Earl only blinked at me, as if I was the most outstanding freak show he’d seen in his short life.
He had big, pretty eyes, so dark I couldn’t really tell if they were brown or black. His eyes are dark as ink, I thought. Full of stories.
“I have a dog named Bearclaw.” I blurted my first interesting fact. “She’s only two pounds. You have a pet?”
Earl nodded. But he provided no further information.
“I give tours here of the cemetery,” I tried next, since that was my second most interesting fact. “You should come! Tours are always free. And you get a cookie when you take the tour. That’s part of our incentive package. Plus, there’s plenty more to see by the light of day. Night’s the worst time to be in the graveyard. The Conductor haunts the place.”
Earl shifted back and forth, all fidgety-uncomfortable like he wanted to bolt. He focused on the ground. I’d been ignored enough in my short life to know that was the universal sign for Leave me alone.
Maybe if I’d had more time to think, I’d have chosen different words to say. Or maybe if I actually was interesting, and not just strange, I could have made the chitchat easier.
“I’m not good at small talk,” I told him with a gulp. “I hear you’re not good at it, either. You can walk away, if you want. That’s fine with me. But you can come here anytime you want. Most of the ghosts out in the graveyard are friendly. They like to be remembered.”
He didn’t walk away, so I kept talking.
“And I don’t think it’s silly,” I whispered, lower. “To be afraid of storms. I mean, I’m afraid of sixth grade. And that’s probably way sillier than being afraid of a storm. And I’m afraid of people leaving me. That’s probably a common side effect of living in a graveyard. But I think of it pretty often, what happens when people … leave. I don’t know why I’m telling you that.”
The storm clouds had drifted away to reveal the setting sun. I stared down at our shadows on the ground and realized grief feels exactly that way sometimes, like a flat shadow. Because I can’t kick it off. Because I always see it beside me, behind me, in front of me. I hate the way it sticks right with me.
I shook out of my sad memories and concentrated on the task at hand: small talk. I searched through my brain for an interesting fact about myself. “Oh! Earl!”
I waited until he caved and glanced at me, reluctantly. I smiled. “I’m allergic to furniture polish.”
Earl sighed and ducked his head. But I thought I saw the dimple on his face go deeper, the beginning of a smile.
I pulled the daisy from my braid and handed it to him, along with the Boneyard Brew. “Daisies mean ‘I’m happy to be your friend.’ And I am happy to be your friend if you ever need one. Welcome home to Blackbird Hollow.”
I held out the hot cocoa and the flower and I thought he might walk off without taking either, at first. Is it stupid to give a boy hot chocolate and a flower? I felt the familiar flush of embarrassment rising up on my face. But then Earl reached for both. His fingertips just brushed mine when he took the paper cup, and I shivered as if I’d been shocked by static electricity.
I watched Earl walk away. He looked back just before he opened the car door. And I thought I could see another smile—or at least the beginning of one—somewhere in those lonesome eyes.
I woke up early the next morning to the sound of the kitchen ghost making noise downstairs. As usual, the ghost had vanished by the time I got there. My first hypothesis: The ghost was shy.
Actual outcome: Club Pancake was responsible for making the racket.
To their credit, their racket was more of a low mumble. They all sat around one of the tables in the dining room. Each of them had a mug of Boneyard Brew in front of them. Every mug was at a different level of fullness, or emptiness, too, I guess, depending on the kind of day you’re having.
Uncle Periwinkle was wearing the same concerned expression he’d had in Blue’s office the day before. He flipped through the contract, which was still, thankfully, without Blue’s signature. “I still don’t think you should sell until we talk more about it, Blue.”
“And neither do the ghosts,” Greta chortled. “You know what old people say, Blue. When the roses blow through town, that’s the ghosts trying to get our attention for some reason.”
“What old people?” asked Granny Blue. “We are the old people now. Maybe the ghosts want us to know it’s okay to let it go. To move on.”
I eased down on the step, carefully so it wouldn’t squeak and give away my spot. I didn’t sit because I was tired but because my heart was heavy all of a sudden. Weighing me down.
I looked down at the tiny circle of Club Pancake—heads of silver-white hair all gleaming in the lamplight—and thought about how many friends they’d lost.
The human heart is a big thumping miracle, I decided. What else in the world could keep beating after being so broken?
Periwinkle cleared his throat. “Maybe the ghosts want us to remember that everything wonderful is possible.”
Granny Blue smiled. “That sounds like something Emma would say.”
“Speaking of Miss Emma.” Peri pulled the violet from his beard and twirled it in his fingertips. “I had a happy memory today, on account of her.”
Granny Blue smiled fondly. “What’d my Emma do?” I felt my heart thrill at those words. I loved when she called me her Emma.
“She was asking about the Conductor’s treasure,” Peri said.
“Why was she asking about that?” Blue asked. I heard fire in her voice.
“Easy, Blue. I told her we went looking for it when we were kids. That’s all. She’d never heard that story before.”
Blue shook her head. “Don’t tell her any more than that. Don’t put any ideas in her head. I don’t want her looking for it. Some people never came back when they went after that treasure.”
“It’s true it drove many good folks crazy,” Peri admitted. “But we had fun when we were kids. It was a Gypsy Rose summer that year, too. Remember?”
Blue smiled. “I remember you trembling when you serenaded the Conductor in the graveyard.”
“You’re laughing now.” Peri smiled. “But you weren’t laughing then. The Conductor answered us, remember? Don’t give me that look, Blue. I know you heard him, too.”
Uncle Peri tapped his hand against the table:
“Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow
By the shadows of the ridge
Down a path no man can follow
Lies a treasure someone hid …”
I shivered. Maybe Blue didn’t remember the Conductor’s song, but I did. That song—that exact same song—had pulled me into the Thicket.
Peri laughed. “Jacob and I snuck out many nights after that. Beneath the stars … We figured that meant we could only find the treasure at night, maybe. And by the shadow of the ridge—maybe that means it’s not too far from the cafe here. The Boneyard sits on the highest ridge in the county. So we took our flashlights and dug so many holes in those woods that it’s a wonder one of us didn’t fall in and get stuck.”
Peri kept talking, but my mind had wandered down a different pathway:
Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow.
I’d seen starry blooms on the old grave in the Thicket on the night of my dream. I’d only been looking for clues, but had the Conductor led me right to the treasure?
Down a path no man can follow.
The moonlight had made a path for me, right to that ivy-covered grave. Could it be that simple?
The Touch settled low at the back of my neck. I shivered so hard I nearly made the step squeak.
I would save the Boneyard Cafe. And I would complete my marvelous destiny. All at the same time.
The Big Empty would fill back up, because I would feel connected to my mama forever. It should have been obvious to me all along: I’d dreamed of an old key.
And what does an old key open? A treasure.
My confusing dream suddenly came into fo
cus. My Destiny was clear: I was meant to find the Conductor’s riches.
All of the Wildflowers had an extraordinary destiny. Ingrid helped General George Washington. Mama wrote songs that gave people heaps of hope and heart. And my destiny? I would save my town’s heartbeat—the Boneyard Cafe.
But before I could do anything else, I needed to sneak back into the creepy Thicket and get a better look at that grave with the stars.
This time, I wasn’t going alone.
It was time to call in reinforcements.
Specifically: I needed Cody Belle. I was fairly certain the ghost wanted me to find the treasure. But trying to track down a ghost isn’t the sort of thing you want to do on your own.
Problem: Cody Belle believes there is no such thing as a friendly ghost. She won’t even go on my graveyard tours. So this might take some convincing.
Before the sun came up, I was on my bike, zooming toward Cody Belle’s trailer. I wanted to take Leatherwood Road, because the pavement was silvery-looking from the night’s rain, glassy and studded by hundreds of tiny green leaves. Plus, I love the sound my bicycle makes when it swishes through a puddle. But I’m only allowed on that particular road when I ride with Topher.
So for this journey, Blue said I could still go, as long as I cut the safe path … through the Wailing Woods.
“Stay away from the Thicket,” Blue said. “Stick to the path through the woods.”
“Those woods are haunted, too, you know,” I informed her. “You must be confident the ghosts won’t mess with me.”
Blue just rolled her eyes at me. She put a bag of raspberry muffins in my bag for Cody Belle and her parents and then pushed me on out the door. “You’ll be fine.”
Most people think the Wailing Woods are a spooky place at night. I have confirmed that much with my own explorations. I’m here to tell you, they are no less creepy by the light of day. Even the sunlight never gets rid of all those shadows. Still, the Sweet Peaches Trailer Park is less than a mile from me, if you cut through the woods. I happily avoided the Thicket, focusing my eyes straight ahead as I zoomed over the ground. I hoped my bike wouldn’t plunk in a mudhole that’d send me sprawling across the woods.
I sang my favorite White Stripes song as I rode, just loud enough that I could still hear sweet whistles from the morning birds in the branches. I whistled, too, out of sheer J-O-Y at my circumstances. I was so close to finding the treasure. And I figured the odds were in my favor. After all, the Conductor knew I was pure of heart and just wanted to save my home. All I had to do was find the thing.
Cody Belle lives with her parents in the first trailer in the lot: a ketchup-red double-wide surrounded by a porch Topher and I helped them build. Green plastic pots of yellow blooms hung from the porch’s eves. A thick hedge of confetti-colored pansies surrounded the base of the trailer, too. I’ve always liked pansies. Greta said a pansy means loving thoughts. That’s what makes them a perfect border for a home. Especially a home like Cody Belle’s.
I settled my bike against the side of the trailer, careful not to trample the pansies. They looked distinct and happy: little smiling panda bear faces.
I didn’t even knock before Cody’s mom swung the door open.
“What’s wrong?” She pulled me inside and rested her hands on my shoulders. Sunrise is a strange time to go visit your friends, apparently.
“It’s all fine,” I said. I hadn’t time for a braid, so my frazzled hair hung like a curtain over my eyes. “I need to talk to Cody Belle, if that’s okay.”
She looked a bit suspect, but she gently pushed me toward Cody’s room. “Go on and wake her up, then. I’ll make you both some breakfast.”
“Oh!” I spun around and unzipped my pack. “Granny Blue sent breakfast.”
I deposited the muffins and dashed down the narrow hallway. I ran in the room and bounced on Cody Belle’s bed. She sat straight up and screamed as if I were a monster poised for attack.
“Stop! It’s me!” I said, shaking her just enough so she’d know that I really was me and not a prankster ghost.
Cody blinked at me. Then she craned her neck to check the clock on her nightstand.
“Emma,” she said in a gravelly voice. “It is six thirty. In the morning. This is unjustified.”
“Destiny waits for no man!” I grabbed her arm to pull her out of bed, but Cody just flopped over on the pillows with an urph sound.
“Try to focus, Cody Belle. It’s important. I know what my Destiny Dream means! The Conductor’s treasure is real. And I’m going to find it. What does an old key open? A treasure!”
I reminded Cody Belle about my journey into the Thicket, but I could tell by the vacant look in her eyes that she did not follow. To say Cody Belle is not a morning person would be a drastic understatement. She pretty much walks in a fog until at least noon.
I leaned in close to Cody Belle. “ ‘Beneath the stars of Blackbird Hollow’ … most people hear that, and they think it means they can only find the treasure at night. But it might not be sky stars. The stars might be in Blackbird Hollow Cemetery. The treasure might be there, too.”
Cody popped her retainer out of her mouth, pulling a long, shiny thread of drool with it. “If you’re going to ask me to dig for buried treasure in a cemetery, my answer is NO.”
“I would never dig in the cemetery,” I said, my voice sounding every bit as hurt as I felt. “Not unless I was a hundred percent sure it was there.”
“Emma!”
“It’s a lead, Cody Belle. Let’s see if there’s a name on the stone, and if that person really existed. If they didn’t, maybe it’s a decoy. Like ‘X marks the spot’ or something.”
“What if we do find the Conductor’s treasure?” Cody Belle asked.
“We’ll use the loot to save my favorite place on earth!”
Cody Belle blinked at me. “Dollywood?”
“The cafe!” I said, working to keep my voice low. “We’ll use the loot to save the cafe. Warren Steele’s after it, Cody. When he wants something, he gets it.”
Cody Belle frowned. “Lots of people disappeared trying to find that treasure, Emma.”
“That’s because they had shady intentions,” I said. “And after last night, I know the Conductor wants me to find it.”
“Or,” Cody Belle whispered, “the Conductor knows you want the treasure now … and so he will lead you to certain death.”
“We’ll worry about the particulars later.” I patted her leg. “I just need you to come with me. It’s my Destiny Dream, Cody Belle. It can’t be wrong.”
“But why do you need me?” Cody Belle whined.
“Because the Thicket freaks me out. I don’t want to go alone again.”
Cody Belle flopped backward and pulled her comforter over her face.
“Please?” I pleaded.
“The Thicket is as spooky-creepy as all get-out,” Cody Belle mumbled from underneath the covers. “And Blue says you’re not allowed there.”
“This is different.” I flopped down beside Cody Belle. “This is research.”
A short silence made me wonder if Cody Belle’d fallen asleep. But then she tossed the comforter back and mumbled, “Fine. I’ll go with you.”
“You will?” I brightened, bouncing on her bed. “You’ll go even though you’re scared of the Thicket?”
“Only because I don’t want the Conductor to drag you away into the caves or lead you to certain death.” She sighed. “I’d never forgive myself if that happened. But why do we have to go so early?”
“Because Blue’s busy baking for the day and nobody’s at the cafe yet,” I whispered. “Which means we can sneak in, investigate, and sneak back out, lickety-split. Just think, we might have the Conductor’s treasure before lunch!”
When we ran into the living room, Mrs. Chitwood stood in front of the window, shaking her head slowly. She said nothing. A rain of red rose petals fluttered past the window glass. They fell as thick and soft as snow.
“Gypsy
Rose summer,” I said. “It means the ghosts are restless.”
Mrs. Chitwood nodded. “I was a little girl the first time I saw the roses fall. I remember sitting on the tailgate of my dad’s truck downtown. We ate ice-cream cones, side by side. And the rose petals kept falling, falling … sticking to our ice cream. Sticking to my eyelashes. And we laughed and flung them away. I miss my dad so much. I don’t think the roses have anything to do with ghosts. I think they fall as a reminder that we never lose the ones we love. That they’re still watching over us.”
Cody Belle wrapped her arms around her mom’s waist. And her mom tugged her close and kissed her on top of the head. I felt shot through the heart at the sight of it; I tried to imagine my mama’s arms wrapping around me again. But the memory of a hug isn’t the same as the real thing.
“Oof!” I squealed as Mrs. Chitwood pulled me in for a hug, too. “Have fun today. Don’t get in too much trouble.”
Cody Belle and I ran for our bicycles while red petals flurried down all around us.
The sun was barely awake, floating gently above the faraway mountains. But even summer sunlight can’t penetrate the darkness of the Wailing Woods. Cody Belle sighed and clicked her bike helmet in place. “Do we have to cut through here?”
“The Thicket’s right up against the boundary of the Wailing Woods. Makes it easy to sneak in. Just think, CB. Someday when we’re old like Club Pancake, maybe this will be the story we sit around and tell. ‘We found a buried treasure. We saved the cafe. And the graveyard.’ We could save the entire town! Besides, we have our Tracking Devices. We’ll be fine.”
Despite poor cell phone reception in Blackbird Hollow, Blue and Mrs. Chitwood gave us cheap phones last school year, but only for emergency situations. Since the phones are only used to keep tabs on where we are, we call them the Tracking Devices.
“I don’t think ghosts are going to be intimidated by the Tracking Devices,” Cody Belle said. “I get nervous when I’m in the Wailing Woods. Maybe most of the ghosts in this town are friendly. But something in those woods … it makes me nervous. Always has.”
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