The mayor quickly collected herself and kept eye contact with the agent in front of her.
This man was running the DUIO. The DeLoughrey Underground Information Organization, a department of the FBI that was responsible for keeping order in places with high supernatural occurrences. Thanks to it, forums about supernatural occurrences in Blairville disappeared.
But with this move, the family risked confrontations with their enemies on a campus full of mortals.
“In the long run, I’m doing this town a favor.”
The mayor was speechless. What he was doing was risky, and she knew where this interest in peace came from. From the same source as with the Vanderwood director.
The two men left the office without further comment, and the mayor sank back into her chair.
The lawyer was about to turn to leave, but the mayor stopped her.
“Camille,” she said. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Bastien.”
An indistinct expression spread across Camille’s face.
“Bastien is the most reasonable man I know,” she replied to the mayor.
This one bit her tongue, knowing something Camille did not.
“He has noble intentions, Ms. Blair.”
Noble intentions.
The lawyer gracefully walked out of the office, leaving the overwhelmed mayor behind.
She looked at the Blairville Daily headline screen. And all she saw in her mind’s eye were the mistakes they had all made back then. A disaster like that could not be allowed to happen again.
Chapter 22
Julie
I had intended to check my study schedule for tomorrow, but I had accidentally downloaded it into the folder with the patient reports from Blairville’s psychiatric facility. A folder I had wanted to delete for two years now, but I had not been able to do so, even though I had not been there in ten years.
Grace’s mother had taken me to a psychologist without warning when I was just eight. ASD was the diagnosis I wished had never been made, especially not by Amber Smith’s mother, to whom doctor-patient confidentiality were foreign words.
Since then, all the girls in the Circle treated me like I had a mental disorder that needed to be cured, either staring at me strangely or ignoring me like I was air.
Grace was the only real-life friend I had, even though it was complicated with her sometimes.
I often wished that Amara hadn’t taken me to a psychologist. Maybe my life would be different today. But maybe I was just telling myself that because deep inside me, a shattered fragment knew that my diagnosis wasn’t the cause of my problems.
“Hello?” Grace waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Julie?”
I looked up, confused.
“Someone tried to call you.”
My eyes widened, and I immediately unlocked my display. But to my relief, it was only my pill alarm clock.
How had I not heard that one?
“By the way. About last night. You have to stop giving such hints all the time,” my cousin admonished me anxiously.
I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“When it comes to the Copelands.”
I looked at her questioningly, feeling like an idiot stuck on the tube.
“Jesus, Julie. Just stick to the drug story and don’t answer Bayla’s questions.”
I was beginning to understand what she was getting at.
“How do you want me to do better? Tell them, like we tell all these clueless people in town, fake horror stories about the woods?” Horror stories or the drug story. Both of those things were absurd. How did they come up with something like that? “And after all, Bay is the one asking all the weird questions all the time.”
My voice didn’t sound like it should have, and I was beginning to fear that Grace wouldn’t take me seriously, but finally, she took off her black headphones and looked at me blankly.
Sighing, unfortunately, without answering me in a proper sentence, Grace put on her headphones to turn to her laptop covered with colorful women’s rights and new Vanderwood University stickers.
She had made herself comfortable on my bed for the past hour. Vivienna, Amber, and Kelly hadn’t sent her out, but judging by the loud music, being their roommate wasn’t particularly pleasant.
I leaned into the many pastel light blue pillows I had brought with me.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve needed pillows without end, where I could not only be safe from my neck pain but also just sink into them.
With a quick flick of my wrist, I closed the door, and the following breeze brushed through my thin platinum-blonde hair. The light energy noticeably made my round white crystal, framed by a silver setting, which I wore on the thin silver necklace, glow.
