Gravestone by Travis Thrasher Page A

validated it. This guy who gave it to me likes me. He knew I was asking about a job for you. Said that the owner, Iris, pays well. If you don’t mind the reputation of the place she owns.”
    “Oh boy.”
    “Do you have any other ideas?”
    “There’s a mountain man with big dogs who wants me to take care of them. Says he’ll pay me in raw meat. That may or may not be human.”
    “That’s not even funny.”
    “I’m not joking,” I say.
    And a part of me isn’t.
    “Did you already call?” I ask her.
    “You have a job interview this weekend.”
    “Oh, come on. Where is this?”
    “It’s a place called the Crag’s Inn.”
    I lean against the couch as I watch my mom, who seems a bit lost in the kitchen. “Are you serious?”
    “Very.”
    “The Crag’s Inn? Mom.”
    “What?”
    “What do you mean, ‘what’? The name alone sounds creepy. Like the hag’s inn.”
    “You’re going to go unless you give me an alternative.”
    “Why this sudden rush of me needing to get a job?”
    “You need to keep occupied.”
    “Track’s not enough?”
    “Aren’t you supposed to be there now?”
    “Yeah. I forgot.”
    “You need to keep busy. Or else you’ll get in trouble. Like back home.”
    “Why are you bringing that up now?” I ask.
    I look in the fridge for something to drink and grab a can of generic diet soda that tastes exactly like generic diet soda.
    “Chris, this job pays very well.”
    “Where is this Crag’s Inn?”
    “A twenty-minute drive.”
    “You going to take me?”
    She smiles. “We need to think about getting that license, and then maybe you can drive yourself.”
    “In what car?”
    “First things first.”
    I put the note down on the counter and stare at it.
    I have a bad feeling about this.
    Turns out I should have a bad feeling about it.
    Turns out that everybody knows about the Crag’s Inn and the lady named Iris who runs it. How many ways can you say haunted house?
    Ray confronts me to see why I missed practice. I tell him I got sick, which is true because I did get suddenly and violently sick of Harrington High. I bring up the Crag’s Inn.
    “A job? There? Are you high?”
    “My mom was told it pays well.”
    “I’m sure selling crack pays well too. Doesn’t mean you should do it.”
    “Why? What’s wrong with it?”
    He just shakes his head. “Man, being new sucks, doesn’t it?” He laughs and walks away.
    Thanks a lot, Ray.
    I ask Newt about it over lunch, since Newt is my one and only lunch buddy again. His eyes grow big behind the spectacles; his mouth opens slightly.
    “What? Is it haunted or something?”
    “No, not something,” Newt says. “It is haunted. Without question.”
    “Come on.”
    “It’s true.”
    “Have you been there?”
    “No. It takes forever to get to. Some dirt road that winds around like a coiled snake. It’s on the edge of the mountaintop. A cliff.”
    “And what’s wrong about it?”
    “Do you just want trouble, Chris?”
    “I didn’t have anything to do with it. Someone recommended it to my mom.”
    He shifts in his chair. As usual, he peers around to see if anybody is watching. Then he lowers his head and talks in a whisper.
    “The lady who runs this inn—it’s kinda like a bed-and-breakfast—they say she’s crazy. Iris. Years ago lost her husband, and her children abandoned her. Turned into a recluse. They say …”
    “What do they say?” I know I’ve seen a lot around here, but I still can’t help being cynical.
    “People who have stayed there don’t leave.”
    I make an oooohhhhh sound and exaggerate the look on my face.
    “I’m serious.”
    “So, what? Does she eat them or something?”
    “A couple went there on their honeymoon. They were driving across the country, staying at quaint little inns. The wife slipped off the side of the mountain and died.”
    “And you think this Iris pushed her?”
    Newt is undaunted. “A guy in my gym class last year went up there with some buddies one night. He