The Black

by D. J. MacHale

  "Whoa, I don't think so," I warned.

  The girl whipped around and I saw the fear in her eyes.

  "Leave me alone!" she yelled. When she focused on me, her fear turned to a look of surprise, as if I wasn't at all what she expected. "You aren't the sheriff."

  "I didn't say I was. Who are you?"

  "I live next door," she answered defiantly.

  I didn't intimidate her, which made me wonder why she was so scared in the first place.

  "Well, I'm a friend of Maggie's. Why are you sneaking around her barn?"

  She shrugged. Whatever she was up to, she didn't want to fess up.

  "Do you know what happened to her parents?" I asked. "Course I do," she said, keeping her eyes on the ground. "It was just last night."

  That threw me, but it made sense. Maggie's vision was fixed on the day after her father and mother were killed in the fire. Question was, why was this little girl hanging out in Maggie's vision?

  "So why are you sneaking around here?" I asked.

  There was definitely something on her mind that she didn't want to share.

  "Just tell me the truth," I said. "It's okay."

  "I'm looking for another way out of the barn," she finally said. "There can't be just one door."

  "Why not? It's a barn."

  "But there has to be another way out," she insisted. "I just haven't found it. They could have gotten out. They didn't have to die."

  "Maybe. But what good would it do to find it now?"

  The girl bit her lip and shrugged. I thought we were done, but then she plopped down on the grass and wept as if it were her own parents that had died in the barn. I figured the poor girl was traumatized by what had happened. Having your neighbors killed in a fire was pretty horrible so I sat down next to her to offer whatever help I could.

  "It was an accident," I said. "Maggie went back to unlock the lock. She didn't mean to trap her father inside."

  The girl's cry turned to a sob as she whispered, "I know . . . but Brady did."

  I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right. "What did you say?" I asked.

  "But he didn't want them to die. It was an accident."

  Blood rushed to my head. It took every bit of willpower I had to stop myself from grabbing the girl and shaking her until she told me what she knew. I forced myself to speak calmly as if what she was saying was no big deal.

  "Who's Brady?"

  "My brother."

  "Isn't Brady your last name?"

  "Yeah, but that's what everybody called him."

  "Tell me what happened. Exactly."

  The girl thought for a second, then started talking. Once she got going, she didn't stop. It was like the story had been bottled up for a very long time and it finally exploded out of her.

  "Maggie's father was always yelling at her," she began. "Brady hated it. He was sweet on Maggie, though he never admitted it. Maggie was real nice to him. To both of us. She made us cookies every Friday. Has she made you cookies?"

  "No. What happened that night?" I asked, trying to keep her focused.

  "Whenever old man Salinger started hollering on Maggie, Brady got upset. That night was the worst. We heard it from all the way back to our house. Brady couldn't stand it. He took off and I knew exactly where he was going."

  "Where?"

  She pointed to the shed she'd been hiding in. "There's a couple of loose boards in there. Nobody knew about it. We could spy inside the barn and no one was the wiser. I followed Brady and found him inside watching the two of them going at it. Maggie was just as angry as her father and she was giving it back to him real good . . . until he hit her. I never saw anything like that. It was horrible. Maggie ran out and slammed the door in his face."

  "And put the lock on," I said.

  She nodded and continued, "Brady was fit to be tied. He ran out of the shed and I went with him. If old man Salinger had come out after Maggie, Brady would have jumped him for sure. But the old man stayed inside. The two of us saw Maggie put the lock on the door and go back to her house. But then . . ."

  The girl sobbed as if the memory pained her.

  "What happened?" I coaxed.

  "She changed her mind. She got halfway to her house, then came back and unlocked it."

  "So Maggie did unlock it?"

  The girl nodded. "I guess she didn't want to make him any angrier than he already was. But that didn't stop Brady."

  I sat bolt upright. "Wait . . . what? What did he do?"

  "As soon as Maggie went inside the house, Brady snuck to the door and locked it himself. I told him not to but he said he didn't want Salinger to bother her anymore."

  "So your brother locked the lock? Not Maggie?" I said, trying to hold back my excitement.

  "But it wasn't his fault they died!" she exclaimed.

  "Of course not. There was no way he could have known there was going to be a fire."

  The girl sobbed even harder.

  "It's okay," I said feebly. "It wasn't his fault."

  "I know!" she cried. "It was mine!"

  I sat there with my mouth hanging open.

  She went on, "It was me who brought the lantern down to the shed, and left it there when we ran out. After Brady locked the door, I got scared and ran back to the house. I forgot all about the lantern . . . until the fire. I didn't mean for them to die. It was a stupid mistake. I never told nobody. My whole life. I was too scared. Now I'm stuck here in the Black, a little girl again, still not able to make up for what I did."

  I was in shock, but managed to say, "Or maybe you just did."

  I got up and started for Maggie's house.

  "Cooper?" the girl called.

  I stopped and turned back to her.

  "Try to understand," she said, then got up and ran toward her own house.

  What was it she wanted me to understand? That it was hard to admit the truth? I guess that was obvious or she would have done it a long time before. But I wondered why, after all that time, she decided to confess to me.

  I turned toward Maggie's house, then stopped short. It had taken a few seconds for her last words to sink in.

  "Hey!" I called to the fleeing girl. "How did you know my name?"

  Her answer was to run up onto her porch and disappear inside the house. I thought of going after her, but her knowing my name wasn't anywhere near as important as everything else she had told me. Maggie had to know so I ran straight for her house. In seconds I bounded up the porch stairs two at a time and hammered on the screen door.

  "Maggie!" I called. "It's me!"

  I couldn't wait to tell her the news. She had lived for so long with the crushing guilt of thinking she had killed her parents, but that was about to end. I couldn't help but think the truth would allow her to finally move on from the Black to her next life. I was so thrilled, it was like it was happening to me.

  "Maggie!" I called out again.

  As I stood there waiting for her, I was hit with another thought: Why had Damon sent me there? Was it to learn the truth about Maggie? Why would he care? He called me naive for believing the world was controlled by those with noble goals and high standards. It sounded like he wanted to reveal some dark truth that would shatter my illusions, but all I found was something that could set a soul free, the soul of somebody I cared about. Why would that matter to Damon?

  When Maggie appeared at the door, I forgot all about him.

  "Hi, Coop!" she said brightly.

  I pulled her out onto the porch.

  "You aren't going to believe this," I said excitedly. "I don't know why we got thrown together, Maggie, but it's a good thing we did because I just found out something that's going to change your life. Or your afterlife. Whatever. You know what I mean."

  "Uh, no, I don't," she said, totally confused.

  "You know the little kids who lived next door? A girl and a boy?"

  "Yeah?" she said with a laugh, but I didn't see why it was funny.

  "The boy's got a crush on you."


  She chuckled. "I know, Coop. I'm surprised he told you, though."

  "He didn't. His sister did. She's a spirit in your vision."

  Maggie glanced to the house next door and said, "Oh. Right. I don't know if she's in my vision or I'm in hers. I don't see her that often and we never talk."

  "Well, you should have. I don't know how to say this so I'll just say it. Those kids used to hear your father yelling at you." Maggie's expression turned dark but I kept going. "That night, the night of the fire, they saw you leave the barn and lock the door."

  "I don't want to talk about it," she said, and made a move to go back inside but I stopped her.

  "Listen. They also saw you go back and unlock it."

  "So what? It doesn't matter what they think they saw. I didn't unlock it."

  "But you did!" I shouted. "Brady wanted to keep your father away from you so after you left, he relocked it himself. It wasn't you, Maggie. It was Brady. And the lantern that started the fire? His sister brought it into the shed out back and forgot about it. Your parents' death had absolutely nothing to do with you!"

  Maggie's eyes went wide and she started breathing faster. I didn't think she knew whether to smile, or cry, or laugh or scream.

  "She told you that?" Maggie asked, her excitement growing.

  "Yes! Just now. I don't know how long she lived, but she's here in the Black as a little girl. I think she's here to let the truth be known, and she finally did it."

  Maggie started crying. It was like the news was too much for her to accept.

  "It really wasn't my fault," she said, as if trying to believe it herself.

  "No, it wasn't," I said, and hugged her. "Sometimes things just happen that we can't control."

  I suddenly felt Maggie stiffen. Something was wrong. I pulled away and held her at arm's length. Her look had quickly gone from one of disbelief and joy to concern.

  "What?" I asked.

  "It took your being here to get her to admit the truth," she said thoughtfully.

  "Yeah. That's good. Right?"

  Maggie looked into my eyes as if searching for something. "My god, you don't know."

  "Don't know what?"

  Maggie pulled away from me. She went to the rail of the porch and looked to Brady's house.

  "Nothing," she said, dismissing it. "Thank you, Cooper. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

  I joined her at the porch rail, where she stood staring at the house next door.

  "You're supposed to be a lot happier about this," I said. A tear rolled down her cheek and this time she wasn't crying with joy.

  "I am happy," she said. "This is great. Thank you, Cooper. Go home, okay? I want to have some time to think about what this means."

  She made a move to go back inside but I stopped her. "Whoa, you are the worst liar. Something's wrong."

  "No, it isn't. Things couldn't be better. Let's talk about this more later, okay?"

  "No. Tell me what's going on."

  She didn't want to answer but I wasn't going anywhere until she did.

  Finally she sighed and said, "I'm so sorry, Cooper. I thought you knew."

  "Knew what?"

  Maggie turned to look next door again, like she was having trouble making eye contact with me.

  "All this time," she said, more to herself than to me, "I thought he treated me so badly because of what I'd done."

  "What are you talking about?" I asked.

  "That family," she began. "The Bradys. They had their own share of tragedy. Their father died in a farm accident when they were babies."

  "Wow. I'm sorry to hear that but—"

  "Mrs. Brady remarried years later. Just after the fire. He seemed like a nice man, though I never got to know him. They kept their distance. After all, I was a parent-killer."

  "So, what's the problem?"

  Maggie turned to me and took my hands.

  "You are a good person, Cooper," she said. "This doesn't change things. What you said before is true. Sometimes things happen that we can't control. That doesn't make us bad."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "Coop, we called the kid next door Brady but that was his last name."

  "Right. It's on the mailbox. So, what's his first name?"

  Maggie took a quavering breath and said, "His real name was Eugene. His sister's name was Collette. The man their mom married was named Foley. Coop, the little boy who lived next door was Eugene Foley. He grew up to become your grandfather."

  23

  Gramps was alone in his garden, on his knees, weeding around his tomato plants. It was the same place I saw him the last time I visited his vision. Gramps was proud of that garden. He had a green thumb. It was one of the things I loved about him. There wasn't much I didn't love about my gramps.

  Until then.

  I stood on the end of a long row of lush plants hanging with the weight of brilliant red tomatoes. It was like staring at a stranger. I'm not naive enough to think that just because you're an adult you can do no wrong. The older you get the more you realize that the people you idolized as a kid are as human as everybody else. But finding out that the wonderful wizard with all the answers is nothing more than a befuddled man hiding behind a curtain isn't easy to accept. And when that man turns out to be hiding dark, hurtful secrets, it makes you question everything you've always thought to be true.

  I watched him for a while, trying to find the right words. I came close to leaving without saying anything, but then I would be almost as guilty as him. Almost.

  "You were right," I called out.

  Gramps looked up from his work and smiled.

  "Coop! Where've you been, kid?"

  "I was busy not listening to you. That was a mistake."

  Gramps struggled to his feet, wiping his forehead with a grimy bandana as he walked toward me. "That so? What was I right about?"

  "You told me that everybody here takes care of themselves. That's the whole point of the Black. You gotta take care of number one. Right?"

  Gramps frowned. "What happened, Coop? You haven't been fiddling around in the Light again, have you?"

  "Yeah I have . . . Brady."

  He didn't react. I think he was trying to figure out how much I actually knew.

  "Nobody's called me that for a good long time," he finally said, cautiously. "Guess you've been hanging around with the Salinger girl after all."

  "I thought you wanted me to stay away from her for my sake," I said. "Turns out it was really about you."

  "I—I don't understand," Gramps said, stuttering, holding out hope that the conversation wasn't going where he feared it might.

  "I saw Aunt Collette's vision, Gramps. It's the same as Maggie's . . . the day after the fire. She's a little girl here in the Black."

  Gramps deflated. He took a step back and for a second I thought he might pass out. He staggered a few steps until he reached a stone bench that stood on the edge of his garden.

  The same stone bench the two of us used to sit on for hours, shucking corn, back when I thought he was the greatest guy in the world.

  "So you know," he said flatly.

  "Yeah. What I don't know is why you never told the truth—to anybody."

  Gramps took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt that girl. I cared about her. Did you know she made us cookies every Friday?"

  "And you ruined her life. You wonder why you've been stuck here so long? Who are you kidding?"

  "I couldn't tell the truth," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I was afraid."

  "But it was an accident!"

  "I was a kid, Cooper! Kid's don't think. Our father was killed. Did you know that? I was the man of the family. I had to protect my sister. And my mother. Your great-grandmother."

  "So you let an innocent girl take the blame for something you two were responsible for?"

  "I wanted to tell. I did. But the longer I stayed quiet, the tougher it got. Collette didn't tell. She was afraid they'd lock u
s up. Then my mother started seeing Pop Foley. I liked him. We had the chance to have a father again. If I'd told the truth, he'd have left and never looked back."

  "So again, you did it for you," I said.

  "For my family!" he cried.

  "Even if that were true, even if it was right, how do you justify not telling anyone the truth here in the Black?" Gramps hung his head.

  "Why?" I repeated, nearly shouting.

  "I was afraid it would land me in the Blood."

  It tore my heart out to see my grandfather acting like such a coward. This wasn't the guy I knew. Or maybe it was and I just hadn't realized it.

  "At least Aunt Collette finally told the truth," I said.

  He shook his head. "I never saw her in the Black. She must have blocked me from her vision."

  "This is why you didn't want me to be Maggie's friend," I said, my anger rising. "And this whole time she thought you were giving her a hard time because you thought she'd killed her parents."

  He kept his eyes on the ground and said, "I've wanted to tell her. I swear. It's why I didn't block her from my vision. I always thought that one day I'd get up the nerve."

  "At least you weren't lying about one thing," I said. "Everybody here is out for themselves. Maybe that's why there are so many people in the Black. They can't see themselves for who they really are."

  "It's not that easy, Cooper," he said. "Maybe you're too young to understand."

  "Understand what? That it's okay to let somebody take the blame for something you've done? That you can justify ruining somebody's life so long as you come out on top? Is that what I don't get?"

  "Things happen," he said, growing more emotional. "And they aren't always good. All you can do is the best you can, and sometimes that's not the most noble way to go. I feel bad for that girl, I really do, but I believe I did the right thing back then for me and for my family. For your family. I can't change history, Coop, and even if I could, I'm not so sure I would. I'm sorry if you think less of me for that."

  I backed away and said, "I figured there were two ways you could have reacted. Either you'd admit the mistake and want to make things right, or you'd try to justify yourself. Now I know."