Haunted Canada

by Pat Hancock

  “How do you know that?” Steve interrupted sharply. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, he thought. I don’t even know this kid. And from the sound of it, he’s been watching me.

  “Oh … uh … I’ve seen you here a few times, that’s all. I don’t go to school here, but I wish I could.”

  “Well, why can’t you?”

  Again, Ben seemed confused. Then he went on.

  “Well, my mom and dad had to move here. And the school year had already started, so Mom decided to teach me at home.” He paused, as if remembering something, then added, “She used to be a teacher. That’s what I wanted to be, too.”

  “Wow, no school! That would be great.”

  “It wasn’t … isn’t. It’s actually pretty boring.”

  “Yeah, I guess so,” Steve said. “I never thought about that.”

  “So,” Ben said suddenly. “About this math. You’ve got your books with you. Why don’t we start right now?”

  “Okay,” Steve said reluctantly. “But this is a waste of time. You’ll see.”

  An hour later, he wasn’t so sure. Ben was patient and he had a way of coming up with great examples. Decimals were parts of his allowance and fractions were parts of game scores. Steve was surprised when he checked his watch and saw that it was nearly dinnertime.

  “I’ve really got to go,” he said, packing his bag.

  “Same time tomorrow, then?” Ben suggested hopefully.

  “No problem, it’s your time that we’re wasting,” Steve said as he took off across the yard. At the gate, he turned back and shouted, “Hey, thanks,” but Ben was nowhere in sight.

  The next afternoon, Steve had to help set up chairs for a PTA meeting. It was nearly four o’clock when he headed for the old tree, hoping Ben would still be there.

  It wasn’t until he got right up to the tree and peeked around the trunk that he saw him. Ben was sitting with his hands clasped around his knees, staring at some kids playing Frisbee in the park across the street.

  “Hi, Steve,” he said without looking up. Then he turned and smiled. “So, our deal is still on?”

  “Guess so. But you’re the one who’s gonna lose out, Ben.”

  “Let’s just see what happens,” Ben smiled.

  Once more, he helped Steve work through the world of multiplication, division, numerators and denominators.

  They met again on Wednesday and Thursday. By Friday, Steve was beginning to think that doing well on a math test just might be more than a dream.

  “See,” Ben said as they finished up, “it’s really not so bad after all, is it?”

  Grudgingly, Steve agreed that it wasn’t as hard as he’d thought.

  “But,” Ben warned, “you should try those last questions one more time over the weekend. Don’t look at the answers in the back until you’re finished. The test is Monday morning, right? When will you get it back?”

  “Actually, Mr. Harper said he’d mark mine right away. If I bomb, which I probably will, he said he’ll be on the phone to my parents Monday night.”

  “No way that’s gonna happen. You know your stuff now. And I can have your game Monday night?”

  “Sure. A deal’s a deal. I’ll give it to you Monday after school. But just for one night.”

  “One night,” Ben said, beaming. “That’s all.”

  The happy look on Ben’s face gave Steve an idea.

  “Hey,” he said as he packed up his books, “we always have tacos on Friday night. You wanna come to my place for dinner? My folks won’t mind. There’s always lots, and …”

  He stopped. Ben’s smile had disappeared and, for a moment, it looked like he was about to cry. Then he said lightly, “Nah, but thanks for asking. And don’t worry about Monday. You’ll ace it, Steve. I know it.”

  “Sure,” Steve said sarcastically. “See ya,” he called as he began to jog toward Park Street.

  “Goodbye, Steve,” Ben said quietly.

  “What did you say?” Steve shouted.

  “I said good luck,” Ben yelled back.

  “Thanks,” Steve hollered. “I’ll need it.”

  He spent much of the weekend doing homework — not just math, but social studies and English, too. He couldn’t believe how much catching up he had to do.

  After dinner on Sunday, he went back to his math. When he was unsure about one question — the last and the hardest — he went downstairs to ask for help. His parents were in the living room.

  “Hey, could one of you help me with this?” He sat down on the couch and showed them the question.

  His dad began to scribble numbers.

  “Dad, could you write the percents as fractions of a hundred right at the beginning? That’s the way Ben showed me. I can follow it easier.”

  “Who’s Ben?” Mom asked.

  “He’s just this kid who’s been helping me with my math.”

  “I don’t remember you mentioning a Benjamin before.”

  “Ben, Mom, Ben. And I haven’t. He’s just this kid I met after school.”

  “Really? What’s his last name? How old is he? And where does he live? Does he go to your school?”

  Steve could tell that his mother’s Beware of Strangers warning system had just clicked into action.

  “Mom, it’s fine. He’s just a kid, and he’s really smart, too. His name is Farber — Ben Farber. He doesn’t go to my school — and I never asked him how old he was because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  “What do you mean?” Dad asked. He’d stopped writing and was listening carefully now, too.

  “Well, he’s a little shorter than me and he acts like a kid, but he looks kind of old. It’s hard to explain.”

  “What did you say his name was?” Dad asked, looking alarmed.

  “Ben Farber.”

  “You shouldn’t joke about Ben,” his mother said, pursing her lips. “Besides, how did you hear about him?”

  “Mom, what’s with you? I’m not joking.”

  “Okay, then. Did you just make up this story about getting help to impress us? So we won’t take your video games away or something?”

  Steve was confused. It looked like he was in trouble — and he had no idea why.

  “He could have just lucked into the name,” Dad said to Mom over Steve’s head.

  “Yes, but what about what he said about the way he looked?” his mother asked nervously.

  “Hey guys, I’m here. Talk to me. What’s this all about? Ben’s just a kid I met, I tell you. And he just looks a lot older than a kid. A few wrinkles like Granddad, that’s all.”

  “We’re being ridiculous,” Dad said abruptly. “Let’s get back to this problem.”

  “No, wait.” Steve wasn’t willing to let it drop. Something strange was happening. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing, really,” Mom said. “It’s just that there was a boy named Benjamin Farber who moved here when we were kids. His family wanted to be closer to the medical centre. Ben needed so much special care by then.”

  “By when? What was wrong with him?”

  “Well, we never met him. But our parents told us about him.”

  “Yes,” Dad continued. “He had a very serious — and very rare — disease, one that makes your body grow old in just a few years.”

  “By the time they moved here, Ben was already too weak to go to school. And apparently he really wanted to. He was just a kid. He wanted to do all the things other kids did.”

  “He died about six months after they arrived,” Mom added. “It was so sad. His parents moved away soon after the funeral. So you can see why we were so surprised by what you said, can’t you?”

  Steve was stunned. This is crazy, he thought.

  “Forget it,” Dad said. “It’s just a coincidence, that’s all. Now let’s get back to this problem, shall we?”

  Steve sat quietly while Dad finished explaining the math question, but he wasn’t paying much attention. As soon as possible, he escaped to his room.r />
  There has to be an explanation, he thought, as he slipped into bed. There just has to be.

  By the time he got to school the next morning, he’d convinced himself that Dad was right — it was all just a coincidence.

  Steve was surprised when he was one of the first to finish the math test. He was also surprised to find that he’d at least tried every question. A first. Once the test was over, though, the rest of the day seemed to drag endlessly.

  When Mr. Harper finally dismissed the class, he asked Steve to stay behind. Steve’s heart was pounding as he waited to hear his fate.

  “How did you do it, Steve? Congratulations.” Mr. Harper handed him his paper. At the top, with a big happy face beside it, was a large blue 81.

  “I think you’ve finally got the basics, Steve. You keep this up and your mark will be much better on your next report.”

  Steve thanked Mr. Harper and left in a daze. He wandered slowly out to the schoolyard, where he stood staring at the big tree for a long time. There was no sign of Ben.

  His head was spinning. If Ben is the Ben, I’ve just spent four days learning math from a ghost. That isn’t possible … is it? And if it is, how can a ghost play with a game? And he isn’t around, anyway. I’d be stupid to leave my DRX7 here. Somebody’ll steal it and I’ll never see it again.

  He spun around and walked quickly toward the gate. You’re not real, Ben. You can’t be, he said to himself as he began to jog toward home.

  His parents took him out for pizza that night. To celebrate the great math mark, they said. When they got back home, Steve said he was tired and went to his room. He lay on his bed, trying to make sense of what had happened.

  No matter how hard he tried, though, the one thing he couldn’t forget was the smile on Ben’s face when he’d agreed to let him have the phone for a night. And his own words kept coming back to him. A deal’s a deal, he’d said.

  Steve looked at his watch. It was still only eight-thirty. He got up, grabbed his things and headed downstairs.

  “I forgot something in the schoolyard,” he shouted as he ran out the door. “I’ll be right back.”

  It was nearly dark when he got to the school. He walked slowly across the empty baseball diamond to the tree. No one was there. It’s too late, he thought. Ben got tired of waiting. Maybe he even saw me leave after school.

  “Ben, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  Then, he saw it — the hole in the trunk where kids sometimes hid secret messages. He reached up and felt inside. It was a small space, but big enough. He looked around to make sure no one was watching. Then he set the unit carefully in the hole.

  “Here it is, Ben. Have fun,” he whispered and walked away.

  When he got home, he crawled into bed and fell asleep wondering if he’d ever see his DRX7 again.

  The next morning, Steve got to school early. Again, he looked around to make sure he was alone. Then he reached into the hole.

  The console was there, exactly where he’d left it. No one has touched it, he thought. I was too late, after all. Well, at least I’ve got it back. Somehow, though, this thought didn’t make him happy.

  He was surprised to find the power turned on. I must have pushed the On button when I grabbed it, he thought. Then he looked at the screen. Under the Game Over message was an incredibly high score.

  Steve hit Start. The familiar Tetris tune began and there, on the opening screen, were three high scores. The one he’d already seen was listed first, with two others close behind.

  Someone had used the game — someone who was a fast learner and a good teacher, too.

  “I hope you had fun, Ben,” Steve whispered. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it, isn’t it?” Just like math, he added silently.

  Steve turned off the power. As he walked toward the school, he glanced back at the tree. There was nobody there but, just in case, he waved.

  A DREAM COME TRUE

  Jennifer’s voice cut through the silence in the kitchen. “I found it. It’s real,” she called out happily. Startled, Morgan Ross spilled the coffee he was pouring. He hadn’t realized she was back.

  “What’s real, dear?” he asked, grabbing a paper towel to wipe up the puddle.

  “The house, Dad. The one in my dream. I found it all by myself.” Jennifer beamed with pride.

  “Right — how could I forget?” Morgan muttered under his breath as he dumped the soggy paper towel into the garbage. For the past nine months, he and his wife had listened to Jennifer’s endless detailed descriptions of the house in her dream. The big white house with a porch and an attic. The only house where she could stay, where she could be happy again.

  For nearly as long, he and Helen had tried to find that house, week after week, house after house. At first, it had been exciting, but now the whole business was starting to get to him. They’d looked at more than thirty houses, but none had been the right one for Jennifer.

  He was beginning to wonder if the house existed at all. Still, it was wonderful to have his daughter around, talking and looking happy again. So he smiled as he turned back to her, trying to look interested.

  “Where is it?” he asked. This time? he added silently.

  “Well, it’s a little far from here,” Jennifer began, “out by Millbrook.” Then her excitement took over. “But, Dad, it’s amazing. It’s got a huge attic, and a porch and library and apple trees and everything. Just like I dreamed.”

  Dreamed! Morgan thought, briefly tuning out his daughter again. Not dreamed, as in once or twice, but dreamed as in many dreams, night after night. Ever since the accident. And always the same dream, she says. About that house. A big house. White, with shutters. The friendly house, she calls it. But what if there is no friendly house? What if there is no dream? What if …?

  “So, will you call her now? Dad, are you listening?” Jennifer asked impatiently.

  “Yes, dear, of course. Helen, could you come in here, please? Jennifer wants you,” Morgan called out.

  “Not Mom, Mrs. Jackson!” She rolled her eyes in frustration.

  Mrs. Jackson was the real estate agent. She’d been showing them houses ever since they’d decided to move. But lately, Morgan thought, she seemed to be getting a little fed up with them.

  Just last week she had said, “I’ve shown you every single big white house within a hundred kilometres, Mr. Ross. I don’t know where to look next. Maybe you should take a break from house hunting for a while. Your wife seems very tired these days. Besides, you’ve got a lovely home already.”

  At that point, Morgan had stopped her.

  “Not a home, Mrs. Jackson. Just a house. We must move. But, it has to be a house that’s right for Jennifer.”

  “You said she’s only eleven, Mr. Ross. I’m sure she’d get used to any house you bought.” Impatience was creeping into Mrs. Jackson’s voice.

  “She’s our only child, Mrs. Jackson.” Morgan sighed. “You know how it is. We want her to be happy. That’s all that ever mattered to us. So, if you’ll just keep looking …”

  And that’s how they’d left it, with Mrs. Jackson promising to call as soon as she found something. But she hadn’t sounded keen.

  “What is it, Morgan?” Helen Ross asked, coming quietly into the kitchen.

  It was true. She was looking worn out lately. And pale too. No sparkle left. No get-up-and-go. But when she saw Jennifer, she perked up a little.

  “Oh, you’re back, dear. Are you all right? You look …” she frowned thoughtfully, “different somehow.”

  “I’m so happy, Mom. And guess why? I found the friendly house at last. It’s perfect.”

  “Do you really think so, Jennifer?”

  “I know so. I went there three times. They’re there, Mom. Like in the dream. I saw them.”

  “Jennifer wants us to call Mrs. Jackson, Helen,” Morgan interrupted. “To see if the house is for sale. But I’m not so sure …”

  “Do it, dear. We can’t stay here. You know that. It’s the only wa
y.”

  “All right. I’ll call from the den,” Morgan said. “Tell me again, Jennifer, exactly where this place is so I can pin it down for Mrs. Jackson.”

  Five minutes later, he was back in the kitchen, and he was smiling.

  “She says it’s listed.”

  Jennifer let out a whoop.

  “It’s been on the market for more than four years,” Morgan continued. “But she says it’s in such bad shape that she never dreamed of showing it to us.”

  “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s perfect. You’ll see.” Jennifer was so excited that she was flitting around the kitchen. “Should you start packing? When do we move? Let’s go.”

  “Calm down, Jennifer,” Morgan said. “You know you have to save your energy. We’ll go and see the house tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Helen asked.

  “Mrs. Jackson is busy today,” Morgan explained. “She’ll get the key tomorrow and meet us there in the evening. Around eight.”

  Millbrook was only a half-hour drive from Fenton, but Jennifer was so eager to show off the house that the Rosses had agreed to leave at six.

  “So you can see it when it’s still bright out,” Jennifer had explained. “I’ll show you the way when you get close.”

  “We could bring along some food and have a picnic first,” Morgan had suggested hopefully. It had been a long time since Helen had wanted to do anything like that, and he wasn’t sure what she’d say. But she had agreed, saying that it sounded like a great idea — until he’d mentioned the lake.

  “We could spread out a blanket by the lake, like we used to, and …”

  That’s when Helen had gone pale again.

  “Not the lake, Morgan,” she had whispered hoarsely. “You know I can’t go back there. Not since Jennifer …” Her voice trailed off into silence.

  “No, of course not,” Morgan had said quickly, reaching out to take his wife’s hand. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  Instead, he had proposed stopping along the way for hot dogs and ice cream, and Helen had said she’d like that a lot.

  And that’s exactly what they’d done. But it was still only seven-thirty when they turned off Highway 52 onto County Road 10.