Ghost Town (10 page)

“I don't know. Mean-looking. Like someone plotting something.” I surveyed the line. Normal folks toting beach bags and kids.

“Hey,” I said, suddenly panicked. “Do you search bags? Do you check that they're not carrying weapons or dangerous stuff?”

“Seriously?” David looked amused. “You've got to lay off the TV, Sara. This is a boardwalk at the beach. We've got no bad guys here, no terrorists. The only crimes are ugly bathing suits and littering.”

“You never know . . .” I took a closer look at David. What did I know about him? Sure, he was Lily's cousin and seemed like a good guy, but maybe he was going
to cause the disaster. It was always the one who looked innocent. Maybe he—

“Sara!” Lily shook me out of my sinister thoughts. “My mom just texted. She wants me to get something from Great-Aunt Ro. You coming?”

“Sure.” I glanced back at Midnight Manor as I followed her through the wall of sunscreen-slicked bodies. Lily snaked through with practiced skill. I bobbed and weaved a few steps behind, glad her magenta top was easy to keep in sight. Voices called out greetings. Uncles, aunts, cousins. Eyes watched us and watched out for us every step we took.

“In here, Sara!” Lily entered a small, circular building at the far end of the boardwalk. I pushed open the glass door to find a short, squat woman with cropped curls crushing Lily to her expansive chest. “An angel. This one is an angel.” She pulled Lily back a few inches and flicked her chin with her thumb. “An angel with a mischievous streak, no?”

“Who, me?” Lily widened her eyes as if in an anime comic.

“Yes, you.” Great-Aunt Ro turned to me. “This one overflows with brio, no?” She noticed my blank
look. “Brio. Energy. Liveliness. No?”

I smiled. “Definitely.”

“So Aunt Ro, Mom says you have an envelope you need me to run to cousin Bobby?” Lily hoisted herself onto the low information desk beside the pamphlets on charter boat rides and mini golf and started chatting with Ro. We were the only ones in the building.

I felt awkward just standing there. There was nothing to look at in the small room except framed photographs of people's heads spaced evenly along the taupe walls. The only sound, besides Lily's excited chatter, was the hum of the air conditioner. I studied a photo of a famous fisherman, a famous real estate guy, and a famous restaurant owner. They were all boring.

“. . . and then Christy told my mom that Lorette wasn't going to the bridal shower. . . .” I tuned Lily and her aunt out and continued the mind-numbing tour of Stellamar's celebrities.

Goosebumps suddenly rose from my skin. Was it the air-conditioning or something else? I slid my hand into my shorts pocket and touched the pink stone as I turned toward the other side of the room. I sucked in my breath.

The old man stared straight at me.

I stared back at him in amazement. This time I could see his face clearly. His thick brows, the furrow of his forehead, the crinkles around his eyes. I wrapped my fingers around the gemstone.
Protection from evil
, I chanted as I edged closer and examined his photograph on the wall.

A small gold nameplate read:
GEORGE MARASCO
.

The spirit had a name.

This was the first time I'd ever known one of their names. A shiver rolled down my spine as I ran my finger over the letters. George was real. Or, he'd once been real.

“Who is he?” I asked. My back was to Lily and her aunt. I couldn't stop staring at the photo.

Aunt Ro waddled over. She peered up at the name. “Marasco. Hmmm. I can't say that I know. Silly of me, since I sit here with these guys ogling me all day.” She headed back to the desk and began pecking at the computer's keys. “Seems George Marasco was a big deal around here a long time ago. It says he developed the pier back in 1925. It was his idea to move the haunted house from the bluffs and turn it into Midnight Manor.”

I stiffened. It made sense that the old man was connected with the house.

“Hmmm . . . George was a pretty nifty guy,” Ro continued. “He used his own money to keep the boardwalk going during the Great Depression. For the next three decades, he was a real fixture on the pier, greeting guests and even letting families who couldn't pay enjoy the rides for free.”

“That's nice. They never let you on the rides now without paying,” Lily remarked.

“Everyone liked this guy. In fact, his nickname was Grandpa George because he—oh, wait, I definitely remember him now.” Ro's eyes brightened. “He was quite old when I was a kid—”

“Why was he called that?” I interrupted.

“The kids came up with it because he was so nice. Always gave us candy and told us riddles.” She scrolled down the Web page. “Wow, this brings me back. Look at these pictures of the pier and the haunted house from the fifties.”

Lily and I crowded around the screen. Lily let out a low whistle.

Midnight Manor sparkled with fresh paint, no traces of the years of wear caused by ocean winds and salt. The people enjoying ice-cream cones and
pizza slices looked as if they'd stepped out of an old-fashioned movie.

“A big corporation bought the pier about ten years ago. Some guy in some office somewhere runs it all and that's why it's neglected. It's missing the human touch,” Aunt Ro muttered.

“What happened to Grandpa George?” I asked.

“He died.”

I nodded. I knew that. “How?” I prodded.

Aunt Ro squinted at the screen. “Car accident in 1967. Oh, that's sad. He was on his way to speak at a benefit for disadvantaged children.”

I thought about George Marasco for a long time that afternoon. The old man with the cane had been a good guy in life. I didn't think that changed once you died. I mean, niceness didn't just go away. It couldn't.

I wished that knowing who he was would help me understand what he needed me for. But I couldn't figure it out. What was going to happen?

After a while, Lily had to go home. I told her I was going to stay longer, just hang out.

Lily smirked. “David gets off at five today, I think.”

“That's not why I'm staying. Come on. I told you I'm not into him.”

“Like I'm convinced.” She wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

I returned to my bench and watched the haunted house. An hour passed. Then another.

The air around me grew thick. A slight tingling erupted in my foot and crept up my leg.

I was not watching alone.

Grandpa George hovered beside me. Silent.

Waiting, too, for something to happen.

This time I did not run away.

“Twenty-four. Lucky number twenty-four!” cried the guy behind the stand.

Dad rechecked the ticket he held in his hand. He frowned.

“Not twenty-four?” I guessed.

“Sixteen.” He pulled out another dollar from his wallet.

“You don't have to,” I said. “I know I said the green frog is cute and all, but I took lots of photos of him. I don't need to take him home.”

Dad looked wistfully at the line of stuffed frogs behind the roulette wheel. He'd tried eight times already. “Next one's going to be lucky,” he promised.

I laughed. “One more, then we're going for food. I'm getting hungry.”

Dad chose number three. He was having a good
time. He'd taken off work and we'd spent the day together, fixing up Lady Azura's house in the morning and playing the boardwalk games in the afternoon. So far he'd won me a stuffed baseball bat with eyes and a fuzzy pig puppet. Every few minutes, I found myself glancing toward Midnight Manor. Everything always looked the same. For days it'd looked the same.

I wished I could shake the horrible feeling of impending doom.
Disaster looms.
It was all I thought about. I couldn't concentrate—even on the fun things, like winning a stuffed frog.

“Dad,” I began, as we walked away from the spinning wheel empty-handed. I had to tell someone. “This strange thing happened at the haunted—”

“Hey, Sara, what'd you win?” Lily bounded over, her long, wet hair fanning behind her. She wore cotton shorts over a damp indigo tankini.

I held up the two stuffed toys.

“Ooh, she's like Miss Piggy's less glamorous cousin.” Lily popped the pig puppet on her hand. “Hello, Mr. Collins,” she squeaked in what I assumed was her talking pig voice.

“Hello to you, too, Lily and—” Dad paused and glanced over my shoulder.

“Miranda. That's my friend, Miranda,” Lily supplied in her normal voice.

I snuck a look at the tall girl with honey-colored hair beside Lily. Her eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. She gave the slightest nod hello.

“We just came from the beach. We're getting ice cream. Do you want to come, Sara?” Lily bounced on her toes. I'd noticed before that she rarely stayed still.

I hesitated. I'd actually started to tell dad about George—and maybe even
all
the dead people. But now I didn't think I'd be able to explain it. Not here. Not now. I eyed Miranda. Would she think I was barging in?

“Yes, go with them,” Dad encouraged. “You said you were hungry.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a twenty. “I'm heading home—maybe work on that back patio. Just be back in an hour. Have fun, okay, kiddo? And stay together.” He grinned at me, then at Lily and Miranda. Clearly pleased I'd made friends.

Clearly pleased I was normal.

I walked with Lily and Miranda. Lily did most of the talking. She tried to include me but it was hard.
The two of them had been in the same class at school and the same dance class for years.

“I'm signing up for contemporary and jazz,” Miranda announced. She turned to me. “What about you?”

“I don't dance,” I said. My eyes drifted down to my white flip-flops. Whenever I felt unsure, I studied my shoes. I was becoming quite the footwear expert.

“Really?” Miranda wrinkled her nose, as if I'd announced I hated chocolate.

“Uh-uh.”

“Sara's always taking pictures,” Lily said. “She's really good at it, aren't you, Sara?”

I shrugged. “Maybe—”

“Ohhh, take our picture!” Miranda cried when she noticed the digital camera in my hand.

“People photography really isn't my thing,” I mumbled.

“Why not?” Miranda demanded.

“Please. Just a few,” Lily begged, saving me from an explanation.

“Okay.” I scanned the pier. The crowds had thinned already. The rides closed early on Mondays. My eyes landed on the bench in front of Midnight Manor. My
bench. At least that's how I thought of it now. “How about there?” I suggested.

Miranda stood on the bench. She threw her head back and placed a hand on her hip. “Come on, Lily, let's pose.”

Lily scrambled up beside her. As they arranged themselves, I peered through the camera screen at David.

He looked at his cell phone, then at the group of kids waiting before him. The kids pleaded with him. He consulted his phone again.

“Hey, Sara, I can't strike this pose forever,” Lily called.

I turned back and snapped a few photos.

“I really shouldn't let you guys in, you know. I mean the rides are closing, and I could lose my job. . . .” David's voice drifted toward me.

“Let's get ice cream. I'm thinking cookies n' cream or mint chip,” Lily said.

“Okay, okay, fine. Stop begging. You guys can be the last ones in.” I watched David take the six kids' tickets and usher them through the front door.

The evening light suddenly faded, as if a huge shade had been snapped shut. The night grew dark. And cold.

“Hey, Sara, you listening? What flavor is your fave?” Lily's voice floated in from somewhere in the distance.

I couldn't turn away from the haunted house's door. I shivered. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

“Sara,” Lily tried again. “Don't you want to come?” I frantically searched the front of the house. What was wrong? What was happening? Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. David hung a
CLOSED
sign. People wandered past. But I could feel it. Darkness.

“I don't want to stand here all night,” Miranda complained.

“Sara—” Lily tugged the hem of my shirt.

“Oh, um . . .” I saw Miranda waiting impatiently several feet away. “I'll catch up with you in a second,” I told Lily.

“You sure?” Lily seemed conflicted.

“Sure. Be right there.” I forced the fake smile again.

Tentatively I stepped toward the house. Chills caused my body to tremble. My eyes canvassed every inch of the exterior. Why did it all look fine? Every nerve in my body told me it wasn't fine.

“What's up with you?” David asked when I stood before him.

“You know that bad feeling I told you about?” I couldn't look at him. The house. I had to watch the house.

“I guess.”

He didn't remember, I could tell. “Could you check everything out now? Please?”

“I'm checking for what again?”

“I don't know. But disaster is on its way—”

David let out a deep laugh. “I never pegged you for one of those wacky doomsday people.”

I hated that he laughed. The iciness in the air grew colder. I shivered.

“Sara,” Lily called.

I glanced over at her. Then at the house.

“Oh, all right.” David waved his arm dismissively. “I'll look around for your Great Evil. Go eat ice cream 'cause you're starting to freak me out.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Hey, listen.” Lily returned to my side. “You shouldn't be worried about Miranda. She likes you. She's supernice if you get to know her, it's just at first she's a bit harsh. So you should come with us—”

Lily's soft brown eyes brimmed with genuine
warmth. She was trying really hard to include me. To be my friend. And I was acting, well, weird.