Haunted Memories

by Phoebe Rivers

  We asked Angela more questions, but she didn’t know why they seemed so sad to her. They just did. “I feel like so many people have secrets,” she said. She was talking to Lily’s mom, but I was listening. “There must be secrets in every house, in every building, everywhere in this town. It’s a shame people are afraid to ask questions.”

  “One more poster done!” Avery announced. She held up a sign with my name.

  “Great,” I said. “And I just came up with a community service project.”

  It was time to tell some secrets.

  I stood trembling in the wings of the school stage a few days later.

  What was I doing here? I wondered.

  I felt as if I’d suddenly woken from a long sleep. A long, delusional sleep. I’d been so involved in taking photos for the project I’d cooked up, and my new friends had rallied around me, spending our afternoons together making posters and having fun, that I’d lost track of what this really was.

  Me. Alone on a stage. Running for Harvest Queen.

  For Alice.

  Alice, who I hadn’t seen since that day in the principal’s office.

  This was such a bad idea. Bad, bad, bad.

  I twisted the silver braided ring I always wore and stared out onto the enormous stage. I can’t go out there. I can’t.

  My fingers frantically searched the cotton folds of my navy-and-white skirt. Pocket? Where was the pocket?

  I had no pocket.

  The realization hit like a punch in the stomach. The aquamarine lay in the pocket of my jeans, now crumpled on my bedroom floor.

  The stone of courage was on my bedroom floor.

  And I was here.

  Where was I going to find courage?

  The pounding started behind my eyes. Pulsing. In time with my racing heart. I have to leave, I thought.

  I turned, and she was there.

  Alice.

  No longer crying. Happy.

  “It’s our turn soon.”

  “No,” I whispered. My eyes darted frantically across the backstage area. Lots of girls milled about. No one very near. Avery had gone to find me a hairbrush. She’d be back soon. I couldn’t be seen talking to the air. And that was all they would ever see. Not Alice. Air.

  “I can’t,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” I started to walk away. To leave. Quit.

  Alice stopped me with her icy touch. “I need you. We can do this.”

  And again, her desire coursed through me. I stood a prisoner in her frigid cage.

  “Watch,” she commanded. And I stayed and looked as Dina finished her speech and Chloe stepped onto the stage. The lights were trained on her. Everyone watched as she began to speak about littering and cleaning school grounds.

  Chloe was athletically built but short, and from where I stood, I could see her lifting up on her toes behind the podium to reach the microphone. She droned on about garbage, then sneezed. A short, fast, high-pitched sneeze. Then another.

  Startled, she fumbled, then remembered where she’d left off. Calf muscles straining, she pulled herself up to her full height, rallying for respect of school property.

  Another sneeze—this one huge—racked her body. Three more followed. Each time she managed a sentence, her body convulsed with the force of a sneeze.

  The giggles started softly, but soon the audience couldn’t hold back their delight. Chloe was like some strange windup sneezing doll. Each sneeze was wetter and wilder, until she could no longer speak. Chloe fled, sneezing, from the stage.

  I stole a glance at Alice. She was watching the stage.

  Christine was next, but she could not find the copy of her speech. Principal Bowman changed the order and hurried Ava Gomez into the bright light.

  Ava looked as nervous as I felt. She grasped the podium as she began to speak. Something about inviting senior citizens to take classes with us. I cringed. Having Lady Azura at school, telling the fortunes of all my friends, would be more than I could handle. Ava droned on. Boring.

  Alice kept her eyes focused on the stage. She wouldn’t look at me. Icy air swirled about us.

  Christine still couldn’t find her speech. Or the second copy she had tucked into her locker. She refused to go on.

  Caroline sauntered confidently onto the stage. The audience broke into applause. Avery, who was now by my side, whispered, “Everyone loves her. She’s like a goddess in this school.”

  As if I needed to be freaked out even more.

  Caroline waved and smiled. Everyone cheered. But that was all she did. Smile. Wave. Giggle. Smile.

  After a few minutes, Principal Bowman hurried onto the stage. She pulled Caroline aside and whispered intently. Caroline shrugged and gave her brightest goddess smile. Principal Bowman scowled, the only one not blinded by Caroline’s beauty.

  Then Principal Bowman nudged Caroline off the stage. Caroline, for the first time, stopped smiling. Her perfect peachy-pink skin turned blotchy with outrage. The principal announced into the microphone that Caroline’s inability to come prepared with a community service project had caused her instant disqualification.

  Caroline looked completely confused. So did all the kids. Everyone had assumed Caroline would be Harvest Queen. The assembly was just a formality to get out of class. Caroline tried to explain that she could come up with something. She just needed a minute or two.

  It didn’t matter.

  “The mayor is talking to Principal Bowman.” Avery pointed to the other side of the stage. “He’s angry. He takes this mega-seriously.”

  But I was looking at Alice. The temperature dropped as her smile grew.

  Could Alice somehow be doing this? I wondered.

  “Our final candidate today is Sara Collins,” Principal Bowman announced.

  Hands clapped as I stared, mouth open, at Alice.

  “It’s your turn,” she said, and pushed me onto the stage.

  CHAPTER 13

  I stumbled toward the podium.

  Avery hurried out behind me, a laptop tucked under her arm. I stood awkwardly as she connected the laptop to the auditorium’s multimedia system. I felt bad that I’d suspected her of doing something selfish. Avery had masterminded this whole campaign. I owed her. Big-time.

  I just hoped she wouldn’t be too disappointed when I lost.

  Alice. Avery. They were both counting on me.

  My legs wouldn’t stop shaking behind the podium. I tried not to sway, as I clicked on my PowerPoint presentation. Another one of Avery’s ideas. She knew public speaking was not my thing. But I was great at taking photos and manipulating them on my computer.

  “My community service idea is a living history project.” My voice sounded abnormally loud through the microphone. Oh God, was that Jayden to the far right?

  Don’t look at the faces in the front rows, I commanded myself. Pretend they’re not here.

  The melody of Lady Azura’s chickadee song popped into my head. The chorus repeating, over and over.

  Courage. Have courage.

  I focused on the photo montage I’d created, playing on the enormous screen. Pop music synced to the images thumped behind it.

  The town hall. The haunted house on the boardwalk. The school. The large bank clock that never told the right time. The broken-down pier. The lighthouse.

  Pictures I had taken around Stellamar.

  I explained that even though I had just moved here, I could tell right off that Stellamar had a rich history. I had gone to the small local library, but there was very little about the town and its people.

  More photos layered like a collage: Lady Azura years ago as Harvest Queen. Lily’s uncle, who owned the pizza place. Lily’s cousin Dawn Marie in her hideous pink dress as Harvest Queen.

  “Our school would create a living history through interviews, photos, and videos to trace the stories of those still living in Stellamar and those who have died,” I said.

  Even more photos: George Marasco, who’d built the boardwalk years ago. Alice’s gravestone in the
small graveyard behind our school. The newspaper headline from 1952 about polio that Avery had uncovered online.

  “History shouldn’t be a secret. For example, did you know that the guy who built Stellamar’s boardwalk, George Marasco, used to let poor kids during the Depression ride the rides for free? And did you know that the Harvest Festival was canceled one year because one of the girls running for queen brought polio into the school? This project will let future generations know the truth—good and bad—about our town.”

  People clapped. Not a lot. Mostly teachers, I suspected.

  I did it, I thought as I hurried off. I stood on that stage and spoke. I’d never done anything like that before. It might not have been great, but I did my best.

  Avery jumped up and down and hugged me. I could hear Lily’s squeal as she ran toward me.

  Then I saw Alice. No longer smiling. Cold air swirling about her.

  Clearly she didn’t think my best was good enough.

  Christine wasn’t in science.

  Normally I wouldn’t notice, but today was Friday. Voting day. The Harvest Festival was tomorrow. The dance tomorrow night. How could she not be here?

  Plus, she was my new lab partner.

  I calculated the life cycle of a star by myself.

  Jayden sat across the classroom, now paired with Marlee. They worked quietly. No joking.

  I was kind of glad.

  He looked up, and our eyes connected. He must have felt me staring.

  Then, out of nowhere, Jayden’s worksheet fluttered and blew off the table. He turned away. Bent down to retrieve it.

  No open windows. No air-conditioning vents.

  But I’d seen what happened.

  The angry spirit messing with things.

  Keeping me away.

  Christine appeared just as class was ending.

  “Where were you?” I asked. “The lab was impossible. I don’t know if my answers are right.”

  “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.” Her voice fell flat. Her shoulders slumped.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, as we filed into the hall.

  “They kicked me out of the running. I can’t run for Harvest Queen! Principal Bowman said it was only fair to disqualify me, since Caroline got disqualified for not having given a speech.”

  “Christine, I’m so sorry.” I felt horrible. “I really am. I know how much you wanted it. That just seems so unfair.”

  “Whatever. I guess I’ll vote for you now.” She stopped at a locker and opened the door, our conversation over.

  “Sara! Sara!” Avery called from down the hall.

  I pushed through a crush of bodies to catch up with her.

  “Why aren’t you smiling?” she demanded.

  Where to begin?

  “You need to smile today,” she instructed. “People vote for happy people. You should say hi and talk, too.”

  “I think I’ll stick with the smiling,” I said. “I’m better at it.” I forced a smile at a passing girl.

  “Fine. It won’t matter much anyway.” Avery’s lips curled in as if trying to hold back a secret that was desperate to escape.

  “Why?” I asked suspiciously. Avery had come up with crazy schemes all week. Each one I’d refused to let her go through with.

  “You’ll see! It’s genius!” she called, and darted into her art classroom before I could get it out of her.

  The ballots were passed out during last period.

  Dina. Ava. Chloe. Sara.

  I stared at my name.

  Sara Collins.

  Could I really vote for myself?

  My pen doodled along the margin of the paper. Flowers. Vines connecting them. Then I felt my hand lift.

  Higher.

  I watched as if it were no longer attached to my body. The pen moved toward the names. Toward my name.

  A hand rested on mine.

  Guiding me.

  I turned slightly as my pen circled Sara Collins.

  Alice.

  I was certain I’d failed her. One of the eighth graders would win. Everyone knew them and liked them.

  Would Alice be trapped in this school forever? I wondered. Was there another way to help her?

  The teacher collected the ballots.

  And Alice still held my hand.

  CHAPTER 14

  I grabbed my dad’s hand, caught up in the excitement, as the high school marching band high-stepped and drum-rolled their way down the boardwalk. Girls with frosted eye shadow and blue-fringed leotards threw batons and twirled enormous flags in time with the syncopated calls of the trumpets and trombones.

  Trucks, vans, and even bicycles rolled past, each decorated with miles of colorful crepe paper and balloons. The coast guard, in their starched white uniforms, threw bags of Swedish fish to the children who lined the route.

  The entire town had turned out Saturday morning for the parade, which ran the entire length of the boardwalk and onto Beach Drive. Lily watched with her brothers and sister down the way. I recognized kids and teachers from school throughout the crowd. The summer smells of fudge and cotton candy had been replaced with spicy apple cider and the first pumpkin bread of the season. Even the weather had begun to change. Cooler air blew in off the ocean, breaking down the humidity.

  “You should be sitting on a float,” my dad said to Lady Azura.

  “I should, shouldn’t I?” Lady Azura stood beside me and beamed. Today was one of the few times she ventured out into the world, and she’d certainly dressed for it, in a long red dress with flowing kimono-like sleeves. Her metallic “walking-around” sneakers matched the oversize gold sun hat on her head.

  “A royal float. They should have a float for former queens to honor those of us who refuse to let go of our glamour.” Lady Azura scanned the crowd. “Sadly, there’d be very few riders. Unlike me, most of these women traded their glamour in for a life of pizza and fried clams.”

  This made my dad laugh.

  I stood between them, watching uneasily. Since we’d moved in, I’d had trouble deciding whether they liked each other. Sometimes they spoke as if they were long-lost friends and other times as if they’d just been introduced at an awkward back-to-school night.

  “Is she here?” Lady Azura whispered to me.

  “No. I don’t think she can leave the school.”

  “They should be announcing the winner soon.”

  “I’ve been thinking.” I stole a glance at my dad. He was completely absorbed by the fire truck, piled high with vegetables and other harvest-type stuff, coming down the route. “What if I tried to get Alice—or her spirit—to Hollywood or a beauty pageant instead? Get her a different crown somehow—”

  “You are too focused on the crown.” Lady Azura spoke in a low voice. “The crown may just be a symbol of something that Alice desires. Like a child who holds a blanket wants security.”

  “But she asked me for the crown. And I tried. I really did, but I can’t give her that. She didn’t ask me for security or . . .” I stopped talking and watched a familiar bald man in a dark suit climb onto a makeshift stage. Then I continued my thought. “What good is trying to help when you can’t?”

  The microphone screeched, then crackled with static. All attention turned to the plywood stage.

  “Welcome to the ninety-sixth annual Harvest Festival!” the bald man called. A huge cheer erupted. The band launched into the first bars of the school’s fight song.

  The bald guy turned out to be Stellamar’s mayor. I’d seen him at the school assembly. He spoke about the town until little kids got bored and pelted one another with Swedish fish, then he boomed, “And now for the crowning of this year’s middle-school Harvest Queen!”

  In an instant, Lily and Avery found their way to me. They gathered close, buzzing with excitement.

  “We have our fingers crossed for you,” Avery said. “Toes, too.”

  My dad looked perplexed.

  “This year’s winner, chosen by both the students and teachers, is�
�” The mayor made a big deal about opening an envelope.

  I felt bad. I should’ve told my dad, I realized. It shouldn’t have been a secret.

  The mayor pulled out a card.

  Lily squeezed my hand.

  I glanced over at Dad. Maybe Lady Azura was right.

  Maybe I should tell him more things.

  “Sara Collins!”

  I watched Dad’s eyebrows shoot upward.

  “Sara! Sara!” Lily shouted my name.

  “Sara! You won!” Avery pulled my arm, dragging me forward. Out onto the boardwalk.

  I glanced back at my dad. He had his fists in the air. Huge grin on his face. Cheering for me.

  Avery pulled me along. Up onto the stage. Next to the bald guy.

  What was I doing up here? This couldn’t be right.

  The mayor placed a crown on my head. It slipped a bit to the side, and Avery reached up and straightened it. He handed me a large bouquet wrapped in crinkly cellophane. Pink carnations.

  Everyone clapped. Faces everywhere. All looking at me!

  “Quiet, please,” the mayor said into the microphone. “I wanted to quickly talk about Sara’s inspiring community service idea, which the middle school will begin tackling next month. It will celebrate and bring to life our town’s history using the written word, recordings, photographs, and videos.”

  He pulled the microphone from the stand and held it in his hand. “I watched Sara’s presentation, and I must say it moved me. She talked about unearthing the secrets of the past.” He paused. “There was a photo she showed during her presentation of the gravestone of a girl named Alice Emerson.” He paced across the stage. “Our town blamed Alice for bringing polio to the school. Many of you here may remember Alice, and the tragedy that happened in the fall of 1952.”

  A murmur arose, but the mayor continued to speak. “Alice lived down the street from my family before I was born. While growing up, I remember my parents talking about Alice. How they felt she was unfairly blamed for causing the polio outbreak. How she was one of many kids who’d attended a pool party a few weeks before in the town of Hadley, forty minutes away from here.”

  “I was at that pool party!” a white-haired man yelled from the side of the stage.