by Shelly Brown
“Yep, every night.” I tucked the other side behind my ear as well. I hadn’t given myself a final once over before I left the house. “Do I look that bad?”
He didn’t respond at first, which set my heart racing.
“Nah, it’s fine.” Dang it, he was lying. He was a terrible liar.
Jessica jumped down from her front patio and came running out to meet us. “Tiff, did your mom do your hair this morning?”
Wow, it must look pretty terrible. I nodded. “Can you fix it?”
“Maybe if I braid it.” She dug into her backpack for hair supplies while following behind us.
Mario met us on the road. He put out his fist for a bump. “Today is the day that Kevin goes dooww-wn”
I smiled and bumped his hand. With friends like mine, I could do this.
Classes were tricky when hauling three crazy kids everywhere. Right before the speeches, the office buzzed our class and excused me to go to the gym. I was walking by myself past the girl’s baseball field when I heard an unfamiliar scream. I turned, and a scruffy face and slightly balding head were closer than I expected them to be. It was the school field ghost guy dressed in a dark jacket and large worn out jeans.
I concentrated and the scream was short.
Help you. He was better at communicating than the girl.
I shivered. His voice was scratchy and his eyes were boring holes into my soul. I tried to send him my message through my mind but he didn’t seem to be getting it so after confirming that I was alone I spoke aloud. “How? How can you help me?”
Pay baby.
I was puzzled. Who was this guy and what was he telling me? “You’re going to pay the baby?”
Pay me. Pay me baby.
Super creepy.
He reached his hands out towards the baby in the girl’s arms.
I didn’t even have to think about. Instinct took over and I felt myself bristling like a mad cat. I stepped in between them. “Absolutely not.”
Angry, he recoiled, covering the big distance between us and the backstop in just a few flickering seconds.
I pulled the baby out of the girl’s arms and held it close. It might not be my baby, but no weirdo-hanging-out-at-the-junior-high ghost is getting his black and white hands on it.
Shaking, I started off to the gym again when the man appeared right in front of me.
“No baby!” I said. Apparently too loud, since a couple of girls who were a good distance off turned and looked at me, then walked off giggling.
Help you, he repeated.
“No thanks,” I said and tried to walk around him.
Pay Witch.
I ignored him and kept walking past him.
Pay White Witch.
I stopped but refused to turn around.
Pay White Witch cherries.
What? That didn’t even make sense. Besides bartering with witches was not on my list of appropriate activities for a Monday night so I kept walking.
Help you, he called out but didn’t follow me.
I was shaken by the whole thing but felt better when I walked through the doors to the gym. My anxiety melted and my adrenaline pumped. Energy and excitement hummed in the air. I smiled. It was my kind of event. Much better than talking to weirdo ghosts about cherries.
When it was time for the assembly, Kevin went first. His little introduction was super boring except that he’s an Eagle Scout who tap dances. Didn’t see that coming. I chuckled at the thought of his long arms and legs time-stepping. By the end of Kevin’s motivational speech about “federation,” blah, blah, blah, and “spaceship” something or another, I was pretty sure I had this election wrapped up with a beautiful glittery gift bow.
Chapter 19
Speeches
Justin
I’d gone to school with Kevin my whole life. The kid got straight A’s but didn’t talk much, so when I heard he was running for class president I was surprised. During the election week he came out of his shell a bit, and I have to admit that I was impressed with him. His speech was about how we can be more like the Starship Enterprise and work like a team. Basically it was the best speech ever. Of course I still voted for Tiffany but my loyalty was touch and go there when he likened seventh grade to taking the One Ring to the fiery depths of Mount Doom. Pure brilliance.
Tiffany’s leg was shaking as she waited for the teacher to introduce her. The teacher motioned and Tiffy bounced out of her chair and bolted to the podium. It was odd because Tiffany was usually much cooler than that. She gave a huge smile as she went into the same speech I had heard her practicing that morning. It was going good until she stopped, closed her eyes, and bowed her head. Then her arms shot out to one side and she balanced the invisible baby on her hip. Because I’ve known it was the baby I’ve never thought her arms looked that weird perched off to the side but sitting on the bleachers, surrounded by people who knew nothing about the ghosts, I had to admit she looked rather strange bobbing about as she gave her speech.
Her voice started to quiver ever so slightly. But if there was one thing I knew about Tiffany, it was that she was tough. She could still win. She was well liked and a lot of fun to be around. She just needed to show a little more confidence.
Then her head flew forward and hit the podium with a thwack.
I didn’t see that coming.
The auditorium went silent.
She pulled her head back up and did this strange thing with her arms that I can only imagine was her ripping the invisible boy off of her head. She continued her speech with one arm perched off to the side for the baby and the other arm reaching out with her hand clasped around what I believe was the boy’s wrist. That arm jerked around for a bit before she brought it back in.
“ . . . And as seventh graders, we should be allowed to participate in all of the sports, not just a few.” She didn’t waver from her speech until she let out a bellow, leaned forward, and grabbed her foot, knocking her head on the podium once again.
That’s when the tears started but she didn’t quit. “. . . but if I’m elected I will work to get us formal dances. Seventh graders deserve to party, too.” She ended her speech hardly audible through her blubbering then sat back down in her chair.
She reached down, I assumed putting the baby down, and stared out, the tears drying. She gave a big signature Tiffany smile but her eyes didn’t sparkle like they usually did.
After the other candidates finished we were all excused to go home, and I ran down to the floor. Tiffany hadn’t moved.
I felt at a loss for words. “Are you okay?”
She looked up at me, pointed to her ears, then pointed to the ground.
I reached down and tried to find the baby but I didn’t feel anything, anywhere.
She laughed, which snapped her out of her funk a little. She reached down and picked up the nothing.
“We better go now,” I said.
“Where?”
“The cemetery.”
She looked at me like I had smeared my face in peanut butter and covered it in ants. Disturbed is too mild a word to describe her expression. “What is wrong with you? Do you enjoy torturing me? It’s like you watched me get a paper cut then offered to dip it in lemon juice.”
“No.” I crouched down so that we were eye to eye. “I’m trying to help. Let’s get rid of these ghosts.”
She covered her brows with a hand in the universal sign for stress and then gave a reluctant nod.
Jessica came running up and patted Tiffany on the back. “That was awesome, Tiff.”
We both just looked at her.
“Girl, it could have been worse. I bet you still win. Are you headed home or do you have cross country?”
Both of us got really uncomfortable. Jessica looked at us then said, “Whatever, I’ve got play practice so I’m in the theater if
you need me.”
Tiffany smiled. Jessica gave her a hug before running off.
After a really long sigh, Tiffany said, “Let’s get this over with.” She walked to the door and added, “We might need to stop by Safeway for some cherries.”
Chapter 20
Old Mines Cemetery
Justin
The Old Mines Cemetery was set back in Black Diamond Mines State Park where the abandoned town of Nortonville used to exist. Only the rickety cemetery and a few tunnel shafts in the hillsides were left over from the thriving community that disappeared as fast as the coal.
Tiffany used her inhaler and complained about being tired once the path went from paved to dirt. The whole walk was only going to be a mile or so.
How on earth did she manage cross country?
Then again she was hefting that baby the whole time.
“Do they still bury people here?” she asked as we passed the sign that indicated we were on the right trail.
“I don’t think so. It’s really old.”
“Your parents are at Oakview Memorial, right? Do you go there a lot?”
I clenched my jaw. “I never go there.”
“Never?”
Fortunately Tiffany became preoccupied with something on her left so I didn’t have to answer.
Then suddenly turning back, she blurted, “I forgot to tell you!”
“Me?” I was nervous for what was to come. “Tell me what?”
She got crazy wide eyes and a huge grin. “They talk. The ghosts can talk.” It was the most “Tiffany” I had seen Tiffany behave all day. The old energy was back.
“What? No, they can’t.” Even though I enjoyed her enthusiasm for the topic, the truth was I had been seeing ghosts a lot longer than her and none had ever spoken to me before.
She rolled her eyes. “Mine can.” She shifted the baby to the other hip. “The girl just said, Ruby. Actually, that’s all that she says, but the guy in the baseball field says lots of words.”
Was she lying to me? “Then why can’t I talk to ghosts?”
“I dunno. Maybe you can. You just need to try. Oh wait, it took more than that.” She screwed up her face. “You have to concentrate really hard otherwise it only sounds like screaming.”
“Concentrate, huh?” I was going to have to think about whether I believed her, but the conversation changed as we crested a mound and the cemetery came into view.
Small and nestled into the hillside, it stood out as the only man-made thing amidst fields of yellow grass. Surrounded by a waist-high black iron fence topped with spears, its only entrance was an intricate archway made of the same metal.
It was one of the creepiest places I had ever been.
Tiffany rubbed her goose bumps. “That does look old.”
“Do you see that woman by the opening?” I pointed to the archway.
Tiffany stopped walking. “Is it the White Witch? I don’t see anything.”
“No. She is a ghost though. Sarah Norton. You really don’t see her?” She paced just behind the entrance to the graveyard.
Tiffany switched arms holding the baby and resumed walking. “Nope.”
“Interesting.” I looked at Tiffany who seemed to be mesmerized by the site of the ancient burial ground. “Sarah’s always trying to get my attention, like she wants something from me. Maybe you can teach me how to talk to her. Concentrate, you say?”
“Yep!” Tiffany bolted towards the cemetery. “Sorry!” she shouted over her shoulder. “The kids are running. I’m just trying to keep up.” She ran right through Sarah Norton without even a shiver.
I bowed my head to Sarah as I passed. She had her typical pleading eyes and opened her mouth, moving it like she was talking, but only screams came out. I focused on her mouth. Perhaps I could read her lips but they stopped moving. She lowered her head. I think she knew that she wasn’t communicating and stopped in embarrassment.
Maybe another day.
I crossed into the graveyard and shuttered.
The things that I did for Tiffy.
Trying to keep an eye out for the White Witch, I found Tiffy in front of a tombstone that had been broken and laying flat on the ground. Grass was growing up around the edges.
Harold Pettersen, age twenty-eight, and wife, Ruth, age twenty-seven.
That was all that the tombstone said.
I looked around at the neighboring tombstones. “Are the kids buried somewhere here as well?”
“What? I can’t hear anything. They’re all screaming at the same time. Actually crying but you know . . .”
I could see tears in her eyes too, but I pretended I didn’t.
They were supposed to disappear; join their parents. I guessed it wasn’t working. All we had accomplished was making little kids cry.
It stung my heart. If there was something I understood too well, it was being a kid without parents. I wished I could comfort them in some way but I couldn’t even see them, and all that I could hear was the wind through the trees. I knew there was a tumult happening somewhere close to me making the relative quiet eerie.
Then, as if my desires were answered by some unknown power, I heard them.
A screeching that made me cover my ears. More than that, I could feel their anxiousness. A distress that was overwhelming. I looked at Tiffany, her hands were over her ears as well, but instead of looking at the grave she was looking behind me. Her eyes were monstrous huge.
I turned around.
Behind me was an angry white face with a gaping mouth that I had never wanted to see again.
Chapter 21
The Stuff of Horror Films
Tiffany
The White Witch.
That black hole of a mouth poured out what I can only describe as audible venom. She was taller than I expected, and skinnier too. Her dress was more of a vague shape, all details drowned out in her strange glow. Her eyes were terrifying, far worse than I had imagined. A shadow settled over them, giving her the look of a beast. She was nothing like the normal-looking children who were holding tight to my legs.
Justin grabbed my hand and started running. I kept up (thank you cross country) and only looked back to count the kids.
They were falling behind, the girl carrying the baby, and all of them looking terrified. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. I let go of Justin and picked up the boy and the baby, letting the girl run beside me. We passed through the gates at the arch, Justin dodging some invisible being. The sound seemed to fade once we passed out of the cemetery. Turning around I saw the White Witch pacing around the inside of the fence.
Under the shade of a tree we stopped. “She can’t leave the cemetery?” I asked, still panting.
Justin shook his head. “You can see her too, huh?”
I nodded. “I really really wish I couldn’t.”
The shock of everything must have caught up with the kids because they all went back to earsplitting wailing. I looked into their sad faces. No parents, scary witches, stuck in limbo with me. I needed to help them.
Wait.
The cherries!
The demon lady was petrifying, but the creepy baseball field dude said that she could help me. I glanced around at the kids one last time to find the courage then set them down under the tree and started back towards the graveyard.
The kids went silent and Justin started shouting at me.
“What are you doing? Are you crazy? Tiffany, come back!”
I just kept walking.
Towards my freedom or death.
I really wasn’t sure which.
My core felt hollow from fear. Maybe I left all of my insides under the tree with everyone else. But I knew what I had to do.
I slowed as I neared the entrance.
The White Witch jittered her way to block the entrance
and screamed at me ferociously.
“Man, you’re scary,” I actually said aloud. I wondered if my filter was under the tree as well.
I stopped short of the entrance. Maybe I didn’t have it in me.
But I had to try.
“Excuse me,” I said folding my arms to keep them from shaking. “Someone told me that you might be able to help me with—”
She let out a shrieking sound and I shuddered.
“. . . help me with these kids.”
She went back to howling at me and I concentrated on the sound. I tried to tune my mind to adjust the screaming into words. Or just a word. Anything.
But nothing was coming.
Oh dang! It was my fault. I’d forgotten to pay.
I turned my backpack around and pulled out the brown sack of cherries I bought at Safeway on the way over.
Carefully I inched my way towards the archway and set the bag just inside the graveyard boundaries.
The screaming stopped.
Curious, the White Witch stooped down and opened the bag with her creepy long fingers. She stared at the contents for longer than I was expecting.
I had no idea why she would want cherries, but it looked like it was working.
“So, can you help me?” I whispered.
That’s when she pelted me. A cherry hit my chest. Then one hit my shoulder. Then another would have hit me in the face if I hadn’t ducked.
Great. I just gave her ammo.
Apparently the cherries could cross the invisible barrier just fine. I couldn’t really see how she was doing it because I pinched my eyes shut to keep them safe but the cherries hit me one after the other like being shot through a machine gun. After thirty seconds of steady cherry bullets they stopped. I peeked through my hands but she was gone.
I was dripping in cherry guts. I made a mental note not to listen to ghost-advice ever again.
I shook off what I could.
Out of habit, because I’m no litterbug, I picked up the bag that had been abandoned, crumpled it up, and shoved it into my backpack.
Justin met me half way. “What were you thinking? Can’t you feel how horrible she is? Like undiluted evil in ectoplasm.”