“But maybe he’s here to help you,” I offered.
“Maybe.” Jayden was silent for a moment. “But he’s crushing us, and that’s not helping. That’s what I was trying to tell Lady Azura. I’ve been trying to tell my mom, too.”
“And?”
“She didn’t want to hear it at first, but lately . . .” He shrugged. “Maybe Lady Azura can help. That’s why I left them downstairs with her.”
I kept my gaze on Marco. His shoulders had slumped. He no longer looked defiant.
Jayden’s eyes suddenly widened. “Oh, wow, I’m sorry. Your mom died too, right?”
“Yeah. But that’s okay. I mean, I can still talk about this with you.”
“Do you ever feel”—he scratched his head trying to find the words—“that she’s still here too?”
I found it hard to swallow. My eyes darted from Marco to the closed closet door where Henry was. I saw spirits everywhere, yet I’d never seen my mother. “No,” I admitted. “And that really stinks.”
“But maybe that’s better.”
“I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I’d been so sure that Marco was bad news, but I’d give anything for a glimpse of my mother.
“Okay, too much downer talk. Time for a channel change,” Jayden said. “Want to come trick-or-treating tomorrow? A bunch of us are going.”
I looked to Marco, waiting for him to stop me.
He remained silent. Not moving. Defeated.
“Sure,” I said to Jayden. “I’d like that.”
When we got downstairs, Jayden took off in search of his parents. I found Dad still serving pizza.
“Sara.” He waved me over. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
A tall woman with shoulder-length dark hair and cat’s-eye glasses stood next to him. The new girlfriend. “This is Janelle.”
She smiled and greeted me. We talked about the party, commenting on how most people had opted to dress in black. She seemed nice enough.
“You’ll have to come to my house later and meet my daughter. I wanted her to come tonight, but she’s getting ready for her party. She’s having one tonight too,” she said.
“Really?” I scanned the room for Lily. I had to tell her about trick-or-treating with Jayden.
“She goes to your school, although I think you’re younger. Right, Mike?”
My dad shrugged. “Sara’s in seventh grade. Your daughter’s in—”
“Eighth. I’m sure that’s why Sara didn’t know about her party.” Janelle turned to me. “Her name’s Dina.”
That got my attention. My dad was dating Dina Martino’s mother!
Great. Just great.
“Excuse me. I’m going to find more napkins,” I said. I had to process this news. Lily was never going to believe it. What were the chances?
I slipped into the pantry just outside the kitchen and closed the door so only a sliver of the party sounds filtered in. I needed quiet for a minute. There was so much to think about.
But I wasn’t alone in the pantry.
Marco was there.
Arms folded, he moved toward me, pushing me back against the shelves.
“Go away,” I hissed. I had to be firm. I’d learned that tonight. “I don’t want you here.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.” His voice was low and measured. “I’m not like that little boy.”
Now what? I thought, panicked. My fingers found my necklace and rubbed the hematite.
Boundaries.
“You can stop that.” He nodded at my hand clutching the hematite. “I am not here to hurt you.”
We stood in silence. The noise of the party seemed miles away, yet I could hear Jayden’s voice. He must be near.
“Why did you call me trouble?” I finally asked.
“For one thing, you can see me.”
“Why is that bad?” I kept my voice low.
“You attract others like me. You attract trouble.” He raised his chin toward the ceiling.
I knew what he meant. Henry.
Lily brought him out, I wanted to say. But I was the one who saw him and chased him. Because of me, the bookcase got pushed.
“I died because I did something stupid for a girl I liked,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered. “I saw.”
“And I hurt my family. I can’t let Jayden make the same mistake. Around you, the chances of him doing something stupid are high.”
“But I won’t let him! I’m not like that.”
“I saw that. You saved him. You got to him before me.” Marco backed away, and his voice choked. “He doesn’t want me anymore.”
“He’s growing up,” I said. “He needs space.”
“I was supposed to babysit him that day.”
“He doesn’t need a babysitter anymore.”
Marco didn’t speak or move for the longest time. My words floated in the air between us. He knew it was time to move on. I could sense how much it hurt him to leave.
“He was lucky to have you, you know.” I thought about my dad out there with his new girlfriend, about all the spirits haunting this house, about facing mean Dina at school, about trying to hide what I could do from my friends. “Some of us could use a guardian angel.”
“What makes you think you don’t have one?” he asked.
“Who . . .?” I didn’t finish. My mom? Was my mom watching over me? “Is my mom here? I can’t see her. Can you see her, Marco?”
Marco just shook his head. “You still have a lot to learn about yourself.” He opened the pantry door with his bare foot. “Worry less about the spirits you can and can’t see, and more about the living. Find out who you are. There are many ways to open your eyes.”
“Open my eyes?” What did he mean?
But Marco was gone.
I peeked out the door into the house still filled with people. Jayden shared a laugh with his parents in the hall. Lily’s aunt talked with my dad and Dina’s mom in the kitchen. I joined Lily, Tamara, and Miranda on the long line outside the velvet curtain.
“Lady Azura is rocking it tonight,” Lily confided, pulling me close to them.
“I can’t wait to talk to her,” Tamara said. “I have so many questions.”
So did I, I realized. I thought back to that day at the arcade, after the boardwalk closed. I’d been unhappy with all the change. Now, I realized, it was me who needed to change. No more hiding. I had to find out exactly who I was and what I could do.
I crossed my fingers that I’d like what I’d find.
I laughed the kind of laughter that takes over your body and makes you feel as if you have to pee.
“Do you dare me to wear this to school?” Lily Randazzo teased. She posed with one hand on her hip, as if she was being photographed for a fashion magazine. But no fashion magazine would feature the ridiculous frilly patchwork apron or the silly knit cap covered with dozens of green and red pom-poms she was wearing.
“You would never,” I said, still laughing. “It goes beyond all acceptable ugly.”
“That’s what makes the combo so great,” Lily said, pulling off the hat and apron and placing them back on the store’s table. “It’s so repulsive that it crosses that line into cool.” She eyed them again. “Or not.”
“Not,” I agreed. I’d already decided to come back later and buy the ugly hat for Lily. She’d laugh on Christmas morning when she opened it. Our inside joke.
I had a best friend and inside jokes. Unbelievable. Everything was so different here in Stellamar.
Better.
“Sara, what am I possibly going to buy here?” Lily whispered. She pulled out a piece of notebook paper scribbled with a list of at least thirty names. “I have to get gifts for all these cousins. Everyone comes to our house on Christmas Eve. A cozy dinner for sixty. Mom started cooking last summer!”
I tucked my long blond hair behind my ears and stared at Lily’s list. She had more relatives in and around this tiny town than the town library had books. Or so
it seemed. Of course, our town was really small and so was its library, but she still had a lot.
“My whole list can fit on a Post-It note,” I said. “Dad and Lady Azura. That’s it.”
But two was more than one, I knew. Way more. Until recently, it would’ve only been Dad on my list.
I glanced around the store, the Salty Crab, owned by Lily’s aunt Delores. It was a mystery how this woman was related to Lily. Lily had style. She wore cute outfits, oversize sunglasses, and lots of silver jewelry. The Salty Crab sold dresses that could double as tablecloths, sweaters with holiday themes, candles in the shapes of elves and reindeer, and lots of chunky plastic necklaces.
“We could walk somewhere else,” I suggested, pointing out the window to Beach Drive.
Lily picked up a snow globe of the Stellamar board-walk. “My mom says I have to get some stuff here. Family pity. What about you?” She pointed to a nearby display. “Tie with a huge Santa face for your dad?”
“Going to pass on that,” I said. “I’m making my gifts. For Dad, I’m decorating a wooden box with some tiny shells I found on the beach.”
“You’re so good with crafty things,” Lily said. “What about Lady Azura?”
“I don’t know,” I confided. “I want to make her something too, but it has to be special. You know?”
“Totally one-of-a-kind,” Lily agreed. “Nobody else is like her.”
I watched the tiny snowflakes fall inside the glass ball as Lily shook it. After four months of sharing a house with the old woman, I still didn’t know a lot about her. Nothing personal. But I did know we had a connection. We saw things the same way.
A way I couldn’t even begin to explain to Lily.
A way no one else could imagine.
About the Author
Phoebe Rivers had a brush with the paranormal when she was thirteen years old, and ever since then she has been fascinated by people who see spirits and can communicate with them. In addition to her intrigue with all things paranormal, Phoebe also loves cats, French cuisine, and writing stories. She has written dozens of books for children of all ages and is thrilled to now be exploring Sara’s paranormal world.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Text by Heather Alexander
ISBN 978-1-4424-5221-3 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-4424-5380-7 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4424-5222-0 (eBook)
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2012934011
Cover illustration by Erin McGuire • Cover design by Laura Roode
Mischief Night Page 9