The Unquiet

by Jeannine Garsee

  My skirt twirls around me when I waltz in a circle. Mom hemmed it so I could skip high heels, which I hate, and wear my black ballerina flats. “Not too goth-queenish, is it?”

  “No, I think you look …” He clears his throat, and then slips into his farmer-boy persona. “You look mighty fancy there, Miz Rinn. Mighty fancy.”

  It’s so cute that he’s too embarrassed to say I look nice. He looks mighty fine, too, in a suit and tie, instead of his usual flannel and denim.

  “Where’s your mom? Don’t we get a lecture about keeping our hands to ourselves?”

  “Already at school. She’s chaperoning.” God knows I tried to talk her out of it.

  Nate groans. “So’s my dad.”

  Great! Mom and Mr. Brenner in the same place for an entire evening? Generally they avoid each other at all costs. I hope there’s a fire hose handy.

  Because it’s cold and rainy—when is it ever anything else?—I wear my sneakers and change into my flats at school. I stash the Keds in my book bag along with my candleholder and hide it under a table. I didn’t mention the séance to Nate yet. Will he think it’s stupid? Juvenile? Will he lecture me about sneaking into the tunnel when Mr. Solomon ordered us to stay out of it this weekend?

  Tasha, with her pixie cut sculpted up with too much gel, in a dress scarily similar to a First Communion frock, joins us. Lacy follows, in red satin and assorted bandages. And Dino, of course, who just “happens” to be with her.

  He grins at me, ignoring Nate. “Hey, Rinn.” He looks nice tonight, too. Clean, even.

  “Hey, Dino.”

  “Hey, Dino,” Nate echoes pointedly.

  “Nate.”

  They regard each other with hooded eyes, two gunfighters out of one of Nana’s old-time Westerns. Thankfully Meg appears with Jared O’Malley. I smile with relief. “Meg! You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Meg tugs up a dress strap. “I’m fine.” She smiles serenely at my dress. “You look awesome in that. I take back everything I said.”

  “Thanks.” Though now, surrounded by naked shoulders and rainbow gowns, I feel like I’m auditioning for a Rocky Horror revival.

  Nate tucks my arm under his in a gentlemanly gesture. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

  “But I want you to come,” I later beg. “Please, Nate?”

  He shakes off my hand. “We’re not even supposed to be in that tunnel.”

  “Ooh, scared we’ll get caught, you big baby?”

  Nate blinks. “You know, I didn’t come here to argue with you. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

  Stubbornly I say, “A séance would be fun,” and then sigh when he sets his chin. He’s probably right. Besides, I don’t want to get into trouble, either. “Never mind. I’m sorry I called you a baby.”

  Nate smiles. “And I’m sorry I called you an immature little twit.”

  “Wait. You never called me that.”

  “Reckon I just thought it, then.”

  He takes me into his arms and sweeps me across the gym. Halfway back, we run into Lacy. She smiles at Nate, her bottom lip puffy under scarlet lipstick. “Rinn, I need you a sec.”

  Nate releases me. “Go ahead. I’ll get us something to drink.” He heads off, undoubtedly glad for an excuse not to socialize with Lacy.

  Lacy’s eyes pounce after him in a way I don’t like. “Nine o’clock in the boys’ locker room. It’s the only way we can get in without somebody seeing us. And don’t forget that candle.”

  Already nervous, I admit, “I don’t think Nate wants to do it.”

  “So? Ditch him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Well, make up your mind. But if you chicken out,” she warns, “do not give us away.”

  I nod. Do I really want to do this séance thing? Badly enough to risk ticking off Nate?

  Yes, I do—and I know why.

  Because I live in the same house where Annaliese grew up.

  I pass her bedroom every day, not that there’s anything left of her. Only that dusty canopy bed slated for the Salvation Army, and the dresser Mom plans to haul up to my room one day.

  I bathe in the same clawfoot tub. I eat my Cocoa Puffs in her kitchen. I see the same view through each window that Annaliese used to see.

  Does that make us kindred spirits? Maybe.

  Or maybe a part of me wants to believe in ghosts.

  I wish I could be up front with Nate, to say, I want to do this séance thing and I’d really like you to come. But he already said no. He doesn’t want me doing it, either. Why won’t he admit it might be fun? That burns me up.

  What also burns me up is this: a few minutes before nine, when I’m chatting with Mom, I notice Nate talking to Lindsay McCormick—yes, the bitch who mooed at Cecilia—and her big sweaty boyfriend, Tank. When Lindsay appears to say something incredibly witty, Nate and Tank laugh so hard I can hear them over the music.

  What are they laughing at? I glance self-consciously at my toes peeking out below my hem. Are they laughing at my ancient, mothbally dress?

  Are they laughing at me?

  Oh, stop. They’re not even looking at you.

  True. Yet …

  Another burst of laughter travels across the gym. The tacky, glittering disco ball hurts my eyes. Colors spin, painting people’s faces, rendering them inhuman. I watch my spread fingers rapidly change color—first red, then gold, then green, then blue … red, gold, green, blue … redgoldgreenblue … redgoldgreenblue …!

  I shake my head hard, and I squint at the clock: 9:05. I wave at Nate. He lifts one finger, motioning for me to wait. Wait for him to finish blabbing with the hag who kicked me? Not likely!

  Vindicated, I dart back to the cafeteria and fetch the candleholder from my book bag. Back in the gym, after a quick glance around—I’ll die if anyone sees me—I bypass the girls’ locker room and pull at the door to the boys’. It sticks.

  “Who’s there?” someone asks, muffled.

  “Rinn,” I whisper back.

  The door opens. A hand yanks me in. Dino leaps at me with a “BOO!”—speaking of immature twits—while Lacy grouses, “What took you so long? We thought you bailed.”

  “Well, I didn’t. I’m here.”

  So are Meg, Tasha, and Jared O’Malley. Dino’s goofy grin tells me he’s thrilled I showed up. Jared, Meg’s date, a husky redhead, squeezes my hand too hard when we’re introduced. Meg smiles vaguely. Tasha whispers, “Yay, you came.”

  Lacy takes charge. “Let’s hurry up and get in there before some loser wants to pee.”

  Single file, we enter the tunnel. As the door clanks behind us, I hear Meg’s quick intake of breath. I take an experimental breath myself. Just plain, musty air.

  Jared produces a roll of twine and a pocket knife. “What’s that for?” I ask.

  “I gotta tie the doors shut.”

  I’m starting to regret this adventure. “Oh, no you’re not.”

  Lacy scoffs. “Just the locker room doors. People are using the bathrooms. You want them to barge in on us?”

  “They can barge in from any door,” I remind her.

  “No, they can’t,” Tasha says traitorously. “The chaperones are watching.”

  “Except for the locker room doors,” Lacy adds. “Who wants to sit there all night? Anyway, we have to make sure no one sneaks in and interrupts the paranormal process.”

  So Jared, his suit coat straining across his shoulders, cuts pieces of twine to knot around the metal handles of the double doors, first to the boys’ locker room, then to the girls’. I notice with relief that some of the lights have been replaced, but Jared runs down and kills the switch.

  Darkness descends. Then a flashlight springs to life in Dino’s hand. He swings it around, the yellow beam peppered with dust motes. Shadows jump crazily in all directions.

  When Jared returns, Meg squeaks, “Why is it so cold in here?”

  He slings his arm around her. “Atmosphere, baby. I’ll warm ya up in no time. Woo-hoo!” His shout bo
unces off the walls, hollow, vibrating.

  Lacy, relishing her part as medium extraordinaire, leads us away from the locker room doors. Pricked by anxiety, I watch her draw a large circle on the concrete floor. Has Nate missed me yet?

  “Give me that candle,” Lacy instructs. “Then everyone sit down in the circle and join hands.”

  Tasha wrinkles her nose. “We should’ve brought our coats. This floor is filthy!”

  Jared, at least, offers his suit coat to Meg. Happy I’m not wearing a skimpy formal, after all, I hand over my candleholder, jammed with one of Mom’s lavender votives. Though I try to position myself between Tasha and Meg, Dino, slick as a fish, shimmies in beside me.

  He takes my hand. “So where’s your boyfriend?”

  “Waiting in the gym.” At least I hope he is.

  Lacy lights the candle with Dino’s Bic and places it in the center of the circle. “First of all, whoever wants to back out better say so now instead of waiting till the middle of it and then you screw us up.”

  Dino snorts. “Who believes this crap, anyway?”

  “You don’t have to believe. You just have to stay still, and very, very quiet. No negative energy. Just relax, breathe deeply, and concentrate on the flame. Concentrate. Concentrate …”

  The cold floor nips me through my dress. Wondering how the others can stand it in those thin, fancy gowns, I settle back uneasily and focus on the candle.

  Minutes pass. I hear the distant thump of the deejay’s speakers. The normalcy of it feels strangely comforting.

  “Nothing’s happening,” Jared gripes. “Anyway, I smell pizza.”

  “I smell dirt,” Tasha says.

  Dino elbows me. “I smell four cute, horny chicks. How ’bout you?”

  I shrug. “I smell lavender.”

  Meg says nothing. Lacy grabs the candle. “Maybe we’re too far away from her. Let’s try the pool room.”

  I pat Meg’s arm when she lags back. “It’s a game,” I say in her ear.

  “Keep telling me that,” she murmurs back.

  The lock to the pool room door has yet to be repaired. “Tie it shut,” Lacy commands Jared.

  “No!” Meg clutches my hand. “Don’t trap us in there.”

  “Okay. I’ll do the auditorium instead.” Jared unrolls some more twine.

  Meg’s anxiety is contagious. “Forget tying the doors,” I argue. “Who’s gonna come in from the auditorium? Everyone’s at the dance. And there are chaperones everywhere.”

  With an exasperated “Fine!” Lacy leads the way into the pool room. She flips the light switch, but nothing happens. I can’t see the pool at all. She draws a second circle and places the candle as before. “Okay, let’s sit and start over.”

  This floor is much dirtier than the floor in the tunnel. Still, we obey. I try to ignore a cramp in my calf. I try not to think about any critters scurrying over me in the dark. Most of all, I try not think about Nate. I’m sure he’s figured out by now that I’ve ditched him.

  Concentrate … concentrate.

  The lavender fragrance grows stronger and stronger. And then—

  Dino farts.

  “Sorry, sorry!” he yelps, not sounding sorry to me.

  “Sweet!” Jared howls.

  Tasha doubles over laughing. Even Meg cracks a smile. I pinch my nose. Lacy’s green eyes flash dangerously in candlelight.

  “Hate to tell ya, cuz.” Jared, addressing Dino, points at Lacy. “But if you wanna get lucky later, that ain’t the way to do it.”

  Lacy’s lips part in outrage. I bet she’ll go to her grave denying she and Dino ever hooked up. Then, ignoring Dino’s hungry grin, she flings back her hair and glares around. “Well, now that our circle’s been drained of any positive energy, will you all please shut up? Or we’ll never make contact.”

  The laughter fades. Minutes tick by. Meg leans into me. I stare at the flame, a dancing orange entity. After the way Nana died, you’d think I’d be petrified of fires.

  “We are calling to the spirit of Annaliese Gibbons,” Lacy croons. “Annaliese, are you here with us tonight?”

  I shut my eyes. All is silent. I can’t even hear the deejay back here.

  “We’re your friends, Annaliese Gibbons. We know you died here. We’re sorry you died. And now we are asking you to speak to us somehow.”

  Come on, Annie, it’s me. I live in your house, remember?

  Meg’s hand tightens over mine. Dino’s feels hot, slick. I slit my eyes to see Lacy rocking, Tasha and Meg hypnotized by the candle, and Dino and Jared glazed with boredom.

  The fence creaks gently beside us. My arm hairs prickle. Nana used to say that when your arm hair stands up it means someone took a walk over your future grave.

  Who walked over mine?

  “Annaliese,” Lacy calls in a high, eerie voice. “Aaaannaliese, come to us. Come to us nowww …!”

  The overhead lights flick on for a split second and then blink right back out. Yes, the same lights that only a few minutes before didn’t work at all when Lacy hit the switch.

  “REDRUM! REDRUM!”

  We all shriek, even Dino. This makes Jared, the culprit, laugh all the harder. He may not look much like Dino, but after this little trick it’s perfectly clear they’re related.

  “You dumb shit!” Tasha screams. “I almost peed my pants!”

  Jared ducks to avoid Lacy’s right hook. “What’s wrong with you guys? It was a joke!”

  Dino—who, frankly, screamed louder than I did—leans over me to pinch Meg’s leg. “What’s a’matter, booboo? You sittin’ in a puddle?”

  When Meg squeals, Jared lunges at Dino, knocking over the candle, snuffing the flame. A river of hot wax slides through my fingers as I scramble out of the way. I shake my right hand, and then stop, riveted with disbelief: there’s too much wax on the floor.

  Way too much wax for a votive that’s been for burning ten, maybe fifteen minutes. It rolls between my fingers, coating my hand, dripping down my wrist into my sleeve. My nostrils siphon the scent of lavender, pungent enough to make my stomach churl.

  “Don’t!” Lacy shouts when Dino switches on the flashlight. “We’re almost there! Can’t you feel it?”

  “I’m cold,” Meg whines.

  Tasha nods. “Plus it stinks in here. You guys smell that?”

  I breathe in deeply, but nothing can penetrate the scent of the lavender wax. Curious, I dip a fingertip into the puddle. Hot! And so much of it. Like a huge candle that’s been burning for hours …

  “Clorox,” Dino says wonderingly. “Like, from a swimming pool.”

  Jared shakes his head. “You mean chlorine. And I don’t smell—”

  With no warning whatsoever, Dino drops the flashlight and grabs my candleholder, jumps up, and hurls it over the fence. “Here ya go, bitch!” he roars over my shrill protest. “You wanna screw with us? Huh? You wanna screw with us?”

  Swearing, Jared yanks back on Dino’s belt, throwing him off balance. Dino crash-lands beside me. His jerky hands start smacking his own face. “Oh, shit. Ow! What’s burning me?”

  “Ha-ha,” I retort as Lacy rescues the flashlight. I’m not falling for another dumb prank.

  Faces surround me, eerily illuminated. Lacy’s breathing hard, and so are Tasha and Dino—slow, enormous breaths, with flared nostrils as they inhale … what? What are they smelling?

  I sniff. Yes, there’s the lavender from the candle, sickly sweet and powerful. But nothing else.

  I turn to Jared, the only one not sucking in air. “Do you smell it now?”

  Before he can answer, the lights flicker again—on, then off—and then spring on altogether, washing the pool room with a blinding florescence. Everyone screams, even the guys. Then the lights black out again.

  So does the flashlight.

  In the pitch-black Lacy whispers, “Don’t move. Don’t scare her away.”

  Squelching panic, I pat the floor around my knees. “The lighter!”

  “I said don’t mo
ve!”

  “Can you smell it?” Tasha marvels. “The chlorine? Oh my God.”

  Someone, Meg, I guess, grabs my waxy hand as a new chill rolls over us in a subzero wave.

  No one else moves. All is silent again.

  Chest tight, I wait for something to happen. For Dino to make some smart-ass remark. For Jared to scare us half to death again.