Shadowland

by Meg Cabot

  I’d looked at him like he was nuts. Doc had a nice room, and everything, but please. Give up my private bath and sea view? No way. Not even if it meant ridding myself of my unwanted roommate, Jesse, whom I hadn’t actually heard from since I’d told him to get the hell out.

  “What on earth makes you think I’d want to give up my room?” I asked him.

  Doc shrugged. “Just that…well, this room’s kinda creepy, don’t you think?”

  I stared at him. You should have seen my room just then. With the bedside lamp on, casting a cheerful pink glow over everything, and my CD player belting out Janet Jackson—loud enough that my mother had shouted twice for me to turn it down—creepy was the last thing anyone would have called my room. “Creepy?” I echoed, looking around. No sign of Jesse. No sign of anything at all undead. We were quite firmly in the realm of the living. “What’s creepy about it?”

  Doc pursed his lips. “Don’t tell my dad,” he said, “but I’ve been doing a lot of research into this house, and I’ve come to the conclusion—quite a definitive one—that it’s haunted.”

  I blinked at his freckled little face, and saw that he was serious. Quite serious, as his next remark proved.

  “Although modern scientists have, for the most part, debunked the majority of claims of paranormal activity in this country, there is still ample evidence that unexplained spectral phenomena exist in our world. My own personal investigation of this house was unsatisfactory insofar as traditional indications of a spiritual presence, such as the so-called cold spot. But there was nevertheless a very definite fluctuation of temperature in this room, Suze, leading me to believe that it was probably the scene of at least one incidence of great violence—perhaps even a murder—and that some remnant of the victim—call it the soul, if you will—still lurks here, perhaps in the vain hope of gaining justice for his untimely death.”

  I leaned against one of the posts of my bed-frame. I had to, or I might have fallen down. “Gee,” I said, keeping my voice steady with an effort. “Way to make a girl feel welcome.”

  Doc looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said, the tips of his sticky-outy ears turning red. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I did mention it to Jake and Brad, and they told me I was nuts. I probably am.” He swallowed bravely. “But I feel it’s my duty, as a man, to offer to trade rooms with you. You see, I’m not afraid.”

  I smiled at him, my shock forgotten in a sudden rush of affection for him. I was really touched. You could see the offer had taken all the guts the little guy had. He really and truly believed my room was haunted, in spite of everything that science told him, and yet he’d been willing to sacrifice himself for my sake, out of some sort of inborn chivalry. You had to like the little guy. You really did.

  “That’s okay, Doc,” I said, forgetting myself in a sudden burst of sentimentality and calling him by my own private nickname for him. “I think I can pretty much handle any paranormal phenomena that might occur around here.”

  He didn’t seem to mind the new nickname, though. He said, obviously relieved, “Well, if you really don’t mind—”

  “No, it’s okay. But let me ask you something.” I lowered my voice, just in case Jesse was lurking around somewhere. “In all of your extensive research, did you ever come across the name of this poor slob whose soul is inhabiting my room?”

  Doc shook his head. “Actually, I’m sure I could get it for you, if you really want it. I can look it up down at the library. They have all the newspapers ever printed in the area since the first press started running, shortly before this house was built. It’s on microfiche, but I’m sure if I spend enough time looking—”

  It seemed kind of wacky to me, some kid spending all his time in a dark library basement looking at microfiche, when a block or two away was this beautiful beach. But hey, to each his own, right?

  “Cool,” was all I said, however.

  Now I could see that Doc’s little crush on me was threatening to get blown all out of proportion. First I’d willingly volunteered to abide in a room rumored to be haunted, and then I’d gone and saved Bryce Martinson’s life. What was I going to do next? Run a three-minute mile?

  “Look,” I said, as Sleepy struggled with the ignition, which apparently had a tendency not to work on the first try. “I just did what any of you would have done if you’d been standing nearby.”

  “Brad was standing nearby,” Doc said, “and he didn’t do anything.”

  Dopey said, “Jesus Christ, I didn’t see the stupid beam, okay? If I’d seen it, I’d have pushed him out of the way, too. Christ!”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t see it. You were probably too busy looking at Kelly Prescott.”

  This earned Doc a hard slug on the arm. “Shuddup, David,” Dopey said. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “All of you shut up,” Sleepy said with uncharacteristic grumpiness. “I’ll never get this damned car started if you all don’t keep distracting me. Brad, stop hitting David, David stop yelling in my ear, and Suze, if you don’t move your big head out of the mirror I’ll never be able to see where the hell we’re going. Damn, I can’t wait till I get that Camaro!”

  The phone call came after dinner. My mother had to scream up the stairs at me because I had my headphones on. Even though it was only the first day of the new semester, I had a lot of homework to do, especially in geometry. We’d only been on Chapter Seven back in my old school. The Mission Academy sophomores were already on Chapter Twelve. I knew I was pretty much dead meat if I didn’t start trying to catch up.

  When I came downstairs to pick up the phone, my mom was already so mad at me for making her scream—she has to watch her vocal chords for her job and everything—that she wouldn’t tell me who it was. I picked up the receiver and went, “Hello?”

  There was a pause, and then Father Dominic’s voice came on. “Hello? Susannah? Is that you? Look, I’m sorry to bother you at home, but I’ve been giving this some thought and I really think—yes, I really do think we need to do something right away. I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened to poor Bryce if you hadn’t been there.”

  I looked over my shoulder. Dopey was playing Cool Boarders—with his dad, the only person in the house who let him win—my mom was working on her computer, Sleepy was out subbing for some pizza deliverer who’d called in sick, and Doc was sitting at the dining room table working on a science project that wasn’t due until April.

  “Uh,” I said. “Look. I can’t really talk right now.”

  “I realize that,” Father Dom said. “And don’t worry—I had one of the novices ask for you. Your mother thinks it’s just some new little friend you’ve made at school. But the thing of it is, Susannah, we’ve got to do something, and I think it had better be tonight—”

  “Look,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it under control.”

  Father Dom sounded surprised. “You do? You do? How? How have you got it under control?”

  “Never mind. But I’ve done this before. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  “Yes, well, it’s all very well to promise everything will be fine, but I’ve seen you at work, Susannah, and I can’t say I’ve been very impressed with your technique. We’ve got the archbishop visiting in a month, and I can’t very well—”

  The call-waiting went off. I said, “Oh, hang on a sec. I’ve got another call.” I hit the hook and went, “Ackerman-Simon residence.”

  “Suze?” A boy’s voice, unrecognizable to me.

  “Yes….”

  “Oh, hi. It’s Bryce. So. What’s going on?”

  I looked at my mother. She was scowling into the story she was working on. “Um,” I said. “Nothing much. Can you hold on a second, Bryce? I’ve got someone on the other line.”

  “Sure,” Bryce said.

  I switched back to Father Dominic. “Uh, hi,” I said, careful not to say his name. “I gotta go. My mother has a very important caller on the other line. A senator. State sen
ator.” I was probably going to go to hell for it—if there was such a place—but I couldn’t very well tell Father Dominic the truth: that I was dating the ghost’s ex-boyfriend.

  “Oh, of course,” Father Dominic said. “I—well, if you have a plan.”

  “I do. Don’t worry. Nothing will ruin the archbishop’s visit. I promise. Bye.” I hung up and got back to Bryce. “Uh, hi. Sorry about that. What’s up?”

  “Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about you. What do you want to do on Saturday? I mean, do you want to go to dinner, or to a movie, or both, maybe?”

  The other line went off. I said, “Bryce, I’m really sorry, it’s a zoo here, could you hang on a minute? Thanks. Hello?”

  A girl’s voice I’d never heard before said, “Oh, hi, is this Suze?”

  “Speaking,” I said.

  “Oh, hi, Susie. It’s Kelly. Kelly Prescott, from your homeroom? Listen, I just wanted to let you know—what you did today for Bryce—that was so righteous. I mean, I have never in my life seen anything so brave. They should totally put you on the news or something. Anyway, I’m having a little get-together at my place this Saturday—nothing much, just a pool party, my folks’ll be out of town, and our pool’s heated, of course—so I thought, if you wanted, maybe you could stop by.”

  I stood there, holding the phone, totally stunned. Kelly Prescott, the richest, most beautiful girl in the entire sophomore class was inviting me to a pool party on the same night I was going out on a date with the sexiest boy in school. Who happened to be on the other line.

  “Yeah, sure, Kelly,” I said. “I’d love to. Does Brad know where it is?”

  “Brad?” Kelly said. Then, “Oh, Brad. That’s right, he’s your half brother or something, right? Oh, yeah, bring him. Listen—”

  “I’d love to chat, Kelly, but I got somebody on the other line. Can I talk to you about it tomorrow in school?”

  “Oh, totally. Bye.”

  I clicked back to Bryce, asked him to hold on another second, put my hand over the mouthpiece and yelled, “Brad, pool party at Kelly Prescott’s this Saturday. Be there or be square.”

  Dopey dropped his joystick. “No way!” he yelled joyfully. “No freakin’ way!”

  “Hey!” Andy rapped him on the head. “Watch the language.”

  I got back on with Bryce. “Dinner would be great,” I said. “Anything but health food.”

  Bryce went, “Great! Yeah, I hate health food, too. There’s nothing like a really good piece of meat, you know, with some fries on the side, and some gravy—”

  “Uh, yeah, right, Bryce. Listen, that’s my call-waiting again, I’m really sorry, but I have to go, okay? I’ll talk to you tomorrow in school.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Bryce sounded taken aback. I guess I was the first girl who’d ever answered her call-waiting when he was on the line. “Bye, Suze. And, uh, thanks again.”

  “No problem. Anytime.” I hit the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Suze! It’s CeeCee!”

  In the background, I heard Adam yell, “And me, too!”

  “Hey, girlfriend,” CeeCee said, “we’re heading down to the Clutch. Want us to pick you up? Adam just got his license.”

  “I’m legal!” Adam shouted into the phone.

  “The Clutch?”

  “Yeah, the Coffee Clutch, downtown. You drink coffee, don’t you? I mean, aren’t you, like, from New York?”

  I had to think about that one. “Uh, yeah. The thing is—I sort of have something I have to do.”

  “Oh, come on. What do you have to do? Wash your cape? I mean, I know you’re a big hero and all of that, and probably don’t have time for us little people, but—”

  “I haven’t finished my thousand-word essay on the battle of Bladensburg for Mr. Walden,” I said. “And I’ve got a lot of geometry to do if I’m going to catch up to you geniuses.”

  “Oh, gawd,” CeeCee said. “All right. But you have to promise to sit by us at lunch tomorrow. We want to hear all about how you pressed your body up against Bryce’s and what it felt like and all that stuff.”

  “I don’t,” Adam declared, sounding horrified.

  “Okay,” CeeCee said. “So I want to hear all about it.”

  I assured her I’d spare no detail and hung up. Then I looked down at the phone. To my relief, it did not ring again. I couldn’t quite believe it. Never in my life had I been so popular. It was weird.

  I had lied about my homework, of course. The essay was done, and I had worked through two chapters of geometry—about all I could handle in one night. The truth, of course, was that I had an errand to run, and I had a bit of preparation to do for it.

  You don’t need a whole lot of tools to do a mediation. I mean, all that stuff about crosses and holy water, I guess you need those things to kill a vampire—and I can tell you right now that I have never in my life met a vampire, and I’ve spent a lot of time in graveyards—but for ghosts, well, you sort of have to wing it.

  Sometimes, though, to get the job done right, you have to do a little breaking and entering. For that you need some tools. I highly recommend just using stuff you find on site because then you don’t have a lot to carry. But I do have a tool belt with a flashlight and some screwdrivers and pliers and stuff, which I wear over a pair of black leggings. I was fastening this on at around midnight, satisfied that everyone else in the house was asleep—including Sleepy, who was back from his pizza round by then—and had just shrugged into my motorcycle jacket when I got a visit from good old you-know-who.

  “Jeez,” I said, when I caught a glimpse of his reflection behind mine in the mirror into which I was primping. I swear, I’ve been seeing ghosts for years, but it still freaks me out every time one of them materializes in front of me. I spun around, angry not so much that he was there, but because he’d managed to catch me so unaware. “Why are you still hanging around? I thought I told you to get lost.”

  Jesse was leaning very casually against one of the posts to my bed. His dark-eyed gaze roved from the top of my hooded head to the toes of my black high-tops. “It’s a little late to be going out, don’t you think, Susannah?” he asked as conversationally as if we’d been in the middle of a discussion about, oh, I don’t know, the second Fugitive Slave Act, which I believe had been enacted at or around the time he’d died.

  “Uh,” I said, pulling the hood back. “Look, no offense, Jesse, but this is my room. How about you try getting out of it? And my business, too, please?”

  Jesse didn’t move. “Your mother won’t like your going out so late at night.”

  “My mother.” I glared at him. Up at him, I should say. He was really disconcertingly tall for someone who was dead. “What would you know about my mother?”

  “I like your mother very much,” Jesse said calmly. “She is a good woman. You are very lucky to have a mother who loves you so very much. It would upset her, I think, to see you putting yourself in the path of danger.”

  The path of danger. Right! “Yeah, well, news flash, Jesse. I’ve been sneaking out at night for a long time, and my mom’s never said boo about it before. She knows I can take care of myself.”

  Okay, a lie, but hey, how was he to know?

  “Can you?” Jesse lifted a black eyebrow dubiously. I couldn’t help noticing that there was a raised scar sliced through the middle of that eyebrow, like someone had taken a swipe at Jesse’s face once with a knife. I sort of understood the feeling. Especially when he let out a chuckle, and said, “I don’t think so, querida. Not in this case.”

  I held up both my hands. “Okay. Number one, don’t call me stuff in Spanish. Number two, you don’t even know where I’m going, so I suggest you just get off my back.”

  “But I do know where you’re going, Susannah. You are going down to the school to talk to the girl who is trying to kill that boy, that boy you seem…fond of. But I’m telling you, querida, she is too much for you to handle alone. If you must go, you ought to have the priest with you.”

  I stared
at him. I had a feeling my eyes were probably bugging out, but I really couldn’t believe it. “What?” I sputtered. “How could you know all that? Are you…are you stalking me?”

  He must have realized from my expression that he’d said the wrong thing, since he straightened up and said, “I don’t know what that word means, stalking. All I know is that you are walking into harm’s way.”

  “You’ve been following me,” I said, stabbing a finger at him accusingly. “Haven’t you? God, Jesse, I already have an older brother, thank you very much. I don’t need you going around spying—”

  “Oh, yes,” Jesse said, very sarcastically. “This brother cares for you very much. Almost as much as he cares about his sleep.”

  “Hey!” I said, coming, against all odds, to Sleepy’s defense. “He works nights, okay? He’s saving up for a Camaro!”

  Jesse made what I’m quite sure was a rude gesture—back in 1850. “You,” he said, “aren’t going anywhere.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I turned heel and stormed toward the door. “Try and stop me, cadaver breath.”

  He did a good job. My hand was on the door-knob when the deadbolt slid into place. I hadn’t even realized before that there was a deadbolt on my door—it must have been an ancient one. The handle to it was gone, and God only knew, the key must have long since been lost.

  I stood there for half a minute, staring down at my hand in wonder as it pulled futilely on the knob. Then I took a deep cleansing breath, the way my mom’s therapist had suggested. She hadn’t meant I should do this when dealing with a stalker ghost. She just meant to do it in general, whenever I was feeling stressed.

  But it helped. It helped a lot.

  “Okay,” I said, turning around. “Jesse. This is way uncool.”

  Jesse looked pretty uncomfortable. I could tell as soon as I looked at him that he wasn’t very happy with what he’d done. Whatever had gotten him killed in his previous life, it wasn’t because he was innately cruel, or enjoyed hurting people. He was a good guy. Or at least, he was trying to be.