The Haunted House Project

by Tricia Clasen

  She sits down at the table next to me and speaks quietly. “Last night, it was so weird. I could swear I smelled Mom’s perfume. You know that tropical island breeze crap she bought in bulk?”

  I bite my lip and smile. “I loved that stuff.”

  “Really? I couldn’t stand it. Made me gag.” She takes a bite and swallows quickly. “Anyway, I just missed her more last night.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault.”

  But it is, and I can’t tell her. I realize that I have to work faster or differently or something. Because one random encounter is kind of sad. There has to be a message behind it. It’s not really a haunting if you don’t know a ghost is there. The sunscreen should help to build on what I started last night. But maybe Paige needs a little more help to understand it.

  “Sometimes, I hope to catch that smell. You know, like, just a thought that she’s around a little, somewhere. Not really here, but here.”

  A corner of her mouth curves up.

  “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

  “So, maybe—maybe you’re kind of lucky. Maybe she just wanted you to know she’s around or something.”

  “Oh my gosh, don’t go bringing in your stupid novels. You know what I think about all those ghost stories.”

  She winks, and then we both rush to finish our cereal. I might have pushed it, but I’m also glad she dropped it when she did. She isn’t suspicious. It was just the itty-bittiest hint.

  We both head to our rooms to get ready and gather our stuff for school. I notice my palms feel greasy when I head back downstairs. After our breakfast talk, I wonder how she will react to the book bag. I watch from the door as Paige puts on her shoes in the entryway. She picks up the scent before she even makes it to her book bag—I see her stop and sniff the air, almost like a dog. Then she crinkles her nose and throws the bag over her shoulder.

  It occurs to me then that it’s possible Paige doesn’t link Mom to sunscreen the way I do. After all, she didn’t love the body spray; she might not even associate the same smells with Mom at all. Shoot. That might change things.

  She turns to face me. “Do you eat lunch outside?”

  “Sometimes.”

  She reaches to the shelf above where we hang the bags and grabs the sunscreen bottle. “Here, put this on in the car. Better buttered than burned.”

  I’m sure my eyes go wide, and I have to suck in my cheeks to prevent the huge smile that’s creeping out. That’s exactly what Mom used to say when we’d complain about how nasty the stuff made us feel. One time, after Mom had made us slather ourselves in sunscreen, Paige said she felt like someone had taken a stick of butter and melted it on top of her. The phrase stuck.

  We’re both quiet on the way to school, but Paige smiles when she drops me off, and it’s a real one. I’m in a daze as I walk the hall. When I get to my locker and open it, a folded piece of paper falls out. My name is spelled out on the front, and I recognize Isaiah’s handwriting. I snag it and put it in my pocket until first period, so I don’t have to explain myself to Becki or anyone else hovering nearby.

  Once I get settled in my seat, I pull out the note and unfold it.

  Library at lunch?

  After everything that’s happened with my experiments, I don’t want to wait until science class to talk to Isaiah, so it would be good to meet him in the library. But it’s tricky. I mean, he is Isaiah after all, and I like talking to him, but everyone thinks he’s so weird, and Becki is probably already coming up with a fantastic name for me—something like “geek-lover.” She’d say she’s just teasing, but I’m not so sure. My stomach gets knotted up thinking about it. I don’t like the way Becki can be, but I need something to stay the same. So, I need to figure out what to tell my friends. I tap my fingers on my desk. Isaiah and I are working on the project together. During the break after class, I tell Leah that I’m going to miss lunch because I have to catch up on our science project. Since she’s the one who cares the most about homework stuff, she’s the most likely to buy my story.

  “Ugh, that stinks. Do you really have to meet during lunch?”

  I’m prepared this. “It’s either that or spend time after school. I figured this was better. Besides, we’ve got all night together, right?” I bump her with my hip, and she giggles.

  I’m so relieved she’s believed me that I’m not prepared for her next question. “So what’s your project about?”

  I forgot she has Mr. Sneed too, just during a different period. “Um … we’re studying ghosts.”

  “For science?”

  “Yeah. We’re going to look at scientific theories related to their existence—how people try to prove they exist or whatever.”

  Leah stares at her shoes for a minute, while I watch her, wondering what she’ll say. Then she links her arms with mine to start walking me to class. Just when I think I’ve gotten away with it, she leans in close. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  I look over to see her face twisted with concern. “Leah, you know me and my ghost story stuff. It’s just for fun.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  At least, I think I’m positive.

  The library is open during lunch, but there aren’t many people there. Technically you can’t eat in here, but that doesn’t stop people from trying. I wolfed down a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on the way here, but I do sneak in a bottle of water to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth. Isaiah waves to me from a table at the back of the room. I scan the area and am relieved when I don’t see anyone I know. Not that I’m embarrassed to be seen with Isaiah. I’m not. Really. I don’t care what other people say about him … do I? It’s just easier when we have to be together in class. I don’t have to worry about what my friends or anyone else thinks then. I know people shouldn’t be so mean to Isaiah, and a part of me feels guilty for sneaking around, but it’s like I lost my dad, too, when Mom died, so I can’t lose everything at school, too. “What’s up?” I ask as I slide into my seat.

  “How are you doing today?”

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Andie, it’s been a weird week, and you know it. One day you were upset and then yesterday you were so excited. I just know it’s been hard.”

  “It’s always hard, Isaiah.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Really, I’m okay today. I started Operation Haunted House last night.”

  “You did? Already? What happened? What did you do?” He babbles as he begins to dig in his backpack. “You didn’t use my chart. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to start so soon?”

  “I didn’t think it mattered.”

  “Okay, well did you start with scents like you mentioned yesterday?”

  I nod. “Why?”

  “You didn’t do anything else?”

  “No. Would you tell me what you’re talking about?”

  “Here.” He slides a piece of paper in front of me, and it’s this very detailed list of potential experiments to try. There are blank spaces for observations. “This way, you can keep track of your results and figure out what’s working best. And by documenting it, it just seemed more, well, scientific, I guess.”

  “Isaiah, I’m not doing this for the project.”

  “I know. But it’s still a project—a bunch of experiments—and it just seemed like it deserves more structure.”

  For a second, I’m annoyed. But I study the chart, and I realize he spent all night on this. For me. And just like that, I love it so much I want to frame it and put it above my bed. Which I obviously cannot do. “Thanks. It’s really cool.”

  He sits up straighter. “You’re welcome. So, details, and you have to fill in the blanks now, please. Don’t wait or your observations get stale.”

  “Stale observations? Are you like a forty-year-old man or something?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I’m mature for my age.”

  I bet he gets told that a lot. The thing is, yea
h, he thinks like an adult, but his energy is all thirteen-year-old boy. Minus the obsession with boogers and farts.

  I pull out my pen and start making notes. I describe how Paige reacted last night. I note where I found my dad and then all the things Paige said and did this morning. I can tell he’s trying to read as I write, and I’m going to tell him all of this anyway, so I angle the paper to give him a better view.

  He talks to himself as I write. “Interesting. Oh. Huh. Really. Wow.”

  When I finish, I put the pen down, cross my arms, and say, “What do you think?”

  “The plan is genius.”

  “Is it? Because I’m not sure it won’t just make them feel worse.”

  “Andie, that whole sunscreen thing this morning—it’s perfect. Paige took a positive cue from your mom. Or … from you, acting as your mom. Whichever. Isn’t that what you want?”

  It’s reassuring, hearing it come from him. I wasn’t sure if I was overreacting about it all. The only thing I don’t mention is my mom’s rings. I don’t know. I just don’t want to talk about that yet.

  “So what’s next?” he asks. “I’ve categorized by senses and time needed to prepare.”

  “I see that. I’m not sure. I’m not going to be home tonight, so I guess nothing until tomorrow sometime.”

  “Where?”

  “Huh?”

  “Where will you be tonight?”

  “Oh, um, just to Becki’s house.”

  The smile fades. “She doesn’t like me much, does she?”

  “She doesn’t know you.”

  “No one likes me much, Andie.”

  I don’t know what to say. We both know it’s true, and I don’t want to lie to him. “I do.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? I just do.” I attempt to change the subject. “So what are you doing this weekend?”

  He shrugs. “Homework.”

  “The whole weekend?”

  “Pretty much.”

  His tone is flat, but I can tell he’s hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Isaiah.”

  “Yeah, but not sorry enough to ask me to hang out, huh?”

  He pushes away from the table, stands up, and walks away. I stare at the papers in front of me while my cheeks turn into fireballs.

  Chapter Eight

  Isaiah is not at our table when I walk into science class, which is not just unusual—I can’t think of a time when he wasn’t the first person in the room. I go straight to my seat and start setting up the experiment that Mr. Sneed has projected on the screen.

  Isaiah arrives just before the bell rings, and he doesn’t say anything when he joins me at the table. He hops right into the experiment and basically takes over. I feel really bad. I really like Isaiah, and I want to be his friend, but hanging out? How could we do that? I have so much going on between home and Becki, and I don’t know if I could handle it if everyone made fun of me like they do Isaiah. I still catch people staring at me across the room with that “poor Andie” look on their face. Last fall, Becki was the one who told some girl to “take a picture; it’ll last longer” and then grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the glaring expression. As awful as she’s been, what would I do without her? But I’m scared of losing Isaiah’s friendship, too. I’m afraid to open up the conversation again, but I know we can’t work in silence forever.

  “I really am sorry,” I finally say.

  He sighs. “I know.”

  “You must have some friends to hang out with.”

  “Not really. Just my little brother.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugs.

  “But, like, have you tried?” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I realize he is trying. With me.

  His brow crinkles, and I try to cover. “I mean, it doesn’t make sense.”

  “I did try, when we first moved here three years ago. My mom even made me try a bunch of sports teams. That was a disaster.” He snorts and keeps playing with this piece of paper, folding it over and over.

  “What happened?”

  He exhales loudly. “I’m sure you heard about what happened with Jeffrey and all those guys.”

  “Kinda.” I try to make my voice soft, because I really want to hear what he has to say. Everyone at our school knows part of the story, but I’m not sure of all the details. Jeffrey Blaine is Mr. Washington Heights Middle School; they might as well give him a crown to wear around all day. My friends and I went to a different elementary school, but even we knew about Jeffrey before we started at Washington Heights. I don’t know a girl here who doesn’t have at least a little bit of a crush on him. And everyone knows Jeffrey is the reason people avoid Isaiah. It’s like Jeffrey put a curse on Isaiah, making it so people either hate him or treat him like he’s invisible. Becki buys into it like everyone else does. “Jeffrey Blaine told me that kid is a monster and he’ll go crazy in school.” Whatever Jeffrey says, however he treats people, that’s the law at this school. Jeffrey doesn’t want us to like Isaiah, so most people don’t. Only I’ve never heard why exactly.

  “I might be smart in school, but I’m pretty dumb with people. My mom says I’m kind of like a puppy. I just get so excited. Anyway, I went to this super small private school before we moved here, so I didn’t know a lot about how things worked. Like, I didn’t know I couldn’t just talk to people like Jeffrey. He started teasing me right away because I tried to sit near him at lunch the first day. No big deal, right? Anyway, he made fun of me all year.”

  “When was that?”

  “Fourth grade. No jokes about being a fourth grade nothing, please.”

  He grins, but it’s almost like a habit more than a real smile.

  “Anyway, things didn’t get really bad until my mom made me try baseball that summer. The funny thing is, I wasn’t too bad, and I sort of liked baseball. I started to make some friends, and I even got invited to a birthday party that summer at the pool. Anyway, at this one game, Jeffrey was pitching for the opposing team. He kept saying stupid stuff about my hair and other things. Everyone on his team got in on it. Then I was at bat, and I don’t know how it happened, but I hit the ball … hard … right at Jeffrey. It hit him in a bad place, you know?” He doesn’t look up at me, and it takes me a second to figure out what he means. “Yeah. He doubled over and cupped himself. It’s one of those things that’s not really funny, but people laughed like on the funniest videos show. I guess then people were talking about it afterward too, and it really made him mad, so he started in on me worse.”

  “But you didn’t mean to hit him!”

  “He didn’t know that.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I guess he started making stuff up. I don’t know everything, but there was a story that I peed my pants once when I ran into him at the mall. Then school started, and that was that.”

  “That isn’t fair at all.”

  He shrugs. There is an awkward moment of silence before he says, “Look, let’s not talk about it anymore, okay? I just kind of got excited when you showed up at the library. I thought maybe this was more than just a school thing, but it’s cool. I’ll still work with you on the science stuff.”

  I’m hurt and relieved at the same time.

  The whole afternoon, I think about everything but my classes. I study the schedule Isaiah made, hoping to make decisions about what the next step will be in the haunting. I know that it needs to be something that sends a clearer message, but does that mean leaving an item—like a hairbrush or a book—somewhere strategically, or does it mean leaving the TV on a specific channel?

  I also think about whether or not to tell my sister about the rings I found. I’m sure she’d want to know, and I actually want to talk to her about them. But if I do, I’ll have to tell her how I found them, and I’m not sure I want her to know I looked through Dad’s drawers.

  And I think about Isaiah. I try to imagine what life is like for Isaiah, and I feel so selfish. Here I go to group therapy and ri
p into Brian for only thinking about his own problems, but I’ve been working with Isaiah all year and it never occurred to me that he doesn’t have any friends. I mean, I knew he didn’t have a lot and that they probably weren’t school friends, but I figured he must have some. He never seemed sad about it before.

  It’s so funny how much I want to talk to my mom about all this. Not funny as in fall down laughing, but weird funny. Like, I wouldn’t have any of these problems if she were here, but, kind of like fixing my family, she’s the only one who would know what to do about any of this.

  I had been looking forward to the sleepover being a distraction from everything at home, but now that I’m here, I can’t stop thinking about the project. And with everything else on my mind, I’m only half there, and it shows.

  “Where are you tonight?” Leah asks.

  “I’m here.”

  “Really? You’re putting taco meat on top of your brownie.”

  I look down, and sure enough, my plate looks like an experiment in flavor mixing. I’ve also sprinkled cheese on my Jell-O. There’s no pretending I wanted that.

  “Oops,” I say. Everyone laughs and thankfully they let me off the hook.

  Everything’s fine until we move on to truth-or-dare. I always used to like the silly dares. I can deal with things like “I dare you to kiss the fish tank” or “Double dare: call the pizza place and hang up.” Now, especially, it’s the truths I don’t like.

  The one that gets me tonight is, “Truth: do you like Isaiah—like like him like him?”

  It should be easier to say “No way.” It should feel less like a lie when I say it.

  I don’t think they notice. At least I hope not. It’s not possible that I actually have a crush on him, is it?

  “Duh,” Becki says. “As if. Besides, Andie knows that if she ever dated a dork like that, I would unfriend her.”

  I get up to refill the popcorn to hide the reddening of my cheeks. I don’t even know whether I’m embarrassed or angry. Why does Becki care so much about being popular? And why do I care what she thinks? It’s not that weird to think someone could like Isaiah. He’s sort of cute. He could use a haircut, and his clothes are usually too big, but he’s got nice eyes and a great smile. Plus, he’s really nice.