Graveyard Slot

by Michelle Schusterman

  Oscar opened his mouth to argue some more, but Jess beat him to it. “Kat, what if we did a trial to see how you two are on camera? I was thinking we could shoot a mini episode, maybe five or ten minutes, of just you and Oscar, and post it on your blog. It’d be a nice way to test this out with viewers before we actually add you both to the cast.”

  I could feel my face growing warm. “I thought you didn’t want a ‘kids’ show’? That’s what Roland said.”

  “I didn’t,” Jess said bluntly. “But Lidia and I had a call with Thomas this morning, and the network is dead set on doing this. With both of you.” I must have looked as horrified as I felt, because her expression softened. “I honestly do think you two might be pretty great,” she added. “Thomas made it clear that they aren’t going to start marketing the show to younger viewers, which was my concern. They’re just hoping to expand our audience by getting kids interested, too. It’s not a bad idea.”

  “No one’s forcing you, Kat,” Dad added quickly, and I snorted.

  “Really? Because it sure feels like I don’t have a choice.”

  “You do,” Jess assured me. “Let’s just take this one step at a time, okay? Lidia did a little scouting and found a cemetery not too far from our hotel. We have a few days before our first real investigation—how about I take the two of you to the cemetery to shoot a short video for your blog? No TV, no pressure. Okay?”

  Not okay. But I couldn’t say that, because it really was a pretty reasonable request, and I was too embarrassed to admit that even the thought of posting a video of myself online made me queasy. Especially because I wasn’t sure why it bothered me so much. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d be wearing one of those stupid bridesmaid dresses on camera. I’d be dressed like me, and no matter how much my mom sighed at my clothes and fretted over my hair, I liked how I looked just fine. So I just shrugged and said, “Yeah, okay.”

  Dad studied me. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Awesome.” Oscar grinned at me, and I tried to smile back. I was relieved when the line finally started to move. As we shuffled forward, I wondered if Oscar was right. Maybe I should be more excited about this. Trish and Mark would freak out if I told them I was going to be on TV. Besides, my grandmother had starred in horror movies. My father hosted a ghost-hunting show. This was in my blood.

  That’s what I kept telling myself, anyway.

  I crammed my bag into the overhead compartment and found my seat: 27F, next to the window. Glancing around the cabin, I noticed we were all scattered. Dad waved at me from a few rows ahead. Roland and Jess were near the front, while Lidia, Sam, and Mi Jin were several rows back. I saw Oscar kneeling on his seat, watching my row intently. When a guy in a Nirvana shirt started to shove his backpack into the bin over my head, Oscar made his way toward us, squeezing around a woman trying to fit a cat crate under her seat.

  “Are you in 27E?” Oscar asked, and the Nirvana guy blinked at him.

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Would you switch with me so I can sit next to my friend?” Oscar pointed back at his row. “30D. Aisle seat.”

  The guy shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

  Oscar slid into the seat next to me, holding out the plastic bag stuffed with snacks. I took a bag of M&Ms and ripped it open. “Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He helped himself to a few, eyeing me. “Sorry you got stuck doing this mini-episode thing.”

  I smirked. “No, you’re not. If I don’t do it, you can’t, either.”

  “True,” Oscar admitted. “But I really thought you’d want to be on the show.”

  “And I really thought you wouldn’t.” I popped a handful M&Ms in my mouth. “So . . . how’d things go with your dad?”

  Oscar’s expression tightened. “All right, I guess,” he said, tearing open a bag of pretzels. “I did it. I mean, I told him about . . . you know.”

  I nodded. Last year, Oscar had gotten expelled for getting in a fight with his best friend, Mark. But he’d never told his dad the reason he’d gotten in the fight in the first place. Oscar had a crush on Mark and told him so. And he’d ended up being bullied—not just by Mark, but by a bunch of other kids, too.

  It was something I’d thought about a lot over the last two weeks, when I was hanging out with my own best friends back in Ohio. Every time I tried to imagine one of them turning on me for confiding something that personal, I felt sick and sad.

  “What did your dad say?” I asked.

  “Not much. I don’t know. Actually, he . . .” Pausing, Oscar stared down at his pretzels. Then he shook his head. “Whatever. The point is, I got it over with. How’d things go with your mom?”

  “Oh, fantastic,” I said in a falsely bright voice. “I got to try on bridesmaid dresses with her and her fiancé’s five-year-old daughter. Who, by the way, can scream even louder than Mi Jin.”

  Oscar looked up. “Aw, I’m sorry I missed that.”

  “What, a screaming kindergartner?”

  “No, you wearing a dress,” he said, grinning. “Was it pink? Please tell me it was pink.”

  “Nope. She picked purple and green for the wedding theme,” I told him. “No, sorry—‘lavender and mint.’ Every dress I tried on made me look like an Easter egg.”

  Oscar laughed. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

  “Trust me, it was worse.” I glanced out the window as our plane slowly backed away from the gate. My reflection stared at me, and I touched the back of my head self-consciously. To the surprise of no one, my mother had not been pleased to see my new haircut. Especially when she found out I’d chopped off my braid myself. Now my hair was barely long enough to pull into a ponytail, which was how I’d been wearing it. Mom had tried to take me to her salon to “at least get something a little more stylish.” But I preferred it exactly like this: short and simple.

  It was an argument we’d been having ever since I could remember. She’d make some attempt to, in her words, “girlify” me. I’d hate it. She’d say she was only trying to help. I’d feel guilty. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I’d grown up with a really clear mental image of the girl my mother wanted me to be. Eventually it had turned into a thing—the Thing—that I kind of obsessed over. I was doing my best to leave the Thing behind for real this time. But after six months of pretty much not speaking to my mom at all, spending last week letting her force me into dress after dress had been kind of intense.

  “Guess I’ll have to wait for the wedding photos,” Oscar said. “When is it, anyway?”

  “April.” But I probably won’t be in the photos. I crammed the last few M&Ms in my mouth and crumpled the bag. Telling my mom I didn’t want to go to her wedding would be a lot easier over the phone. It’d probably be best to get it over with as soon as we got to Salvador, if I was going to do it at all.

  I leaned back as the plane accelerated, still staring out the window. I was sitting further back than I had on the last flight, but I could see the tip of the wing. When I squinted, it was easy to imagine a gremlin dancing on the other side of my reflection.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE OTHER DAUGHTER

  From: trishhhhbequiet@mymail.net

  To: acciopancakes@mymail.net

  Subject: snow day!!

  woke up to a blizzard and NO SCHOOL!!!! jealous? oh wait no, you’re on a beach. in BRAZIL. :P mark’s coming over later. want to video chat??

  <3 trish

  “SCHOOL is so much more bearable in a hammock,” Oscar said. I nodded in agreement, stretching my legs and wiggling my bare feet. Mi Jin squeezed more sunscreen on her arms and legs, then tossed the bottle next to her flip-flops.

  “All right, I think I see another guy selling ice pops heading this way,” she said, pointing down the beach before rubbing the lotion into her arms. “Two more questions on this history worksheet. Get them both right and dessert’s on me.”

/>   The three of us were crammed side by side onto one hammock like it was a porch swing, our bags and sandals discarded on the white sand underneath us. The bluest water I’d ever seen in my life stretched out endlessly in front of me, making it kind of hard to focus on the Industrial Revolution. Not that I was complaining. This was pretty much the best classroom ever.

  Clearing her throat, Mi Jin peered down at the worksheet on her lap. “In what year was the first telegraph cable laid across the Atlantic?”

  “1858,” I said immediately.

  “Yup. Last one . . .” Mi Jin flipped the worksheet over. “Tell me three ways the Factory Acts affected child labor practices in the UK.”

  “Made it illegal for kids to work in factories,” said Oscar quickly.

  “But only if they were under nine years old,” I added. “And they couldn’t force them to work at night anymore. And . . . um . . .”

  “One more.” Mi Jin pulled a few coins out of her pocket, looking pointedly over at the ice pops cart.

  “And being a kid in the eighteen hundreds really sucked,” Oscar announced. “Bye!” He lunged off the hammock, but Mi Jin grabbed the back of his T-shirt. I giggled as Oscar half-heartedly tried to escape her grip, rocking our hammock back and forth.

  “No working at night and . . .,” I repeated. “Oh! All working children had to have two hours of school a day!”

  Mi Jin let go of Oscar’s shirt and slapped the coins into my hand. “Coconut for me, please.”

  “Got it!” I sprinted after Oscar, who was already halfway across the beach. He beat me to the ice pops cart by half a second. The vendor laughed when I pushed Oscar out of the way so I could get a better look at the options.

  “Qual sabores?” Oscar asked, and the vendor pointed to each row of brightly colored ice pops as he recited the flavors:

  “Morango, coco, maracujá, manga, tamarindo, e acaí.”

  “Acaí,” I said immediately. I didn’t know exactly what acaí was—some sort of berry, according to Oscar—but I’d had an acaí ice pop when we got to the beach this morning and it was delicious. Like a mix of raspberry and really dark chocolate.

  “Un coco e un maracujá, por favor,” Oscar added.

  Oscar had told me his Portuguese wasn’t great, but I’d heard him use it several times since we arrived last night and it sounded pretty good to me. We watched as the guy pulled three ice pops from the cart: one white, one dark purple, and one bright yellow-orange with specks of black. I took the purple one eagerly, and he handed Oscar the other two.

  “Obrigado,” Oscar said as I dropped the coins into the vendor’s palm.

  “De nada.”

  “Obrigado,” I repeated, doing my best to say it the way Oscar had. But for some reason, the ice pop guy laughed.

  “De nada, amiga.”

  We headed back to Mi Jin, ice pops already dripping on our fingers under the midday sun. I waited until the vendor was out of earshot before turning to Oscar. “All right, what was he laughing at? Did I say thanks wrong?”

  Oscar snickered. “Sort of. You’re supposed to say obriga-da.”

  “That’s not how you said it.”

  “Boys say obrigado, girls say obrigada.”

  I stared at him. “Are you messing with me?”

  “No.” He laughed when I elbowed him. “Seriously, I’m not!”

  “That’s not how it is in Spanish,” I said. “Everyone just says gracias.”

  Oscar shrugged. “Yeah, well. Portuguese isn’t Spanish. Hey, come this way.”

  I followed him as he veered off toward the water, cutting a wide circle around our hammock, where Mi Jin was reading a book. She didn’t notice when we crept up behind her. But she definitely noticed when Oscar touched her ice pop to the back of her neck. Her scream was so loud, even the vendor way down the beach looked over at us.

  “Evil children!” Mi Jin snatched her ice pop from Oscar, laughing. She never seemed to mind his pranks. I kicked off my sandals and flopped down next to her, and Oscar did the same on her other side. The hammock swung lazily back and forth.

  “So let’s talk about this cemetery trip tonight,” Mi Jin said. “Any ideas on what you guys actually want to do?”

  “What do you mean?” Oscar asked.

  “Well, this is supposed to be like a trial to see how you’d be on the show,” Mi Jin replied, and my stomach flipped over. I ignored it and bit off a large chunk of my ice pop. “And everyone kind of has a role, you know? Jack’s the journalist. Sam does the contacting. Roland cracks jokes and occasionally offers actual psychological insight. So what can you two bring? Besides pranks,” she added, gently kicking Oscar’s leg.

  His eyes brightened. “Wait, why not pranks?” he asked eagerly. “The fans leave lots of comments when Kat posts about them. Like that time I locked you in the prison van.”

  Mi Jin smiled. “Yeah, but we have to be careful with playing pranks on camera. Everyone knows about the trick light bulbs they used in the first episode, thanks to Emily. Viewers don’t want to be tricked. Fright TV wasn’t thrilled about it, either.”

  “Aw.”

  “What do you think, Kat?” Mi Jin asked, turning to me. “Any ideas for tonight?”

  “How about not going?” I said dryly.

  She laughed. “Come on, I bet you’ll have fun. I honestly think you two would be great together. On the show, I mean,” she added teasingly. I wondered if Oscar was rolling his eyes, too.

  “Why, though?” I couldn’t help but ask. “We might be really awkward on camera.”

  “Speak for yourself, Doctor Pain,” Oscar said. “I’ve seen myself on video, and I found myself quite charming.”

  “Mmm. The question is, will the viewers will love you as much as you do?”

  Mi Jin was still giggling. “See, this is exactly why it’s going to work. It’s the same reason the fans love watching Roland and Sam. You two have chemistry.”

  “Ew,” Oscar and I said at the same time. Mi Jin sat up, waving her ice pop like a wand.

  “Wait, I know—my Ouija board! You guys could bring it to the cemetery tonight. Try to make contact near one of the graves or something.”

  “That’s a pretty good idea,” I admitted. We’d had success contacting ghosts with Mi Jin’s homemade electronic Ouija board before. Although that was mostly thanks to Jamie and Hailey, Thomas Cooper’s kids. Jamie especially had a knack for contacting ghosts. He also had a knack for being extremely adorable.

  “But what if nothing happens?” Oscar was saying. “A video of us just sitting around a Ouija board isn’t going to be very entertaining.”

  I hopped off the hammock and slid my sandals back on. “Then we have to make it entertaining,” I said. “But without tricks.”

  “Where are you going?” Mi Jin asked as I picked up my bag.

  “Back to the hotel. I have to e-mail someone.”

  From: jamiebaggins@mymail.net

  To: acciopancakes@mymail.net

  Subject: Re: Ouija advice (also hi!)

  KAT! I can’t believe you and Oscar get to be on P2P. Hailey’s so jealous. I might be a little jealous, too. :)

  About your Ouija question—the more you know about the ghost you’re trying to contact, the better your chances. So if you guys go to this cemetery and just pick a random grave, it probably won’t work. Remember when we contacted Sonia? We knew a lot about her, how she rescued her brother from Crimptown, and how Red Leer killed her. We even knew what she looked like. Is there any way you could find out more about the people buried at the cemetery? I think that would help a lot.

  One more week until winter break! I can’t wait to get to Buenos Aires. Hope you guys are enjoying the beach while Hailey and me are freezing to death here in New York. See you soon!

  Jamie

  Cemitério do Céu Infinito wasn’t one of those cre
epy old graveyards with ancient, cracked tombstones and overgrown weeds hiding the names of the deceased. Instead, it was a sea of beautiful white statues, ornate tombs, and stucco arches that Dad called “perfect examples of late Baroque architecture.” He was up ahead with Jess and Mi Jin, who were both getting footage of the cemetery.

  Oscar and I trailed behind. “Still nervous?” he asked me.

  I didn’t answer. My plan for getting over my anxiety was to just not think about it until it was happening. Shyness had never been my thing. I reminded myself that this was not the same as my mom’s Maid of Horror slideshow.

  “Do you have that picture?” I asked instead. Oscar held it up in response. It was a photo we’d printed of a tabloid magazine cover. A glamorous woman with thick, wavy black hair had her arm around a skinny girl in a hospital gown. Both were beaming, even though the girl was clearly sick. The headline read Tragédia Segredo de Flavia.

  “All right, kids!” Jess called, camera hanging at her side. “I think we found it.”

  She gestured to one of the larger headstones, and Oscar and I hurried over. He shined his flashlight so we could read the name: Flavia Arias. Several dozen bouquets of flowers were piled on the tomb and the ground. A few feet away, several more bouquets lay in front of a smaller tombstone. I moved closer to read the inscription just as Jess cleared her throat.

  “So here’s what I’m thinking,” she said, and I looked up. “First I want to start with Kat talking about why she chose this particular grave, then we’ll set up the Ouija board.” Handing her camera to Mi Jin, Jess took my arm and positioned me next to the larger headstone. “Mi Jin and I are going to film from different angles,” she told me. “But I want you to face your dad, okay? You’re not talking to the camera or viewers or anything like that. You’re just telling your dad what you know about this person like we’re not even here. Very casual, very relaxed. Sound good?”

  I nodded, taking the picture from Oscar. He moved next to Mi Jin, while Dad took several steps back from the tomb and faced me. He smiled, and I tried to smile back and ignore Jess and Mi Jin and their cameras.