to check out some old yearbooks and stuff. You know. For fun.” Even I thought I sounded lame.
“Thou shalt not pass!” Her voice didn’t wheeze above a whisper. She lifted the sword and bopped me on the head with it like she meant it as a joke. The effort practically toppled her.
“What do you mean?” I asked, ducking to get away from the sword.
“You need permission from a teacher to accessarchives,” Abby said in a normal voice, apparently disappointed that I didn’t dig her fossilized angel humor. “We have books in there that are more than one hundred years old. It’s restricted access unless you are doing some sort of school project.”
“I just want to look for a few minutes. I won’t mess anything up.”
“Sorry,” she said. Her face was lined, ancient. The lady had probably babysat Moses.
“Well … could you give me permission?”
She smiled, like her patience was at its end. “No, dear. It’s my job to keep you out. It’s someone else’s job to try and get you in.” She turned to leave. Her feet were in orthopedic Mary Janes. It seemed like she floated off on her makeshift wings. I kicked the doorjamb of the archives room. But softly, so she wouldn’t hear. Then I jogged to the theater to meet Nora and Brynn.
They were arguing as I inchwormed my way through the tunnel to the secret room. They must have heard me, because they went quiet before I could make out what they were saying.
“Tell me everything,” I demanded, as I tumbled onto the floor. Brynn held out her hand to help me up.
“That night after you told us about your stunt at the chapel,” Nora said, unzipping her backpack, “Jessie cried herself to sleep. Tell you the truth? I was relieved. I got some sleep, too. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to Jessie talking with someone in our room. Except it was just Jessie there. She had that stupid broken Ouija board in her lap. I think she was trying to use it. Fine, whatever, at least she’s talking, right? But then she freaked. I mean, gasping and crying and rocking.”
Nora pulled out a tape measure and started constructing her precious door. Brynn aimed the flashlight so Nora could see while she worked. Unlike Nora, Brynn looked scared. Her eyes were wide, glassy beads. Nora went on.
“I said, ‘What’s wrong, Jessie?’ She whispered, ‘The seat belt,’ over and over. I was lying in bed, trying to figure out what was going on. That’s when Jessie sat up, quit bawling, and called out, ‘I understand about the seat belt.’”
“‘I understand’?” I said. Which was stupid, because I completely didn’t.
“As soon as she said it, a car drove up to our patio, right across the lawn. The headlights lit our room up. Someone came to the door.”
My skin went cold as graveyard dirt.
Nora grunted, twisting the screw into the wood. Her fingertips were white with pressure. “Three in the freaking morning, and I saw the shadow of a man through our curtains.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Jessie got up and went out. She didn’t say good-bye or anything.”
“Who was it — out there?” I asked.
Nora fished another screw out of her pocket and started working again, avoiding our eyes. Finally she looked at me. That’s when I saw it in her face. Nora had been too afraid to watch what happened to Jessie — she probably hid under the covers or pretended to be asleep, so she’d never seen more than his shadow. You’re putting up a lock so you can hide from him , I thought. It spooked me even worse that calm, self-confident Nora had been frightened.
“Shut up!” Nora answered, as if I’d said it out loud. “You weren’t there.”
“I saw him,” Brynn said quietly. She took a deep breath. “I saw a man walk up to her patio and stand there. I thoughthe was her dad or someone to come pick her up — I knew she’d been having a hard time. Jessie opened the door and put something in his hand.”
“What?” I
“Thou shalt not pass!” Her voice didn’t wheeze above a whisper. She lifted the sword and bopped me on the head with it like she meant it as a joke. The effort practically toppled her.
“What do you mean?” I asked, ducking to get away from the sword.
“You need permission from a teacher to accessarchives,” Abby said in a normal voice, apparently disappointed that I didn’t dig her fossilized angel humor. “We have books in there that are more than one hundred years old. It’s restricted access unless you are doing some sort of school project.”
“I just want to look for a few minutes. I won’t mess anything up.”
“Sorry,” she said. Her face was lined, ancient. The lady had probably babysat Moses.
“Well … could you give me permission?”
She smiled, like her patience was at its end. “No, dear. It’s my job to keep you out. It’s someone else’s job to try and get you in.” She turned to leave. Her feet were in orthopedic Mary Janes. It seemed like she floated off on her makeshift wings. I kicked the doorjamb of the archives room. But softly, so she wouldn’t hear. Then I jogged to the theater to meet Nora and Brynn.
They were arguing as I inchwormed my way through the tunnel to the secret room. They must have heard me, because they went quiet before I could make out what they were saying.
“Tell me everything,” I demanded, as I tumbled onto the floor. Brynn held out her hand to help me up.
“That night after you told us about your stunt at the chapel,” Nora said, unzipping her backpack, “Jessie cried herself to sleep. Tell you the truth? I was relieved. I got some sleep, too. But in the middle of the night, I woke up to Jessie talking with someone in our room. Except it was just Jessie there. She had that stupid broken Ouija board in her lap. I think she was trying to use it. Fine, whatever, at least she’s talking, right? But then she freaked. I mean, gasping and crying and rocking.”
Nora pulled out a tape measure and started constructing her precious door. Brynn aimed the flashlight so Nora could see while she worked. Unlike Nora, Brynn looked scared. Her eyes were wide, glassy beads. Nora went on.
“I said, ‘What’s wrong, Jessie?’ She whispered, ‘The seat belt,’ over and over. I was lying in bed, trying to figure out what was going on. That’s when Jessie sat up, quit bawling, and called out, ‘I understand about the seat belt.’”
“‘I understand’?” I said. Which was stupid, because I completely didn’t.
“As soon as she said it, a car drove up to our patio, right across the lawn. The headlights lit our room up. Someone came to the door.”
My skin went cold as graveyard dirt.
Nora grunted, twisting the screw into the wood. Her fingertips were white with pressure. “Three in the freaking morning, and I saw the shadow of a man through our curtains.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Jessie got up and went out. She didn’t say good-bye or anything.”
“Who was it — out there?” I asked.
Nora fished another screw out of her pocket and started working again, avoiding our eyes. Finally she looked at me. That’s when I saw it in her face. Nora had been too afraid to watch what happened to Jessie — she probably hid under the covers or pretended to be asleep, so she’d never seen more than his shadow. You’re putting up a lock so you can hide from him , I thought. It spooked me even worse that calm, self-confident Nora had been frightened.
“Shut up!” Nora answered, as if I’d said it out loud. “You weren’t there.”
“I saw him,” Brynn said quietly. She took a deep breath. “I saw a man walk up to her patio and stand there. I thoughthe was her dad or someone to come pick her up — I knew she’d been having a hard time. Jessie opened the door and put something in his hand.”
“What?” I
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