So that’s it! thought Allie excitedly. Lucy had been given two red leather-bound books for Christmas. One became Lucy’s diary and the other became—Allie’s journal. It came to Allie just as Lucy had left it, still enclosed in the tissue paper that Lucy had never removed.
Is this how you talk to a diary—as if it’s a person? Well, that’s how I’m going to do it. I think a diary should be like a best friend. I will tell you everything.
First of all, I will tell you about myself. I am eleven. I have curly black hair. I’m too skinny, Mom says, so she’s always trying to get me to eat more. I am in sixth grade, and my teacher is Mr. Henry. He’s really nice.
I live with my mother. My father died when I was seven. I have two pets, a dog named Bogey and a cat named Crenshaw. I collect fossils and sea glass. That’s pieces of broken glass that are smooth from being in the lake for a long time. I think it should be called lake glass, don’t you?
Allie smiled as she read this. She, too, collected sea glass, as well as fossils, and had had the same thought about its name.
Mom’s calling me to go downstairs now. Her boyfriend is here. She says he’s not her boyfriend, but I saw him kiss her last week. It was severely disgusting. Don’t ask me how she could stand it. He has brownish-yellow teeth and a teeny little bristly mustache and he smells like cigars, which he smokes until I want to throw up. Well, I’ve got to go. Bye till tomorrow.
January 2, 1994
Dear Diary,
First of all, Mom’s boyfriend is a BIG JERK. I can’t believe she likes him. She’s always telling me how “fond” he is of me, but it’s not true. The thing is, he acts real nice to me in front of her. It’s fake nice, though. He fools her, but not me. His name is Raymond Gagney. Gag-Me is more like it!
Allie laughed out loud at that. No wonder Mr. Henry had liked Lucy so much, she thought. Lucy was sassy!
Allie continued to read through the entries for the month of January and into February. As Lucy confided her secrets to her diary, Allie felt as if the dead girl was speaking directly to her. She read about little things, such as a social-studies report Lucy was writing for Mr. Henry, and big things, too. She learned that Lucy’s father had left Lucy and her mother quite a bit of money when he died, but that the money didn’t matter to Lucy, who missed her father terribly.
Lucy continued to write unflatteringly about Mr. Gagney, her mother’s boyfriend, whom she referred to as Gag-Me. Allie recognized in Lucy a kindred spirit. Like Allie, Lucy could see the truth about people. She looked beneath Mr. Gagney’s smiling exterior, and what she beheld was not a pretty sight.
February 26, 1994
Dear Diary,
Gag-Me was here for dinner again. He’s here all the time, it seems.
He’s asked Mom to marry him.
He bugs her about it every second. The only other thing he talks about is money. How Mom should spend more of it and take trips and “kick up her heels.” With him, of course. When he talks about these great trips they could go on together, he never mentions me. Which is fine with me—I wouldn’t want to go, anyway.
Mom is different when he’s around. It’s like she’s deaf and dumb and blind. How can she not see what a creep he is?
March 4, 1994
Dear Diary,
I am so mad I think I might explode. Wait until you hear what Gag-Me said tonight. We were at the dinner table. I’d like to know how I’m supposed to eat more and gain weight when looking at him makes me sick.
Anyhow, he was, as usual, telling Mom what she should do. His new idea is that we should sell this house and all the land, including the glen, and make it into a housing development. “We,” of course, means Mom and him, when they’re married. “Real estate development, that’s where the money is,” he said. Always money, money, money. He wants to call it a cheesy name like “Creekside Heights,” or something just as stupid.
He said we could build roads all through the meadow and squeeze up to fifty houses between the road and the glen. I said, “But I like it the way it is. What about the deer who come to the meadow and all the birds and animals and turtles and fish in the glen? What about how pretty and peaceful it is?”
He looked at me real cold and squinty, as though he wished I was a bug and he could squish me, but with this phony smile, and answered me in that sticky voice as if I was a moron or something. “But, Lucy dear, it’s that kind of silly, sentimental thinking that stands in the way of progress.”
He’s the moron!!!
Daddy loved this house. It belonged to his great-grandfather. And he loved the glen, just the way I do. Why should we move? I’d rather die!!!
Oh, Lucy, thought Allie. You don’t mean that.
Seventeen
Allie read quickly through the entries for March and gasped when she came to the end of the month. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
March 29, 1994
Dear Diary,
I have the worst, most horrible news. I can hardly even stand to write it down, as if seeing it in words will make it really, truly true.
Mom is going to marry Gag-Me.
Gag-Me had his arm around Mom when they told me, as if she was something he owned. He said that things were going to be different around here from now on, because he was going to be my new daddy.
Fat chance, I almost yelled. You can marry Mom, but you’ll never, repeat NEVER be my daddy.
I hate him. And he hates me, no matter what Mom says and no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
Mom tried to make everything seem happy and nice. She said one of the things that’s going to be different is that we will move to a brand-new house. “Won’t that be wonderful?” she said. I said, “No!” Then she looked real sad and hurt and I felt bad. But I was only telling the truth. It’s NOT wonderful. It’s the worst, most horrible thing that could happen. And I’m not moving and leaving this house Daddy’s great-grandfather built so HE can build his crummy houses all over the glen.
I think he’s a wicked sorcerer and he’s put a spell on my mother and I know why. Money. That’s all he wants. He doesn’t care about Mom, and he sure doesn’t care about me. What he cares about is our money and all the money he can make from selling OUR land.
And I’m going to prove it to Mom somehow.
Before the wedding, which is supposed to be in July.
I don’t have much time.
Wow, thought Allie. Quickly, she read through the remaining entries, concentrating on the days when Lucy wrote about the worsening situation with Raymond Gagney.
April 1, 1994
Dear Diary,
This morning I woke up wishing Mom would come in and say “April Fool, honey! It was all a joke. I’m not really going to marry that disgusting man.” But of course she didn’t.
So I’m keeping my eyes and ears open. Gag-Me has set up an office in the den downstairs, where he does all his big real estate deals. It’s not that I eavesdrop exactly, but sometimes I can’t help hearing him talking on the phone. I don’t understand a lot of the business stuff. But today I heard him say, “Look, the money is no problem. I’ll have plenty of it soon.” Then the other person must have said, “When?” ’cause Gag-Me said, “July.”
The wedding is in July. Do you think that’s a Mere Coincidence, Dear Diary? I don’t.
April 19, 1994
Dear Diary,
What a totally rotten day. Mom and I went shopping to buy the dress I’m supposed to wear in the wedding. The dress is okay, I guess, but I couldn’t even pretend to be excited about it. Mom asked me what was wrong and why couldn’t I be happy for her and all that stuff. So I decided to tell her the truth: that I think Gag-Me is marrying her for her money.
First she started talking about Daddy, and how he would have wanted her to get married again and not be lonely all her life, and I said, “THAT’S NOT IT! I don’t want you to be lonely either. I just don’t want you to marry HIM.” Then I told her he’s a phony and slimy and his eyes are cold as a fish’s and he gives
me the creeps. And she said I wasn’t being fair to him and then she cried and it was awful.
She says she loves him. All I can say is, being in love makes people stupid. I have to find a way to wake her up before it’s too late.
April 30, 1994
Dear Diary,
Uh-oh. Today I was walking past Gag-Me’s office and I heard him talking and he sounded mad. He said, “What do you mean, you can’t wait until July?” I stopped walking and stood outside and listened. “I told you, July 14th,” he said. Which just happens to be the date of the wedding. Then he said, “All right, all right. I’ll take care of it. But it means I’ll have to get her to—” and all of a sudden he was at the door and there I was. I tried to act casual, as if I’d dropped something in the hallway and was looking for it, but I don’t think he believed me. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t be writing this now. I didn’t get to hear any more.
Of course he told Mom I was a sneak, and she said, “Why can’t you two get along? Why do you keep putting me in the middle?”
It’s hopeless. I’m trying to save Mom and she acts as though I’m trying to ruin her life. But I’ve got to be more careful.
A feeling of dread began to creep through Allie. She was so caught up in the events of Lucy’s life that she almost felt as if they were happening to her. She was disgusted by Raymond Gagney, and frustrated at Lucy’s mother’s blindness.
Yes, Lucy, she urged. Please be more careful.
Eighteen
May 3, 1994
Dear Diary,
Tonight I was watching TV and Gag-Me and Mom were talking in the other room. Suddenly I heard Mom say NO kind of loud.
That’s what got my attention, ’cause she usually doesn’t say no to him. I started listening. He was acting all lovey-dovey, smoochy-smoochy, saying, “Please, honey, just sign it.”
And she said, “I’ll have to think about it.”
And then he acted real hurt and said, “You don’t trust me,” and she said, “Of course I do, but I think you should finance it with your own money,” and he said, “How am I supposed to be successful if you don’t have confidence in me?” and Mom said, “Lucy’s father left the money for her, so I can take care of her and educate her. I wouldn’t feel right risking her inheritance in a real estate deal.” He said, “But there’s no risk! This is a sure thing! You’ll get the money back twenty times over.”
Mom said, “But John left the land to Lucy, really. And she told you she doesn’t want to sell it. You know how she feels about that glen. It was a special place for her and her father.”
Like Gag-Me cares! Anyway, it went on and on and finally Mom said, “Let’s watch TV with Lucy,” and he sat there and sulked like a little baby, I swear. But I was thinking, Good for Mom!!!
May 16, 1994
Dear Diary,
I think I’m onto something BIG!!! Today I went into Gag-Me’s office to see if there were any paper clips in the desk. It’s not that I was snooping or anything. I mean, it’s our desk he’s using. And in the drawer I found sheets of paper covered with my mom’s signature. Except she didn’t write it. Why would she practice writing her own name? It was Gag-Me, writing her name over and over and over! There were some old checks there he must have been copying from. And he was getting pretty darn good at forging her signature.
So I kept looking around. I know it’s bad to peek at people’s private stuff, but I figure this is war. There was a big bunch of papers from a bank in Rhode Island with all these blank lines for “Cosigner’s Signature.” They were marked with red X’s.
Those must be the papers Gag-Me was trying to get Mom to sign. And since she wouldn’t, he’s going to sign them himself! Which means he’s going ahead with his crummy project, promising the bank our money and planning to sell our land!
I have to show Mom. He didn’t actually forge her signature on the papers yet. But it’s pretty obvious what he’s thinking about. Oh—Mom’s calling me. More later—
Bad news. I left you out on my desk when Mom called me. I thought I’d be right back, but she wanted me to go to the store with her. Darn! Darn! Darn! I can’t believe it—I’ve been so careful to hide you up until now. When we got home, Gag-Me was here and—this is the bad part: I’m pretty sure he found you and read everything I’ve written.
He was upstairs when we came home, where he doesn’t really have any business being. I mean, he doesn’t live here.
You were over near the corner of my desk. That’s not where I left you.
But the worst thing was the way he looked when he came downstairs. He watched Mom and me real hard for a minute, as if he wondered if I’d already told her what he’s up to, and then he stared at me for the longest time, and his eyes were—Oh, I can hardly describe how they looked—dark and empty and cold. It was like looking into a deep, poisoned well.
I’ve never liked him, Dear Diary, you know that, but I wasn’t afraid of him. Until now.
May 17, 1994
Dear Diary,
I told Mom about the papers, but when we looked in the desk they were gone. Mom cried and said she doesn’t know if it’s true or if I’m making it all up. She said, “Why don’t you think he was just doodling?” Then she said, “He didn’t actually sign the papers, did he?” Which makes me mad because why doesn’t she believe me? Why does she take his side?
Then she said that, either way, she doesn’t see how she can get married. Which should make me happy, I guess. But I just feel crummy.
She told Gag-Me the wedding is off, at least for now. She didn’t say anything about the papers or her signature or any of that. She just said they had to wait until he and I could get along. He said, “You’re going to let that br—” he almost said brat but caught himself in time—“that child decide if you should get married or not? Did you ever consider that she’s jealous of me and will do anything she can to prevent the wedding?”
And then Mom asked him to leave, and he tried to apologize and make up, and she said she was tired and they would talk about it tomorrow.
And at that moment I was sure I could read his mind. He thinks I’m ruining all his plans. He thinks everything would be perfectly fine if I wasn’t around. He wishes he could get rid of me.
I remember his eyes and the way they looked at me, and I think he would get rid of me if he could figure out a way to do it. If he thought he could get away with it.
I’m scared.
Allie put down the diary with shaking hands. That was Lucy’s last entry. She died the following night.
Nineteen
Allie sat at her desk for a long time, thinking. Mr. Curtis’s boss was looking for a red leather diary that matched Allie’s journal. Mr. Curtis’s boss was upset that the diary hadn’t been found. Why? Because Mr. Curtis’s boss was Raymond Gagney! And Gag-Me didn’t want anyone to read what Lucy had written about him!
Allie glanced at the clock. It was 7:30. She raced downstairs and hollered to her parents, who were in the living room, “I’ve got to go to Dub’s for a minute to get a homework assignment. I’ll be right back.” She crossed her fingers as she lied. She felt bad about it, but she was in too much of a hurry to try to explain to her parents where she was really going.
“Okay, sweetie,” her mother called, “but come right back.”
Allie got on her bike and pedaled furiously up Cumberland Road, turned onto High Street, and headed toward the Stiles house. She stopped in front of the sign for GLEN VIEW ACRES and read the words at the bottom: “R&G Enterprises, Santa Monica, California. Call 1-800-NEW-HOME for information and free brochure.”
R&G Enterprises. Raymond Gagney. R and G.
Allie’s knees wobbled as she turned her bike around and rode home. Her mind raced as she pedaled down the street: Lucy Stiles didn’t fall from the cliffs above Fossil Glen: Raymond Gagney pushed her. He killed Lucy and he got away with it.
She remembered that Mr. Henry had said that Lucy’s mother moved to California after Lucy’s death. R&G Enterprises was
in California. Perhaps, thought Allie, Gag-Me followed her there and sweet-talked her into getting married, after all. And now, at last, Gag-Me was carrying out his plan to develop Fossil Glen.
Allie crept into the room her parents used for an office and dialed the operator. “Could I please have the area code for Santa Monica, California?” she asked. When she called Directory Assistance in Santa Monica and asked for the number of a Raymond Gagney, she was told that the number was unlisted. Next she asked if there was a number for a Rebecca Stiles, but was told no, there was no such listing.
Taking a deep breath, she dialed 1-800-NEW-HOME. “Hello, R&G Enterprises,” chirped a cheery woman’s voice.
Allie wished she’d planned more carefully what she would say if someone answered. “Um, hello,” she said, trying to make herself sound like a woman rather than an eleven-year-old girl. She decided to take a wild chance. “May I please speak to Mr. Gagney?”
“Mr. Gagney isn’t in at the moment,” said the voice. “May I take a message?”
The woman sounded friendly and helpful enough, so Allie said, “Well, I’d really like to speak with him about Glen View Acres.”
“Oh, yes, the project in Seneca, New York.”
“Is there a number where I could reach him?”
The woman laughed. “You’re in luck, honey. He’s there now. I’ll give you the number of the New York office and you can try him. Although you probably won’t be able to reach him until tomorrow. It’s still business hours here on the West Coast, but it’s what—a little after 8 p.m. there in New York?”
The Ghost of Fossil Glen Page 7