Mothman's Curse by Christine Hayes Page A

knew there would be a disaster, years before it happened. They tried everything they could think of to stop it.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Some things they told me; many they did not. I stayed with Mr. Goodrich after the town was lost, after his wife passed. Such a terrible time. He said someday another disaster would come. For years I stayed, until he sent me away.”
    When she finished, we reached for the door handles, unsure of what else to say. But then I thought of one final thing I had to know. “Mr. Goodrich—he was a good man, wasn’t he?”
    â€œYes. He always tried to do what was right, sometimes at great personal cost.”
    I mulled this over, remembering his worried face and desperate eyes.
    â€œPlease, please be careful, my children,” she said in parting. “Stay far away from this.”
    We thanked her, climbed out of the car to retrieve our bikes, and made a run for the garage to escape the downpour.
    By unspoken agreement we stashed our bikes and went straight to the Cave to figure out our next move.
    We sat across from each other, the pin on the table between us. We stared at it. I drummed my fingers on the scarred tabletop, tapped my foot, cleaned my nails, twisted a strand of hair around my finger. Fox sat perfectly still. His patience set my teeth on edge.
    â€œI don’t know what we’re waiting for,” I complained. “It’s not like the pin is going to start talking to us or anything.”
    Fox had already done a web search on his phone for cursed moth pin and found exactly nothing.
    â€œI’m just gonna put it on,” I said suddenly, at the same time that Fox said: “Maybe you should put it on.”
    A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “How else are we gonna find out anything, right? Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe it’s all just a story.”
    I reached for the pin.
    â€œJosie, wait.” Fox grabbed my wrist. “What if the curse doesn’t kick in unless you put it on? We could still get rid of it.”
    I’d thought of that, too. Maybe it wasn’t too late to drop it in the river, or down the garbage disposal. But I knew it was wishful thinking. Somehow I could feel that the pin had already claimed me. “The truth is we don’t know how any of this really works.”
    â€œI guess. It’s just … I could … that is, maybe if I…?” I hadn’t seen him so tongue-tied since he was eight years old and got caught polishing off an entire pumpkin pie the night before Thanksgiving. “What if I tried it first? Could we share the curse?”
    I was so grateful for his offer I almost took him up on it. I wanted to. But just knowing he’d tried made me feel braver. I knew it was time to put on my big-sister shoes. “It’s okay, Fox. I’m not sure it can be shared. It’s really great of you to offer, but I got this.”
    I closed trembling fingers around the pin, withdrew my arm, and then, before I could change my mind, jabbed it through the collar of my sweatshirt.
    â€œWell?”

    I didn’t realize I’d closed my eyes until Fox spoke. Slowly, I opened them and relaxed my tightly clenched fists. I looked left, then right, finally allowing my gaze to settle on Fox’s tense face. I felt the corners of my mouth lift, watched his expression mirror my own.
    â€œNothing’s different. I can’t see any—”
    Red light flared, filling my vision. I flinched, tried to cover my eyes. The air shimmered; light vanished. I saw only watery blackness, as if I’d been plunged into a dark, icy river. It swallowed the room and me along with it. I felt myself falling, falling, Fox’s voice calling my name as if from a great distance—
    *   *   *
    I was a world away, standing in a grassy field. Two young men were sprawled, lazing in the sunshine, dressed in old-fashioned clothes. One lay on his stomach in