Dead Letter Office, Parish Mail #1

Chapter: 9

Parish Mail is written like a TV series–there are over-arching mystery and romantic story arcs that extend between the episodes, while each episode has a smaller case that is presented and solved. Along the way,  the reader will get the opportunity to make several small decisions. These choices do not impact the overarching storyline, however certain combinations “unlock” clues to the series’ mystery, which are embedded in the text. 

At the end of THIS chapter, readers will get the chance to vote on one of two choices. The path that gets the most votes by next week will get posted on Wattpad.  New chapters will be posted every Thursday, so get your VOTE in! 

CHAPTER 9

At school the next day, the rumors are flying. Jane was right, everyone found out about our escapade at the homeless camp. But no one can seem to agree on what happened, and none of the gossip is accurate. Donovan and I were arrested! Tilly and I got busted scoring drugs! It’d be funny if everyone wasn’t staring at the three of us and whispering behind our backs. Well, almost everyone is doing that. Peyton takes the direct approach and corners me in the hallway.

“You’ve taken quite an interest in the homeless lately, Celia,” she says. “Perhaps that’s how you want to earn your community service hours?" I’m not fooled by her false innocence.

“Look, Peyton, I don’t know what you heard, but it’s not true,” I sigh.

“So you didn’t meet Sloan at that homeless shelter? And he didn’t pull some strings for you there?” she asks sweetly. I’m so startled that I can’t even get an answer out. “That’s what I thought,” she says with a tart little smile. “You’re settling in so well here at GW. I hope things don’t take an unpleasant turn for you.” I don’t miss the venom beneath the surface of her words. “See you in Pre-Calc!” she trills, turning to go with a flip of her hair. My surprise deepens. I don’t understand why Sloan told Peyton what he did for me, but I wish he hadn’t.

“Did you hear?” Tilly says, passing Peyton to join me at my locker. “I got caught hooking up with my runaway boyfriend at his shack under the highway.”

“I hope he at least bought you dinner first.” It’s all just so ridiculous.

Yesterday’s events prompted a full confession to Tilly’s aunt Claire, who reluctantly agreed to help me with my quest as long as it didn’t involve any more skipping school. Tilly’s fiddling with a strange contraption as she tells me this. “Dammit! It was just here. Now it’s gone again.”

“What’s gone? And what is that thing, anyway?” Her device looks sort of like a compass, but with markings I can’t understand and an inky black quill for a pointer. “Is that from one of Lenore’s feathers?”

Tilly glances at me guiltily. “Yeah. And she wasn’t happy about giving it up. But I needed it. This tracks the strength of spell magic,” she explains. “I’m trying to figure out why my skills are so glitchy. I had a spike just now but it’s gone again.”

“A witch-o-meter.” I smile. “Cool.”

“I’m supposed to be good at spell magic,” Tilly says, and I can sense the frustration behind her usual good humor. “It runs in my family. Claire is amazing. But me, not so much.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I assure her. “Actually, I have something I hoped you could help me with.” I fish the grisly little bottle out of my locker and show it to her. “What the hell is this?”

In one sudden move Tilly grabs the bottle from me with a fold of her black skirt, making a little gesture with her other hand, and shouts an incomprehensible phrase loud enough to make people stare. The bottle freaked me out from the moment I found it, but only now when I see Tilly’s reaction to it do I get scared.