The Dead and Buried

by Kim Harrington

  His face reddened. “You think I killed her?” he asked incredulously.

  “That’s why I’m here, yeah.”

  He was absolutely still for a moment and something in his stunned eyes made my stomach tighten.

  “Jade, I was playing in a lacrosse game the afternoon Kayla was killed.”

  I opened my mouth to retort, but my nerve faltered.

  He let out a long pained sigh. “I scored three goals. You can look it up.”

  I stumbled back a step. He had an alibi. A solid one, too. I’d been so sure after I read the diary. It had all clicked into place. It all made sense. But now …

  A concerned female voice behind him called out, “Kane? Who is it? What’s going on?”

  I started walking backward, my throat dry and my face in flame. “I, um, have to go.”

  Defeated and hopeless, I came home and went up to my room. The school’s website confirmed Kane’s alibi. I scrolled down to last season’s schedule and, yep, he’d been playing a game that day. His goals were listed right there in the public record. He hadn’t killed Kayla. I was back to square one. I knew nothing.

  My heart heaved, equal parts anguish and fear burning in my chest.

  The diary lay open on the bed beside me, almost mocking me. I thought it would have the answers but it only gave me more questions.

  Almost everyone in Kayla’s life had a reason to kill her. She’d bullied Alexa. Used a giant lie to ruin Faye and Kane’s chance at a relationship. Cheated on Donovan. Plus countless other pranks and random hazings. It was like a manual for mean girls. No wonder she didn’t want anyone reading it.

  I turned onto my side and curled up, closing my eyes. I’d been tired plenty of times in my life. But this was an exhaustion I’d never felt before. Full body depletion. Gauge on empty. I had nothing left. I didn’t even dream.

  Something woke me, hours later. I gazed around the room through half-lidded eyes. My shade was up but the sky was already turning gray. I’d slept through most of the day. I pushed myself up into a sitting position, wondering what had woken me from a hard sleep. As my senses came to life, I realized what it was.

  A chill slowly crept into the room. I felt Kayla’s now familiar energy sweeping around me. I didn’t have to see her to know she was angry and impatient. I could feel it in the air. She wanted me to talk.

  I closed my eyes and pressed the palms of my hands into them, hoping she’d just go away. That if I ignored her, she’d disappear. But a rush of energy blasted at my face and swirled all around me like concentrated wind. With it came an instantaneous deep freeze that I felt through my skin and into my bones.

  My eyes snapped open at the sounds of shuffling paper. The diary was still on the bed next to me, but its pages were being flipped back and forth by an angry unseen hand.

  I knew what she wanted to ask. What did you find out? Where did you go? Who did this to me?

  “I don’t know!” I shouted. “I thought it was Kane. He had the biggest motive, but I was wrong. It wasn’t him. And I’m no closer to finding the truth than I was at the beginning.”

  The pages stopped flipping.

  I inched back on the bed, away from the diary, the silence scaring me more than anything. My back hit the headboard and I pulled my knees up to my chest. My whole body trembled.

  The diary rose up by itself and flew across the room, smashing into the mirror on my vanity.

  My eyes watered and I squeezed them shut, not allowing the tears to spill down my cheeks. “You’ll never know who did it and you have to accept that,” I said, forcing a stern, confident tone. “Release the house. Leave my brother alone!” I opened my eyes. “It’s time to move on, Kayla.”

  I sat in silence for several beats, waiting for whatever she’d try next, but nothing happened. My senses were so jacked up that I couldn’t tell if her energy was still with me or not. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I tentatively stretched my legs out and slipped off the side of the bed. Stood in the center of the room. Waited.

  Nothing.

  Tears flowed freely from my eyes. Tears of fear and disappointment. I’d failed. I was desperate. There was only one thing left I could do, no matter the consequences.

  My feet pounded down the hall. Colby called out from his room, “Jade?” But I kept going, down the stairs, into the living room where Dad and Marie were watching TV.

  Dad sat up straighter in his spot on the sofa. “What’s wrong?”

  “What was that bang?” Marie asked.

  “It was her,” I spat, more angry than frightened now. “She’s haunting this house. She’s been threatening Colby. You didn’t believe me before, and I tried to handle this myself. Tried to give her what she wanted to save Colby. But I failed, so now I need you to believe me. We have to get out of here!”

  Marie crossed her arms and rolled her eyes, immediately on the defensive. She wasn’t going to believe me. Again. Dad looked back and forth between us in confusion. Hot, angry tears burned my eyes.

  “You have to believe me,” I repeated. “We have to leave.”

  Small, slow footsteps sounded behind me. Colby was coming downstairs. I was about to open my mouth and continue the fight right in front of him, but something in Dad’s eyes made me stop. His expression was uneasy and that frightened me more than anything else had.

  Colby plodded forward with awkward jerky steps, his head tilted to the side. No one said a word. All eyes followed him as he came up beside me. His lips curled slowly into a disturbing and decidedly un-Colby-like smile.

  “No one’s leaving.” Colby’s sweet childlike voice was gone, replaced with an older, knowing voice that was familiar only to me.

  Marie pressed her fist to her mouth, suppressing a scream.

  Dad stood quickly, arms stretched out toward his son.

  “Sit down,” Not Colby barked.

  Dad fell back to the couch, his eyes wide with panic. Marie’s olive skin paled in horror.

  This was it. My punishment for failing Kayla. The air tightened around me like strong arms across my chest, making it hard to breathe.

  Not Colby turned and met my eyes. My heart seized as a wave of chills spread over my body.

  “Finish what you started,” he/she said, calmly, but with underlying menace. “Get me what I want.”

  I fought against the fear, reached out, and planted two strong hands on his shoulders. “You’ve made your point,” I hissed. “Get out of him.”

  Not Colby gave me one last evil grin, then his eyes rolled up. I caught him as he collapsed and Kayla’s spirit left. I wrapped him in my arms and pulled him close, putting my ear to his mouth. He was breathing, but his body was already heating up with the fever.

  Dad sat motionless, hands on his knees. Marie’s body trembled, but at the same time she seemed frozen, her unblinking eyes glued to Colby. Then they both looked at me, seemingly for answers, like I was the parent and they were my children, huddling on the couch.

  “Dad,” I said. “Take Colby, put him in the car.” I stood, scooping Colby up into my arms and handed him off.

  “Marie,” I ordered. “Pack a bag. Quickly. Bring the Children’s Tylenol.”

  Tears rolled down her face as she nodded.

  I glanced at the walls one more time and said to the air, “We’re getting out of here.”

  I grabbed Kayla’s diary, my mother’s jewelry box, and nothing else. I called Alexa on the way and asked if it was cool if we spent the night. Not wanting to go into details, I said the house had a gas leak that was being worked on.

  I’d figured we could sleep in an extra bedroom but Alexa’s family actually had a separate guesthouse in the back. It had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room slash kitchenette. Alexa’s parents offered to cook us a big dinner, but we explained that Colby wasn’t feeling well so they left us to tend to him. Which was good. We needed privacy.

  Night fell and Colby slept peacefully in one of the bedrooms, Tylenol in his system and cold cloths on his forehead. D
ad, Marie, and I settled around a little table in the kitchenette. They each sipped from mugs as I told them everything. What Colby had been through. What I’d been through.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Dad asked.

  “I told her.” I pointed at Marie. “I tried talking to her about Colby seeing a ghost. Not only did she not believe me, she threatened me. And then I was supposed to tell her Colby had been possessed? She would’ve had me committed.”

  Dad looked to Marie, possibly for her to defend herself, but she didn’t. She sat still and quiet, eyes on her clasped hands.

  “Well then why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, returning his eyes to mine.

  “You would have taken her side and you know it,” I said softly.

  “That’s not fair, Jade,” he snapped.

  “Leave her alone,” Marie said, lifting her face. “Don’t you see? It’s our job to protect the children and we failed. Jade came to me and I pushed her away. None of this is her fault.”

  Dad pulled his hands through his hair and groaned. “You’re right. I’m sorry. All that matters is that we’re safe now. We’ll figure something out. Sell the house. I don’t know.” The chair screeched against the floor as he stood. “I’m going to check on Colby.”

  He closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving Marie and me alone in the tiny kitchen. I didn’t know what to say. I was surprised that she’d stood up for me. Seeing Colby change in front of her own eyes must have shocked her into believing.

  Marie smeared a tear off her cheek. “I want to tell you how grateful I am for all you did to try to save my little boy.”

  “He’s not just your son, you know,” I muttered. “He’s my brother. I’d do anything for him.”

  “I realize that and I’m sorry for the things I said.” She gave me a long look. “I know I’ve made mistakes since we became a family, but you didn’t exactly come with a manual.”

  “You didn’t come with a stepmom instruction booklet, either.” I waited a beat and admitted, “I suppose we both could’ve been easier on each other.”

  I glanced at the wall clock. It was getting late. I figured it was time for us to both head to bed, but Marie quietly said, “You don’t call me Mom.”

  I was surprised at the pain in her voice. It had never been my intention to hurt her. I twisted my hands as I struggled to explain. “I already have a mother. I felt like it would be betraying her if I called you that. I don’t call you by your first name out of disrespect. I just can’t do Mom.”

  “I understand,” she said, nodding lightly. “It just felt like you never accepted me.”

  “But it’s not like you accepted me, either. You barely look at me.”

  Her eyes slid to mine. “Because you’re the image of her.”

  My throat tightened so much it hurt to swallow. “What?”

  “You are a carbon copy of your mother. When I look at you, I see her. And when you look at me with disdain in your eyes, I feel like it’s her, looking through you, judging me for marrying her husband. And I know I can’t compete. Not in your eyes, not in your father’s. How can you compete with a dead woman?”

  I rocked back in my chair, reeling. Those were the same thoughts I’d had about Kayla and Donovan. Meanwhile I never realized that Marie felt the same way. Like she was competing against the memory of my mother.

  Marie and I had more in common than I’d thought.

  I reached across the table and put my hand over hers. “My mother’s gone,” I said. “You’re here. You, me, Dad, Colby … we’re the family now.” And in that instant I realized our problem. We’d been looking at each other as intruders. She was an intruder on Dad and me, and I was an intruder to her, Dad, and Colby. Two separate families instead of one whole.

  But, as we smiled at each other from across the table, I knew that would change. It was too bad it took something like this to help us understand each other, but things would be different between us from this point on. Not lovey-dovey. Not mother-daughter. But better than they’d been.

  Marie’s eyes were rimmed with red. “I should have believed you,” she said.

  “I don’t blame you.” I shrugged. “Most people would think I was crazy for saying Colby saw a ghost.”

  “No.” She licked her lips and glanced around nervously. “I didn’t want to believe you.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  She looked down at the coffee mug as she spoke. “You never knew my father. He passed away before I came into your family’s life. I loved him very much. He was a sweet and kind man, but …”

  “But what?” I pressed.

  She looked up at me. “He claimed he could see ghosts. Not every day. Only a few times in his life. But he swore up and down that it was true. Some sort of gift he had. I never believed him. I actually thought he was a little bit crazy because of it.”

  Everything clicked into place. Why she’d shut me down so quickly. Why she stuck her head in the sand and refused to see the truth. “So when I told you about Colby and the ghost …”

  “I didn’t want it to be true,” she said. “Because that would mean this was some gift he got from my genes. My father had been telling the truth all those years and I hadn’t believed him. And now my own son has inherited it? It was too much.”

  “We’ll see this through together,” I said. She let out a long, trembling sigh, but looked better. I was glad she’d shared the truth with me. This was something Colby had to know about, too. Kayla was the only ghost he’d ever seen but, then again, it was the only haunted house we’d ever lived in. Even after all this ended, he might see another one sometime and he had to be prepared. But that was a conversation for another day.

  A yawn overtook Marie, and I quickly followed with one of my own.

  “I’m going to head to bed,” she said, standing. “Your father and I will sleep with Colby. You can have the second bedroom.”

  We exchanged a quick hug, and then I cleaned up the kitchen. Mostly because I was wide-awake and needed something to keep me busy. After I was done, I peeked in the bigger bedroom and all three were fast asleep. I felt grimy and chilled to the bone. A hot shower sounded like heaven so I steamed up the bathroom and stripped my clothes off. I stepped into the shower, the hot water rinsing the dried sweat and tears from my skin.

  Things would be better now. Many truths were aired. My family was all on the same page. We would just never enter the house again and everything would be fine.

  I heard the patter of little footsteps in the bathroom and saw the shadow of Colby through the shower curtain. He got up on a little step stool so he could reach the sink. After a moment he left, so I figured he’d gotten himself a drink from the tap like he did at home. The poor kid was so feverish he was probably half asleep.

  After I was pretty sure I’d used up all the hot water for the entire property, I opened the shower curtain and reached around in the fog for a towel. It was one of those thick expensive towels and it felt so soft against my skin. I felt good. Like real good. For the first time in a while. I dried my face and wrapped the towel around my torso. Venturing out of the tub, one foot at a time, I squinted through the fog. Then froze. A prickle ran down my spine as I realized what I was seeing.

  Words were written in the steam on the mirror.

  I’M STILL HERE.

  In a fit of panic, I rubbed down the mirror, wiping out the letters. But I couldn’t erase them from my mind. I couldn’t deny what they meant.

  Kayla wasn’t haunting the house anymore. She was haunting Colby. Her ability to possess him at will didn’t end at our property border. It came with him, wherever he went.

  We couldn’t run. We couldn’t hide. Colby would never be safe.

  Gripping the towel tightly, I raced into the other bedroom. Colby was sleeping again. Dad and Marie snored lightly on either side of him. I backed out of the room, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. I retreated to the bathroom, put my dirty clothes back on, and tied my wet hair up in a ponytail. I p
added into the kitchen and quietly grabbed the keys and the diary from the counter. I got halfway to the door and stopped.

  Mom’s jewelry box was on the table. My fingers reached in and, almost as if it was calling to me, I pulled out the stone I had in mind. Peridot. The one I never wore. The pendant swung lightly as I held it up to the light. It was a perfect circle, a beautiful piece, but my mother had worn it the day she died and — other than stuffing it into the bottom of the box — I’d never touched it since. Which is ironic, since the stone’s main use was to help the wearer let go of the past.

  But I felt the need to hold it now. Maybe for its secondary use — to guard against evil spirits.

  For a moment, I watched the light reflect off the crystal in shades of green. Then, without thinking, I clasped it behind my neck and let the pendant fall under my shirt, against my skin. It lay in the hollow of neck, just as it had in my mother’s. Rose and fell with my breaths, as it had with hers.

  I took a moment to close my eyes and focus. I imagined the gemstone filling me with strength and determination. Then I opened the door.

  This had to end now.

  I didn’t even remember driving to the house. I’d been on autopilot, fueled by adrenaline. One minute I was sneaking away from Alexa’s home and the next pulling into the driveway of the house I’d promised myself I’d never step foot in again.

  I closed the car door quietly, not wanting to wake the neighborhood. Our outside light was on a timer so I thankfully didn’t have to walk through complete darkness. I held the diary in my hand as I followed the stone path to the front of the house.

  The tall outline of a person stood facing the door. At the sounds of my footsteps, the shadow turned around and morphed into a familiar face.

  I gripped the keys tightly in the palm of my hand and steeled myself. “What are you doing here?”

  “What are you doing here?” I repeated.

  “I had to talk to you,” Donovan said, holding his hands out palms up. “You wouldn’t answer my calls or respond to my texts. I had to make sure you were all right.” He aimed a thumb behind him. “No one’s answering the door.”