The Forgotten Child

by Melissa Erin Jackson

  This weekend really was a terrible idea. It was reminding her too much of Rebecca and being thirteen and that damned Ouija board.

  “Well, that should about cover it for tonight,” said Xavier, clapping his hands once and startling Riley out of her thoughts. Michael smiled at her like they shared a private joke.

  Why hadn’t she packed a duffel bag of Merlot again?

  “If any of you have any further questions about how the investigations will go, we’re happy to answer them. Otherwise, we’ll see you back here tomorrow around noon,” Xavier said.

  The Skinny Jean Quartet disentangled themselves from the table first and wandered back toward the main part of the lobby. The girls were both chatting a mile a minute in hushed tones, hands gesticulating wildly. The boys nodded along, hair flopping as they did.

  Michael, his sister, and her wife had wandered to an area behind the receptionist desk and huddled around a large, framed picture. Michael’s hands were shoved into the pockets of his jeans; he didn’t seem to be paying attention to whatever the two women were discussing.

  Riley got up too, intending to hightail it to the Hyssop Room—which, admittedly, didn’t sound that inviting, given the “most active” label—wriggle under the bed, and not emerge until it was time to go home. The four others were too caught up in their excitement to notice she’d slipped away. Halfway to the stairs, someone grabbed her arm.

  Whirling around, she feared she’d see the ghost boy staring at her. But it was Nina.

  “Didn’t mean to frighten you!” she said, hands held up in apology.

  Riley pressed a hand to her chest. “Sorry. I’m … jumpy tonight.”

  “I just wanted to let you know that if you need to talk to anyone about … anything you experience here … I’m happy to be that person.”

  Good gravy, did she know somehow? Was she drawn to Riley because she was a sensitive too? Like two magnets pulled together by a force they couldn’t control?

  A flash of Rebecca went through Riley’s head, her eyes wide and hands shaking. The way her room had looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The Ouija board discarded on the floor. The horrified look on her parents’ faces.

  “Thanks,” was all Riley could manage before she bolted the rest of the way across the lobby, up the stairs, and into the Hyssop Room.

  It was going to be a long weekend.

  CHAPTER 4

  Rebecca Green had been Riley’s best friend growing up. From ages eight to thirteen, they were nearly inseparable. She lived across the street and had moved in just days after Riley’s family. They went to the same school, were in the same class, and liked all the same things—including the same boy during one particularly harrowing summer. Turned out the boy liked Brenda Fairchild, a girl he’d met through an after-school tennis program. Becca and Riley abhorred her and their friendship was rekindled over both broken hearts and an unparalleled hatred of a girl they’d only met once at Jeffrey’s pool party.

  The girls spent the night at each other’s houses so often, both sets of parents set up their daughters’ rooms to accommodate a second child—with an extra desk for homework and a second bed. Their parents got along well and took several vacations together. It was like Riley finally had the sister she always wanted. Riley’s mother had a rough pregnancy, and even though Riley’s parents wanted more children, her doctor told her she was high-risk. So it had always just been Riley until Becca came along.

  Riley had any number of imaginary friends, but they weren’t the same as flesh-and-blood people who watched your favorite movies with you, who ate so much candy on Halloween night that you both got this close to puking, who laughed so hard with you that you shot grape soda out of your nose and then laughed even harder.

  So when weird things started to happen at Becca’s house, Riley was torn between being too scared to tell her friend about it in fear of scaring her away, and wanting to tell Becca everything so she could help her fix it.

  One night while Riley was sleeping over, she woke with a start to the sound of a baby crying. She gave herself a minute to wake up, thinking it’d been the last remnants of a dream. Then it came again. A series of sharp, short cries that could only be a baby. But Becca was an only child, just like her.

  Becca didn’t stir. Couldn’t she hear it? Couldn’t her parents?

  Riley tiptoed into the hall. The crying quieted. As Riley crept toward the bathroom, a motion-activated nightlight flicked on. An eerie blue light filled the hall, like the glow of a miniature TV screen. Riley halted halfway between Becca’s room and the bathroom, feeling foolish now. She wasn’t sure where the cry had come from now that it stopped. Assuming she’d heard it at all.

  Then it rang out again, causing goosebumps to break out across her arms and legs. It was coming from behind her. The only other rooms upstairs were Becca’s parents’ room and a small office. The door to the office stood ajar.

  Riley crept toward the crying baby, thankful the floorboards in Becca’s house didn’t creak the way they did in hers. She stood outside the open door, her back to the wall. She felt like a cop or a spy in a movie, ready to burst into a room with guns blazing. But she wasn’t a cop or a spy. She was ten and shaking so badly she was surprised Becca’s parents couldn’t hear her bones knocking together.

  Just do it, she told herself. Don’t be a wimp.

  She darted to the doorway, hands out as if that would keep the—what? Monster pretending to be a baby?—thing from attacking her. But there was nothing there. No monster. No baby. No monster pretending to be a baby. Just a desk, a computer with a dark screen, an office chair, and a small couch.

  The cry came again. Loud and piercing and from out of nowhere. The room was empty.

  Riley ran back to Becca’s room with speed that would have made her dad proud. She slammed Becca’s door closed so hard, she startled her friend awake with a shriek. Riley dove onto her bed and threw the blanket over her head.

  When Becca’s parents ran into the room at the sound of the sudden commotion, Riley did the only thing she could think to do: burst into tears and ask to go home.

  It took Riley a month before she stayed the night at the Greens’ again. The baby didn’t cry—and she knew because she stayed up most of the night listening for it.

  Nothing weird happened at the house again until the girls were thirteen. Riley sat at the dining room table while Becca’s parents busied themselves with making dinner. Becca had just run to the bathroom, so Riley was alone at the table. Some itchy sixth sense pulled her attention away from the laughing adults and toward the other end of the table. A young girl sat there. She had dark hair like Becca. Riley wasn’t sure what color eyes the girl had since the tiny thing could barely see over the table. The tips of her little, pudgy fingers rested on either side of her face, as if she was trying to pull herself up to look over the edge of it. Then she lifted a hand and waved.

  Riley’s heart pounded painfully in her chest. Maybe one of the neighborhood kids had wandered in and helped herself up to the table. But she knew that was ridiculous. She also knew that the feeling in her gut meant this wasn’t a normal little girl.

  “Um … Mrs. Green …” said Riley, trying to address Becca’s mom without looking away from the little girl. She waved again, a tiny hand above the height of the table. Becca’s mom didn’t reply. “Mrs. Green?”

  “Yes, hon?”

  Riley looked at her, then right back at the girl. She was gone. Letting out a startled whimper, she tipped to the side and looked underneath, sure the girl would be making a hasty getaway on hands and knees. But she wasn’t there.

  Hopping out of her chair, Riley ran to the living room. There was no way the girl could have gotten out of the house. Not that fast. How would she have reached the doorknob?

  It was like the crying baby all over again.

  When a pair of hands landed on Riley’s shoulders from behind, Riley yelped and whirled around. It was Becca’s mom, Ashley. Riley’s hands shook so badly, sh
e buried them in her armpits.

  Ashley bent at the waist and peered at Riley’s face, but Riley kept her eyes focused squarely on the tips of her toes. She couldn’t tell Ashley that she’d seen a little girl sitting at her table. She’d say she was lying.

  Becca came back into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, honey,” her mom said over her shoulder. Then she looked back at Riley. “You can tell us anything, you know that, right?”

  Something tugged on the side of Riley’s shirt and she looked down to see the little girl standing there, a fistful of Riley’s shirt in her hand. The thumb of her other hand was shoved into her mouth. She had huge, brown eyes like Becca.

  Riley’s breath came in short bursts, chest heaving. They can’t see her.

  “Riley,” Ashley said, hands still on her shoulders. “Riley!”

  She looked up at Ashley’s face. Her eyes were huge and brown too. They darted back and forth, searching Riley’s face for something.

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Becca.

  The little girl tugged on Riley’s shirt again. Steeling herself, Riley flicked her gaze down and to the right. The girl smiled at her around the thumb in her mouth.

  “What do you keep looking at?” asked Becca. “You okay?”

  How could they not see her?

  Mariah.

  Riley’s full attention snapped back to the little girl. She was gone again. Poof! Into thin air.

  Riley swayed on her feet.

  “What’s wrong with her, Mom?”

  It was the sound of Becca’s choked-off sob on the last word that made Riley say it. She wasn’t thinking straight. She should have kept her mouth shut. “Who … uh … who’s M-Mariah?”

  Ashley released her and stumbled back so suddenly, she knocked over a chair, hand to her throat. “What?” It came out like a whisper.

  “Mariah,” Riley said, breathing even more irregularly now. “Who … um … do you know a Mariah?”

  Ashley looked at the spot Riley had been staring at earlier, when the little girl—Mariah—had been holding onto Riley’s shirt. “Oh my god.” She breathed it more than spoke it. “Did you see her?”

  A low series of curses sounded from the kitchen, where Becca’s dad, Tony, had been standing in the kitchen, watching. Riley had never heard him curse before. Well, other than that time he was trying to fix something in the garage and slammed a hammer on his thumb. He’d said all kinds of things Riley had never heard before.

  “Don’t do this, Ashley,” he said, tossing a dish towel onto the counter before joining them in the dining area. “Don’t get yourself worked up. It never helps.”

  Riley stood frozen by the table, afraid to even twitch a finger given the way Ashley stared at her. Becca’s gaze flitted between them all, brow creased.

  “How else would she know her name, Tony?” Ashley said, spitting the words out as if all this was his fault. “How would she know?”

  Swallowing, she looked at Becca. Her friend just shrugged.

  “Riley, baby,” said Ashley, swiping under her eyes before composing herself and squatting before her, taking Riley’s small dark hands into her fair, slender ones. “Where did you hear that name?”

  How could she tell her she heard the name in her head? That she just knew it was the name of the little girl who was here and then not? That it was the same girl she heard crying three years before?

  Ashley shook Riley’s hands, hard. Riley winced. “Riley. Tell me where you heard that name.”

  Tears pricked the backs of Riley’s eyes. Why was Ashley mad at her? She didn’t want her to be mad. Ashley was like her second mom.

  “In my head,” she whispered.

  Tony scoffed. “She’s just a kid, Ash. She probably heard one of us say her name and she doesn’t remember.”

  “No,” Ashley snapped, a tear rolling down her cheek. “We don’t talk about her. You don’t talk about her. You act like she never existed.”

  Riley wanted Ashley to let her hands go. She’d never feared Ashley before, but she did now. One of her manicured fingernails dug into Riley’s skin.

  “That’s not fair,” said Tony. “I haven’t forgotten Mariah, but—”

  “Mom! Dad. What’s going on?” Becca asked from her spot just outside the dining room. She wrung her hands. “Who’s Mariah?”

  “You hear that, Ashley? That’s your daughter. She’s who matters.”

  That was the wrong thing to say, because Ashley let go of Riley and rounded on him. Tony already had his hands up, showing his innocence.

  “You’re saying Mariah didn’t matter?”

  “I’m saying she’ll always matter, but Rebecca should be our priority. She is our priority.”

  “Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Becca was crying. More out of confusion than anything else. Riley had never seen them fight before. Not like this.

  The room fell silent. Riley didn’t want to be there. She wanted to creep out the door and run across the street to her house. Or disappear like the little girl. Like Mariah.

  Ashley’s arms were folded tight over her chest, shoulders hunched. Tony wrapped his arms around her and she sank against him. He kissed the top of her head.

  “We always knew we had to tell her one day,” said Tony, his lips still on her hair. “Why not today?”

  “I’m not ready,” Ashley said, tears rolling down her face.

  “You’re never going to be ready, baby. Maybe this is the push you needed.”

  A hand slipped into Riley’s and she jumped. But it was just Becca. She stared at her parents. “Tell me.”

  Tony let Ashley go and she wiped at her eyes.

  “It might be time for you to go home, Ry,” Ashley said.

  “No,” said Becca, clapping her other hand onto the back of Riley’s, sandwiching it between both of hers. “I want her to stay.”

  Riley really wanted to leave now, but Becca held fast to her hand.

  Tony righted the fallen chair, then they all sat down. Parents on one side of the table, the girls on the other. Becca never let Riley go. A united front.

  “So, Rebecca …” Ashley began, hands clasped together on the table in front of her. “About a year before you were born, we had a daughter.”

  Becca tensed, her fingers squeezing Riley’s. “I have a sister?”

  “Had,” Tony said, voice soft.

  “She … her name was Mariah,” Ashley said. “She died of SIDS when she was two months old.” Ashley’s eyes welled up and she worked her jaw.

  “What’s SIDS?” Becca asked.

  “Sudden Infant Death Syndrome,” Ashley said. “Even when you take all the precautions to keep your baby safe, sometimes SIDS takes them anyway.”

  “Why didn’t you want me to know I had a sister?”

  “Oh, honey,” said Tony. “It wasn’t that we didn’t want you to know. We just … losing a child was the hardest thing that’s ever happened to either one of us. We still have a tough time with it even though it happened fourteen years ago.”

  Ashley nodded.

  Suddenly turning to Riley, Becca said, “How did you know her name when I didn’t?”

  Riley pursed her lips. “I …” Ashley’s clasped hands reached out across the table toward Riley, eyes wide. “I … I saw her. She told me her name. Well, she didn’t talk. I just … the name popped in my head.”

  Ashley burst into tears.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t … I didn’t mean to—”

  “Is she still here?” Ashley choked out, looking around as if she could see her if she just tried hard enough.

  “No. She … disappeared.”

  Ashley slid her clasped hands back toward her, head bowed.

  “I’m sorry. I—”

  Standing abruptly, Ashley hurried down the hallway.

  “I didn’t mean to make her sad,” Riley said to Tony.

  “It’s all right, hon,” he said. “But maybe you should run on home.”
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  Riley pried her hand from Becca’s and fled the house as fast as she could.

  Later that night, while Riley tried to distract herself with homework, Becca texted her.

  You know anything about Ouija boards?

  No. Why?

  What if we talk to Mariah and tell her to say hi to my mom?

  I don’t think it works like that.

  Riley really didn’t know how any of it worked, but her gut was telling her no, no, no. There was a long pause while Riley waited for Becca to say something else. Just when she started to think her friend had fallen asleep, her phone buzzed again.

  Can we try? She’s still crying.

  No, no, no her gut repeated.

  But this had all been her fault. Shouldn’t she try to fix it, make Ashley feel better?

  Yeah, sure. Where do we get one?

  Leave that to me.

  She should have said no.

  CHAPTER 5

  Riley lay awake next to Jade, staring at the dark ceiling of the Hyssop Room. The chorus of rhythmic breathing and soft snores should have been enough to lull her to sleep. They’d stayed up talking for a few hours before everyone covered the bathroom counter with an absurd number of toiletries, changed, and drifted off. Riley suspected Brie had passed out before her head hit the pillow. Sleeping without worrying about tending to her kids for two nights was likely a vacation in itself.

  Riley, however, was wide awake. Wired. The maybe-ghost-boy, memories of Rebecca, fear that the beds were going to start levitating and blood would start pouring from the walls … all of it kept her from sleeping. Her heart slammed in her chest so hard, she was surprised Jade couldn’t feel it.

  The only real “experience” Riley had with paranormal anything before the arrival of Mariah was when she’d watched some old-ish movie called The Craft late one night with Becca. For days afterward, Becca had run around trying to use magic to change her hair color. Riley, however, had been hit with a deep sense of “don’t screw around with things you don’t understand.”

  A couple weeks after the Mariah episode—long enough that Riley hoped Becca had forgotten about the whole thing—Becca pulled her aside in the hall at school and said, “I got it. Taylor’s older sister had one hidden in her closet. Can you meet me at my house tonight?”