Henry quickly put the money into his chinos pocket. "No kissing, disrobing, or touching anything besides the telescope," he ordered. "I just assembled it."
I rolled my eyes.
"We'll be standing outside the door," Billy Boy warned.
I tiptoed inside, Alexander following closely behind me.
The folding tables were still lined with beakers and petri dishes. Henry's telescope was standing next to the front window. The black curtain, separating the treehouse into two rooms, was closed. The first time I'd pulled the curtain back, I'd found Jagger's stickered coffin and Luna's pink one. Those had been removed when Alexander and I inspected it a few days after the Graveyard Gala. This time, I wasn't sure what I would find.
I took a deep breath and yanked back the curtain.
I found an empty room.
What was he searching for?
There must be something lurking inside the treehouse that we didn't discover when we'd come to see that Jagger and Luna had gone.
"I guess Valentine's not staying here," I said.
"Maybe he plans to," Alexander suspected.
In the corner, a small closet door was slightly ajar. I reached inside and found a cardboard box hidden in the shadows. Perhaps it was the candelabra, pewter goblet, or Luna's gothic makeup. Or more likely jars of molds and spores to be examined under Henry's microscope. I peered inside and noticed rolled-up parchment paper.
I unwound the rubber band and quickly unrolled them. It was a stack of graveyard etchings, like the ones Jagger collected from graveyards he'd been to and used as grim artwork to decorate the treehouse, the abandoned mill, and his apartment at the Coffin Club.
"Jagger must have left these behind," I concluded.
"Time's up!" I heard my brother call.
I didn't even have time to read the etchings. I rolled them back up, rewound the rubber band, and stuck the papers underneath my shirt.
I pulled back the curtain and found Henry and Billy Boy glaring at us like Alexander and I were in trouble.
"What's that?" Henry asked in an accusatory tone.
"What's what?" I asked, faking shock.
"Stuck under your shirt," Henry accused.
Reluctantly, I pulled the rolls out. "You mean this? Just a scrap of paper."
"Those are my maps of constellations!" He extended his hand. I had no choice but to give him back his papers, even though they weren't maps. Henry pulled back the curtain and placed the rolled-up etchings in a small closet and locked the door.
At that moment, we all heard a group of dogs barking off in the distance.
Suddenly a chill was in the air. Alexander seemed distracted.
He stepped out onto the treehouse deck.
I pointed the telescope toward the front window and peered through. The image of Henry's street was blurry, but I could just make out a white-haired boy staring straight at me.
I gasped and quickly pulled the image into focus. The boy, a miniature version of Jagger in a white T-shirt and oversized black shorts, was speeding away down the street on a coffin-shaped skateboard.
6 Gothic's Orders
“Stay away from Valentine," I commanded to Billy Boy when we walked through our front door. "He's trouble."
Billy Boy rolled his eyes. "Just because he didn't show? Something must have come up," he surmised. "Besides, I'm sure he's just lonely. I've never seen him at school, so he probably needs a friend," he said, stopping at the foot of the stairs.
"It doesn't matter; you have a friend already."
"You're not my boss."
"Running around with him can lead to all sorts of mess."
"How do you know? You don't even know him."
"I can just tell."
"Why, because he has tattoos and wears black? You're judging Valentine, just like everyone judges you. Just because he has black fingernails doesn't mean he's a monster—that's how you've defended yourself for years. And now look at you, behaving just like the town reacts to you."
Billy Boy would've had a point if Valentine wasn't a vampire.
Even so, maybe my brother was right. Maybe Valentine was more like Alexander than Jagger. Maybe I was making assumptions that weren't fair.
"The day you start listening to others is the day I start listening to you," he said, and stormed up the stairs to his room.
"What's going on?" my mom asked as I entered the kitchen to find her wiping off the countertop. "I heard you two shouting."
"Nothing," I replied, opening the refrigerator.
"One minute you're insisting we include your brother at dinner, the next you're yelling at each other."
"I thought that was normal," I said, grabbing a soda.
"I guess it is…," she admitted.
I closed the refrigerator door. "I have some news," I said. "I'm going to prom."
My mother's face lit up as if I were a twenty-five-year-old woman announcing my engagement.
"Congratulations!" she exclaimed, hugging me hard. "We'll have to buy you a dress and shoes."
"That's not necessary," I said, twisting off the plastic bottlecap. "I'll find something at the thrift store."
My mother wrinkled her nose. "You'll be attending prom, not a nightclub. We'll get you something beautiful to wear that isn't torn, adorned with staples, or riddled with safety pins."