Her dad was in a great mood—better than Lily had seen in months. When she tentatively asked if they could order pizza for dinner, he agreed and even ordered the big meal with breadsticks and dessert and soda. They ate at the kitchen table using their own dishes and silverware, and when they were done, Lily offered to take her dad’s plate.
“I see you trying,” he told her, meeting her eyes. “I know it’s been hard. But I’ve seen you cleaning, and I saw you working today. You’re doing a good job. I know you miss Colorado…” He trailed off and had to look away for a moment, but then he refocused on her, his face softening. “But I think we’re going to be okay here.”
He saw her again.
He finally saw her.
And when he saw her, he found something to like.
Lily felt the relief like a ball of sunshine in her chest and dared to do a little stage bow. He played along with a golf clap. Maybe they would never get back to where they’d been when she was little, and maybe he would never apologize for how he’d made her feel all this time…but maybe they could find some way to meet in the middle.
That night, she slept in her own bed, surrounded by her books and posters and stuffed animals. Her dreams were just normal dreams, and she felt no fear at all as she drifted off.
She knew that Britney was gone.
“This house is mine now,” she whispered to the darkness. And then, in the tiniest whisper, “And I’m not bad, either.”
31.
A few days later, Rachel parked her boat at the dock and hopped out as if nothing strange had ever happened, aside from the hot-pink cast on her right arm. Lily had texted most of the story to Rachel, and Rachel had finally agreed to come over again, if only to hear every melodramatic detail in person. Lily wasn’t sure if Rachel believed her or had just appreciated the overall drama of the tale, but it turned out that Rachel was curious and had done a bit of internet research while she was recovering from her fall. What Lily told her fit well enough with what she’d learned, and she wanted to explore the property some more.
“The ghosts are gone,” Lily said, smiling. “Promise.”
Not that she was ever going to trust the dock.
Since that night in the dumpster, she hadn’t had a bad dream, seen anything creepy, heard voices, or encountered anything even remotely paranormal. Yeah, she’d seen a few more giant roaches, but they were definitely from the natural world and not part of some ghostly conspiracy. They were still gross, though.
“It really does look different. So cute,” Rachel said, looking around as Lily glowed with pride over how pretty the house looked. “But I want to hear everything. Everything!”
So Lily took her to the little door on the side of the house. Her father had used some trick he found online to pick the lock, and when he opened the door, he hadn’t really understood what was inside. But Lily had.
It was Britney’s secret place, lit by a single lightbulb, and the yellow-painted walls were covered in marker drawings. In some of the drawings, a stick figure that had to be Britney’s mom was frowning, and in some, she had devil horns. Here was Britney with her mom, living in a car. There was Britney at school, with other little kids pointing and laughing at her. There she lay on the floor, frowning, eyes closed, with little lines all around her to show she was shaking with a seizure. Here she was swimming and playing with Buddy and watching TV with Grampa Brian in the recliners, all smiling and happy. And in every single childish drawing, again and again, there was that same stuffed pink bunny with the floppy ears and the words Be Mine stitched on his tummy.
“He made this place for her,” Lily said. “The house was his, but he created this special little place for her so she could have something all her own. She was used to living in a car. So it probably felt more like home.”
“This is so wild,” Rachel said softly, running a hand over the drawings. “The poor kid. I mean, I don’t forgive her for pushing me down the stairs and breaking three bones, but still. It’s just so sad.”
“At least she was happy for a while,” Lily said. “They both were. It was just an accident.”
They crawled out and stood, and Lily closed the door. This was one part of the house that didn’t need to change. Her mom had wanted to paint over the drawings and use it for storage, but Lily had managed to talk her out of it. She was Britney’s last audience, her only audience, and she of all people understood what a responsibility that was. Maybe only Lily would ever truly know and understand Britney’s story, and she wanted to show it the respect it deserved.
But since Britney had caused Rachel harm, she thought Rachel deserved to know, too, and so she was glad to share the burden. She took Rachel up to her newly decorated room and stopped to show her that her father had glued the trick step down, claiming that it wobbled too much to be safe.
“You’re right,” Rachel finally said. “It does feel totally different. Like a different house. But whatever happened to the dog? Did he run away for good?”
Lily pointed to the forest. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. Maybe he ran away or got picked up by animal control or something.”
Rachel cocked her head, her old curious grin coming back. “Let’s go see!”
Lily didn’t really want to go into the forest, but she wanted to be friends with Rachel again, so she would’ve agreed to just about anything. When Rachel loped toward the woods, Lily followed along.
It was hard going, overgrown with thick grasses and prickly undergrowth and sharp trees, but Rachel was determined. Lily followed her deeper into the forest, and when Rachel found a little path, barely more than a deer trail, they headed down it. Lily was paranoid, looking everywhere for another snake or an alligator—she’d seen a few small ones, around the lake. But Rachel was undeterred.
“Buddy!” she called. “Here, boy!”
Lily called, too, and even tried that old two-fingered whistle, although she couldn’t quite do it anymore.
Within a few minutes, she heard a low whine. Lily sped up, tearing through the undergrowth. She pushed past Rachel and burst into a clearing.
She couldn’t believe what she saw.
There was Buddy, just sitting there, clean and sleek. He was wearing his collar. At his feet sat the ring of keys with the rabbit’s foot.
“Buddy?” Lily said, and as if some spell had broken, he leapt up and trotted to her, licking her hand happily before standing on his back legs and putting his paws on her shoulders.
“Wow, he is friendly!” Rachel said. “I thought he was scared of everything!”
Buddy politely hopped down and went to give Rachel a lick, and Lily noticed something on the ground where he’d been sitting, half buried in a messy dirt hole, like Buddy was trying to dig it out.
The hairs rose along her arms as she knelt and pulled it free. It was a small wooden box, simple but beautifully made. Carved into the top was the name Britney West. Lily traced a finger over the words, imagining Brian’s old, spotted hands holding a carving knife as he cried.
“What’s that?” Rachel asked.
Lily didn’t say anything. She just opened the box to show a tightly sealed bag containing powdery gray ashes.
Britney’s remains.
“Buddy’s been protecting her, all this time,” she said softly.
When she stood back up, she realized she was crying. Rachel put a hand on her back and then hugged her. As they stood there, sobbing in the forest under the hot August sun, Buddy sat quietly, leaning into their legs, his tail wagging gently.
Sometime later, Rachel asked her, “What next?”
Lily looked around, feeling like she was finally in control of her life again.
“The show must go on,” she said with a shrug.
Cradling the wooden box, Lily walked back toward the house with Rachel and Buddy by her side. The girls put the ashe
s in Britney’s little cabinet under the stairs, and Lily used the key ring to lock the door again. All the while, Buddy stayed nearby, watching and wagging his tail.
“What are you going to do about him?” Rachel asked.
Lily smiled, petting his shaggy brown head.
“Take care of him,” she said. “With Britney gone, he needs someone. I think she would’ve wanted it that way, in the end. No more being invisible, hiding under all that mud, having people say he’s a bad dog. No more being alone.”
After only a minor flounce and major tantrum, her parents agreed to let him stay.
There were benefits to being a drama queen, after all.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was written mostly on my back on a heating pad while typing with a pinched nerve because I thought it was perfectly reasonable to open my car trunk before leaving for Disney World. I have never regretted opening a car trunk more. I was in a lot of pain and couldn’t feel the fingers on my left hand. Thank you, car, for giving me a unique perspective when writing my first horror novel for kids.
Thanks to my husband, Craig, for always supporting my writing and putting up with me shouting at the dictation software when I couldn’t type anymore. Thanks to my mom, Linda, for not noticing when I borrowed her horror books as a kid after she told me they were too scary for me. Thanks to my own kids, Rex and Rhys, for just being flat-out wonderful and for agreeing with me that the house our very nice neighbors live in would make a great haunted house. Thanks to our very nice neighbors, April and Carol, for letting us fish on your dock, which is not actually haunted.
Probably.
Thanks to my agent, Stacia Decker, for helping me dial up the creepy on this book before finding it a great home. Thanks to my editor, Wendy Loggia, for believing in it and finding a way to make it even creepier. Thanks to Alison Romig and everyone on the Delacorte Press team for an incredible experience. Thanks to Corey Brickley for creating the perfect cover that makes me even more terrified of mirrors. And thanks to my copy editor, Kathleen Reed, for letting me use possum instead of opossum, which no one in Florida says, and also for pointing out that I’d used the word crusted fifty times. Yes, there is a lot of crust in the book, but I appreciate the chance to find more adjectives. All y’all helped make this book better, and I wish I could buy you a box of doughnuts to share with a really good dog.
Thanks to Katherine Arden, Chuck Wendig, and Greg van Eekhout for advice around writing middle grade, and thanks to Kevin Hearne for constant writing encouragement and that amazing drawing of a capybara.
When I was a kid, my favorite scary book was Ghost Cat. I hope this book haunts you like Ghost Cat still haunts me.
<3,
d
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Delilah S. Dawson thought she would be a visual artist but somehow ended up a writer. She grew up in Roswell, Georgia, and has lived all around the South, including Tampa, near where this book takes place. She has worked as a muralist, an art teacher, a barista, a reptile caretaker, a project manager, and a dead body in a haunted house, which was probably the most fun. She is the New York Times bestselling author of Star Wars: Phasma and fourteen other books for teens and adults, as well as the comics Ladycastle, Sparrowhawk, and Star Pig. She loves gluten-free cake, having adventures, the beach, Disney World, and vintage My Little Pony. She once kissed a camel named Louis.
whimsydark.com
What’s next on
your reading list?
Discover your next
great read!
Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.
Sign up now.
Mine Page 17