“Tony gets it,” she says. “You can’t count on anyone. They’ll break their promises and let you down every time. So we’re counting on each other.” She gets in the truck, and Tony peels out of the driveway.
I walk down the driveway, dust swirling around me. The day looks just like it did in my dream—dark and foggy. After a few minutes I find myself walking the path to the bridge.
chapter 10
Monday
It’s actually not raining today. I even see a patch of blue sky on the far edge, but you can never be sure here how long a clear day will last.
At least I now know who was behind it all. Not Kasey, not a ghost, not Patricia, but Tony. Maybe some time and distance from Middleton will help soften Tony and Patricia’s anger. After she left, I woke Kasey up and told her I was wrong. She was upset, but she told me she’d get over it by the time we started our coffee shop. Mom called the police when she woke up and I told her Patricia was gone, but no one has any idea where she and Tony went. I told the police how Patricia admitted that it was Tony who had been doing everything, and the police promised that they would keep an eye out for them. At least we don’t have to worry about haunted bridges anymore.
It’s too early to show up at school. Instead, I walk to the barrier and swing my leg over.
The sun finds a hole in the overcast sky and beams down on the bridge. It doesn’t look scary now, just old and sad.
There is no ghost. Just some names written on a bridge—names that will always stay, unlike people. I take a step forward, then another. Near the middle of the bridge, I peer out at the mist on the green water.
Patricia and Tony are gone. Dad is gone.
But Kasey’s still here. And Mom and Aunt Jane.
My eyes fill with tears. “I miss you, Dad,” I say out over the river. I let go of the iron beam and walk the last few steps to the other side—I made it.
I touch my eagle pendant, knowing Dad would be proud of me for conquering my fears.
A bank of clouds moves in, and the sun is gone. As I walk back across the bridge, stepping carefully over the gaps, I get the feeling I am being watched, but as I scan the area I see no one.
I reach the barrier and swing my legs over. It feels good. If I got through that, I can get through anything. Patricia and Tony may have disappeared without owning up to what they did, but things will be okay. We—Kasey, Mom, Aunt Jane, me—will be okay.
About the Author
J. Fallenstein likes to freak herself out by constantly asking “what if?” She writes sometimes-scary stories that answer that question. You can find her at midnight in the Midwest wide awake wondering what that noise was.
Graffiti Page 5