Towering by Alex Flinn Page A

out.” To her, going on a date probably implied showing up at the door in a suit and carrying a bouquet of daisies. No one I knew did that. But I could let the old lady have her fantasy. “I’m just going to call her today, though.”
    I thought I’d go to Josh’s store for the hinges first. When I saw him, he was putting some kind of weird birdhouse on a high shelf. “Astrid couldn’t stop talking about you yesterday. It was pretty boring.”
    “I’ll bet.” I examined the shelves of old yearbooks, wondering why anyone would buy someone else’s yearbook. “I’m here for those hinges.”
    “Sure.” Josh motioned for me to follow him toward the stockroom. “But you had an okay time New Year’s?”
    “I had an awesome time.” I overstated it because, really, it was nice of him to invite me, and it wasn’t his fault I was kind of congenitally unhappy.
    “That’s cool. Astrid wants you to come skiing with us. Maybe tomorrow.”
    “Maybe. Listen.” I started to follow him to the register. I noticed the same old man who’d been there the day I ordered the hardware. This time, he was looking at an old school desk. “When I was at the place, I heard this sort of weird sound in the woods. It sounded like someone singing.”
    “A loon. Must have been a loon.”
    “Astrid said that. But this was in the middle of the night.”
    “An owl then.”
    “It didn’t sound like a bird at all. It sounded human.”
    “It was,” the old man said. “People say there’s a ghost, a young girl who was murdered by her faithless lover in those very woods. Not everyone can hear it, though.”
    I turned to him, interested. He had on a fishing hat with flies stuck in it, even though it was the dead of winter. “How can you tell who can hear it?”
    Josh nudged me. “Don’t mess with him, Wyatt.”
    “I’m not messing with him. I really want to know.” To the old man, I said, “How can you tell?”
    “They say it’s people who’ve experienced heartbreak, heartbreak so terrible they’ll never forget.” He raised his eyes to mine. I expected them to be gray and watery, the eyes of a used-up old man. Instead, they were dark and surprisingly steady. “Have you experienced heartbreak?”
    I stared back at him a moment before answering. Finally, I said, “Yes. Yes, I have. Have you?”
    Behind me, Josh took a breath. The old man nodded.
    “I’ve heard it too,” he said. “Deep in the woods, by the lake. It comes from the ruined tower.”
    “Tower?”
    “There’s no tower in those woods,” Josh said. “There’s nothing but a lake and trees.”
    “There’s a tower,” the old man insisted. “I’ve seen it. And a young girl, singing for her murdered lover.”
    “Okay, fine. There’s a tower.” Josh gestured toward some people who’d just come in, a man and a little girl who were petting the dogs. “Look, I need to help the other customers, or my dad gets mad. So can I ring that up for you?”
    I didn’t know why he was being so impatient. As far as I could tell, his dad wasn’t even in the store. But he seemed in a big hurry, so I followed him to the register. “What was that about?”
    Josh glanced at the old man again. I did too. He was back to browsing, looking at an old baby stroller, the kind that was like a bassinet on wheels. “That’s Jerry. Long ago, the year I was born, actually, his daughter disappeared.”
    “Murdered?” I whispered. That made four missing kids—that I knew about. This place was so creepy.
    Josh shook his head. “She probably ran away or OD’d on something. But it sent Jerry sort of over the edge. He was the town veterinarian, very respected. But after that, he got screwy. He had all sorts of crazy stories about a drug ring in Slakkill. Of course, there was no evidence of any ring, just his druggie daughter, but he didn’t want to believe that.”
    “No evidence.” I remembered what I’d thought last night, about parents wanting to think the best of their