Seventeen

When I get to my bedroom, the others are already there. They all go quiet when I come in, an uncomfortable silence that reminds me vividly of the discussion I overheard at the hospital. Were they talking about me? Maybe Jordan told them what he saw in the library, the way I was holding the painting of Meredith. Or maybe they were talking about the thing they've all clearly been hiding from me.

Penny and Azar sit on my bed, which one of them must have made for me because the blanket is spread neatly over the mattress and pillow, unlike the mess I left this morning when I fled this room. Jordan sits at my desk, and Neil leans against the wall. Wren is cocooned in a fluffy throw blanket amid the clutter on their bed, clutching a mug of tea. All my suspicions soften at the sight of them, here and alive and hopefully well.

"Hey," I say, going to Wren's side, steadfastly ignoring Jordan's eyes. I push some books out of the way and climb onto the bed, putting my arm around them in a quick embrace. "How are you?"

"Fine," Wren says. "Still a little tired." They smile. There are dark circles under their eyes, and they are paler than they should be. I can just make out some stitches at their hairline.

"I'm really glad you're back," I say. "I missed you. It was lonely here without you."

"Me too, and I'm glad to get out of that hospital. So many horrible noises everywhere, and the whole place smelled like bleach."

"Sorry," I say. "That sounds rough. Were the doctors any good?"

Wren shrugs. "They were all right. A little clueless. But some of the nurses were really nice." Wren fidgets, uncomfortable. I can't tell if it's from being the center of our collective attention or from something else—like a hankering to find a piano.

"You're going to take it easy for a little while, aren't you?" I ask.

"Of course they are," Penny says, coming from across the room to sit on Wren's other side. "We're going to make sure of it."

Wren looks at me, a hint of concern in the little space between their dark eyebrows. "You look like you've been burning the candle at both ends yourself."

"Oh, come on, enough small talk," Neil says, pushing off from the wall. "Wren, don't go back to the practice rooms. You can play downstairs as much as you want. Just don't be an idiot and get yourself killed, all right?"

Azar laughs. "That was the closest thing to an apology I've ever heard Neil utter. You'd better enjoy it, Wren."

Wren grins.

Everyone stays a while longer, laughing and talking, glad to have Wren back with us. I stay mostly quiet, content to see Wren enjoying themself, even though I can't do the same, not with Meredith's ghost and the others' secrets dogging me, not with my torn-up notebook still in the trash can across the room. But after they all go and it's just Wren and me, Wren slumps down onto their pillows, clearly exhausted by the effort of socializing.

"What really happened?" I ask them. "What made you hit your head?"

"It's like the doctor told you. I hadn't eaten anything. I was dehydrated and going on hardly any sleep. I was run-down," Wren says, but there's a shadow across their expression that makes me think they're hiding something.

"But why did you do that?" I ask. "Why did you push yourself so hard?"

Wren stares at me. "You really don't know?"

"Know what?"

Wren shakes their head. They open their mouth like they want to say something, but then they close it again. "It's the Magni Viri way," they say, with a wry twist of their lips, either unable or unwilling to tell me the truth. I wonder if the others know the real reason, if it's what they were talking about before I came into the room and they all fell silent.

I think it's time to try to get some answers. Because maybe the secret they're all keeping from me has to do with Meredith. Maybe they know something that will help me. Penny, at least, will hear me out, I think desperately. I really didn't want to tell Penny about Meredith haunting me, but I have to tell someone. And Penny's the most likely to open up.

Wren can barely keep their eyes open now, so I leave them to their nap and go in search of Penny. I know she doesn't have class, so she can't be too far away. But she's not in her room, the library, or the conservatory. I'm about to text her when I glance out a window and see her sitting outside in the back garden, staring off into the trees.

I go to her. She must have earbuds in because she doesn't notice my approach. She's sitting on the strange circular bench that wraps around a tree. It's old and made of black iron, and the tree has grown too big for it, bulging out over the bench in places. Penny leans against the trunk, her long legs spread out in front of her. I can only see half her face, but the expression there is anxious, moody, like she's puzzling over a problem she can't solve.

I touch her shoulder, and it's the sort of thing that would startle most people, but Penny takes a long time to look up at me, and when she does, her expression doesn't change. It's like she's looking at me from within a deep well, not entirely sure whether or not I'm real. The sight makes my skin creep, but then I realize what the expression reminds me of—someone on heavy pain medication. Penny has the same look in her eyes, lost inside herself, like my mom did when she was taking opioids for her back. She must be having a bad pain day and just taken some meds.

I brush some yellow leaves off the bench and sit. I put my head on Penny's shoulder, taking her hand in mine. After a moment, she pulls out one of her earbuds, wipes it on her corduroy pants, and hands it to me. When I put it in, classical music pours into my ear. It sounds familiar, though I don't think it's one of the really famous composers. There's something mesmerizing about it, something that catches you up in its flow and carries you...

It sounds like Wren's music, I realize. Maybe this is one of Wren's influences, music that helped shape their style.

"Who is this?" I ask.

Penny pulls her phone from her jacket pocket and shows me the screen. I don't recognize the artist's name, but the composer's leaps out at me: Walter Weymouth George.

"The founder of Magni Viri?" I ask, surprised. It's hard to reconcile his faded image in the painting with this very real music, a song you can listen to on Spotify.

She nods.

"Look, can we talk?" I ask, taking out the earbud and cleaning it on my shirt. There are more important things to discuss than classical music. Penny pockets her earbud, along with its mate when I pass it to her. "Are you up for that on your pain meds?"

"I don't take that kind of medicine," she says, still in that distant, abstracted way from before. It's like she's coming out of a trance. "I'm on anti-inflammatory and immune-suppressing drugs. But yeah, what's up?"

"Oh, sorry," I say, "you just seem..." I trail off, afraid of offending her. "Never mind. It's just that—well... some weird stuff has been happening to me."

Penny stiffens beside me. "Oh?"

"I'm afraid I'll sound..." I taper off, biting my lip.

"What is it?" Penny asks, sitting up straighter, suddenly alert. She puts her hand on my knee. She looks like she's steeling herself.

I take a deep breath, then let it all out at once. I may as well put all my cards on the table. Maybe if I'm totally honest with her, she'll tell me what they've all been hiding too.

"I don't think I'm the one who's been writing Cicada," I say in a rush. "I think... I think it's Meredith. I always write at night when I should be sleeping, and I wake up and there are all these pages I barely remember writing. And I'm having these dreams, Penny. They feel so real. Like I'm in a coffin."

Penny doesn't say anything, her face grave. I press on. "And this morning when I got out of the shower, I wrote these words on the mirror. Only... I didn't know I was writing them. It was a message for me, from Meredith."

"What did it say?" Penny asks quietly, her voice strained.

"It said ‘You promised.'"

Penny nods. "You tried to stop writing the novel, didn't you?"

"Yes," I say, shocked. "How did you know?"

She looks away, back toward the trees. Several emotions pass over her features, and I can tell she's wrestling with herself. She opens her mouth and closes it. She takes a deep breath. Finally, she shakes her head and turns to me. "Look, why don't you just finish it? Just write the book and then see how you feel after?"

"What?" I say through an incredulous laugh, my insides turning to ice. She can't possibly be serious. This can't be her response. I shake my head.

"Don't you understand?" I press. "It's not my book to write. It's Meredith's."

Penny stares at me, her eyes pleading. She swallows hard, as if to push down words she can't say. When she finally speaks again, her voice is low and soft. "What is your biggest dream? The thing you want more than anything?"

"I want to be a writer," I say. "But—"

"And you got your wish. You're writing, and Magni Viri is footing the bill." Penny smiles, but it's a desperate, terrified thing.

I stand up fast, my face hot with anger and disbelief. "Magni Viri is paying my way, so I should just shut up and be grateful? Are you serious right now? Have you heard a word I said? I'm being haunted by Meredith!" I nearly scream the last words, all of my fear and frustration coming to a head.

Penny leans away from me, shocked, before she regroups. "No, you're not," she says evenly. "You're not, Tara. I promise. Meredith is way down in Savannah, Georgia, in one of those fancy family plots in Bonaventure Cemetery you always see in the movies. She's hundreds of miles away from here."

I shake my head hard, infuriated by the calm, soothing way Penny is speaking to me, as if I'm delusional. "Remember this morning, when you told me I smelled sweet and green like spring? Wasn't that scent familiar to you?"

Penny's brow scrunches. "What are you talking about?"

"That wasn't my perfume. It was Meredith's!" I say, desperate for her to believe me. "I smelled it on her when she died, and then later in her room. And now I smell like it too."

Penny blinks, confused or maybe just pretending to be. "Mer didn't even wear perfume. She had a fragrance allergy or something. Neil had to stop wearing cologne because it made her throat close up."

"Why are you lying to me? I saw the bottle of it in her desk," I say, my face flaming as I realize I've admitted to snooping through Meredith's things.

Penny raises an eyebrow as she realizes it too. "Her asshole of a mom sent her perfume for her birthday, perfume she knew Meredith couldn't wear. That's it."

I stare at Penny, uncomprehending. She's lying to me. She has to be. And it's not like when I overheard her talking with Jordan either, keeping secrets from me. This time she's looking me straight in the face and lying. She didn't even react to the outlandish idea that I'm being haunted, which means whatever secret the rest of Magni Viri is keeping, it's definitely about Meredith, and not even Penny is willing to tell me what it is.

"I thought I was one of you now," I spit, anger briefly eclipsing the hurt. "What happened to Magni Viri taking care of its own?"

Penny smiles, sad and resigned. "We are taking care of you. This is me taking care of you. Go write your book, Tara. That's all I can say."

I stare at her, realizing what a mistake I have made. Life has taught me again and again that I'm on my own, that no one is going to take care of me. Of course Penny isn't any different.

"I knew I shouldn't have trusted any of you," I say, shaking my head, backing away from her. "And I shouldn't have tried to talk to you about this."

"Yeah, maybe you shouldn't have," Penny says, wiping her eyes, which are suddenly red-rimmed and shiny, as if she's holding off tears. But instead of explaining or apologizing, she gets up and walks away from me without another word. She heads straight into the woods, not even bothering to find a trail. I stand gaping at her retreating back, as she is swallowed up by brush and leaves.

"Penny!" I yell, fury filling my chest. "Penny, come back here!"

She doesn't reappear, and I don't expect her to.

"Fuck," I say. "Fuck."

I sit down hard on the bench and lean forward, clutching my hair at the roots. I'm so tired. God, I'm so tired. And I don't understand what in the hell just happened between us. How she could act like that and then just walk away from me.

Before I can stop myself, I start to cry. Hot tears pour down my face, and my nose starts to run. Before long, it builds to a shuddering sob. I don't know what else to do, so I let myself cry, a cold breeze doing its best to dry my cheeks.

Once all the tears are gone, I wipe my face on my sleeve and stare blearily at the ferns in the flower bed, still vibrant green, even as the rest of the world has begun to fade.

I don't understand why everyone is lying to me, hiding things from me. I keep trying to think of an explanation, but it's like grasping at straws. Did they kill Meredith? Is that why she's here and haunting me, clinging desperately and obsessively to Magni Viri through me? But that doesn't explain everyone's behavior, like why Wren is so fixated on their music they could have died from it. Why Penny was just zoned out like she was high. Why Neil paints half the night and drinks for the rest of it.

Azar and Jordan are a little better, though Azar seems tired and almost despondent in her acceptance of Magni Viri's demands. Jordan is always up studying earlier than anyone, and whenever I ask where Azar is, the answer is invariably the robotics lab. Still, they're both even-keeled and never seem to go too far. At least not that I've seen yet. I don't think they could have been involved in Meredith's death.

With a shuddering sigh, I realize none of them could have. They're not killers. I'm sure of it. It's the only thing I'm sure of.

So maybe every member of Magni Viri is exactly what I thought they were when I first arrived: Exceptional. Obsessive. Brilliant. Doing work that matters.

And me... I am too, at least with Meredith inhabiting my skin. She's the only thing that makes me fit into Denfeld Hall. Without her, I don't make sense. Without her, I'm no one special, an ordinary girl among prodigies.

Maybe Penny's right. Maybe I should write my little book and keep my mouth shut. That's what I've told myself half a dozen times already. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Don't rock the boat. Don't go digging for things better left buried. Just keep going. Keep writing.

I'm not sure I have any other choice.

Because as horrifying as the thought of sharing my body with a ghost is, Meredith might be the only chance I have of achieving my dreams. Even if it's not my mark I'd be leaving on the world.

This morning I was prepared to fight for my life, but that's over now. I was worried about losing Penny and the others, but I can see I've already lost them. They were never mine to begin with. My life in Magni Viri was always a lie. I close my eyes and let the resolution grow inside me: I won't fight her. I won't try to run. I will let her write her novella. I will let her fulfill her unfulfilled business.

And once she's done, I can only hope she'll move on and let me live inside the existence she has built for me. That's my only way ahead.

At least for now, my life belongs to Meredith Brown.