October Darlings

by Wendolyn Baird

  “Uhm, I mean, I can do it myself.” The tips of my ears are burning, and my voice sticks as he raises his eyes to mine.

  “Never thought you couldn’t, but my mother raised me to help others when I could.” There’s a small hint of a joke somewhere in his gaze, but sincerity overshadows it.

  His hands are cool as he smooths the bandage over my skin, pressing gently on the edges to check the waterproof binding of the adhesive bands. Holding hands with Nick sent shocks of electricity up to my elbow, but this is different. Comforting and reassuring.

  “Thanks,” I breathe.

  “Where are my employees?” Delia huffs from the kitchen doorway. “Addie, your shift’s over, darling. Norma showed up early so you can get ready to go. Ellis, I’ve got Brian and Javi coming in at two, so you can knock off as soon as they get here if you want.”

  Angling around each other, we stumble out of the office, Ellis going to finish the party order, and me to go clock out. Delia’s assistant manager smiles at me as she walks in, her simple manicure flashing in a quick wave, and her sturdy shoes squeaking across the smooth floor. Delia’s talked to her on the phone enough times over the past week or so that I feel like I’ve met Norma already.

  “Have fun getting settled, Adeline. I’m happy to have you here, it will be nice for your aunt to not be all alone all the time.”

  There’s that phrase again, getting settled. I’m sure she doesn’t know what Delia’s connotation of it is, or the fact that I’m only here because my dad won’t let me be around him right now. If she did, she wouldn’t be so at ease.

  “Yeah,” I grimace. “Thanks.”

  SLIDING INTO THE BOOTH at the grill is almost as intimidating as facing the shadows in my own home. Multiple heads turn my way, as curious and speculative as Sabrina was before. My light cotton romper is just as casual as anyone else’s clothes and they knew I was coming, so this round of stares must be inspired by my last name.

  “Your aunt runs that place up on Main, right?” A boy with a crooked nose and familiar gold eyes starts in first.

  I nod, picking up my menu as a means of hiding. The back of my seat screeches as I slide down, slouching as much I can.

  “You live in that big, old house by Sabrina’s then, right? God, that place is gorgeous! It looks like an old dollhouse.” One of Sabrina’s friends shrugs happily, popping her gum with a loud smack.

  “Yeah, or a plantation.” The golden eyed boy snorts.

  “Well, y’all know it’s supposed to be haunted, right?” Thick, black eyebrows dance above deep russet eyes, and the guy on Sabrina’s other side leans in, an air of mischief drifting in with his words.

  Squirming in my seat, I pull the menu closer to me, and rely on the bright pink lights overhead to disguise my blush. Not even five minutes into the meal, and here we are.

  “Oh, come on guys!” Sabrina rolls her eyes. “It’s not haunted, now leave Addie alone. Nobody likes being the new kid. Just be normal.”

  “Sure, we could.” The blonde smacks her gum again. “If normalcy was a concept that existed.”

  “Give it up, Miranda!” The grinning boy flicks a straw wrapper at her, his nimble fingers already dancing around the table for more ammo.

  “Whatever, George, you know I’m right.” She sticks her tongue out at him, and the others follow their train of conversation without a second thought. They conduct themselves so casually and full of ease that it only takes a few minutes to stop feeling like an outsider.

  George and Owen, it seems, are on a baseball team with Nick, while Miranda goes to school with Sabrina. Sometime before today, Sabrina must have vouched for me, because by the time Nick shows up, the only novelty anyone can discuss is when the next drive-in should be.

  “I vote on the fourth of July weekend, it’ll be romantic.” Miranda glances at Owen, her mouth curving into a hesitant grin. Around her neck, a string of broken hearts glisten in a pale lavender hue, and if she isn’t careful, she’ll be adding another heart to the strand soon enough.

  “Do you know how hard it’ll be for me to get away? My dad will think I’m sneaking off to set off fireworks.”

  “That’s because you did that last year and nearly set a barn on fire.” Nick shakes his head, gesturing with the milkshake in his hand.

  George shrugs, his face turning sour. “I said I was sorry. And I put out the flames.”

  I choke on my drink while struggling not to laugh. If there’s anyone I need to hang out with after this, it’s definitely George.

  “Regardless,” Sabrina cuts in. With her exuberant attitude and strong opinions, she’s clearly the one holding this group together. “Fourth of July is our best bet. Everyone will be too involved with their own parties to worry about us.”

  “Cool,” Owen nods. “I’ll spread the word.”

  “I guess I’ll try to slip out,” George sighs.

  “Maybe I can help. Would your dad believe you if you said you were going on a date?” I thought everyone was gawking when I first sat down, but that's nothing compared to right now. “I mean, we could tell him we’re going out, and really go meet up with everyone else. Not like a real date, just a cover story. How much trouble could you get into when I don’t even know my way around here?”

  “It could work,” Sabrina considers. From across the table, Nick frowns and I shift my fries around to avoid his gaze. He has no right to act upset, I mean the most time we spent together was the day of complete chaos. And yeah, he stepped into protective mode completely when I needed it, but as reassuring as it was, I’m not about to let some dude step in and to be my savior. Besides, it’s not like he’s called or texted me since then.

  “Great, another troublemaker! Maybe you can help Sabrina trespass into a cemetery after your fake date,” Owen scoffs.

  Exchanging a glance with Sabrina, I nearly miss the french fry George launches at Owen’s face. With as much as he complains, I’m not really sure why Owen’s here, except maybe for an ego boost from Miranda’s flirting. I bet she could find somebody better.

  “Be nice.” Miranda scolds, but which guy she’s talking to, I don’t bother to check.

  Most of my time over the past two weeks has been spent flipping through Sabrina’s books, but besides discussing folklore or protection against ghosts, we haven’t made any plans for actually looking for the secret tunnels at Nix House. Having a wall start bleeding in front of you and getting a warning from a dead relative tends to put a damper on plans like that.

  Still, the house and its secrets run in my veins. Even if all else changes, even if I move away, I know that much to be true. You can’t escape fate, but you can challenge it. If I’m going to be a clairvoyant, I’m going to do it my way. And that begins with finding out what’s in those tunnels. Because even fear can’t squash my curiosity, and it’s not as if Delia has been forthcoming. It’s more than whim. I need to find those passageways. I just hope I’m not risking my life in exchange.

  Chapter Eight

  “ARE YOU SURE WE SHOULD be in here?” Sabrina isn’t as confident walking through Nix House while Delia isn’t home, but there’s no choice. Delia made it pretty clear that I’m supposed to be honing my skills on my own, and I’m not entirely sure dragging Sabrina around the house with me counts as me being independent. Although, really, it’s not like Sabrina can offer me anything other than some musty old books.

  “Sure.” I shrug. “I mean, I do live here after all.”

  Even so, my hands quiver as we get close to the dreaded downstairs hallway. Ever since Delia had me move upstairs, I’ve avoided it completely. Just passing by the doorway is enough to set my teeth on edge.

  “I’m home.” I call out in case any of the violet silhouettes are listening. They only ever drift behind me, and I’m starting to get used to the feeling of ice in my gut whenever one enters a room. “I brought a friend with me, so you know... we’re here.”

  “This is unreal. Do they talk back to you? Can you ask them what their lives were
like?”

  “No, not yet at least. Delia says the gift won’t settle completely until my eighteenth birthday; that’s not until October. Besides, I don’t think it matters much. I still haven’t seen the ones I really wish I could.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shake my head and flick on another light switch. At least when it’s brighter, it doesn’t feel as ominous in here. I just wish there were more windows.

  “Addie?”

  I sigh, cursing my big mouth. “My grandparents, I mean. They used to live here, and I don’t know, I figured I’d see them. But the only trace of my Nana I’ve gotten is the smell of her perfume and a handful of bobby pins. And I haven’t seen or heard anything to do with my grandfather at all.”

  I won’t mention her at all.

  “Huh, I wonder if that’s like a protection measure?” Sabrina peers into an empty vase and keeps walking, her attention drawn to the details of the room. I wait, but she continues to stare at the old portraits and the curve of the stairwell.

  “What do you mean?” I tap my foot impatiently.

  “You know, like if you were surrounded by all the loved ones you were really close to, but they were dead, wouldn’t you be tempted to kill yourself to join them?”

  “What? No!” The thought is so awful, that I physically cringe away from it and back into a chair. “That’s terrible!”

  “Exactly my point.” Her eyes are wide behind her glasses, and she fiddles with the string on the jacket she brought to prepare for the cold of the house. “Whoever gave y’all this gift must have thought about that.”

  “So, you consider it a gift?” I wrinkle my nose and start the trek up the staircase. The looming dark of the second floor is daunting, but I know my room at least is comfortable. I’d rather start there.

  “Well, I figure if you’re stuck with it, you might as well find some peace in it. And the history nerd that I am? Yeah, it seems like a little bit of a gift.”

  “I don’t know about that. It doesn’t feel like much of a blessing to me.”

  My hand slips as my eyes unfocus and I walk the rest of the way on autopilot. If Sabrina’s speculations are correct, not only will I lose my dad physically, but I’ll be doomed to see the dead for the rest of my life... except for the only people who matter. How can that possibly be a blessing?

  “Alright, this book has a few illustrations on what the house looked like before. I figured we could compare to how it looks now and go from there?”

  Sprawled across my bed, with sandals half hanging off her feet and her thick hair pulled into a couple of buns at the top of her head, Sabrina looks more prepared for a study session than a hunt through a haunted house. I’m seated across from her at the vanity, fidgeting with the lanyard to my camera and adjusting my flash settings.

  “Sure. You might want to change your shoes though. Who knows what we might step in?” Old bugs, cobwebs and dirt, maybe even hidden bones? People joke about having skeletons in their closets but if we have them in our yard, who’s to say there aren't more in the house?

  “Nah, I’m sure I’ll be okay. It’s not like we’re running around outside today.”

  “Right.”

  I’m nearly positive I saw the shadow figure again a few nights ago, despite what Delia said about it being a one-time problem. There’s no way in hell I’m taking Sabrina hunting through the yard with that thing around. As far as I can tell, it can’t get in the house, but that doesn’t mean the property isn’t fair game.

  Far below, the steady knock of someone at the front door interrupts us. Sabrina looks at me questioningly, and all I can do is shrug. Nobody ever comes to Nix House, even when we get pizza delivered. Last week I had to meet the guy at the curb.

  “Door’s locked. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Besides, if my ghostly roommates rebelled against a spiritual intruder, no burglar would stand a chance. Right?

  Again, a knock at the door echoes through the walls. I sigh, setting down my camera and shaking the pins and needles from my legs. “Never mind, I guess I’ll see what they want.”

  As I descend the staircase, a draft rises from the floor, swirling around my bare calves. My denim jacket and work boots are sturdier than Sabrina’s outfit for sure, but not by much. I hug my jacket close, tucking my hands into the crooks of my shoulders to keep them warm.

  “Hello?” I peer out the window first, but the porch is empty. Keeping the deadbolt chained, I crack the door open just an inch. Still no one.

  The warmth of the day floods in, so intoxicatingly that I close my eyes and breathe in the summer air. In that second, something clatters to the floor, and as I jerk to attention, my gaze catches iron glimmering against the cement.

  “Frank?” Opening the door all the way now, I lean out just enough to retrieve the fallen door knocker off the porch. My hair swings onto my cheeks as I peer around the yard, but nothing’s out of place, and the usual knot in my gut is absent.

  He’s lighter than I expected him to be. Flipping him over in my palm, the warm metal is comforting against the cool of the house, and the familiar worn shine on his head makes me smile.

  “I guess we’ll have to hang you up later,” I muse. Pressing the door shut, I lock up once more, and slip the scorpion into my pocket. He angles out halfway, his pincers waving as if in greeting.

  “Who was it?” Sabrina looks up from the photographs, a piece of licorice hanging from her lips.

  “No one. The door knocker fell off, I guess the wind knocked him down.”

  “Him?”

  “Yeah,” I laugh. “I named this little dude Frank when I was a kid. I don’t know, he’s kind of cute.”

  “Cute?” She snorts, twirling another piece of licorice around her fingers. “Aren’t we a pair? I break into graveyards for fun, and you talk to ghosts and think scorpions are cute.”

  “Mm, yeah when you put it that way, I think we should start wearing more black.” Like Sabrina would ever wear dark colors! Pretty much everything she owns is blatantly bright.

  “Hey, at the very least it would help us not get caught!” She winks at me and pulls herself up. “Alright, I think I’m ready.”

  “Great.” I throw my camera around my neck and grab the flashlight I’d bought after my last shift at the bakery. “I’ve been waiting.”

  The space on the second floor doesn't add up to the dimensions on the outside of the house, even taking into account the small courtyard nestled in the center of the house. I’d already tapped on all the walls in my room, listening for hollow spaces, but as far as hidden doors, I didn’t know what to look for.

  “We’re looking for anything uneven,” Sabrina informs me. “If it doesn’t match, it’s worth looking at.”

  “This place is over a hundred years old. Nothing matches.”

  “Okay, then ask your relatives for help, I bet you anything that they know. Do you think you could interview one of them for me? I’d die to know what it was like to live way back when!”

  “No! I already told you I can’t. And don’t say die in this house. It’s freaking creepy.”

  My room yields nothing, and Delia’s is bolted shut. Sabrina regrets her shoe choice by the third room, and the draft grows worse with every passing moment.

  With Frank still in my pocket, I take to checking that he’s still there, comforted by the curious way he’s kept his warmth.

  “Maybe we should call it quits. This was supposed to be like an adventure, and I hate to say, but I’m getting bored. And it’s freezing! Where does your aunt have the thermostat? Can we please turn the AC off? I feel like my toes are going to fall off.”

  “I told you not to wear those.” I frown, my forehead level with a windowsill overlooking the courtyard. The tips of my fingers are tingling, like I’m just on the brink of something, but Sabrina’s complaints are blocking it out.

  “Okay, well Nick’s called me like ten times. He and the guys are getting ready for this weekend and he wants to know if you can snag us some
snacks. Owen’s brother is refusing to help.”

  “Fine.” Wrinkling my nose, I run my fingernail along the underside of the sill. Splinters threaten to lodge themselves in my skin, but I press on. Sure, he can ask me through Sabrina to pick up food, but can’t actually call me? I don’t know why I’m so irritated anyway. It’s not like I want to go out with him or anything.

  “Cool. I’ll let him know. Speaking of which, what’s up with y’all? He was all upset at dinner the other day because apparently you were out with George last weekend?”

  The sharp prick of a cut draws a hiss from my mouth and blood from my hand. Splinters win, I lose. Putting pressure on my finger to stop the bleeding, I grimace and fall back. Blurry spots dance in front of my vision, all shades of black and a brilliant lavender. Purple means something more, something distinctly Nix— there is something about this room!

  “Whoa, are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Just moved too fast.” I shake my head and climb to my feet. “George was driving me around town so I could get some shots of different buildings. I paid him in pastries and got some pretty decent photos out of it.”

  “So y’all aren’t dating, then?” There’s an awkward edge to her voice, like she doesn’t really care but has to ask anyway.

  Well whatever, I’m more interested in the dancing violet lights.

  “Nick made you ask, didn’t he?” I deflect.

  She shrugs, smiling wanly. “You got me. So? I’ve got to get him an answer or he’ll never shut up!”

  “No.” I roll my eyes and stomp downstairs. “God, no. George is nice and all, but we’re just friends. And that doesn’t mean I want to date Nick either.” I stomp extra hard on the last stair. Just talking about him is annoying, and I want to get back upstairs. “I’ve got too much going on to add in boyfriend drama, you know?”

  “Got it.” She nods, leaning on the stairwell and peering around the room like she’s still expecting a door to pop out of the floor. “So, now that today was a bust, what’s next? Maybe tomorrow we can try downstairs? Ooh, or how about around the yard? There must have been a stable around here at some point.”