Every Foul Spirit
“When a corpse is left out the elements wither it, have their way with it, turning it into something barely recognizable. A ghost is like that—an emotion bent out of shape, condemned to repeat itself until it sees the wrong that was done righted.”
Jesus. Maybe she’s one of us. “Did you know any of them, Bee? These teenagers?”
“Sure. I know everybody.”
Could be something. “Does—”
“Uh oh. Told you so.”
The adults were approaching. Principal Schunk, with his bowtie and his tweed walking hat, was out front.
“Miss Cotts,” the elder gentleman said sternly, “shouldn’t you be returning to your tasks? And please refrain from disturbing other patrons of the prairie in the future.”
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