The Evil Within Read Online Free PDF Page A

to stop it, but I failed.
    Heather didn’t call. Neither did Riley.
    I wanted to hate Celia for possessing me. But I had pulled her into myself by accident, on my very first day at Marlwood; and now that she was here, she couldn’t leave, not until she was at peace. Not until we had returned to Marlwood, and put her to rest.
    On the last evening of break, I finished packing all my Christmas clothes, pretending to my family that I couldn’t wait to leave. But watching the clock the next morning, I felt like a condemned criminal, counting off the minutes and seconds until it was seven thirty, and time to go. I played with my crescent moon as if it were a magic amulet that could ward off evil. It was a reminder that good things could happen.
    “Here’s something for the road,” my big, tall dad said, slipping about six twenty-dollar bills into my sweaty palm as he kissed my cheek. I kissed him back. With a sharp pang, I remembered when I was little and I used to give him “butterfly” kisses on his cheeks with my eyelashes. I wanted to be his little girl again, let him fight the monsters for me.
    “We’re going to miss you so much,” CJ said, sweetly wearing her sweater, her blonde hair pulled up and held in place with the snowman clay-on-hair-clip Tom had made for her in art. Her delicate, gentle fingers brushed curlicues of hair off my forehead. I knew she was conflicted about the way I was dressed. I had on my usual tattered jeans combined with the new soft-as-sin black cashmere sweater she’d given me for Christmas. And my new Doc Martens.
    Troy was wearing his brown bomber jacket, a plain white T-shirt, jeans, and Cons. I still couldn’t figure out what it was that proclaimed that he was a rich kid. Was it his subtly perfect haircut? My dad had wanted one of those vacuum-haircutters he’d seen in an infomercial. My stepmom had refused to let him bring one in the house. Go, CJ.
    “Are you going to get married?” Sam asked Troy.
    “Not today,” Troy said easily.
    “You shouldn’t marry her. She farts in the car,” Tom added helpfully.
    “Boys,” CJ warned them while I silently rolled my eyes. It would take more than fart jokes to embarrass me.
    Troy just smiled as my dad passed him my cheap chocolate-brown-and-turquoise polka dotted suitcases and equally cheesy matching backpack, tagged for delivery to my dorm. My luggage was years out of date. My mom’s medical bills still haunted us, too.
    In the immaculate trunk of the T-bird, Troy’s single suitcase was leather the color of a good tan, no brand name anywhere, definitely not from Target like mine was. It featured a discrete brass plate with TAM engraved in bold capital letters. Troy’s last name was Minear. I didn’t know what the A stood for. Maybe the clue that revealed his wealth was his perfect, short fingernails or the simple ID bracelet he wore on his left wrist. It said TAM, too. Troy was heavily personalized.
    “Here’s a couple six-packs of sodas and some snacks,” CJ said, hefting me a soft picnic container. She kissed my cheek. “Let us know you got there okay.”
    “I will.” I kissed her back, closing my eyes and remembering my mom. I’d gotten used to this cognitive dissonance—missing my mom while at the same time being glad for the presence of CJ in my life. It was a minor version of my other seismic conflict—spending the day with Troy (yay!), going back to Marlwood (oh God, why? ).
    “Drive safe,” my dad said to Prince Charming. They shook hands. Troy was taller than my father.
    We climbed in. I had hoped Heather would show up at the last minute, but apparently she and I really were done. She’d probably texted everyone she knew that Lindsay Cavanaugh was still as insane as ever. Maybe after I left Marlwood for good, I could bypass the San Diego experience by living with my Aunt Doreen in Hick-Sticks, Georgia. That’s what we called it, anyway. She loved bingo night at the Catholic church. I could learn to love