The Haunted (23 page)

My eyes traced a path from one star to the next, and I started to see shapes and patterns. “I can’t believe you did this for me, Caspian. Now every night when I’m in bed I’ll think of you.”

“That’s what I was hoping for,” he said. “For you to dream of me.”

“Look,” I said, directing the conversation away from
that
topic. “A shooting star.”

“I see,” said Caspian. “Right next to the Big Dipper over there.”

“Where?”

He pointed to a clump of stars. “There. You just have to do some creative rearranging with your eyes.”

“Ohhh, is that what it’s called?”

“Yeah. It’s right next to that line of stars. What are those three in a row called?”

“Orion’s Belt?”

“That’s it.” He tilted his head. “Although, it looks more like Orion’s toga to me. See how they kind of trail up and out?”

Laughing, I said. “Orion’s
toga
? I’ve never heard of that one. What about Orion’s cape?” He grinned at me, and even in the darkness I could still see the vibrant green of his eyes.

“Yup, that’s right there along with the slightly less famous—but still featured on
Jeopardy!
—Orion’s bathrobe.”

We shared a smile, and then I shifted so I could prop my head up on my hand. “Tell me a story,” I whispered. “A secret. Something you’ve never told anyone else.”

His face turned blank, unreadable. Then he turned to me. “When I was little, I thought I could fly. My aunt took me to this rehearsal for a play she was helping out with—I think they were doing
Arabian Nights
—and I climbed up on this big floating carpet that was there as a prop.

“I remember it distinctly. I sat on this carpet and folded my arms genie style, while repeating ‘ALASHAZAM,’ and then the carpet started moving. It probably should have freaked me out or something, but it didn’t. And I just… floated… back and forth.”

His story made my heart give a little sigh. It wasn’t a sad story by any means, but there was something about the way he told it. Something about getting a glimpse of the boy he used to be that made me want to go back in time and see it for myself.

“Now that I’m older, I realize that the carpet was on a moving platform, or wheels or something,” he said. “But back then? It was the greatest feeling in the world. I was flying.”

His smile grew wistful, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, he said, “Now it’s your turn. Tell me a secret.”

I didn’t really
have
any secrets. Sure, there was silly stuff, like stuffing my bra with socks when I was twelve, or having a crush on my teacher in fifth grade. But that all felt too small and trivial for this moment.

Then I thought about Kristen.

She’d
certainly kept secrets. A boyfriend she purposely didn’t tell me about. Conversations with him behind my back.
All those times she was hanging out with me, when she really wanted to be with
him
.

I didn’t have any of
those
kinds of secrets. But there was one thing.…

I began slowly. “When I was nine or ten, I was waiting for Kristen in her yard. She was at the dentist, so she wasn’t home yet, but there were these kids playing in the next yard over. A bunch of neighborhood kids.”

My stomach started churning. I hadn’t thought about this memory in a long time.

“They were playing in the mud with those large dump-truck toys, you know, the heavy metal yellow ones, with big wheels?” He nodded. “I sort of moved closer. Curious about what they were doing, but I didn’t really want to be noticed. Then I saw that they weren’t just playing with dump trucks. There was this huge toad being held down, and they just kept squishing it with the tires, over and over again.”

I could hear my voice growing fainter, but I was lost in that awful memory of bulging toad guts and muddy ground.

“It was
horrible
. I was horrified by what they were doing, and even more horrified that I wasn’t saying anything. But I was scared. I felt powerless and mute. And it was just a stupid frog. I wasn’t hurting it, so what did it matter? Or at least that’s
what I kept telling myself.” I let out a shaky breath. “I never told that to anyone else. Not even Kristen. I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me.”

Caspian nodded slowly.

“Nice, huh?” I said. “I could have saved that frog and I didn’t. I’m a frog killer. Bet you always wanted to know that.”

I tried to read his face. Was he thinking I was an awful person? Did he hate me for what I’d just told him?

“You’re not going to get it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to get what?”

“Condemnation. You’re not going to get that from me. I know you want me to tell you how bad and awful of a thing that was. But you were just a little kid. Forgive yourself for it, and let it go.”

I flopped back down on the bed, stretching my legs and flexing my toes. Anger at myself ran through my veins like hot fire. I didn’t know if I
could
just let it go.

“Don’t pout,” Caspian said.

“I’m not pouting,” I replied. “I don’t pout.”

“That looks like a pout to me,” he said. He shifted so that he was facing me now, propping himself up on one hand. His grin was contagious, and I grinned back, feeling silly and romantic and wonderful.

“Black,” Caspian said abruptly.

I raised my eyebrow at him. “Black?”

“It’s my favorite color. You never asked, so I’m telling you.”

“But that’s not really a color. It’s all the colors put together.”

He pointed to his shirt, which was black. “It’s a color. Oh, and I don’t have one.”

“Don’t have… a pet skunk?” I guessed.

Caspian laughed. “A middle name. I don’t have a middle name.”

“Mine’s Amelia,” I said. “But I prefer Astrid.” I sat up slightly. “Hey, you need a nickname.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m a nickname kind of guy.”

“No, really, you are. Let me think about it. Caspian… Casp… Casper… There you go, Casper! Has a nice ring to it. Plus, you’re friendly
and
you’re a ghost.”

“A cartoon character?” He gave a mock sigh. “Seriously?”

I lay back down and folded my arms under my head, trying to keep my face straight. “Get used to it, Casper. At least I didn’t suggest Shaggy or Scooby-Doo. Although…”

“Don’t get any ideas,” he mumbled.

I closed my eyes then, and let the laughter that was building up take over me.

˜   ˜   ˜

When I awoke, the sky outside was gray and ominous. The sure signs of a summer storm about to hit. The clock said nine thirty, and I couldn’t figure out why I was sleeping at the foot of my bed. Then I remembered the stars.

Glancing around the room, I looked for Caspian. He wasn’t there, but a folded note next to my pillow had
Astrid
written on the outside. I reached for it, stomach clenched.

It was short and sweet.

Hope you had pleasant dreams, beautiful. I stayed until you fell asleep, and then let myself out. I’ll be thinking of you…

Love, Caspian

I read it a dozen times and then tucked it safely under my pillow so I could read it again later. Hopping out of bed with a smile on my face, I didn’t even mind the crack of thunder that followed me as I got in the shower. The hot water was delicious, and I found myself humming a song as I lathered up my hair.

After I got dressed, I decided to grab sturdier shoes than my flip-flops, and I went to the closet. Lifting the pile of extra
pillows and blankets that were stashed in there, I dug around for a pair of sneakers. My hand hit something solid, and I pulled back, seeing two small books, one red and one black.

My knees gave out in a slow fall. My good mood vanished.

Kristen’s diaries. The ones I’d found in her room. I touched the edge of one, and a jolt of memory ran through me.

Kristen and me shopping for new shoes at the mall. Hanging out under the bridge after the first day of school. Leaving letters for Washington Irving at his grave on Halloween night. Roaming through the cemetery and making up stories…

I needed to see her again. I needed to go see Kristen.

I
NTRODUCTIONS

There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and appalling.

—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”

It looked like rain the entire way to the cemetery, but that didn’t bother me. I’d grabbed my yellow raincoat in case the storm hit while I was out.

When I reached Kristen’s stone, I saw that a pot of red tulips had been left there. I knelt down to read the card sticking out of a long, pronged plastic stake.
Love, Mom and Dad
, it said.

I smiled to myself. That was typical of Kristen’s parents. Bringing something to make the place look pretty.
I should really go visit them sometime soon
.
See how they’re doing.

There were loose grass clippings stuck to the face of her tombstone—evidence of careless lawn-maintenance
people—and I brushed them away, taking a minute to trace the carved letters of her name with my pinkie.

“Hey, Kristen,” I whispered.

I tucked my legs up under me and rested one palm on the top of the granite marker. “I found your diaries again today. They were in the back of my closet, and I saw them when I was looking for my shoes.” I took a deep breath. “I really miss you. I miss hanging out with you. I miss calling you. I miss seeing how your face lights up when I have something funny to say.…”

Thunder rumbled, and a breeze blew past me, causing the nearby tree limbs to shiver. I shivered too.

“You know, when I first found your diaries and read about the secret boyfriend you were always trying to find ways to be with, a part of me was really mad at you, Kristen. I couldn’t understand why you kept him a secret from me. Why you didn’t tell me about someone who made you so happy.” I ran my thumb back and forth over the center of my clover necklace. “I would have been there for you. I would have been happy for you.…

“But you didn’t let me in. And when I found out, I hated you for that.” I bowed my head, and the tears came, slipping down my nose and falling to the ground below. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I’m
so
sorry
I felt that way. I shouldn’t have. You were my best friend. How could I ever hate you?”

A heavy raindrop landed on the back of my head, and before I had the chance to put on my coat, the sky opened up. Sheets of rain cascaded down around me, and within seconds my hair and clothes were soaked. But I wasn’t done talking yet.

“Whoever D. is, I’m sorry that he hurt you,” I told her, over the sound of the storm. “It must have been heartbreaking, to have to hold it all inside. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to talk about… after… your first time.” Rain pounded down on me, echoing off of the plastic jacket I struggled to put on, and splattering on the hard ground. “Oh, Kristen, your words were so full of regret, and that’s not how love is supposed to be.”

A smile crept across my face. “Love is supposed to be wonderful, and thrilling, and exciting, and nerve-wracking. It’s amazing, Kristen. I have someone now too, and I can talk to him like I can’t talk to anyone else. Not anyone since… you.

“He’s the boy I told you about on prom night, when I wrote you that letter. He’s gorgeous and funny, and smart. He’s an artist, too. He makes me these necklaces that are just unbelievable. And last night? He climbed into my room and put glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. Can you believe that?”

Then I frowned as I realized I’d left something out. An
important something. “This next part is going to sound crazy. Believe me, I know. But it’s the truth. He’s…” My voice faltered, and I cleared my throat. “He’s… dead. I’m in love with a ghost.”

I waited for lightning to strike, or the ground to split open. But nothing happened. No sign from the heavens, or rupture of reality as I knew it.

Nothing happened at all.

I shook my head back and forth. “I don’t understand it. I just know that I love him. However wrong… or right… that may be. He makes me happy.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Crazy, right? I know. God, I wish you were here to talk to.” Something pinched in the pit of my stomach. “I wish I could share this with you, Kristen. Because that’s the difference between you and me. I would have told you about him instead of keeping it a secret.”

Sorrow overwhelmed me, and my tears came faster. Gasping for breath, I turned my face to the sky. The rain was cool and clean, and I just wanted it to wash away my pain. To make everything better. I thought I’d been able to put this all behind me, but apparently not. The wound was still fresh. It still burned.

Monday morning Mom woke me up with a reminder that I had to go help Uncle Bob. I’d completely forgotten about my
promise and was
not
very happy to remember. But I climbed out of bed and quickly threw some clothes on. At least I’d get a paycheck out of the deal.

Mom dropped me off at the front door of the ice cream store and said she’d be back at five, then sped away. I forced myself to enter the shop, already regretting this decision. Working in a back office once a week was one thing—that kind of felt like I’d been doing admin stuff for my own store—but handing over melted ice cream cones to sticky-fingered children all day long was another.