hide them. You can’t trust anybody. I wouldn’t put it past them to riffle through our things when we’re not here.”
    Riffle through our stuff? Shit. She’s beyond psychotic. This is exactly what I was afraid of. I was way too eager to follow her down the psycho path, and now Wes thinks I’m in need of mental repair. Of course, he might be right, but I’ll never admit it.  
    I give a dull smile into her paranoia.
    “I sleep with earplugs.” She points up at the speakers overhead. “That’s how they brainwash us,” she whispers before bursting into a deranged laugh.
    Oh my, God—this is all a joke. I’ve spilled my guts and now the entire school is going to flog me with my insanity.
    Obviously I’ve hit my head. Obviously I’m Laken Anderson, not Laken Stewart. There is no Cider Plains, no other family other than Fletch and ditzy Jen.
    A sharp pang of grief rips through me as I try to dissolve Lacey out of existence.
    “Hey, it’s okay.” She comes over and wraps her arm over my shoulders, enwreathing me with the clean scent of her perfume. “Get yourself together and I’ll meet you at Ridley Hall. It’s to the right of the English building. They’re passing out schedules, and they’ll probably try to get you to sign up for fifty stupid things to keep you busy until graduation. I’ve got kitchen duty, so I gotta run.”
    “What’s with the kitchen duty?”
    She gives a hard sigh. “I let Kresley talk me into some seriously stupid shit and landed myself as the scullery maid to the tune of seventeen weeks. Miss a day, add two,” she sings sarcastically.
    “What was so scullery maid worthy?” I say it low like trying to lure a tiger into a steel jaw trap.
    “Let’s just say Kres and I were on a little male expedition at Melville and ran into Ms. Paxton.”
    “I thought Wes lived at Henderson.”
    “He does.” Casper sways her hip with a