The Hollow

by Jessica Verday

  Nikolas reached out for me, but I took a step back.

  "I am very sorry to add to your pain, Abbey," he said, "but Kristen is not one of us. She truly is dead. I saw her, but I could not help her."

  His words didn't make any sense, but I shook my head and turned away to go back to the path once more. I couldn't stay and ask them to explain it all. Nothing made sense anymore.

  Inspiration hit while I was limping my way out of the forest, and I pulled out my cell phone to check the time. It was 5:11. I could still make it.

  Forcing my weak knee to bear my weight, I picked up mypace to a slow jog. Eighteen minutes later, I found myself panting for breath on the library steps. After checking the time on my phone once again, I opened the door and headed straight for the front desk.

  "I need to look up some White Plains newspapers. From two and a half years ago, right after Halloween." I blurted out.

  Mrs. Walker was on duty, and she looked at me with concerned eyes. "Abbey, are you okay? Do you need to use the first aid kit or anything?"

  I glanced down at myself. I was a total mess. "Oh, no, Mrs. Walker. Fm okay." The lie rolled off my tongue easily. "I just remembered a last-minute school project, so I ran to get here in time before you closed. I tripped on the way, and then it started to rain, and… Well, I just really need to see those newspapers."

  She reluctantly agreed and led me to a smaller computer room in the back of the library.

  "Every newspaper article from the surrounding five counties is archived online here," she told me before leaving. "Just put in your search perimeters and hit enter. And if you need anything, anything at all, you let me know."

  She gave me a stern glare, and I nodded meekly. Once I heard the door shut behind her, I took a seat and typed in "White Plains Ledger November 1 to November 3."

  I found what I was looking for in the November 2 issue, on page C-1.

  Evening Edition

  A local Sleepy Hollow boy was pronounced dead on the scene earlier today, in a fatal car crash. Caspian Vander, a recent graduate of White Plains High School…

  A loud buzzing sound filled my ears, and I stopped reading. In the November 3 edition, they had his obituary with a fuzzy black-and-white picture of him. I recognized the black streak right away…

  I was still staring at the screen an hour later when Mrs. Walker found me rocking myself back and forth. She called my parents and stayed with me, talking softly, until Dad came to pick me up. He didn't ask me what was wrong, or why I was acting like a complete nut job, but carefully helped me down the stairs and into the car.

  Right before we made the final turn toward home, he paused at a stop sign for an extra minute and waited.

  He didn't have to say anything. I knew what he wanted.

  "I need help, Dad," I whispered, turning to him. "I can't deal with-" My voice broke. "I think I just need some help right now."

  He nodded once and put an arm around my shoulder. "I'll take care of it."

  I withdrew, curling myself up into a tiny ball huddled in the far corner of the seat, and rocked back and forth slightly until we arrived home. Dad helped me inside the house, and Mom led mestraight up to my room. She rucked me into bed like she used to when I was younger, and I fell asleep quickly. It was a blissful relief to escape from the real world, even if it was only for a little while.

  In my dream, the rain was falling all around me, but I stayed under the protection of a tall tree. As soon as each drop hit, tiny blue flowers immediately sprang up, and the ground was awash in a profusion of blossoms.

  Kristen came gliding up the path, and the flowers parted for her, guiding the way. She was wearing a red cloak with a hood that hid her face. When she knelt in front of the tombstone and laid her fingers upon it, the raindrops froze, turning to hard pellets of ice that struck with a harsh pinging sound.

  The flowers withered, and browned, dying in front of my very eyes.

  I wanted to say something to her, yet I didn 't know what. I tried to take a step out from under that tree, but I couldn 't. My feet were rooted to the ground.

  It was only then that I could see the letters spelling out her name as she traced each one. Over and over again she followed those etched words on that stone. Over and over again I tried to speak.

  But I was mute.

  Suddenly … the ice stopped. The flowers bloomed again.

  And Kristen turned to me.

  ''Don't worry, Abbey," she said. "I'll still be here when you get back. I'll always be here."

  Special arrangements were made over the next week for me to leave school early, and all of the teachers agreed to give me my assignments for the rest of the school year to take with me. It had been decided that I would go stay with Aunt Marjorie and spend some time away from Sleepy Hollow due to "health reasons."

  I think Dad was relieved I'd finally asked him for help, and he went out of his way to make sure that I would be seeing the best psychiatrist in the tristate region. All it required on my part was a session twice a week for the next four months, and I'd be back in time for summer vacation with no one the wiser.

  That part relieved Mom.

  As far as I was concerned, I was willing to do whatever it took to fix what had gone wrong inside my brain. I didn't care if that involved a psychiatrist, a psychic healer, or a voodoo priestess. All I wanted was to be sane again.

  When the morning that I was scheduled to leave home came, I found myself in a daze. I walked out to the car stiffly, and climbed in. Everything around me felt surreal, like I was disconnected.

  I asked Dad to stop at the cemetery before we left town, and he agreed, keeping watch from the car when we got there. Pausing fora moment at the entrance gates, I let my hand rest on the cold metal and turned back. "I'll be right back. Thanks for waiting, Dad." He nodded once, and I turned toward my destination.

  I walked solemnly most of the way there, but my determination gave in when I reached the stone steps, and I flung myself up them. After pushing through the gate, I dropped to my knees in front of Washington living's marker.

  "I'm leaving." It was blunt, and to the point. The only way I knew how to get all the words out. "Things are just… too much for me to handle right now, and I have to leave for a while."

  Reaching out a hand to touch the carved dates, I forced myself to go on. "I'll come back. It's not forever. But I need some time to get myself fixed." I laughed quietly. "You wouldn't believe the head trip I've been on the last couple of weeks."

  I stood up. "You know," I said thoughtfully, "you're the one person in my life who's the most real to me… and you're dead. That's funny."

  I left the graveyard behind me. I got back into the car, and Dad pulled away from Sleepy Hollow. I guess I should have been thinking about all I was leaving behind. Or the fact that I was possibly in the middle of a nervous breakdown. And how I was going to see a professional because my problems were so huge that I couldn't sort them out myself.

  Yet all I could think of was that red hair-dyeing incident with Kristen…

  It was funny.