When All the Girls Are Sleeping

by Emily Arsenault

  Before this all began, Tina had had a very troubled and difficult life. Abandoned as a baby, she was adopted by the Resches when she was two. They were strict parents, and she rebelled. She did poorly in school and was often in trouble. When she was thirteen, her best friend died in a car accident. Shortly after that, the poltergeist activity began to develop around Tina. It got to be so unsettling and dangerous that the Resches had to send some of their foster children away to stay in different homes.

  The media was in and out of her parents’ house for a while—that is, until a camera she didn’t realize was rolling caught her pulling a lamp off a table, causing most previously interested observers to conclude she had faked the whole ordeal for attention. She fell out of the public eye, left her adoptive family, had a string of abusive boyfriends, and then gave birth to a daughter, Amber.

  Tina Resch was in jail now—because in 1992, Amber died at age three, probably at the hands of Tina’s boyfriend, and Tina was thought to be involved. She’d gotten a plea deal to avoid the death penalty.

  I slammed the laptop shut, wishing I could unread the words, unknow about Tina Resch. Plates flying around a kitchen was one thing. But the dark place where her story ended—I didn’t even want to think about that. Ronald Darkins knew she was a person whose mental health needed attention, poltergeist or no poltergeist. He had no idea how right he was.

  How strange that Betty Bradford had been so interested in Tina’s story. Then again, it was not such a dark story in 1986. Back then, it was just a story about a girl who might have a poltergeist or might be a faker.

  Faker.

  I got up and got dressed to shake the word, shake Tina Resch, shake the knocking I’d heard in my dreams last night. When I headed out for the bathroom, I was startled to see someone kneeling in front of Taylor’s old door in a red flannel shirt. Stepping closer, I saw it was the maintenance man who occasionally came into the dorm to tinker with the old radiators or fix a broken showerhead. He was hunched over his toolbox, muttering “Shitdamn.” All one word. I bit my lip to keep from giggling. Something about his delivery reminded me of my dad. I crept up behind him as he pulled out a piece of sandpaper.

  There was something scratched in the door above him.

  I MADE HER JUMP.

  I gasped and the guy turned around.

  “Yup,” he said. “Not pretty. They called me a half hour ago. But I’ll have it all painted over in no time.”

  I nodded. “That’s good,” I said.

  I knew I should leave him to get back to his work, but I couldn’t quite move yet.

  “So don’t worry about it,” he added, watching me, scratching his brown beard.

  “Um, were there any hearts carved with that?”

  “Hearts?” he repeated.

  “Uh…,” I said. “Never mind.”

  “Okay,” he said, and started sanding.

  “They pay you overtime for this?” I asked. “It’s Sunday.”

  He smiled, surprised. “Yeah.”

  “Good,” I said, and went into the bathroom to catch my breath.

  Standing at one of the sinks, I stared into the mirror.

  I MADE HER JUMP.

  JUMP.

  JUMP.

  JUMP.

  The word echoed in my ears until it was indistinguishable from the thunk thunk thunk I’d thought I’d heard in the night, and then from the pulse of my heart. The carved heart in the laundry room flashed in my head, and then I had to grip the edge of the sink to steady myself. My vision was feeling spotty, my knees a little weak.

  I had not imagined the words.

  The words were really there this time.

  I bumbled into a stall, locked the door, and sat on the closed toilet. After a few slow breaths, I felt better. And then my phone buzzed. A group text:

  Mandatory hall meeting before dinner, 5:15. Have a good Sunday, all. Anna

  Well, it was clear what the meeting would be about. Anna thought someone was fucking around, vandalizing Taylor’s old door.

  Anna probably didn’t believe in ghosts. But Anna didn’t know about Student X and Student Y and all the rest.

  My phone buzzed again. I jumped. This time it kept buzzing. Someone was calling me.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Haley? This is Lily Bruno. Weren’t we supposed to talk now?”

  “Oh!” I said. “Right.”

  “I decided to call instead because I have an appointment in like an hour and I didn’t want to keep playing phone tag.”

  I unlocked myself from the bathroom stall. “Well, thanks for being willing. I know it’s a hard topic.”

  “I’m sure it’s just as hard for you.” Lily paused. “I know what good friends you were. I remember seeing you together all the time.”

  “We were on-again, off-again, but yeah,” I admitted, pushing through the bathroom door and scurrying back to my room.

  “Everyone is,” Lily offered. Which sounded a little weird to me. Because I didn’t think it was true.

  “So, you wanted to hear about that night?” Lily prompted. “Do I have that right?”

  “Yes. I know it’s kind of strange. I wasn’t ready to hear the details last year…It was just too hard. But now that I live in Dearborn, right on the same floor…”

  “They have you living on the same floor?” Lily asked incredulously.

  “Yeah. I’m here…”

  Entering my room, I breathed a sigh of relief to see that Star was still gone.

  “What the fuck is wrong with those housing people?” Lily demanded.

  “It’s not their fault….” I pulled my fleece tighter around my shoulders. “I could have requested a different floor. I just…didn’t. I didn’t think of it. My friends Alex and Maylin are on this floor, though, too.”

  “Oh,” Lily said absently. “So then…what did you want to ask me?”

  “Just what you remember about that night,” I murmured. “That’s all.”

  “Okay. Well, I didn’t see her that night at all. I can’t even place the last time I saw her. Like if I saw her at dinner that night, it didn’t register in my head.”

  “Okay,” I said. Tears were forming in my eyes as I watched the sleet stipple my window. I decided not to influence her story with any of the things I’d seen, read, or heard in the past few days.

  “But then that night, I woke up…It was after two…I woke up when I heard something in her room. Um, like a struggle, like a bang. Like her struggling in there.”

  “Screaming, too?” I offered—even though I knew this was the wrong thing to say. I was leading the witness.

  “No. I heard Jayla said she heard screaming, and maybe she did. But I didn’t.”

  “Okay. So…struggling. Like maybe someone else was in there with her?” I asked.

  “Well, I’ve had that thought before, but…” Lily was silent for a moment. “No, it wasn’t like a fight. I think it was all just her at her window, like trying to get it open. You know how those old windows are heavy, and get stuck. The struggle seemed at the window end of the rooms, although I can’t say for sure. I heard a bang at that end of the room, and then a sound…a screechy sound…the old window opening, I guess.”

  Lily’s voice was a little shaky as she continued.

  “And I looked out. That’s when I started screaming. And I ran out of my room, and I was calling 911, and then Jayla was there in the hall, too, knocking on Taylor’s door, and Jayla just pushed her way in and the room was empty and cold and we both ran to the window. The next few minutes are a blur because I was just there at the window, still screaming, and Jayla at least was able to keep her head on enough to go get Tricia—the RD. I feel like Tricia had to drag me out of there, I was in such shock.”

  “I can imagine,” I said, and paused, hesitated. “Were yo
u and Taylor ever friendly?”

  “No, not really. We were never really in the same classes.”

  Lily, from what I remembered, was an overachiever, like Alex. Taylor never knocked herself out with a ton of studying or AP stress.

  “Do you think it was more the drugs or more of a suicide?” I asked.

  “I really can’t say,” Lily said softly. “I wasn’t in the room. I wasn’t…in her head. I don’t think anyone can answer that question. All I can tell you is what I heard from the next room.”

  “But the idea that she was having some kind of hallucination…that’s a reasonable explanation to you?”

  “Reasonable…well…it’s about as close to reasonable as anyone could get, I guess.”

  “Did you see or hear her acting weird at any time before that night? Like, in the week before? In the middle of the night, or anything?”

  I was wondering if anyone along that corridor had heard her shout and drop her phone and run into the bathroom the night she’d filmed herself.

  “No…not that I can remember. But like I said, I didn’t really know her.”

  I stared at the papers covering Star’s desk.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked.

  Lily was silent.

  “Are you there?” I asked.

  “Yeah…I just…I don’t know. Sometimes. When someone would tell a really scary ghost story in the dark, maybe when I was younger…”

  Tap tap tap.

  Someone was at my door.

  “Just a second!” I called.

  “Sounds like I should let you go,” Lily said.

  “I guess,” I admitted.

  Lily was so soft-spoken and calm, I wished we had a reason to stay on longer. But I had a feeling this conversation was painful for her.

  “Thanks for talking,” I said.

  “Anytime,” she replied. “Good luck with everything.”

  We hung up and I opened my door. Alex was there, poking at her phone.

  “Was there French homework?” she asked, looking up and stepping in.

  “No,” I said.

  “Okay…great.” Alex looked like she was weighing whether to say something more.

  “So—dorm meeting tonight, huh?” I said.

  “Yeah,” Alex said, sighing—probably with relief. That I had brought it up, and she wouldn’t have to. “Are you okay? I was wondering if you saw what…happened. You weren’t at breakfast.”

  Alex looked tired. Since she was pale, she always looked slightly anemic—even at her most energetic. But today it seemed a little worse.

  “I’m fine,” I lied.

  Alex looked skeptical.

  “Hey…I’ve been meaning to ask how your mom is,” I said gently, sitting on my bed.

  It would be very much like Alex to get bad health news from home, not tell us, and then just try to plow on through with her crazy-ambitious schedule as if nothing was wrong. I felt bad that it had taken me this long to ask—given what Maylin had told me in the car yesterday.

  “Very good, actually,” Alex said, brightening a little. “She’s going on a little trip with her sister. To the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas.”

  “Oh, nice. When?”

  “Umm…a couple weeks.” Alex moved aside a few books and a pair of jeans to sit on my bed. “I don’t remember the exact dates, since I’ll just be here anyway.”

  Alex glanced around the room—taking in my messy desk and Star’s even messier desk—piled up with overstuffed manila folders of archive photocopies.

  “Did you ever end up talking to Lily?” she asked.

  “Yeah. I was just getting off the phone with her when you knocked.”

  “Did that…help?”

  “Not really,” I admitted.

  Alex nodded.

  “My AP physics grade is going to shit,” she mumbled, still looking around the room, this time letting her gaze settle on Star’s beluga poster. There was something irresistible about that thing. Mesmerizing, even.

  “I’m sure that’s not true,” I offered.

  “It is true. You know what’s frustrating? That people get this idea of you in their head, and they can’t let go of it. So they can’t ever see it if you’re struggling. It’s not real to them.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “It’s not your fault,” she snapped, so angrily it felt like she meant the exact opposite.

  I stared at her in spite of myself. Her face crumpled a little.

  “I’m sorry…,” she said, shaking her head as she looked away from me. “I’ve had a couple of rough nights.”

  “Rough how?” I asked. “If you’re having trouble sleeping, at least we can commiserate.”

  “Oh…no. It’s not that. I would love to sleep. I’ve just been up late catching up on stuff.”

  “Really? You didn’t by any chance knock on my door in the middle of last night, did you?”

  Alex looked startled by the question, then shook her head. “Uh…no.”

  We were both silent for a moment. I felt like I had to offer something more.

  “Do you ever feel like when you leave here,” I said, “you’re going to have to deal with a bunch of stuff you left hanging before you came? Like leaving here isn’t just a whole new chapter, but going back to all the shit you forgot when you came four years ago?”

  Alex gazed at me for a moment, expressionless.

  “No,” she said. “But maybe that’s just me. Whatever I was doing or thinking four years ago feels very far away. It’s the next few things I need to do that I can’t really seem to manage.”

  I saw now that there were tears forming at the corners of her eyes. I didn’t know whether I should look away or get closer to her. Alex and I were always like this. Even when we were fourteen. We gave each other respectful distance.

  “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re sinking,” I said slowly.

  “Sinking?” Alex wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her black cardigan and sat up straighter—already recovered or feigning recovery.

  I hesitated. Sinking was a word I used in my head when I was younger, before I came here. Before I knew the word depression might actually apply.

  “To feel, um, overwhelmed,” I said.

  Alex looked like she was considering this.

  “Have you ever taken sleeping pills?” she asked suddenly. “Like Ambien?”

  “No,” I replied, surprised. “I don’t think doctors like to prescribe that to minors.”

  “So you don’t have anything like that?”

  “No…why?”

  Alex shrugged. “Just curious.”

  “Do you…feel like you might need something like that?” I asked. Maybe that was what the therapist appointment had been about—if there had been one. Alex going looking for a little chemical help sleeping. Which likely no one would honor without permission from her parents or the school or probably both.

  “No…I just wondered if it had ever gotten that bad for you. Since we’ve never really talked about it much.”

  “Well, I’ve never thought to ask a doctor for something like that. They always tell me to try soothing teas, to not drink coffee, to not be on a screen before bed.” I rolled my eyes at the last one.

  “That all sounds kind of lame,” Alex offered.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “It is. But the coffee one is probably a good idea.”

  “I guess I should get back to work.” Alex looked reluctant as she got off the bed. “See you at lunch, maybe?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Later.”

  After Alex had closed the door behind her, I waited for a few moments, listening to her footsteps recede down the hallway. I wondered what had been the real purpose of her visit. It see
med unlikely that she’d really forgotten what the French homework was—and she should know by now that I wasn’t the most reliable source of academic information. More likely she was checking to see if I was okay after seeing or hearing about Taylor’s door. Or she’d come specifically to ask “casually” about sleeping pills.

  I sat on my bed and closed my eyes. A rush of recent sounds and words washed over me.

  Thunk thunk thunk

  Life in Dearborn is, for many students, isolating, exclusively academic, stressful, and cold….The occasional small poltergeist is likely to find a carnival of opportunity here….

  I heard a bang at that end of the room, and then a sound…a screechy sound…the old window opening, I guess….

  Have you ever taken sleeping pills?

  I made her jump.

  Those last ones drowned the others out.

  I made her jump.

  Over and over again. I leapt up from my bed, hoping movement would break the repetition in my head. Then, scrambling to the closet, I yanked the pull string.

  In the back left corner of the closet, I had four purple plastic bins. One was filled with random junk: papers I couldn’t bear to throw away from last year (like the only A grade Ms. Garrison had ever given me in English), old candy I didn’t like much but might need when pulling an all-nighter, a couple of random things from Jake, hair elastics, a purse I rarely used—black with a starry brocade. My mother had gotten it for me at a secondhand store. I loved it, but there was no occasion to use it here at Windham-Farnswood.

  I pushed my hand into the front pocket of the purse, and there they were: my key to Taylor’s old room and her burner phone. Where I’d left them last October. Was it October? Yes, it was. Taylor had left a little early for October break. I had stayed behind because I always did. No cheap flights, and Thanksgiving will be here before you know it. That’s what my mom and I would say over the phone, anyway.

  And it was that last day before Fall Break that the dean’s message hit everyone’s box. Dr. Ivins was disturbed at the circulation of a certain video on students’ cell phones and social media—not by its contents, but by the gross violation of privacy. She would be conducting a thorough investigation, effective immediately. And anyone who had information about the incident was advised to come forward. Failure to do so would result in expulsion.