Still, Lena studied the grayish square to see if anything would show up.
Abby bent closer so she could watch, too. Neither of them breathed as out of the black, shades of blue, and then green began to emerge. Lena watched as forest-colored leaves appeared, then roses, and … something else.
Lena blinked, trying to figure out what it was. “Did you guys notice a water tower in that field?” she asked.
“Sorry, sweetie, I wasn’t really paying attention,” her dad apologized.
“Missed it,” Abby shrugged.
Lena stared at the water tower growing clearer in the photo. It was one of the old-fashioned kinds, all metal, with four long, sturdy legs that looked like triangular ladders and a round tank for the water on top. The name of the town, PHELPS, was painted in giant red letters across the front of the tank. In the picture it stood in the center of the field. But in real life …
“I swear that wasn’t there when we went by,” Lena said, baffled. “It was just rows of plants, the hedge, and a boarded-up shack where the berries were sold.” She could hear her voice rising along with the goose bumps popping up on her arms. Now she was really chilled.
Abby looked at Lena with concern. “I believe you; I just wasn’t looking,” she said.
Lena’s dad was busy tuning into something on the car radio and tuning out what was going on in the backseat.
“Dad, go back,” Lena pleaded, leaning toward the front seat. “Please? I have to see if that tower was there.”
“Wish I could, but we’re already late,” her dad replied. “I told your mom we’d be back by five thirty for dinner. Maybe you just didn’t see it.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s some sort of double exposure.”
Lena flopped back against the backseat and looked again at the tower standing in the center of her instant picture. It hadn’t been there. She was sure of it.
CHAPTER THREE
“Okay, okay, now give me glam.” Lena directed Abby the way she imagined a real fashion photographer might. “I want attitude,” she said. She was trying to sound serious, but the harder she tried to keep a straight face, the more she smirked. Before long the two of them were cracking up.
Their Polaroid photo session, being conducted on the sidewalks of Narrowsburg, was hardly a glamorous fashion shoot in Milan. Getting the giggles was definitely allowed. And in spite of the silliness, Lena thought Abby looked pretty cool posing in front of the retro-looking brick building on Second Street. The late morning light was perfect, the sky was full of puffy white clouds, and the cool breeze that came and went ruffled Abby’s skirt like a wind machine, fluffing it perfectly.
Abby’s vintage ensemble, courtesy of yesterday’s thrift and freshened by last night’s wash, was even managing to resemble cutting-edge fashion.
If a Boy Scout uniform and a pound of puffy skirts can be considered cutting edge, Lena thought, stifling another laugh.
“Looks fab,” she called, pulling it together and peering into her new camera. She said a silent thanks to her cousin Jake for sending her on the Impulse quest. He was the one who started it all when he sent her a giant box of film cartridges in the mail last spring. Jake was fourteen and seriously into Polaroids. He had five of the vintage cameras, including a couple that were older than her parents and one that came in its own tiny suitcase and had to be opened like an accordion. Jake had taught her all kinds of stuff about the art of instant cameras. He spent several days during their annual family gathering showing her tricks for making nifty prints, how to use flashbulbs, and even how to do transfers. Lena was surprised how tricky the old “easy” cameras were. Getting a good shot was certainly harder than it seemed. Luckily, Jake knew all the secrets and had all the right accessories. And he was a great teacher.
What Jake didn’t have was an Impulse. So when Fuji shipped him a bunch of the wrong film and then told him not to bother to send it back, he mailed the whole kit and caboodle to Lena. She had seen the offering as a challenge and had been looking for the camera to use it with since.
Until yesterday.
A fresh gust of wind came up and blew Abby’s skirts dramatically, snapping Lena to attention. “Work it,” she called authoritatively.
Abby posed. Lena pushed the button and her new-old camera whirred, capturing the moment. Lena listened to the cranking sound and watched as the camera spit out another flat, gray square.
“I know you don’t have to shake it,” Abby said, rushing up and grabbing the rectangular piece of film. “But it’s more fun this way.” She flapped around, goofing, and Lena glanced up and down the sidewalk. Luckily, there was no one else around to see how ridiculously they were behaving. The street was empty except for a striped cat scampering toward the bushes, and a few fallen leaves that seemed to glow in the autumn light. Half the town appeared to be away for the last weekend of summer.
“Where is everyone?” Lena wondered aloud. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs. Fall was her favorite season and she usually looked forward to it — to the changing weather, the smell of damp and rotting leaves, the start of school. But today she was feeling something else, too…. She just wasn’t sure what to call it. She felt antsy, trapped between the two seasons and not able to enjoy either one.
I guess I’m not ready for the end of summer, she told herself. Abby had stopped her goofy flapping and was holding the film in midair. The girls watched the image slowly appear, right before their eyes. There was Abby in her wacky ensemble in front of the window at Bix, throwing a shoulder toward the camera and looking fabulous.
Except that wasn’t what Lena was staring at.
There was something else going on in the photo. The window behind Abby showed Lena’s reflection, aiming and squinting behind the camera. And behind her was another, fuzzier image. It looked like … a boy … watching them.
“What is that?” Lena asked, pulling the photo from Abby’s grasp and pointing at the shape.
“It looks like a kid, but …” Somehow Lena couldn’t quite bring herself to say, “Nobody was there.” Even though it was true.
Snatching the picture back, Abby held it close to her face and studied it. “Could be a shadow,” she said unconvincingly.
The reflected image was soft around the edges (typical Polaroid) — even Lena and the tree behind her (which was there for sure) looked blurred. The figure behind her could have been a shadow … if the real shadows in the picture weren’t leaning the other way. And if the dark shape didn’t have a face.
“No. Look!” Abby held the picture out a little so they could both see it. Lena could easily make out a torso, limbs, and a scowling visage. “Since when do shadows have eyes?” Abby asked quietly.
“Good point,” Lena mumbled. She shivered in spite of the warming sun, and both girls looked up and down the empty street.
“I swear there was nobody there when you took the picture,” Abby said. Her normally mocha-colored face looked a bit pale. “I mean, I wouldn’t have been goofing like that if I thought someone was watching, you know?”
Lena knew. She would have noticed the boy, too. Just like she would have noticed the tower the day before.
“I guess we were just having too much fun to see,” Abby said with a nervous smile.
“Right.” Lena nodded. But she didn’t believe it for a second.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Seriously. There was nobody there. I think your camera’s got a weird glitch,” Abby said as the girls made their way up the block.
Lena knew Abby was trying to make her feel better — make them both feel better — but part of her was still offended for the Impulse. She put her hand around it protectively before agreeing. “It is pretty old technology,” she admitted.
She gave the box a little pat, an apology for doubting it, then sidestepped a fire hydrant and did a quick double step to catch up to Abby. They were only a block from Saywell’s Soda Fountain and her mouth was starting to water. They’d started their walk with a plan to take a picture in front of e
very storefront on Second Street so they could lay them out in a row — panorama style. But since the mysterious figure had appeared, the camera had hung slack around Lena’s neck. Even when Abby had mustered up a begging puppy pose in front of the pet shop, Lena hadn’t risked taking another shot. She was too afraid to see what showed up in it.
“I don’t know what’s up with this thing,” Lena said. Even though she’d been the one to offer it up, “old technology” sounded like a weak explanation for the things that were appearing in their pictures.
The only thing Lena knew for sure was that none of these rationalizations were setting her mind at ease. As she and Abby approached Saywell’s, she hoped that one of their famously cold, creamy shakes would do the trick. Maybe it would be icy enough to permanently freeze the one idea she couldn’t bring herself to consider: The camera was — somehow — haunted.
The bell on the drugstore door jingled as Abby pushed it open, and Lena felt a tiny bit better just hearing the familiar chime. The corner soda fountain was one of the girls’ favorite places. It had been in business practically forever, a fact that showed in the worn tile floors, the dusty hanging lights, and the fading signs. Along the length of one side stood a clean but shabby lunch counter that faced the side street windows.
“Hiya, girls,” Mollie, their favorite waitress, greeted from behind the counter. “Looking for a little lunch?”
“You bet,” Abby replied. “It looks like we’ve arrived just in time.” She eyed the two empty stools at the end of the counter while she held the door for Lena. Her hand pressed against one of the posters covering the glass.
Lena started to step inside and stopped. “Look.” She pointed at the door. Beside Abby’s hand was a huge announcement for an annual amateur photo contest. It was being held by the gallery in town and, according to the poster, the contest was celebrating its twentieth anniversary.
“Ooh, Lena. You should enter!” Abby said, nudging Lena in the rib with an elbow.
Lena shrugged, flattered. She loved to take pictures. And she’d gotten some nice shots with her digital and even her new Polaroid. Messing around with photos was definitely one of her favorite things to do. But carrying a camera around and trying to snap something cool was one thing. Putting pictures in a contest where serious photographers would be competing was quite another. Besides, at the moment her new hobby had her a little spooked.
Shrugging off Abby’s suggestion, Lena hurried her friend along to the stools at the end of the counter, which happened to have the best view. “What are you getting?” she asked, purposely changing the subject.
“BLT and a mint-chip shake,” Abby replied, her dark eyes twinkling. “What else would I get?”
No sooner were the girls seated than Mollie was there to take their order. “The usual today, girls?” she asked.
Lena nodded. “And a basket of fries to share.”
Mollie grinned and filled a coffee mug a couple of seats down before putting their order in.
“All right, let’s see how we’re doing,” Abby said, holding out her hand for the morning’s photos. Lena gave her the small stack and Abby laid them out in a row, leaving out the creepy photo with the boy.
“Wow, Lena!” she crowed. “These are really good!”
Lena looked down at the photos and blushed. There was a lot of variety, a little blur, and some great composition.
“You have to enter that contest,” Abby encouraged. She thumped one of the squares. “I mean, I have never seen anyone who could make a Polaroid look this awesome.”
Lena scrunched her nose at the compliment. The Polaroids were coming out nicely, she had to admit. They had a muted quality that made them sort of timeless. Or maybe that was just the camera. Or Abby’s retro style. Whatever it was, it was working. The shots drew attention.
“Did you take those, Lena?” Mollie asked as she set their shakes down behind the row of photos. “They’re terrific.”
“She totally did,” Abby confirmed, nodding emphatically. “And she really should enter the photo contest, don’t you think?”
“Sure thing,” Mollie said, sticking her pencil behind her ear and turning to slice up a homemade berry pie.
“Come on, Lena. You know you want to.”
Lena sipped her shake. She thought maybe she did want to, but wasn’t totally sure. Attention made her feel a little squirmy. And she was already feeling a little … weird.
“I wouldn’t stand a chance,” Lena said. “Besides, taking photos is just for fun.” Or was supposed to be.
“Hey, how come you’re not hogging the fries?” Abby asked when they were done with their sandwiches but still sipping milk shakes.
Lena looked at the nearly full basket. “Not that hungry, I guess.” She shrugged and took another sip. The Impulse pressed up against her ribs as she leaned toward the counter. She hadn’t taken it off to eat.
“Let’s head out, then.” Abby slid off her stool and left a few bills on the counter for a tip while Lena gathered the pics. “We still have a few blocks to cover, and Vanity Fair is going to be clamoring to get their hands on your proofs.”
“Yes, of course. How else will they be able to pick a cover?” Lena joked back. She shoved open the door to Saywell’s and tried to push the strange thoughts out of her mind. The boy and the tower were just optical tricks, nothing to worry about. She had her new-old camera — the one she had hunted for for months — and everything was right with the world. Really.
Before leaving Saywell’s storefront, Abby stood in front of the red-and-white sign and dabbed a napkin to the corner of her mouth exaggeratedly.
“Nice one!” Lena caught the shot, then paused by a trash can to change film cartridges while Abby hurried ahead to scout out the next perfect site.
With the camera reloaded, Lena skipped past the door to Don’s Pawnshop — and for good reason. There wasn’t much to see there. A few years earlier, Lena and Abby had gone into Don’s thinking it might be a fun place to unleash their thrift savvy and sniff out bargains. It had only taken a second to smell the jacked-up prices and catch a whiff of the store’s “no haggle” policy. Don, or whoever it was who ran the place, overpriced everything and demanded full sticker. Not only that, the owners were totally paranoid about shoplifting, so there were video cameras everywhere and the merchandise was either behind glass or up on high shelves, creating a very unwelcoming feeling all around. Luckily, it didn’t really matter, since the store was mostly stocked with jewelry, silver, and musical instruments — nothing that Lena and Abby were into.
“Come on, girl!” Abby called from two doors down. She was in front of the hardware store, squatting in a shiny red wheelbarrow. Lena grinned and stepped up her pace so she’d get there before Abby was caught riding the merchandise.
Then something made her turn back. She lifted the Impulse to her face and pointed it at the pawnshop window. She felt a little like a puppet, without control of her limbs, just as she had in the car the day before. Without intending to, she snapped a shot of the dusty display of jewels in the window.
Weirdness.
Why in the world would she want a picture of the Don’s Pawnshop window? Shaking her head in disbelief, she pulled the picture out of the bottom of the camera and shoved it in her bag. It was sure to be a waste of film.
“Lena, come on!” Abby called from up ahead.
Dropping the camera to her side, Lena hurried to catch up to her friend. She was able to get two wheelbarrow shots before the scowling owner waved them on.
Abby climbed out of the shiny garden transport with a mischievous smile. “Should we get one on the mini-tractor?” she whispered.
Lena laughed and glanced at the shop owner. “I’m not sure if we should push our —”
“Whoa. Check that out!” Abby stopped dusting off her skirt long enough to point at a slowly passing truck. The formerly blue pickup was covered with a zillion bottle caps, glued to the outside like a mosaic. “That’s not something you see every d
ay.”
Lena instinctively lifted the camera and snapped a photo just before the truck rounded a corner and rumbled out of sight. “Cool,” Lena breathed, happy to have gotten the picture. For such an old camera, the Impulse was pretty responsive.
The pair moved more slowly now, thanks to milk shakes and the hour. Lena stifled a yawn. Abby rubbed the merit badges sewn to the stomach of her shirt. “I’m stuffed,” she said. “I think I might need a nap.”
A nap sounded good to Lena, too. She hadn’t slept very well the night before. She kept waking up and checking to make sure the Impulse was still on her desk. She yawned again, feeling her lids growing heavier as she watched the picture in her hand develop. When the image of the truck finally appeared, her eyes snapped open wide.
It had happened again. The boy-shadow was there — a little clearer this time — sitting in the back of the truck, staring out at them. Even in the grainy photo, the eyes in the dark face were intense and spooky. One ghostly hand hung over the tailgate of the truck, balled into a tight fist.
“Abby …” Lena said. She didn’t need to say more. In an instant her friend was by her side, peering at the photo.
“Holy moley,” Abby breathed. “He’s back.”
Lena looked around anxiously. She had a feeling he’d never left.
CHAPTER FIVE
Lena rolled over. She kicked off the sheet — her last remaining cover — and flipped her pillow to the cool side. She was hot, and without looking she knew there was no possible way the big hand on her alarm clock had made it more than halfway around the dial. It was just past one A.M. and she hadn’t gotten a lick of sleep.
She blamed the weather. By the time the girls got back from their photo session, the blazing sun had scared off the autumn breeze, and summer had reasserted its sticky hold. Lena’s room was way too warm for sleeping. For a moment she toyed with the idea of turning on the light and trying to read. If she picked the right book — a really, really boring one — she might be able to knock herself out in a couple of pages. But just the thought of light in the dark room made her feel hotter, and she didn’t think she could get any hotter without melting.
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