Doll Bones (12 page)

They were also a muted green color and smelled spicy, like hot peppers.

“Uh,” Zach said, glancing at the menu. “Can I have a hot chocolate? A big one.”

He took his warm cup with its spirals of whipped cream to one of the small plastic tables. Alice headed to the bathroom in the back while Poppy ordered two more hot chocolates. They sat for a while, letting the heat of the paper cups warm their fingers.

Then they each ordered a donut. Zach got Pop Rocks, Alice got maple cream, and Poppy got Froot Loops. The crumbling cake was delicious, and there were real Pop Rocks inside that fizzed against Zach’s tongue. He licked his fingers when he was done, forgetting that he hadn’t washed his hands in a very long time.

The hot chocolates had been two fifty a piece and the donuts were a dollar twenty-five, costing them each three seventy-five and leaving Zach with four twenty-five that he could spend for the whole rest of the trip. Poppy had even less. He hoped she had at least twenty-five pennies, or she wasn’t going to be able to pay her bus fare home.

Poppy sat the Queen on a nearby chair. The doll slumped, her head twisted on an angle, her hair rumpled as though she’d really been sleeping on it. Her half-closed eyes were bright with reflected light.

“If you died,” Poppy said, keeping her voice low. “Do you think you’d want to be a ghost?”

“If I was murdered, then yeah, definitely,” Zach said. “So I could haunt my killer and get revenge.”

“Get revenge by doing what?” Alice asked, laughing. “You would be a disembodied spirit. What are you going to do? Yell ‘boo!’ at them? Try to convince them to go on a stupid road trip?”

“I could throw stuff around,” Zach reminded her.

“Maybe,” Alice said. “I’d do it if I could be me, but see-through. The whole world would be like my television. I could visit the people I loved. But not if I had to repeat the same thing over and over again, like haunting some stretch of road or going up and down stairs.”

“Even if you couldn’t talk to anyone?” Zach asked.

Alice looked briefly uncomfortable. “I’d definitely want there to be a ghost society with ghost friends.”

Poppy pushed her hair back. “Well, what if you decided you wanted to come back from the dead and then changed your mind, but you were stuck?”

“You mean like how I’m stuck here in East Rochester?” said Alice, and then she took a big swallow of hot chocolate.

Zach thought he’d better interrupt that line of conversation. “Would you want to be a ghost, Poppy?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Lingering around, whooshing past people who’d never see me? It’s scary to imagine things happening and me not being able to affect them. I keep thinking about the dream I had. It was like I was really her—I was climbing around on the slate tiles of the roof of this giant house, trying to keep away from the windows while I waited for my father to get home. I had something really important to tell him. Up there, I could see for what seemed to be miles—I could see the river and boats and the iceman’s truck in front of a house down the street—but I kept slipping and catching myself on the copper gutters. And I heard this woman’s voice from behind me, whispering to me, telling me I better get inside or she was going to make me sorry. She had a broom, and she was sticking it out the window, trying to hit me.”

Zach thought about his own dream of the pinch-faced woman and the big Victorian house of flawed pottery. He wanted to tell her about the dream, but he felt a little silly about it. When he’d woken, it had seemed so obvious that the dream was real, that it had been given to him by their ghost. But now, in the warmth of the donut shop, after Alice being so certain there was no ghost, he was unsure about everything.

“Do you think that was really what happened?” Poppy asked, leaning forward eagerly like there was only one possible right answer. “Do you think she’s trying to tell us about her death? Imagine that the whole time she was in the cabinet, she was just waiting for one of us to take her out.”

Zach opened his mouth to describe his dream, but it seemed as though not telling Poppy and Alice what had happened to his action figures or why he didn’t want to play made it hard to tell about other things too. It felt like everything was all mixed up together, weighing down his tongue.

The man moved behind the counter, dumping a fresh batch of peach muffins into a tissue-lined bin. “No problem,” he called to them.

“What?” Zach asked, confused.

“Your blond friend sounds pretty hungry,” he said, coming out from behind the counter with a pink-glazed donut on a paper plate. He placed it down in front of the doll. “Here. On the house. It’s Pepto-Bismol flavored. We’re trying it out to see if it gets on the regular menu.”

As the man walked back into the kitchen, Zach could only stare after him. “Did he—?” Zach whispered.

“It was just a joke,” Alice said quickly, but she looked nervous. “You know, because we had a doll. He was pretending it was real.”

“Why would he do that?” Poppy asked.

“Because he thinks he’s being some kind of cool adult.” Alice took another sip of her hot chocolate and then pushed it away like it had burnt her. She shuddered. Zach thought uncomfortably about what Leo had said on the walk home from school way back when.
Somebody walk over your grave?

Your blond friend.
There was something familiar about the words, though, something that snagged in Zach’s mind. “No, wait. Tinshoe. That’s what he said on the bus—‘I’m not going to talk to the blonde.’ Because he didn’t like the way she was looking at him. Remember?”

“I remember that,” said Alice. Poppy nodded.

“Do you think he was talking about the doll too?” Zach felt cold, and the food he’d eaten churned in his stomach. He’d wanted the ghost to be real, but the more real Eleanor seemed, the more scared he was. He tried not to look over at the Queen. He tried not to think about what it meant that she sounded hungry. He tried not to notice that her cheeks seemed a little rosier today, like she was feeding on something other than donuts.

They had to bury her, and they had to bury her soon.

“Okay, well . . . ,” Alice said. She checked the face of her cell phone, then took out the map. It was ripped down the middle, but she rested it on the table so all the streets lined up. “It’s ten forty-three now, and the next bus isn’t until four thirty. There’s time and all, but I really have to be on that bus.”

“East Liverpool isn’t that far,” said Poppy. “Zach said so last night. We could still make it. On foot. Like real adventurers.”

They were all quiet for a long moment.

“I’m going,” Poppy said, picking up the doll and cradling it in her lap. Her cheek rested against its pale bone china brow. Its eyes seemed more open than before. Pale milk glass with a black center. “With or without you guys.” Her voice was small, though.

Zach thought about all the food thrown around the woods, about the slashed sleeping bag. And he wondered what else a ghost could do.

Have you ever heard this one? When you drive past a cemetery, you have to hold your breath. If you don’t, the spirits of the newly dead can get in your body through your mouth and possess you.

But he’d already decided. He wasn’t turning back. “I’m still up for an adventure,” he said with a nod. “I’m in.”

Alice slapped her hands down on the table like she was calling a meeting to order. “I’m not a coward. I care about adventures too, okay? It’s not that. But I need to get home by tonight or my grandmother is going to lose her mind. She’s going to call the cops. She’ll make sure I don’t go anywhere for months, and she’ll remind me of what I did whenever I ask for permission to do anything for the rest of my life. Forever. So I am not going to be late. Okay?” Her voice got louder, and the words came out faster as she spoke, and when she finished there was a long silence.

“Okay,” Poppy said finally.

“So, look, I want to go, but I want you to promise we’ll get back home
today
. The bus leaves here at four thirty, and I want you to promise we’re not going to miss it. Promise that we’ll turn around in time if we have to. Promise me that you’ll get on it with me.”

“But what if we’re almost there and—” Poppy started.

“No way,” Alice said. “We still have to get to the graveyard and bury the Queen and find the bus station before the bus from East Liverpool leaves—at three forty-five. If we make it to East Liverpool and there’s time, great, but remember that the bus leaves earlier from there. I’ll come with you, but if it doesn’t look like we’ll make it, we all come back together.”

Poppy looked reluctant. “I’m not going back without finishing this quest.”

“Then I’m going to the bus station now,” Alice said, pushing back her chair and standing. “You and Zach can adventure by yourselves. I’m not going with you.”

“Wait,” Zach said, standing too and reaching for her. “We started this together. We need to stay together. We can make it to East Liverpool and still get home.”

Alice folded her arms over her chest.

“Poppy,”
Zach said.

She sighed. “Fine. But if we’re going to make it by Alice’s deadline, we have to go now. And we have to go fast.”

Zach put out his hand to pull Poppy to her feet. “We’re already up. We’re waiting on you.”

Poppy stood without letting him help, holding the Queen under her arm. “You believe me now, don’t you? About the dream. About the ghost. You believe me, right?”

Zach opened his mouth to tell her that he’d dreamed about Eleanor too. But just then, Alice said, “Sure we do,” and the moment passed.

Instead he picked up the Pepto-Bismol donut and bit into it.

The frosting was sickly sweet, but it was the bitter taste underneath that stayed on his tongue.

CHAPTER TEN

A
DVENTURING TURNED OUT TO BE BORING.
Z
ACH
thought back to all the fantasy books he’d read where a team of questers traveled overland, and realized a few things. First he’d pictured himself with a loyal steed that would have done most of the walking, so he hadn’t anticipated the blister forming on his left heel or the tiny pebble that seemed to have worked its way under his sock, so that even when he stripped off his sneaker he couldn’t find it.

He hadn’t thought about how hot the sun would be either. When he put together his bunch of provisions, he never thought about bringing sunblock. Aragorn never wore sunblock. Taran never wore sunblock. Percy never wore sunblock. But despite all that precedent for going without, he was pretty sure his nose would be lobster-red the next time he looked in the mirror.

He was thirsty, too, something that happened a lot in books, but his dry throat bothered him more than it had ever seemed to bother any character.

And, unlike in books where random brigands and monsters jumped out just when things got unbearably dull, there was nothing to fight except for clouds of gnats, several of which Zach was pretty sure he’d accidentally swallowed.

Also, it wasn’t like they were walking through the awesome vistas of Middle Earth—a forest full of Ents or elves, a mountain pass brimming with orcs and ice—they were mostly walking past industrial buildings and a bowling alley. Eventually the warehouses thinned out until it was just highway on one side and water on the other. They kept heading along the road, pausing occasionally to kick rocks or adjust their backpacks.