"The legends of our town are what defines us. It runs through our blood. As kids we are told of these creatures that walk amongst the living at night. Death follows in their wake. Are they Vampires? Zombie's? Another supernatural being? What we do know is that you'll never see one during the day. Unless-"

Brad is reading his essay to the class. It's Friday morning, and it's been a few days since the event took place with Principal Garver. Tonight is the funeral, tomorrow the burial. There's an eerie ambiance surrounding the whole town and I wish I could shake it, but I can't. Sure, there have been random deaths such as his in previous years, but within the last few days the numbers have climbed even higher.

Today, while Brad is spewing out every detail of the folktales, I glance around the room taking attendance. I'm worried about my kids. It's not only older folks dying, but the younger ones are too. My eyes land on Gena Russo's seat, it's empty. My attention immediately goes to Charlie, who isn't even bothered by the disappearance, even after spending the last week carrying her books and acting like the boy she needs.

"And so, this legend says that if you can see them in daylight it's a curse, one that holds the key to ending the death in our town."

I focus back on Brad's words. Cure. Daylight. Ending.

"Mr. Cooper, where did you find that information? I told you, your essay needed to be facts."

He stops reading and turns around to where I am sitting at my desk. The students around us grow quiet.

"But Ms. M, it's true. I read it in a book."

"And what book would that be?" I ask.

For a second, he appears stumped. His eyes roll up like he's thinking. "Uh-"

"If it's not cited in a legitimate source, I'm going to have to-"

"It's an orange book." He spits out. "It's orange, but I can't remember the title. It had the words '' Spinel and curse."

There it was again, the icy feeling. My toes numb like they've been frostbitten even through my solid boot and fluffy kitten socks (don't judge!). The pencil in my hands drops from the tremble and rolls off the desk onto the floor at Brad's sneaker. He bends down, picks it up, and places it over the attendance book.

"Ms. Mcguire, are you okay? You look like you're gonna puke. Please tell me you're not. I might be beefy and tough, but puke in front of me and I'll do it right back at ya!"

I chuckle at his comment, smiling up at him. The waves of nausea are hitting hard, but I won't let him know that, and I'm not going to throw up.

"I'm okay, Mr. Cooper. If you could finish reading that would be great, and please let me know if you find the title of that book."

Brad finishes off and I try to pay attention, but my mind is racing. Thank God I signed my eighth period class to use the library to do some research, I can use that time to do my own. His words have me running through every book I've read on the folklore of our town. I have never read anything about a spinel. Jaimie's ring. My grandmother's necklace that she NEVER takes off. It was the reason behind me getting all bent out of shape over seeing his ring.

The period goes by fast and with ten minutes to go it's time for the last student to present their essay. Clay Michael's pushes up his black square framed glasses and stares off at the class. If anyone looks like they are going to be sick, it's him. He rocks side to side, and his hand shakes the paper as he lifts it to read. As he opens his mouth there's a knock at the door. amber eyes peer inside. He's the last person I wanted to see. Ever since the other day I've grown suspicious that the events started trickling when he arrived.

"Hold that thought."

Clay's shoulders slump forward, and he releases a breath. I step outside the room and when I don't see Jaimie I wonder if I was imagining it. My classroom door is pushed back between lockers, so you have to take a few steps before the rest of the hallway comes into view.

"Hey!"

I jump, placing a hand over my heart. Spinning around I come face to face, or face to chest with Jaime. Why is he so damn tall? Lifting my chin, I glance up into those eyes again, I swear there's a little red in them, but it might be my imagination.

"Mr. Jacobs sent me. Um - I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's Gena Russo."

Slack jawed, I stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"She - her parents found her. She never made it home from school yesterday."

"Is this like the others?" I whisper as if someone else can hear me. The classroom door is closed, and it's hard to hear anything through it if it's only two people chatting outside.

By now everyone knows about the deaths and how there has been an abundance of them with no reasonable explanation.

Swallowing hard, I attempt to dislodge the knot sitting in the center of my throat. His lips are pressed together. Lifting a hand, he places it on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

"I - I have to tell them. Don't I?" I lick my lips, then bite down.

The heat of his touch radiates through my blouse.

"Come on. We'll do it together."

His hand slips down touching the small of my back. I don't know how I'm moving right now, but my feet are drifting towards the classroom. When we enter every eye is on us, and on the hand that Jaime has rested on my back.

"Hi guys. Mr. Donovan here." He waves. "Some of you might know me, I see some familiar faces, although I'm still learning names. Uh - me and Ms. Mcguire have some news."

"Clay, sweetheart, you can take your seat."

He sighs as if relieved he doesn't have to read. I don't tell him that he still has to, just not today. The bell rings, but no one moves.

"I was just informed that-"

I glance up at him, my lip quivering, nose itching, eyes tearing. It's inevitable, I'm going to cry, and I can't face my class. Not now. I turn as Jaime delivers the bad news and drop my head into my hands. I expect them to scatter with the noise levels increasing in the hallway, and knowing they have three minutes to get to their next class, but none of them move.

Another hand touches me. It's Charlie. His dark eyes flowing with tears of his own. There's something in his glance that tells me she wasn't another conquest of his, that maybe she was more. A few more hands are against my back, and before a strangled sob escapes my mouth the entire class is standing at the front of the room with me. We are all huddled together.

As they each start to walk away, the sniffles start. Some are just shaking without tears. Charlie is the last one. I reach up and touch his face.

"Why don't you see Mrs. Potter?" Marie Potter is the school counselor, and another friend of mine. "Here."

I step away out of Jaimie's grasp and reach for the notes on my desk. I take one and fill it out. Handing it to Charlie I touch his shoulder. "It's okay if you need time."

He doesn't say anything but does offer a brief smile. With an arch back he leaves the room. I turn back to my desk and grasp the sides to try and pull myself together. I have lunch this period, so I'm not expecting anyone.

"Hey."

I'm heated to the core by another touch, but still my bones ache with a chill.

"If you need anything. You know where to find me."

I don't nod, speak, or acknowledge him. Once his footsteps have retreated, the sound of the bell rings, and the voices of kids outside my door die out, I allow myself a good cry.

###

I'm more determined to find that book that Brad was talking about. I ate lunch in my room and gave myself my own time to grieve. Trish joined me for a bit. She was in tears too. I tell my juniors that we are heading to the library. They allow one class at a time inside for noise purposes and I signed up last week.

I open the door expecting to see no one, but instead there is a class in here already.

"Stay here."

They all stay gathered at the door while I walk up to the desk. Mrs. Hanson the librarian glances up from the computer. A smile forms on her bright cherry lips. She's been here forever, was the librarian when I was a teen, but by her wrinkle-free face you'd never know.

"Hi. I signed up to have the library during this period."

"Hello dear, let me check."

Her nails match her lips. They click against the keyboard searching through.

"Oh. Well, that's a problem. I have Mr. Donovan's name here too."

"Okay, but I signed up last week, before he even-"

"I'm sorry, but I can only allow one at a time, you know the rules."

I take a deep breath. "But I was first-"

"I'm sorry."

I growl. Mrs. Hanson was not expecting it as her wide gray eyes watch me in horror.

"Sorry, I'm sorry. It's been a rough day."

I turn away, ready to break the news to my kids when I bump into a hot solid body. I say hot because it's like running into a burning fire.

"I'm sorry. Is there an issue?" he asks.

"Yes." I say, stepping away. "I reserved the library this period for my students, last week before you got here, but here you are."

His lips twitch, but don't form a full smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Hanson can make an exception, can't you?"

He turns to her, now fully grinning. He's got this thing about him that even the older crowd finds themselves smitten. I don't know why, but it's kind of rubbing me the wrong way. I appreciate what he did for me earlier, but this irks me.

"Well, I guess this once. With everything going on I'm sure Mr. Jacobs wouldn't mind."

"See?" he says, turning towards me. "All done."

His eyes gleam with something, something dark, and it makes me shiver. We part ways, and I lead my class over to the other side of the room. Some go right for the computers along the far wall, while the rest of them comb through the several aisles of books.

The library hasn't been remodeled in years. Must and a mildewy scent linger. Even the red and orange carpet at my feet has tears and strings pulled from years of foot traffic.

Making my way to where all the books regarding our town history is, I start combing through them. Orange book with spinel in the title, I chant to myself. My fingers run across them, some bumpy, some soft and smooth. Books where the spines are blue, gold, green, even white, touch my fingertip, but nothing orange.

"Need a hand?"

I can't help the eye roll.

"No. I'm okay."

"What are you looking for?"

I stop my finger on the spine of a silky cover jacket, then turn to him. "Just a book."

"Being in the library, I would have never known."

Glancing up, I can't help flashing a soft smile. My attention falls back on the book. I kneel to the next level.

"What's the title?"

"Dunno, the book is orange."

He kneels beside me. His finger is mimicking my movements. He's so close that I'm more distracted than anything.

"Are you going tonight?" he asks, shuffling down to the next shelf.

"Yes. Are you?"

"I didn't know the man, but I'll be there." He pauses for a moment. "This book?"

He holds out one that's more of a blood orange color, but the title isn't what I need, so I shake my head.

"How are you holding up?"

"You're talkative today."

He chuckles. "And you're being feisty again."

I want to hold back a smile, but I can't. He's right. I'm always feisty though, it's in my blood to be. I get it from my grandma.

"This?" Tugging out another orange book, this one without a cover, he flips it so that I can read the title. There's only black lettering carved into the hardcover of it. Spinel. The Curse of The Spinel.

"Yes! Yes, I think it is."

"You have a thing about spinel, huh?" He flashes his ring.

"It's just - it's weird. I've never seen anyone else wearing one before aside from my grandmother. I read they were rare and -"

His eyes are focused on me, as if he were studying me for a test. "The ring is my dad's. It was in his will for me to have."

"I'm sorry for your loss." I get to my feet and dust off the light specks on it.

"I was seven."

His confession catches me off guard. I'm about to say me too, that I was seven when mine died, but the fire alarm blares in our ear along with Mr. Jacobs announcement about the drill.

"I'll see you tonight."

And without another word he leaves me alone in the aisle, with the flashing lights of the drill. I carry the book back to the front desk and leave it there while following my students out towards the nearest exit. I don't see Jaime for the rest of the day, but for some reason I still feel his presence like a lingering fog not quite ready to float away.