by Suzanne Weyn
“You’re lying,” the girl insisted. “I know you are. Give it back to me.”
As the girl spoke, her face was changing before Samantha’s eyes. It appeared to be contorting into a different shape, shifting into someone — something — else.
“What are you doing?” Samantha asked, her voice a quaking whisper. Although she wanted to look away, she was too amazed to even turn her head.
When the girl replied, her voice dropped to a low growl. “I’m not doing anything.”
“But your face,” Samantha said, backing away.
“What about my face?” the girl asked in a snarl.
Samantha grabbed the doorknob as she realized what the face was becoming.
A skull!
And then a face.
And then a skull again.
Terrified, Samantha tried to scream, but only managed a horrified croak. In front of her stood a skeleton with a maid’s uniform hanging from its bony frame.
It reached out a bony hand.
Samantha cringed as the skeleton touched her shoulder, shutting her eyes tightly to block out the horrible skull face. Open your eyes, Samantha commanded herself as she cowered against the door. You’ve fallen asleep. This is a dream. Wake yourself up! Wake up!
When Samantha forced herself to sneak a peek, the girl was no longer a skeleton. Once more she was the pale-faced girl with the dark-ringed eyes. “Where is the locket?” the girl demanded.
Samantha forced herself to speak despite her terror. “I saw a locket in the Haunted Museum; that’s the only locket I know of.”
“Don’t lie! You took it.”
“I didn’t take it! Honest!”
Suddenly she realized what was going on. This was part of the cruise. A gimmick. A trick. It had to be.
“Wow! You really had me fooled,” Samantha admitted as she searched in her canvas bag for some gum or a mint to moisten her dry mouth. Her hands were shaking, but she tried to keep her voice calm. “That is some amazing special effect, though.”
The girl stood staring, saying nothing. Then, once more, she transformed into a skeleton.
Samantha’s heart began to race again as the creature reached out for her. Its bony hand locked around her wrist. That was no special effect!
Samantha pulled away, but the skeleton held firm.
With another hard pull, Samantha broke free and fled. But where was she going? Once more lost in the maze of hallways, she finally came upon the sign pointing toward the Promenade Deck. Breathlessly she raced toward it.
THE SUN blinded Samantha the moment she stepped outside. She drew in a deep breath and waited for her hammering heart to calm itself. What had happened was not her imagination. She noticed a red mark on her wrist where that thing had grabbed her.
Advancing out onto the deck, she searched among the costumed passengers, trying to locate John. From across the deck, a girl in a plumed hat with an enormous brim turned and stared at her — Jessica! She had on a short gold jacket and a narrow ankle-length skirt above low boots. At first Samantha was so interested in her sister’s outfit that she didn’t notice who she was with. But then, looking over her sister’s shoulder, she saw that Jessica was talking to John!
Jessica turned back around and resumed the lively conversation she was having with the boy without acknowledging that she’d even seen her sister.
A mix of emotion washed over Samantha and she froze, paralyzed with indecision. Part of her was annoyed that Jessica had swooped in while she was gone and was now hogging John’s attention. But another part of her was relieved to see her sister. The strange encounter with the skeleton maid had really scared her, and her sister was the one she wanted to tell about it.
Was she angry at Jessica, or was she incredibly thankful that she’d found her?
Samantha’s path was blocked by a woman in a long gown with her hair swept into a bun — her mother. And following after her was Samantha’s father, also dressed for the time period in a dark suit and round bowler hat.
“There you are!” Mrs. Burnett cried. “I’ve been texting and texting! Why haven’t you answered me?”
Samantha pulled out her phone to check it, then held it under her mother’s chin. “There are no bars, Mom!”
Mrs. Burnett took her own cell phone out of a small velvet bag that hung on her wrist and scowled down at it. She sighed, seeming perplexed.
Samantha took it from her and pointed to the screen. “See, Mom? Sending failed. It says it five times,” Samantha pointed out impatiently.
“Oh, you’re right,” Mrs. Burnett admitted. “I didn’t notice.”
“Isn’t that strange,” Mr. Burnett remarked. “I’ll have to inquire if there’s Wi-Fi anywhere on the ship. They must have a business center.”
“Maybe they’ve blocked cell phones to keep up the atmosphere of the Titanic. All these beautiful costumes would look very odd if everyone had cell phones, laptops, and tablets going,” Mrs. Burnett considered.
“I guess you’re right,” Mr. Burnett said with a chuckle.
Stepping back, Mrs. Burnett studied Samantha critically. “Why aren’t you in costume? You look so out of place,” she remarked.
“Mom! Dad! Something really scary just happened. A horrible creature is snooping around in my and Jessica’s cabin.”
“A horrible creature?” Mr. Burnett asked.
“I’m not sure. A skeleton! A ghost! She grabbed me. Look!” Samantha held up her bruised wrist.
“She?” Mr. Burnett inquired.
“The thing was dressed as a maid. It looked like a girl a little older than me. But then its face changed into a skull.”
“There are all kinds of actors and special effects on this cruise,” Mrs. Burnett said doubtfully. “You can’t let it scare you.”
“Mom, it was real. Besides that, there’s a strange scratching, crying sound behind our wall.”
“It’s probably just the heat coming up,” Mr. Burnett said.
“And the number of our cabin keeps changing.”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” Mrs. Burnett scoffed. “How could that be possible? You’re in cabin two-sixty-six.”
“Only sometimes!” Samantha said. “Sometimes we’re in cabin two-sixty-six, and other times it changes to two-ninety-nine.”
“That’s impossible,” Mrs. Burnett insisted.
“I can prove it!” Samantha cried. “This ship doesn’t have bars but my phone camera still works.” At least she hoped it did. “I took a picture.”
With her fingers moving quickly, Samantha accessed the photos on her phone. “Here! I’ve got it. Wait until you see this!”
Samantha found the picture she’d taken of her cabin door. “There!” she cried as she held the screen up for her parents to see.
“I can’t make out the numbers on the door,” Mr. Burnett said.
Samantha hit zoom and the photo came into focus.
“Two-sixty-six,” Mr. Burnett read.
“No way!” Samantha snapped the phone back and peered at it. 266! This couldn’t be happening. When she’d taken the shot it had said 299. She was positive! Positive!
“Maybe you still have jet lag,” Mrs. Burnett suggested. “We arrived in England only yesterday after all.”
“Mom! It’s not jet lag!” Samantha wailed. Why wouldn’t they believe her?
“Why don’t you go get a costume, sweetie,” Mrs. Burnett advised. “It will put you into the spirit of things.”
“Don’t say the word spirit,” Samantha grumbled. “I’m starting to think there are spirits on this ship — evil spirits!”
“Samantha, don’t get carried away,” her father warned. “Maybe you should take a nap.”
“I have to talk to Jessica first.”
“Where is she?” Mr. Burnett asked.
“Right behind you, over there,” Samantha said, pointing. She peered between her parents as they turned, looking for Jessica, but she wasn’t there. Neither was John.
Samantha sig
hed in frustration. Her sister had moved on while Samantha was talking to their parents. “Never mind. I’ll go get a costume,” Samantha agreed, annoyed that they had kept her from getting to John and Jessica and that they wouldn’t believe her. She took a few steps, then hesitated. She didn’t want to go back to the bottom of the ship again — especially not by herself.
“Would you walk me there?” she requested, suddenly uneasy about going back inside the ship. “I’m scared.”
“Oh, all right,” her mother agreed, “but you’re being silly.”
“I’m not being silly,” Samantha insisted. She was absolutely sure that all this wasn’t her imagination. But was she losing her mind? That, she decided, was a definite possibility.
SAMANTHA AND her parents reached a door down in third class where a sign was posted, reading: WARDROBE DEPARTMENT: PASSENGERS WELCOME.
“Here it is,” Mr. Burnett said.
“Pick something nice, dear. We’ll see you for supper,” Mrs. Burnett added as she turned to go.
“Don’t leave me!” Samantha implored.
“Come on now,” Mr. Burnett said with a smile. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Where’s that independent Samantha we know and love?”
She wishes she was home hiding under her covers, Samantha thought uneasily.
A plaque on the door read: ASHLEY HOLMES. It made Samantha feel a little braver; at least she’d met the woman before.
“Okay, see you later,” Samantha said to her departing parents. When Samantha went into the room, Ashley Holmes sat at a small desk, no longer dressed as Molly Brown. Blond curls bounced around her heart-shaped face as she looked up from the magazine she was reading to greet Samantha.
“Hi, again. Did something happen to your costume?”
“You must be thinking of my older sister. She was in here earlier. Remember? We’re not really twins but we look a lot alike.”
Ashley Holmes once more threw her head back with laughter. “Oh, that’s right! Of course! Silly me!” She rose from her desk. “Nice to meet you again. They have me doing everything around here. Just everything!”
Samantha remembered that John had made a similar remark about himself. “I guess that’s how they run things.”
“It sure is,” Ashley Holmes agreed. She made circles in the air with her fingers. “It never stops! It’s always go-go-go! This evening at dinner I’ll be singing with the musicians who are acting the part of the string quartet that played as the ship sank.”
“Wow!” Samantha gasped. “That was brave.”
“I know!” Ashley Holmes agreed, shaking her head. She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a confidential tone. “They didn’t really have a girl singer, but we take small liberties with the truth here and there. After dinner I’ll be giving fox-trot lessons.”
“Fox-trot?” Samantha questioned.
“It was a popular dance at the time.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Let’s hope so! Well, what would you like to be — an aristocrat, a servant, an immigrant?” Ashley Holmes asked.
“What was Jess?” Her sister looked great in her costume. Whatever she’d picked, that’s what Samantha wanted to be.
“She was an aristocrat: first class all the way.”
“Then that’s what I want to be, please,” Samantha requested.
Ashley started by pulling Samantha’s hair into an elegant updo, using a curling iron to form loose spiral curls to frame her face. “Finishing touch,” the woman remarked, attaching a fluffy, pink plume to the side of Samantha’s hair.
Then she pulled several items from the racks of clothing that filled the huge space. She handed them to Samantha and indicated a row of changing rooms.
When Samantha had changed into her outfit, she studied herself in the full-length mirror behind the door. “I love it,” she said softly. Ashley had selected a maroon dress that fell in a straight line from her armpits to her ankles; tiny gold beads were sewn in vertical lines to make delicate golden stripes. On her feet she wore velvet t-strap pumps.
“Since you’re young, I wanted to give you a more modern look,” Ashley Holmes explained. “By nineteen-twelve, the straight lines of the flapper era were already starting to appear in ladies’ fashion, especially for the more daring.”
“Wow,” Samantha said, turning to admire the feather in her hair and the delicate beading on the back collar of the dress. “It’s perfect.”
“You look wonderful,” Ashley Holmes confirmed.
“Thank you,” Samantha said with a smile. It felt good to smile. She hadn’t smiled in hours, not since seeing John. Thinking of John made her check her image in the mirror once more. She did look pretty, and Samantha couldn’t wait for him to see her.
Thanking the woman with a curtsy (she couldn’t help herself in the old-fashioned clothes), Samantha left. Her mother had been right. Getting into costume did make her feel more in the swing of things. It was almost as if she had been transported back to the Titanic of 1912.
This time, she made it to the second level without losing her way. As she neared her cabin, she saw Jessica coming toward her from the other end of the hall.
“Where have you been?” Samantha demanded.
But as angry as she felt toward her sister, Samantha was also glad to see her. Jessica was her older sister and her closest friend, and Samantha wanted to tell her everything that had happened.
Jessica smiled. “I have so much to tell you, Sam,” she gushed.
“Jess, wait,” Samantha ordered. “What number is our cabin?”
Jessica checked the numbers on the door. “Two sixty-six!”
“Sometimes when I look at it, the number is two-sixty-six, and at other times it says two-ninety-nine. I’m not imagining it.”
“That’s odd,” Jessica said.
“Odd is not the word!” Samantha cried. “It’s completely freaky!”
Jessica shrugged and unlocked the cabin door. “It’s probably just Ashley Holmes and one of her bizarre gags,” she decided, unconcerned, as they entered the cabin. “So, anyway, listen … this is what I want to tell you.” She plunked down on her bed and faced Samantha. “Did you notice a really cute guy in the Haunted Museum gift shop?”
Samantha nodded. “Yeah.” Instantly she felt bad about being annoyed with Jessica. Her sister hadn’t even realized that she was interested in John.
“Well, he’s on this ship and I talked to him. He’s so nice!”
“I talked to him, too.”
Jessica raised her eyebrows, surprised. “You did?”
“Yes. He’s really nice. You’re right.”
“So nice,” Jessica agreed. “And guess what? I think he likes me,” she reported gleefully.
I was pretty sure he liked me, Samantha thought gloomily.
“Hey, I love your outfit,” Jessica said, seeming to notice it for the first time. “Mine’s so old-fashioned.”
“Yours is pretty, too. The hat is great.”
“Want to trade?” Jessica asked.
Samantha was tempted. It would be fun to wear the huge hat. But she liked her own outfit even better. “Maybe later,” she allowed.
Shrugging, Jessica pulled out the long pin stuck in her upswept hair that held the hat in place. “Okay, later. Don’t forget.”
“Jess, do you believe in ghosts?” Samantha asked.
“I don’t know,” Jessica admitted. “I suppose anything is possible. Why?”
Her parents had called her silly. Would Jessica also dismiss her story?
“Something really strange happened before,” Samantha told her sister.
SAMANTHA STUDIED her sister as Jessica listened to the story of the strange maid rummaging through their things. She seemed to be taking Samantha seriously. “I’m not crazy, Jess. She was so creepy,” Samantha concluded.
“What did you say she was searching for?” Jessica asked.
“A locket.”
Jessica reached into the space between her mattress a
nd the box spring and withdrew something. “Like this?” she asked in a serious tone.
Samantha gaped in disbelief at the silver locket that lay in Jessica’s outstretched palm. A lily was etched on the top of it. Samantha knew exactly where she’d seen it before. “Jessica,” she said quietly. “Please tell me you didn’t steal that from the Haunted Museum.”
“I didn’t.”
Samantha had never known Jessica to shoplift or to lie — at least not about important things, and not to Samantha. But here was the evidence right in the palm of her sister’s hand. “You could’ve gotten caught. Arrested! Are you crazy?!”
“I didn’t steal it! Sam, you’ve got to believe me. I found it in my bag when I was looking for some lip balm before. I don’t know how it got there.”
“If you didn’t steal it, then why did you hide it?” Samantha challenged. Her sister’s story just didn’t make sense.
“I just stuck it under here because I didn’t know what else to do with it. I knew you wouldn’t believe me. I couldn’t believe it, either. I swear! I don’t know how it got into my bag.”
“Well, whatever that creature was who was tearing this cabin apart — it wants the locket back,” Samantha informed Jessica.
“Do you really think this is what it wanted?” Jessica asked.
“I’d say there’s an excellent chance of that. Yes!” Samantha sat beside Jessica on the bed. “What are we going to do?” she asked.
“Give it back,” Jessica replied.
“To the Haunted Museum or to that creature?” The idea that she would have to see that horrifying girl once more was awful enough. Would she actually have to reach out to give her the locket? And when she did, would she touch the ghostly palm or — even worse — the bones of a skeletal hand?
“Why do you suppose it wants this locket so badly?” Jessica wondered. Sliding her fingernail along the side of the locket, Jessica popped it open. “Hah!” she laughed lightly in surprise.
“What?” Samantha demanded, sliding closer to her sister. The old photos in the locket were as blurred and ruined as when they’d seen them in the Haunted Museum.