Grave Girl by Amy Cross Page A

uncertain as she brushes grass from her knees. "You found it?" she asks.
    Sam nods.
    "How?"
    "It was right there," Sam says, pointing to the girl's feet. "I saw it glinting in the sun."
    The girl stares at her. She looks so nervous, it's as if she could suddenly turn and run away at any moment. Her eyes keep darting about, like she's some kind of terrified animal looking for the best escape route. "Do you work here or something?" she asks eventually.
    Sam nods.
    "Like... You're the gardener's assistant?"
    "No. I'm the gardener."
    "But you're..." She pauses. "Like, no offense, but you're not..."
    "I'm female," Sam says. "I know it's a bit of a shock, but if you want your ankh necklace back, I'm the one who's got it. So do you wanna come and pick it up, or should I just hang on to it?"
    "Okay," the girl says tentatively.
    "Okay?"
    "I'll come and get it."
    "This way," Sam says, turning and leading her toward the cottage. "Sorry I didn't see you sooner," she continues, as the girl walks a few paces behind. "I was busy digging this." She points down at the grave.
    "You did that?" the girl asks.
    "Surprised?"
    "I guess. It's kind of cool."
    "It took a while," Sam admits as they reach the cottage. "Come in," she says, pushing the door open and walking into the kitchen. She makes her way straight over to the large tin on the sideboard, where she placed the necklace for safe-keeping.
    "Is that, like, your Lost and Found box?" the girl asks.
    "No," Sam says. "I think there is a Lost and Found box somewhere in here, but I haven't found it yet." Holding up the silver necklace, she turns to find that the girl is loitering shyly outside the door. "This it?" Sam asks.
    "Um," the girl replies, squinting to get a better view. "I think so."
    Sam smiles. "You know, if you actually dare to step inside and come a little closer, you'll be able to see for sure."
    "I think that's it," the girl says.
    "You're scared to come in?"
    "Scared?" The girl looks over her shoulder for a moment, almost as if she's worried someone might be watching her. "I'm not scared," she says eventually. "It's just that I'm in a hurry. I need to get the necklace home before my parents find out it's missing. It was my great-grandmother's and apparently it's worth, like, quite a lot of money, so I wasn't really supposed to wear it last night and... well, you get the idea. I just really need to get it back in my mother's jewelry box before she gets home from work, or she's gonna find out it's missing and she'll freak out."
    "Mothers, huh?" Sam replies.
    The girl smiles awkwardly.
    "So come and get it," Sam replies, holding the necklace out toward her.
    The girl smiles awkwardly, before looking down at the kitchen floor as if she expects it to give way at any moment and tip both Sam and herself straight down to the fires of hell. "Okay, here's the thing," she says eventually. "I really just need to get home, so if you could just give me the necklace back, I can be on my way. I don't want to hold up your grave-digging, I'm sure you've got loads of work to be doing, so if you give me my necklace I can just get out of your hair." She stares at Sam with desperate, terrified eyes, almost as if she might burst into tears. "Please"? she adds quietly.
    "Here's the deal," Sam says. "You take one step through that doorway, and I'll come the rest of the way. Okay? I promise, this place isn't like the doorway to Hell."
    The girl takes a deep breath. "I'd really rather you just came out and gave me the necklace," she says quickly.
    Sighing, Sam wanders across the kitchen until she reaches the doorway, but she holds the necklace back for a moment. "Okay. New deal. All you have to do is tell me why you're so scared to come inside. You tell me that, I'll give you the necklace."
    "I'm really not sure you should be trying to blackmail me," the girl says timidly.
    "Come on," Sam replies. "What's wrong?"
    The girl looks up at the top of the doorway. It's almost as if she's terrified to even be