Playing with Fire (9 page)

I had a plan. A really simple one. I'd tell Lily that I was sorry a million times until I got her to forgive me. Even if Kayla refused to budge from Lily's side, I'd keep apologizing.

I spotted Lily and her mom standing around a tall table by the frozen yogurt stand. Kayla was nowhere in sight. Lily held her yogurt, not eating it. Her mother talked, waving her arms as she spoke. I'd been at their house enough to know the waving arms meant she was upset.

Now wasn't the time for my one million sorrys. I detoured down a path that led to the lake to give them their privacy. Instead of turning right to the dock and the roped-off swimming area, I headed left. The path followed the curve of the lake. Through the reeds along the shore, I watched a family of ducks paddle nearby.

The land jutted into a lake, forming a small peninsula. At the tip, under a lone pine, a wooden bench with chipped gray paint faced the water. I touched the metal plaque affixed to the back.
SITE OF ORIGINAL BOATHOUSE. DESTROYED BY FIRE IN 1922
.

No boathouse stood here now.

I was alone, except for the ducks.

Sitting on the bench, I stared out at the dark-blue lake. The water was so calm compared with the churning Atlantic waves of home. I missed home. I missed talking with Lady Azura. She'd know what to do about the red-haired girl. She'd know what to do about Lily. I was messing everything up—or at least, not doing anything to fix it.

The midday sun beat down on my face, and the rhythmic lap of the lake against the rocky edge made me suddenly sleepy. I gazed over the water, unable to
focus. The surrounding pines grew fuzzy. Their crisp needles blurred into a watercolor. The blue of the water blended with the blue of the sky. A swirl of blues and greens.

At the end of the point, I saw a boathouse. A boathouse that I was positive wasn't there before.

White wood with a pointed roof. The shape of a house a young child draws.

I blinked rapidly to clear my vision.

The boathouse remained.

A shiver worked its way down my back.

Standing, I wandered toward the boathouse. Was it real?

A rowboat bobbed in the water at the end of a long, narrow dock. A rope knotted to a post kept it from floating away. Two girls sat in the boat. They didn't see me, even though I stood out in the open. Who were they? Where had they come from?

The girls wore long dresses cinched at the waist with long, puffy sleeves. One had a wide-brimmed hat with fake flowers, and the other held a thin ruffled umbrella. A parasol, I thought. The parasol-girl's long, dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. She reached out
with her free hand and grasped the other girl's hand, said something, and then laughed. An infectious giggle that glided toward me.

A sound I'd heard before.

The girl tilted her parasol and turned, still not seeing me.

Margaret Helliman.

The younger sister.

The younger dead sister.

If she was here and so was I, what did this mean? I struggled to breathe as I gaped at her.

Laughter fell from her face as her eyes went wide with disbelief. I followed the path of her gaze to the boathouse. To Belinda. Her sister.

Belinda stood stiffly with her arms crossed and feet planted wide apart. Her red hair flew across her face in the breeze. Her eyes scared me. They blazed with jealousy.

The more I stared at her, the more I could feel it. The hurt that Margaret was laughing with someone else. That Margaret had chosen someone else. That they were laughing at me.

Belinda's eyes turned as red as her hair.

A dark, angry red.

And then I smelled it. Burning wood. The bitter, sweet scent of a campfire.

Belinda didn't move. The aroma of smoke grew stronger. Then wood cracked, and I saw the glow of flames. Real flames. Flames licking at the corners of the small boathouse. Flames growing larger and larger.

Belinda raised her hands to her mouth in horror. Her eyes were no longer red. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her shoulders shook.

Quickly dropping her dainty parasol, Margaret unknotted the rope, releasing the boat from the dock, and grabbed the oars. Then she rowed away to safety.

Away from her sister.

Belinda wailed alone as the boathouse burned.

A ringing echoed in my ears. Sirens? Fire trucks on their way? The boathouse was long past saving, and Belinda had run past me and up the grassy hill leading to the large house.

The ringing again.

From my pocket.

I looked down, confused.

I sat on a bench.

The air smelled of pine and lake water.

The fire was gone.

It hadn't been real. Or it had, but it'd happened long ago. A vision into the past. Belinda's past.

My phone kept ringing, so I pulled it out and answered it.

“Hello, Sara.”

“Lady Azura!” I cried with relief.

“I sensed turmoil. Troubles. The need for a friendly voice,” she said in her raspy voice. A voice I'd missed.

“You're right.” I sighed, then told her all about Belinda, Margaret, and Laura. I didn't let on that Lily wasn't talking to me. That hurt too much to say out loud.

“I have encountered spirits with great heat around them a few times before.” I heard her fingernails tap the side of her armchair as she thought. “They are very dangerous. Very unpredictable.”

“But heat and that glow around her, that was different from the vision I just had,” I said. “She was standing there, and the boathouse burst into flames.”

“It's possible Belinda can start fires with her mind.”

“Do you mean she just thinks about it and
poof
?”

“I don't think she plans to start a fire. She's guided by her emotions. If you are angry, you may scream. For her, anger and fear bring on fire. It's called pyrokinesis.”

“She was jealous. Very jealous.” I didn't have to explain to Lady Azura that sometimes a spirit's feelings felt like they were mine.

“Pyrokinesis is extremely difficult to control, especially for someone so young,” she said. “Especially if no adult understands what is happening. I doubt one
hundred years ago poor Belinda had much support.”

For the longest time, every time a spirit appeared I'd been petrified. No one knew about what I could do. “I don't think she knows how to control her power.” I thought back to the orange glow and her blazing eyes. “That makes her dangerous.”

“I need you to promise you will stay far away from this spirit,” Lady Azura instructed.

I promised.

“You and Lily both,” she added.

I couldn't promise for Lily. I finally told her what had happened between us.

“She's upset. That's understandable.” Lady Azura paused, not going down the I-told-you-so path. “What does Lily's friendship mean to you?”

“Everything.” I didn't hesitate. I'd never had a friend like her before.

“Then forget the spirit. Fight for her friendship.”

I returned to the pool. Lily lay on the chaise lounge by herself. Kayla stood in a long line for frozen yogurt.

“Hey,” I said, gathering strength from Lady Azura's advice.

“Hey.” Lily didn't look up from her magazine.
I glanced at the cover. Lily and I had read that one together yesterday while getting pedicures at the spa. She was only using it to hide.

“Listen,” I said. “I'm so, so sorry. Seriously.”

Lily peeked over the top of the magazine.

“Incredibly sorry.” I unclasped my necklace and slid off the aragonite bead. “This is for you. For your necklace.” I'd given Lily her own necklace with a crystal for her birthday.

I placed the reddish-brown crystal in her palm.

“What's it for?” she asked.

“Friendship.”

She rolled the bead with her fingertip, then threaded it onto her necklace.

I smiled. It was enough. A beginning.

“Can you believe they ran out of the chocolate crunchy things?” Kayla pouted and thrust her yogurt cup toward us. “Now all my toppings will have that same soft feeling in my mouth. Totally changes the experience.”

“You could try granola,” I suggested. I'd decided to be extra nice to Kayla. If Lily liked her, I'd try too.

“Granola tastes like oats they feed to a horse.” Kayla reclined on the cushioned chaise next to Lily.

I shrugged and perched on the end of Lily's chair. Lily pulled up her feet to make room. A good sign.

“Laura was just here,” Lily said.

“Really? How's she doing with everything?” It felt weird to tiptoe into a conversation with Lily.

“Good.” Lily fidgeted with the frames of her sunglasses.

“She invited us to one of her cleansings tonight.” Kayla filled in what Lily had been hesitant to say. “Room twenty-two again. She told us about the Helliman family dying in that fire. She wants to use us as bait.”

“Not as bait,” Lily turned to Kayla. “That sounds so crude.”

“Bait?” I repeated.

“Yes,
bait
.” Kayla emphasized the word. “She wants to catch the ghosts, and she says she only feels them when we're there. So she wants us to hang out in the room, like
bait
, to lure the big, bad ghosts.”

“It's not a joke, Kayla,” Lily said quietly. “I felt something in that room. Laura agrees.”

“Don't do it,” I said.

“Why not?” Kayla demanded.

I studied Kayla for a moment. Had Lily told her about
my powers? No, I decided. Lily had kept my secret.

“It
feels
wrong.” I trained my gaze on Lily. I hoped she'd understand.

“Laura needs me. She told me so,” Lily said quietly. I could tell she had her mind made up, but so did I.

“It's a mistake,” I repeated stubbornly.

“Are you scared?” Kayla asked. “'Cause I'm not scared to chill in the haunted room.”

“We're going tonight,” Lily told me. “You can take a pass, if you want.”

“It's not about me.” It was about Lily and the red-haired ghost. I didn't know why, but when Lily was around, the spirit got that dangerous orange glow. “Lily, I need to talk to you about this.”

“So talk,” Kayla chimed in.

“It's private,” I said pointedly.

Lily sighed. “Sara, I get that you're trying to help, but you're not going to change my mind. I felt that spirit in that room. I know I did. Laura needs
me
, and I promised her.”

“You can't!” I was desperate to keep Lily away. “I won't let you. I'll . . . I'll tell your mom you're planning to sneak out again!”

Both Lily's and Kayla's eyes widened. Instantly, I knew that I'd said the stupidest thing.

“What's with you and my mom?” Lily demanded, unable to disguise her hurt. “You two like talking behind my back, is that it?”

“No, that's not it. I didn't mean—”

“I don't care what my mom thinks.” Lily stood abruptly. “Friends support each other. They don't tattle.”

“But I would never. I just said that because—”

“Kayla, I'm really warm. Let's swim.” Lily stalked toward the waterslide with Kayla close on her heels.

I buried my head in my hands. I only wanted to help my best friend. Why was it all going so wrong?

I looked up at Kayla and Lily whispering in line by the stairs to the slide. I should be by Lily's side, not Kayla. Lily barely knew this girl.

Then I heard Lily's infectious giggle.

A sound so familiar.

A sound that now made my blood run cold.

I'd heard that sound in my visions. By the boathouse and in the bedroom. The giggle of Margaret Helliman.

Lily and the dead girl had the same giggle.

What did that mean?

I hugged my knees in the darkness and sucked in my breath. Footsteps echoed eerily down the empty hall, growing louder and louder. My heart pounded as she approached.

“No! No!” I wanted to scream. I peeked through my fingers. My hands were ready to cover my eyes.

“Don't do it,” Owen murmured under his breath. “Don't open that door.”

She didn't listen.

Her pale hand twisted the doorknob. Owen's body stiffened next to me. The door creaked on its hinges.

For a moment, there was silence.

And then screams. Shrill, terrified screams. From her. From me. From voices all around me. Tentacles lashed out. A big, bulbous head with one eyeball and teeth. Lots of jagged teeth.

I ripped the paper 3-D glasses off my face. “A sea monster that walks on land? Really?”

“Totally. Oh! Watch out!” Owen called to the girl on the oversize movie screen set up by the lake. Nearly strangled, the girl ripped the attacking tentacle, and green slime squirted out.

“Gross,” Owen murmured.

We shared one of the many plaid blankets scattered across the grass for Teen Scary Movie Night.
Creature from the Deep
was playing. I wondered about the wisdom of this choice. How many of the kids surrounding me in the chilly night would brave the dark lake water tomorrow, even with the sun shining bright?

Not me.

I glanced to my right to see Lily's reaction. She was easily freaked out by scary movies.

She wasn't there.

By the pale moonlight, the blanket that she'd shared with Kayla lay empty.

“Where are they?” I nudged Owen, who still gaped at the struggle on the screen.

“Sneaked off. Before the scene with the mist.”

How'd I miss that?

The girl on the screen screamed again. “Run!” Owen cried, shaking his mop of curls in disbelief. I didn't bother to follow the horror she'd let herself in for now. My eyes searched the sloping lawn for Lily and Kayla.

I knew I wouldn't find them outside.

I knew where they'd gone.

Without me.

I debated staying on the blanket and watching the end of the movie. But I didn't care if the sea monster ate the girl or not.