Colin stopped in the middle of the path and shone the flashlight just below my chin. “Why didn’t you tell me about it then?”
I held up my hand. “Bergita was in a hurry to get back to camp. I didn’t get a chance. Can you lower your light?”
Colin lowered his flashlight but not before I saw the look of hurt cross his face. “We saw the tanager right up here.”
I turned on my flashlight and was about to point the beam into the woods where I knew the graveyard would be, but movement and a glint of floating light stopped me. Someone else was in the woods. I grabbed Colin’s flashlight from his hand and turned it off.
“Wha — ”
I covered his mouth with my hand.
Colin pulled my hand away from his mouth. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “I wish you’d stop doing that.”
I pointed into the trees where the light was. Colin and I inched over in that direction. I placed a finger to my lips. He nodded. We crept half bent over, so that no part of us showed over the thick bushes. Through the dark branches, I saw a white form float through the trees on the other side of the cemetery beyond the ravine.
“Holy smokes,” Colin yelped.
The form moved on and disappeared deep into the woods. I wished I had thought to bring my binoculars. I didn’t think I would need them at night.
Colin and I sat together crouched for a few minutes holding each other’s hands. I gripped his hands so tightly I was surprised they didn’t break. Finally, I let go and straightened up.
Colin grabbed my arm and breathed. “Did you see that?”
I knew what he meant, but I was reluctant to answer. I felt like if I answered that would make what I saw real, and I really didn’t want that to be the case.
“Let’s go back to the campground,” Colin whispered.
“We have to at least look at the graves. We came all this way.” I straightened my shoulders.
Colin sighed.
I turned on my flashlight and pushed through the brush to the cemetery. I shone my light on the graves. In addition to the disturbed dirt on Matthew’s grave, there were similar large patches on Harold’s and Luke’s graves. Only William’s and Randall’s remained undisturbed now.
“Do you think the ghost is digging up the graves?” Colin asked.
“I — I don’t know.” I shivered. “Maybe it wasn’t a ghost. I mean, they aren’t supposed to be real.”
“Then what was it?”
“I don’t know. Fog? Reflection of the moon on the trees?”
“Yeah, right. You and I both know it had the shape of a person.”
“Bigfoot,” I offered.
“In a white robe?” He gripped his flashlight and shone it into the deep woods. “Let’s go back.”
I ran my flashlight back and forth on the ground. “Wait, look at that.” My light reflected off something shimmering on a branch.
I went over to it. There was a small piece of gauzy white fabric about two inches long with glitter on it. The glitter came off in my hand and stuck to my fingers.
“I bet it’s from the ghost,” Colin said.
“Why would a ghost need glitter to make it sparkle?” I asked.
“Let’s go back and talk about this at camp.”
I nodded and followed him back to the trail.
We were on the edge of camp when a figure stepped into our path. Both Colin and I squealed and dropped our flashlights.
“Geez, relax,” Ava said.
I scooped up our flashlights and handed Colin his. I shone my light in Ava’s eyes.
“Hey!” she protested.
I lowered my flashlight. “Keep your voice down. Do you want to wake up the entire camp?”
“What are you two doing outside the tents in the middle of the night?” she asked.
“None of your business,” I said.
“It’s my business if it costs me an ‘A’ on this bird project. I decided to be in this group because I thought it was the best way to ace the assignment. I did you a favor by joining you.”
“You act like we wanted you in the group,” I said. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to shove them back in.
“Oh, I know you didn’t want me in the group. You made that very clear in Mr. McCone’s classroom.”
Colin jumped in between us. “Andi wanted to show me the graveyard that you saw earlier today.”
Ava arched an eyebrow. “You believe in the ghost story?”
Colin opened his mouth, and I stepped squarely on his foot. There was no way I was letting him tell Ava about whatever we just saw in the woods.
Ava put her hand on her hip. “Did you see the ghost?”
He pulled his foot away but didn’t answer. I think he got the hint.
When we didn’t answer, Ava said, “Maybe the ghost of Dominika Shalley didn’t feel like talking.”
“Maybe,” I agreed.
Ava moved the flashlight back and forth over us and examined both of our faces as if looking for any clue as to whether we were lying. “I’m going back to bed. Claudette’s going to wake up in a few hours and I want more sleep. It’s not easy with Andi snoring.”
“I don’t snore,” I said.
She grinned. “How do you know?”
“My sister would have told me by now.”
“Maybe she just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.” She gave me a fake sweet smile.
“You don’t know my sister,” I said.
“Let’s all go back to our tents,” Colin said. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and we have a lot to think about.” He gave me a meaningful look that I knew Ava didn’t miss. She didn’t miss most things.
Minutes later, I crawled back into my sleeping bag, but sleep didn’t come. I kept wondering about what Colin and I had seen in the woods. It couldn’t be a ghost. Ghosts didn’t have to bedazzle their clothing to make it shine. If it wasn’t a ghost, what or who was it?
I forced myself to think about something else or I would never be able to sleep. My thoughts turned to Ava, which wasn’t any better. I know I hadn’t tried to make her feel welcome in our group, and I was sorry for that. Throughout the dark night, I alternated between the guilt I deserved and the fear of something I didn’t know if I believed.
CASE FILE NO. 9
Thump, thump, thump. Something smacked at the side of our tent. I sat bolt upright, but since I was burrowed so far into my sleeping bag, I fell over on top of Ava.
“Ahh!” she cried into her pillow. “Get off me!” She shoved me away, and I rolled to the other side of the tent and bounced off the nylon siding.
“What are you girls doing in there?” Claudette wanted to know. “It’s five thirty. It’s time to get up and hit the trails. I let you sleep in long enough.”
“She let us sleep in?” Ava groaned. “What planet is she from?”
“I heard that,” Claudette said from the other side of the tent.
I wriggled out of my sleeping bag and crawled to the door of the tent. It was still dark. There was just the slightest hint of the sky lightening in the east. Sunrise wouldn’t be for another hour and a half. Memories of what Colin and I saw came rushing back to me. It couldn’t have been a real ghost. Ghosts didn’t exist.
Colin stood beside his tent with his pack strapped to his back and his binoculars hanging from his neck. He appeared wide awake and ready to hit the trail like he had slept eight hours straight. I touched the top of my pink hair. It stood up in all direction
s.
“Move,” Ava said from behind me.
I crawled away from the entrance of our tent and stood.
Claudette and Colin weren’t the only ones up. All the birders were out of their tents and preparing for the search for the Kirtland’s warbler.
Mr. McCone told us in science class on Friday that the Kirtland’s warbler spent the winter in the Bahamas and the summer in Michigan. The bird crossed Ohio to travel back and forth between the two places, but since the bird was endangered, it was rarely spotted during migration. Seeing the Kirtland’s this weekend would be a big deal for any birder, and if Colin, Ava, or I saw it, it would be twenty extra credit points. I started to get excited that we might actually succeed today. And at the same time, I tried to push the ghost sighting to the back of my mind.
Gregory stood a few feet away from his tent sipping coffee. He had an amused expression on his face while he watched the campers scramble to get ready.
“What are you smiling at?” Claudette asked.
“There’s all this fuss about seeing the Kirtland’s.” His smile grew. “When I’ve already seen it.”
“You’re lying,” Claudette accused.
He picked up a large camera with the longest lens I had ever seen from a camp table by his tent. “I have the proof right here.”
A crowd of birders swarmed around him. Gregory turned on the camera and showed them the photo.
“Oh my,” someone cried. “It is a Kirtland’s. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it myself.”
“I can’t believe it,” one of the triplets said. “Do you think it is still there? Where exactly did you see it?”
“And when?” another triplet, maybe Jim, asked.
I elbowed my way through the crowd. I wanted to see the proof too. I examined the shot. The bird was perched on a stone of some sort. It was zoomed in too much; I couldn’t see what type of stone it was. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Where was this taken?”
“Right here in the park.” He turned off the camera and hung the strap around his head.
“When?” I asked. “It looks like it was at the graveyard in the middle of the park.”
He laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“The bird was sitting on a stone by the river. It flows about a half mile south of here. I saw it yesterday afternoon.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about it last night when we were all around the fire?” one of the triplets wanted to know.
Gregory turned off his camera. “And ruin your retelling of Dominika Shalley’s story? I didn’t want to upstage you, Jim.”
Jim frowned as if he wasn’t sure he believed that. I wasn’t sure I believed that either.
“So what if Gregory saw it first?” Claudette interrupted. “We’ll have our own chance to see the Kirtland’s. If Gregory can find it in these woods, then so can I.”
Gregory smiled. “I find your overconfidence charming. Just be careful when you make an identification. We wouldn’t want any embarrassing mistakes now, would we?”
Colin raised his eyebrows at me and I shrugged back. There was definitely some history between Gregory and Claudette. If Bergita wasn’t going to tell me, I knew Claudette wouldn’t say a word. I would have to find out another way.
A half hour later, the sun was still not fully up, but the early fall sky was a mix of purple, pink, and orange. I could have stood there and stared at it all day, but Claudette wasn’t having that. She waited at the head of the path. “We’re burning daylight, people!”
The three of us kids hiked our daypacks onto our backs and walked into the forest. With every step, I became more and more convinced that what Colin and I saw last night at the graveyard wasn’t a ghost. Claudette had been right. The ghost story Jim told had gotten into our heads. Had one of the birders played a practical joke on us? If they had, they got us good.
Then again, I thought as I fell back in the line next to Bergita, I could always get a second opinion. “Bergita,” I whispered. “What do you think about Dominika Shalley and the ghost story? Do you think it could be true?”
She stepped over a rock in the middle of the path. “I don’t believe it. Ghosts are just fancies of a person’s imagination. It’s a good story, and I do love a good story. I’m sure when someone sees the ghost, or thinks they see the ghost, it’s really a trick of the light or a shadow. It’s something perfectly mundane. However, when someone gets an idea in their head that a ghost is around, then that person sees the ghost because their mind is playing tricks on them.”
I bit the inside of my lip. I couldn’t tell Bergita that Colin and I had maybe seen the ghost. First of all, it would be admitting that we left our tents in the middle of the night, and second of all, she’d think we were crazy. The second was the worst. Bergita wouldn’t be the least bit surprised that Colin and I went exploring.
Bergita sighed. “Claudette seems set on taking us on another death march today. I’ll see if I can get her to slow down.” She forged ahead.
Ava walked over to me. “You’re asking a lot of questions about the ghost. Are you scared?”
I glared at her. “No.”
“Could have fooled me,” she said with a shrug. She joined Bergita and Claudette at the front of the line.
Technically, only Claudette, Ava, Colin, Bergita, and I were together in our quest to see the Kirtland’s warbler, but as I looked behind me I saw a line of birders eight deep, including the triplets, following us. They paused when I turned around. Suddenly every last one of them brought their binoculars to their eyes like they were searching the trees for other birds.
We were being followed. I hurried to join the others at the beginning of the line. “Claudette, do you know you have other birders following you?”
“Don’t worry about them,” Claudette said, glaring at the group of shame-faced birders. “They think the best chance they have of seeing the Kirtland’s is by following me. I always have a group of leeches on my tail feathers.”
Ava rolled her eyes when Claudette said “tail feathers.” I had to admit it was taking the whole birder thing a little far.
One of the people following us was Paige, Gregory’s student. I wondered why she was with us instead of with Gregory.
Claudette, Bergita, Ava, and Colin went on, but I stood on the edge of the path and waited for Paige and the other followers to catch up.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” one of the triplets said.
“It is. Is this good weather for birding?” I asked.
He smiled. “The very best. I have a good feeling about today. I think Claudette will finally see her Kirtland’s.”
“It is about time,” another triplet said.
I kicked a twig off the path. “I know she’s never seen one before and really wants to see this one.”
The third triplet lowered his binoculars from scanning the treetops. “In a way, that’s true.”
By now, my group had disappeared around the bend. Most of the other birders including Paige had gone around the bend too. It was just me and the triplets. Today they wore matching navy blue windbreakers.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She claimed to have seen a Kirtland’s warbler before. I believe it was at Magee Marsh, which is the best place for birding in Ohio, maybe in the entire country, during spring migration. We go every year, don’t we, boys?”
The two other brothers agreed. “The very best birding.”
“Where is it?” I asked.
“Western Ohio near Lake Erie. Thousands of songbirds stop there in May to recharge
before they make the final long flight over the Great Lakes into Canada. It’s especially known for warblers. We’ve seen countless warblers there.” He sighed. “But never a Kirtland’s, which is why we’re here.”
I could no longer hear the group ahead moving through the forest. They must have gotten a long way ahead of us now. I wanted to hear what the triplets had to say, but they were going to have to speed it up if we had any hope of catching up with the others. “But Claudette thought she saw one there?”
“Right.” A triplet nodded. “I remember, it was at Magee, and there were almost a thousand birders, diehards and novices, there. Claudette called out that she saw a Kirtland’s warbler, and of course, everyone rushed over to see.” He shook his head. “But it was evident to at least one expert that it was a misidentification. You see, warblers are difficult to identify at times because there are so many hybrids. If a warbler can’t find a mate of its exact species it will . . .” He blushed. “Well, in any case, the expert said it was most definitely a hybrid. He suspected that the most prominent species in it was a Nashville warbler. The size of the bird was the first tip-off to the mistake. Even though Kirtland’s are hard to spot, they are larger than most warblers. They are about six inches. Most warblers are four and three quarters. This bird was smaller than a Kirtland’s.”
“Were you there?”
They nodded in unison.
“We were,” one of the brother’s replied. “It was a thrilling, if eventually disappointing, event.”
“When was this?” I asked.
He sucked on teeth. “I would say near about fifteen years ago.”
My mouth fell open. “Fifteen years ago and people are still talking about it?”
“The birder community, the elite birding community, is small, and they remember. If they weren’t at the misidentification themselves, they heard the story from another. But, of course, by now, all is forgiven. Claudette has seen so many birds in so many places in the world that the community respects her. She’s a bit of a celebrity really.” He lowered his voice. “Just between you, me, and my brothers here, I think she hasn’t forgiven herself, so she is on this quest to see a Kirtland’s.”
Andi Unstoppable Page 6