“Then it’ll look like we’re going for a nice, romantic walk along the riverbank.”
I couldn’t help laughing, just a little. “Nice try, Eli.”
As we walked, I told him about the repulsive “mummy-thing” I’d thought I’d seen. I told him about both times, first at the tanning salon, and then again at Nightmare Hall. I didn’t know why I was telling him when I hadn’t told Bay or Nat. Maybe because I knew he wouldn’t laugh at me, and I also suspected he just might believe me. Eli never discounted things, no matter how bizarre, without considering them carefully first.
I ended by telling him I was sure I’d imagined the whole thing.
He didn’t laugh, and he didn’t tell me I must have been hallucinating. He took everything I told him very seriously. And he wasn’t so sure I’d imagined it.
“You’re not the daydreamer type, Tory. Maybe what you saw was real.”
I didn’t see how it could be. What’s more, I didn’t want it to be real.
But Eli was talking about it as if he were convinced it had been real. “Well, we know it couldn’t have been Hoop,” he said as we trekked along the river path. “It may have looked like him, but there’s no way he could get out of that bed. Sounds like it was someone trying to make you think it was Hoop. But what for?”
“All I know is,” I said, “that thing wasn’t coming down those steps to shake my hand. It meant to hurt me. If Jess and Ian hadn’t come outside just then, I don’t think I’d be around to tell you about it now.”
“What did Bay say about it?”
“I … I haven’t told Bay yet.”
“No?” Eli looked pleased. “You told me first?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling you, either. I’d already decided I’d imagined the whole nasty business. It just sort of spilled out of me.”
Eli said he didn’t see how we could go to the police just now, and I agreed. And then he said we would just have to keep our eyes open and stick together. I agreed with that, too, and wished it were all five of us sticking together, not just Eli and me. But at least I wasn’t completely alone.
“Could have been a joke,” Eli said halfheartedly. But I could tell that he didn’t believe that at all. He just didn’t know what else to say.
Then we were at that part of the path where a side lane veered off into the park. We stopped walking, and hesitated on the edge of the woods, not quite ready to face up to ugly reality.
If it had been summer, with all of the trees fully leafed out, we wouldn’t have been able to see any sign of the fire from our spot on the path. The trees along the path hadn’t been touched by the heat or flames, and had their branches been covered with leaves, they would have formed a thick, full barrier, protecting our eyes from the devastation.
But it was late March, and although some of the early-blooming trees had new, small leaves or blossoms, most of them were still only in bud and provided a clear view of the blackened acres.
It was horrible. Awful. We stood at the edge of the forest, Eli and I, staring at the result of our carelessness. I’d seen a picture of Mount Saint Helens once, after the volcano erupted. Nothing but gray ash for miles, and miles. The part of the park ravaged by fire looked like that picture. Barren, empty, with only jagged stumps of trees sticking up out of the ground and piles of blackened branches and burned leaves carpeting the ground.
“Oh, Eli,” I whispered. “It’s terrible!”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging. “We have to find that key chain. While we’re standing here feeling guilty, a cop guarding the park could be picking it up and slipping it into a plastic bag as evidence. Hurry up!” Then, when I held back, he turned and said, “Look, Tory, I’m really sorry I have to ask you to do this. It’s rotten, I know. I don’t want to go in there, either. But I can’t do it by myself.”
“I’m coming, Eli. I know you’d do the same
I couldn’t help laughing, just a little. “Nice try, Eli.”
As we walked, I told him about the repulsive “mummy-thing” I’d thought I’d seen. I told him about both times, first at the tanning salon, and then again at Nightmare Hall. I didn’t know why I was telling him when I hadn’t told Bay or Nat. Maybe because I knew he wouldn’t laugh at me, and I also suspected he just might believe me. Eli never discounted things, no matter how bizarre, without considering them carefully first.
I ended by telling him I was sure I’d imagined the whole thing.
He didn’t laugh, and he didn’t tell me I must have been hallucinating. He took everything I told him very seriously. And he wasn’t so sure I’d imagined it.
“You’re not the daydreamer type, Tory. Maybe what you saw was real.”
I didn’t see how it could be. What’s more, I didn’t want it to be real.
But Eli was talking about it as if he were convinced it had been real. “Well, we know it couldn’t have been Hoop,” he said as we trekked along the river path. “It may have looked like him, but there’s no way he could get out of that bed. Sounds like it was someone trying to make you think it was Hoop. But what for?”
“All I know is,” I said, “that thing wasn’t coming down those steps to shake my hand. It meant to hurt me. If Jess and Ian hadn’t come outside just then, I don’t think I’d be around to tell you about it now.”
“What did Bay say about it?”
“I … I haven’t told Bay yet.”
“No?” Eli looked pleased. “You told me first?”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on telling you, either. I’d already decided I’d imagined the whole nasty business. It just sort of spilled out of me.”
Eli said he didn’t see how we could go to the police just now, and I agreed. And then he said we would just have to keep our eyes open and stick together. I agreed with that, too, and wished it were all five of us sticking together, not just Eli and me. But at least I wasn’t completely alone.
“Could have been a joke,” Eli said halfheartedly. But I could tell that he didn’t believe that at all. He just didn’t know what else to say.
Then we were at that part of the path where a side lane veered off into the park. We stopped walking, and hesitated on the edge of the woods, not quite ready to face up to ugly reality.
If it had been summer, with all of the trees fully leafed out, we wouldn’t have been able to see any sign of the fire from our spot on the path. The trees along the path hadn’t been touched by the heat or flames, and had their branches been covered with leaves, they would have formed a thick, full barrier, protecting our eyes from the devastation.
But it was late March, and although some of the early-blooming trees had new, small leaves or blossoms, most of them were still only in bud and provided a clear view of the blackened acres.
It was horrible. Awful. We stood at the edge of the forest, Eli and I, staring at the result of our carelessness. I’d seen a picture of Mount Saint Helens once, after the volcano erupted. Nothing but gray ash for miles, and miles. The part of the park ravaged by fire looked like that picture. Barren, empty, with only jagged stumps of trees sticking up out of the ground and piles of blackened branches and burned leaves carpeting the ground.
“Oh, Eli,” I whispered. “It’s terrible!”
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and tugging. “We have to find that key chain. While we’re standing here feeling guilty, a cop guarding the park could be picking it up and slipping it into a plastic bag as evidence. Hurry up!” Then, when I held back, he turned and said, “Look, Tory, I’m really sorry I have to ask you to do this. It’s rotten, I know. I don’t want to go in there, either. But I can’t do it by myself.”
“I’m coming, Eli. I know you’d do the same
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