Ghost Girl

by Ally Malinenko

  Zee watched Elijah, his eyes closed, Scratch’s red glove gripped tightly on his shoulder, his lips moving slightly. The urge to run in there and push that glove off him, to grab his hand and get him out of there, was overwhelming.

  But then she heard it, at first so faint she thought she might be imagining it, but then louder and stronger until it morphed into a voice, a high, lilting voice singing a song about a girl they called the Wild Rose. She watched Elijah lift his head as he heard it too.

  “Elijah, darling, my little chicken, where are you?”

  Elijah opened his eyes and with a scratchy voice said, “Mom?”

  When she stuck her head out from the kitchen, her beautiful hair in those familiar springy curls, her skin shining in the warm light of the kitchen, Zee gasped. “There you are, little chicken.”

  Scratch took his hand off Elijah’s shoulder, stepped back, pressed his hands together, and said, “Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise.”

  “Mom!” Elijah ran to her, and she gathered him up in a hug.

  Zee’s breath hitched inside her. She watched Elijah, so happy, tears streaming down his face as he hugged his mother. His real live mother, there and okay and not in bed with the hiss of the dehumidifier and that vacant thousand-yard stare. Zee knew Elijah was afraid he had lost her forever and could only imagine the joy he must be feeling now. She imagined it would be how she would feel if her own mother, who she wanted so badly, suddenly appeared in her kitchen, alive and well.

  But Zee’s mother was gone. And just seconds ago, Elijah’s mother had been very sick. Except here she was now, hugging her son, calling him chicken and kissing his tearstained cheeks.

  “Don’t cry, chicken. Momma is okay. I just needed a little rest.”

  “Just like I told you, son,” Elijah’s father said. “And now she’s right as rain.”

  Elijah’s mother set a big layered cake on the table. Where did that come from? Zee wondered.

  “What’s this for?” Elijah asked.

  “It’s for you, darling. It’s because I love you so much.”

  “Are you . . . okay now?” he said, glancing toward his parents’ bedroom door. Just yesterday that room had been like a tomb.

  “Of course, darling,” his mother said, following his gaze. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the door. “There’s no need to worry about any of that. I hope I didn’t scare you.”

  She held up the knife, and suddenly the smile that a second ago seemed so warm felt like it changed. Now it seemed permanent and plastered on, and something cold stirred inside Zee. She glanced back at the door to the bedroom again, something nagging at her.

  “Now, now, chicken. Your momma is all better. All better because of you. Because you wanted it and because she loves you and wants you to be happy. Right, honey?” she asked, turning to his father.

  “Thanks to Principal Scratch,” Elijah’s father said. He wore that same strange smile.

  His mother lowered the knife and slid it through the cake. “Well, that is just lovely. I’ve always been a big believer in knowing what you want and making it happen. Regardless of what gets in your way. We stay focused; we get ahead,” she said, sliding the slice out of the cake and setting it onto a plate for him.

  Elijah took the cake with shaking hands. He chanced one last look at the closed bedroom door and said, “Of course, Mom. All I wanted was this.”

  She bent down and kissed the top of his head. “I know you did, darling. That’s why Momma is fine now.”

  Zee watched all of this unfold, transfixed, before her eyes met Scratch’s and he smiled at her. A jagged smile. A smile cut from glass. For a second she couldn’t move.

  Zee glanced down the hall, at the cracked door of Elijah’s parents’ bedroom. She strained her eyes, and then she saw it. A figure, lying still in the bed. Then she turned, yanked open the door, and ran home.

  That same night, Zee was pulled out of a dream in which she was being chased by hounds. She could hear the hard pounding of their paws behind her, could hear the huff of their breath, the clicking of their teeth as they ran after her. She awoke with a start, sitting up in bed, a panic wild and loose inside her. Realizing it was just a dream, that she was safe in her bed, that nothing was trying to gobble her up, she took a few deep breaths and then a few sips of water. She rubbed her eyes as she drank the cold water down and her focus shifted and blurred through the bubbled bottom of the water glass. She got up to refill her glass, heading to the bathroom instead of the kitchen. She told herself it was just because she was tired, not because of any chance something would be crouching in the living room.

  She flipped on the bathroom light and turned the faucet to fill her glass. She watched the water fill it up and then glanced up at her reflection in the mirror.

  There was something behind her.

  Her breath hitched, and her heart stumbled inside her chest.

  With shaking hands, she put the glass down and focused on the ghost that stood behind her in the mirror. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at it face-to-face. It was the same one as before, muddy face and hair, mossy green streaks along her body, hunched over like she was cold.

  Zee squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to go away—“Just please go away,” she whispered—but when she reopened them, the ghost was still there, wide eyes staring right at her. In that moment, the ghost focused on Zee’s reflection, and Zee knew that the ghost could see her too. Zee’s stomach dropped, and she started to shiver. She’d never felt this cold in all her life. The room felt like an ice box. She was about to call for Abby when she remembered her sister’s advice.

  Just talk to her. She’s confused. She’s probably scared. Help her through this.

  Zee squeezed her eyes shut and tried to steady her breath. She could do this. She could do this. She kept saying it until it felt possible.

  When she opened her eyes, the woman was still there. She slowly turned around to face her.

  “Hello?” Zee said tentatively. “Can you hear me?”

  The woman turned her head, her eyes clearly fixed on Zee.

  “What’s your name?”

  The ghost did not respond.

  “I’m Zee.”

  The ghost opened and closed her mouth and tilted her head.

  “Maybe I can help you. If you have any questions.”

  The ghost just stared at her.

  “Do you understand me?”

  “Where am I?” the ghost said softly. Her voice was scratchy and tinny like the sound of an old record. It didn’t feel like it actually came from her but was instead floating about the room in circle, like an echo.

  “You’re in my bathroom. On Hickory Lane in Knobb’s Ferry.”

  “I’m cold. And I want to go home,” she said. “I don’t know the man that was here.”

  “What man?”

  “I don’t know. He was tall and handsome. His voice was like velvet and he made these promises and now”—the ghost shivered—“I’m so very cold. I would like to go home now. Can I go home?”

  “Of course you can. Do you know the way?” Zee said.

  “Where’s my bracelet? He said he liked it, and now I can’t find it. And . . . I don’t know where I am. And it’s so cold and wet.”

  “Wet? Are you in the water?” Zee asked. “What water? What water are you in?”

  “It’s dark. I don’t know where I am. I’m here, in the water, in the dark.” The ghost started to flicker like a light going out. “It’s cold.”

  “What is your name?” Zee said. “Maybe I can come find you.”

  “My name? I . . . can’t remember. I want my bracelet back. I want to go home. He left me here, in these woods.”

  “Please, where are you? I want to help you,” Zee said, a tugging sensation in her heart. She understood what Abby meant. She understood why her mother thought her gift was special. It was. She had the chance to help this woman. Now that she saw her, really saw her, she knew there was nothing to be afraid of
.

  “What if he comes back?” her ghost asked, her voice pinging around the room, eyes wide and fearful. “Please, I really want my bracelet back. I can’t go home without it. Please.”

  And with that, she vanished. Zee exhaled for what felt like the first time in a long time. She waited to see if the woman would come back. Eventually Zee went back to bed, and the slow crawl of sunrise crept over Knobb’s Ferry.

  Zee headed down the stairs the next morning, her head full of questions, her body restless from the lack of sleep. She couldn’t wait to tell Abby about her talk with the ghost. But Abby wasn’t banging around in the kitchen getting her breakfast together as usual. The house was eerily quiet, and as Zee headed through the dark living room toward the kitchen, she heard a faint murmur. Zee stopped cold and squinted her eyes. Was the ghost back? There was a shape on the couch. She reached over and flipped on the nearby table light. It wasn’t a ghost. Instead, Abby was the small form curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. She looked pale and out of it and barely glanced at Zee. She just kept talking to the phone pressed against her ear. Zee crept forward, but Abby cupped her hand over her mouth so Zee couldn’t hear what she was saying.

  Giving her sister some obviously needed privacy, Zee cut back into the kitchen, headed to the front door, opened it, picked up the rolled-up newspaper off the front porch, and brought it inside. She rummaged through the fridge, pulled out the milk, and got the cereal down from the cabinet. She sat down at the counter, her ear straining to hear what Abby was saying.

  When her sister finally came into the kitchen, she didn’t say anything. Didn’t even acknowledge that Zee was there.

  “Um, hello?” Zee said, startling Abby, who was looking in the fridge.

  “Oh, Zee! Gosh, you scared me. I didn’t see you there.”

  “Who were you talking to? You looked really out of it,” Zee said. “New boyfriend?” Zee hoped that was the case. Abby didn’t seem to have time for anything other than her, and that worried Zee.

  “What? Oh, no, that was Dad.”

  “You were talking to Dad? Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” Zee said, putting down her spoon. “You didn’t even offer.”

  “I’m sorry, Zee. He had to go. But he told me to tell you he loves you.”

  “I can’t believe you were talking to Dad and didn’t tell me!” Zee said, angry that her sister was so inconsiderate. She watched Abby rummage around the kitchen, pulling out a yogurt for herself.

  After a few minutes of silence, Zee added, “Well, is he okay? What is he doing? When is he going to be home?”

  “He’s not sure,” Abby said. “He’s still working.”

  “On what? What is he doing?”

  Abby furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Strange, I . . . can’t remember.”

  “You were just talking to him.”

  “I know,” Abby said, her gaze going to her phone on the counter beside her. She stared at it, lost in some memory before snapping out of it and saying, “Finish up your breakfast, or we’re going to be late.”

  With that, Abby got up from the table and headed upstairs. It wasn’t like Abby to be so inconsiderate, and it bothered Zee. Also, why didn’t Dad demand to talk to her? Was something wrong? Would he be home soon? Tired from not sleeping and frustrated with her sister, Zee felt a small headache gather between her eyes as she pulled the rubber band off the newspaper. It fell open in front of her.

  The cover story was about Deanna Jameson, the kindergarten teacher that had been missing since the storm, and Zee nearly choked on her cereal when she saw the photo.

  Even without the mud and the moss and the terrible look on her face, Zee was sure of it. Deanna Jameson was her ghost.

  Which meant one thing. Deanna Jameson wasn’t missing. She was dead.

  12

  AT LUNCH OUTSIDE, ON THEIR BENCH, SHE FINALLY HAD A CHANCE TO talk to Elijah after a hectic day of mandatory testing. She filled him in on the conversation she had with Deanna the previous night as they watched a pack of eighth graders play a game of touch football.

  “And then this morning I saw this,” Zee said, unrolling the newspaper. Elijah looked from it to Zee and back again.

  “And?” he asked.

  “This,” Zee said, tapping the image of Deanna, “is my ghost.”

  “Wait, the kindergarten teacher is your GHOST?”

  “Shush! Could you be a little less loud, please? I’ve got enough problems at this school.”

  “Sorry,” Elijah said. “It’s just crazy. Should we tell the police?”

  Zee scoffed. “Yeah, let’s go waltz up there and tell the police that the kindergarten teacher is dead and I know this because she’s a muddy ghost that creeps around my house.”

  “Yeah, I can see how that might sound weird.”

  “We have to find her.”

  “What do you mean find her?” Elijah said, lifting an eyebrow. “You don’t mean like . . . find her, find her?”

  “No, but we have to help her. She said something about her bracelet. And needing it. Maybe we can find that.”

  “How? We can’t break into her apartment,” Elijah said, looking completely freaked out, and honestly Zee didn’t blame him. Last night it seemed so much easier, so much more necessary. When Deanna was in front of her, needing her help, there was nothing that she wanted more than to help this poor woman. Now, removed from that situation, in the cold light of day, it seemed harder.

  Frankly, it seemed terrifying.

  “But she also said she was cold and wet. If we can find the bracelet, maybe we can give it to the police and they can find her . . .” Zee didn’t even want to say the next word. “It’s the only way she’ll rest. She’ll never be at peace. She wants to get out of the water, Elijah. I’m the only one who can help her. Besides, it’s . . . it’s my job.”

  “Zee, are you sure about this?” Elijah said, balling up the tinfoil from his sandwich.

  “Yes,” she said with more confidence than she had. “But I don’t want . . .”

  “What?”

  “I mean, I would rather if you . . . but if you don’t want to . . .”

  “Zee,” he said with a laugh, “of course I’m coming with you. I mean who wouldn’t want to? It’s the stuff of Hollywood dreams.”

  Zee smiled and realized the only way she could feel brave about this was if she were with Elijah. “Thanks, man.”

  He held out a fist, and she bumped it with her own. She might not have much, but she had Elijah, and today that felt like enough.

  They agreed to meet at Elijah’s house after school, and they would take it from there. As she bound up the steps to his house, she felt hopeful. Hopeful that she could at least do something to help her. She wondered briefly if this was how her mother felt. Did she feel this sense of obligation? Of urgency? Thinking about her mother more and more lately felt, in a lot of ways, good, but then also bad. It was comforting to know they had this ability in common, like a thread that linked the two of them. But at the same time these were questions she would never have answers to. How hard would it be to never have an answer? At what point was she just shouting into the darkness?

  Zee shook these thoughts from her head as she rapped on the hard wood of Elijah’s door. When it opened, he ushered her inside.

  He was giddy, the excitement bubbling out of him. “My mom,” he said. “She’s better.”

  Zee looked at him, confused. “Elijah, I was there with you. Don’t you remember? Principal Scratch was here and then your mom was serving you cake.”

  Elijah furrowed his brow. “You were here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Weird, I don’t remember that. Anyway, come see,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her into the kitchen. Standing at the counter was his mother, a mixing bowl in her hand, a dusty speck of flour on her cheek. She looked up and smiled at them.

  “Well, hello, Zee,” she said. “We haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Turner,” Z
ee said as they stepped into the kitchen. “Glad to see you’re feeling better.”

  For the briefest of seconds, a confused look flickered over her face and then was replaced with that large smile. “Are you staying? I’m making cookies.”

  “No, Mom, we’ve got to go. I’ll be home soon.”

  “Sounds wonderful, chicken.” Elijah hugged his mother goodbye. As he did, Zee noticed that her smile never changed. Never faltered. It was just that same hard smile, her lips stretched, her teeth shining white. As she hugged her son, her gaze was still fixed on Zee in a way that felt wrong.

  “Bye, Mrs. Turner,” Zee said from the doorway as she turned to follow Elijah out.

  “Goodbye, child.” Zee glanced back once, but Elijah’s mother just stood there, smiling and staring at her. She placed the mixing bowl on the counter, and Zee swore it was full of mud and stones and sticks. She shivered.

  When they got outside, Zee thought about her sister and how she needed that phone call and then it came. She thought about the way her sister was this morning, no longer able to even remember what she had been talking to their father about. The way the other night in the cemetery all Nellie wanted was her dog and then it appeared. And now Elijah’s mother, here, but like Abby, strange. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

  “Aren’t you excited for me?” Elijah said.

  “Of course,” Zee said, snapping out of it and smiling at him. If she said what she was thinking, Elijah was just going to be upset. The last thing she wanted to do was take this away from him. “Of course I’m excited.”