by Tifani Clark
CHAPTER 7
I felt much better the next morning. I still didn’t know what I was going to do, but I felt like everything would work out okay. I took a quick shower and dressed by 8 o’clock. Considering that it was the first full day of summer break, as well as the fact that it was a Saturday, I was willing to bet that I was the only teenager in all of Marion up at that hour. I felt so good that I even took time to put a little makeup on and ditched my usual weekend ponytail for an attempt at a hairstyle. Dad was reading his newspaper, of course, in the living room that morning. He offered to make me pancakes and I took him up on his offer. It was a rare occurrence and I couldn’t help but question his motives.
“Jamie, I know your break is just starting, but I got a call this morning and I need to go to Chicago for a conference on Tuesday. I’ll be gone for 4 or 5 days. I’m really sorry. You know I try to keep my summer travel to a minimum, but I have to go on this trip.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can find something to do to stay busy. I’m not a little girl anymore.” I kissed him on his cheek for added emphasis.
When Dad traveled without me, he usually notified a neighbor, but I was ultimately left on my own. To some people the arrangement might seem odd, but Dad checked in often and there was never a problem. Dad’s trip to Chicago was actually a blessing in disguise. If he were out of town, I wouldn’t have to be so cautious with Sophia in the house.
“I’m glad you aren’t upset, honey. I’ll make sure there’s plenty of money for you in your household account before I leave. And no wild parties.” He laughed.
Dad knew me well enough to know that it would never even occur to me to throw a party while he was gone. I really wasn’t a typical teenager.
I spent the rest of the morning helping Dad catch up on the household to-do list. I cleaned my bathroom, vacuumed the living room, and washed some laundry. I even mopped the kitchen floor.
Our home was nothing fancy, but it worked perfectly for us. We once had the American dream: a modern three bedroom, two bathroom home on a quarter of an acre in the same family-oriented subdivision as Camille and many of the other students at my school. We moved out shortly after Mom left us. Our first home was only a couple of blocks south of our new home and was similar in square footage, but memories of Mom were in every room and Dad couldn’t stand being there. It was as if the walls still breathed her scent in and out, in and out. The new home was an old two and a half story home built sometime in the 1890’s, which meant it was well over 100 years old.
My room and its impressive ocean view was the best part of our house. In one corner of the room a small circular staircase that led to the attic. From the attic you could step out through a tall window to a miniature widow’s walk. History says that widow’s walks were built on coastal homes so women could watch the ocean while waiting for their seafaring men to come home. The idea of ladies in long flowing dresses pacing the floor above me as I slept sometimes gave me the creeps. Dad wasn’t a big fan of me going out on the roof so we rarely even went into the attic. The staircase leading to it had become an extension of my closet and I often threw my clothes there when I was too lazy to hang them up or toss them into the hamper.
Previous owners had done an amazing job of keeping the home in good condition, but when dealing with an old home there are always little maintenance jobs to do. It had become a project for me and Dad and we genuinely enjoyed working on it together. Sometimes we spent his rare days off going to antique stores. Our goal was to eventually have the entire home furnished in Victorian era décor. Our pièce de résistance was a beautiful bedroom set Dad bought on one of our antiquing trips to Boston. I couldn’t stop admiring it so Dad splurged and got it for my birthday present when I was thirteen. I especially loved the intricate four-poster bed.
The doorbell rang shortly after Dad and I returned to our projects after stopping for lunch. I opened the door to find a very subdued Sophia.
“Hi,” she said cautiously.
“Hi.”
“Do you mind if I come in?”
I stepped aside and she entered the living room. Dad was outside in the yard working on his summer vegetable garden. It only consisted of tomatoes and a few herbs, but he was proud of it nonetheless.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Sophia began. “You were right to be angry. I’ve been alone for so long that I’ve forgotten how to act around true friends. Yes, I have ghost friends, but they come and go. You never know when someone is going to extricate and disappear for good without so much as a goodbye. I’ve been waiting for so long to finish my business so that I can go be with my real family that I haven’t been very nice. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“I did a lot of thinking last night . . . and . . . I decided we should tell Camille about my true identity.”
“Really? Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t get struck down or something if you share your secret with too many people, do you?”
Sophia laughed. “No. Ghosts can tell whoever they want, but most people don’t believe them and it’s much easier to live a normal life if people don’t think you’re crazy. I was able to convince you so I thought maybe we’d be able to convince Camille as well. Are you okay with her knowing?”
“Absolutely. Let’s do it.” I felt a huge weight lifting off my shoulders. “I will warn you, though—Camille will absolutely flip out. I don’t think her reaction will be what mine was.”
“You weren’t exactly a picture of calm yourself,” she reminded me.
I grabbed my cell phone and texted Camille, asking if we could come over to talk. Her response was only one word. “Fine.” At least it wasn’t “No.”
Dad came into the house just then, raising his eyebrows when he saw Sophia standing next to me.
“Hello, Sophia,” he said in his always polite voice.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Peters.”
“Dad, Sophia and I are going over to Camille’s house. I think the three of us will go do something after that so I might be kind of late.” I hoped he knew we were making an effort with Cam.
“That’s fine. Enjoy yourselves, but be safe.”
“Don’t wait up,” I said as I grabbed a jacket and we hurried out the door.
As “old-fashioned” as my home was, Camille’s home was modern. Her mother, an interior designer, continually changed the decor. I never knew what to expect when the door opened. Sophia and I rang the doorbell and Camille’s older sister, Allison, answered it. She would be a senior the next year and was a total snob. She rarely gave Cam or me the time of day. That time was no exception.
“Camille,” she screamed up the stairs without even greeting us. “Your friends are here.”
Allison turned back around and gave Sophia a second glance and a nod of approval before disappearing into the kitchen. I looked around the living room from our position near the front door. It had been changed again. There were new throw pillows in yellow and blue on the cream-colored leather couches and a new bowl filled with yellow and blue glass beads on the coffee table. It was a simple look that complemented the sky blue walls. I was sure that by autumn the decor would be changed again.
I looked up to see Camille slowly walking down the stairs. She looked disheveled. I didn’t remember ever seeing her that way before. Apparently she had a rough night, too.
“I stopped by last night,” she said flatly when she reached the bottom of the staircase.
“I know. Dad told me.”
“I’m sorry,” Camille and I said at the same time and then laughed.
“I haven’t been trying to ignore you or push you away. I promise. There were just some things that I couldn’t talk about before,” I said.
“I guess I shouldn’t expect you to be at my beck and call all the time.”
Camille glanced at the entrance to her home and gave a nod and a half-smile to Sophia.
“Hi, Camille
. I’m sorry I caused a rift between the two of you. I didn’t mean to and I’d really like to start over. Jamie’s been helping me with a project and I made her keep it a secret, but I want to let you in on the secret now.”
“A secret? What kind of a secret?” she said with a hint of distrust in her voice.
“I think we should go somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.” Sophia nodded toward the kitchen doorway where Allison had just disappeared.
“Let’s go to the tree house, Cam.”
When we were younger, Camille and I spent all our time outside in her tree house. We would play house, or school, or dolls, or a million other things out there. As we started to get a little older, that’s where we would go to gossip and talk about boys. We slept there on occasion and even hid there when we’d done something we shouldn’t have—like pranks aimed at Allison. The walls held many of our secrets. I knew Allison would never in a million years come out into the backyard. Camille’s parents tended to ignore her, too. In some ways it was good—she could pretty much come and go as she pleased.
“I haven’t been out there in years, Jamie. There better not be animals living in it.”
The three of us retreated to the backyard where we climbed an aging ladder and disappeared into the floor of the tree house about twelve feet up. The entrance felt much smaller since I was bigger. The inside didn’t feel nearly as expansive as I remembered, either. Dust and old leaves covered every surface.
“Okay, you have me thoroughly curious. What’s going on?” Camille asked after the three of us settled on the old rug lining the wooden floor.
Sophia cleared her throat. “I think you should explain it to her, Jamie.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Go ahead.”
“Umm . . . okay. Cam, you know I’d never try to hurt you or lead you astray, right?”
Camille frowned. “What’s going on, Jamie?”
“The truth is that Sophia and I didn’t meet each other at the library the other day. She first saw me when my dad and I went to New York a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember that?”
She nodded, not taking her eyes off Sophia.
“I didn’t know she’d seen me, but she felt like we had a connection and she followed me. She’s been following me ever since.”
“What? That’s sooo creepy.” Camille glared at Sophia.
“That’s what I thought at first too, but it turns out I’m her soul saver.”
“Am I supposed to know what the crap that is?” Camille was getting annoyed. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. It wasn’t like I’d ever told anyone about ghosts before and it wasn’t going the way I intended.
“Cam, do you remember the story of the Mary Celeste?”
“Duh. I may not be as smart as you, but I haven’t exactly been living under a rock in this town.”
“I know. Sorry. Do you remember the name of the little girl on the boat?”
“Yeah, Sophia Briggs.”
I continued on. “Camille, that little girl didn’t actually die on the ship. She survived. And when she eventually did die, she became a ghost.”
Camille gave a little start and looked Sophia’s way. The color slowly drained from her face. I could tell she was confused—and a little bit angry.
“Are you trying to tell me that Sophia here is the ghost of the two-year-old Sophia Briggs?”
“Yes.”
“Jamie, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Why are you guys doing this to me?” Her voice betrayed her hurt and her eyes glistened as tears threatened to spill out onto her cheeks.
I looked to Sophia for help, but she just sat there staring at her hands. I tried to tell the story of the pirates who had attempted to take over the Mary Celeste, hoping that I wasn’t leaving out any important details, but I think I only made matters worse.
Frustrated, I said, “Sophia I think you should show her. When you told me, I didn’t believe you at all until you showed me what you could do.”
“Fine, but Camille, please don’t scream. I promise I’m not going to hurt you.”
Camille scooted across the rug until her butt hit the back wall of the playhouse and had nowhere else to go. She tucked her legs up under her chin and wrapped her arms around them.
Sophia decided to employ the same method she used with me. “Now you see me,” she said as she disappeared, “now you don’t.”
I couldn’t see her, but judging by the sound of the last statement, she was hovering somewhere at the top of the tree house.
Camille let out a blood-curdling scream, the likes of which I’d never heard before. At first she was frozen in place and then she jumped up and began to run in circles around the floor of the tree house, screaming and flailing her arms all the while. I finally managed to grab her and pull her into my arms where she began to sob. She shook uncontrollably and I was concerned that we’d permanently scarred my best friend.
Sophia reappeared near us and Camille screamed again.
“Stay away from us, you . . . you . . . demon. Get away from me.”
“Camille, look at me.” I forced her head up and held her hands in mine as I spoke. “She’s not going to hurt you. Please let her explain her story. I’ve promised to help her and I intend to keep that promise. I really want you with us, too.”
Camille slowly nodded her head, but she wouldn’t look at Sophia and she wouldn’t stop clutching me. And so, Sophia retold the story that she’d already told me. Her voice so gentle and reassuring that by the time she finished Camille had relaxed a little and only held onto me with one hand instead of two.
“Can you hurt me?” she asked. Apparently we were more alike than I realized because that had been one of the first questions that came to my mind, too.
“Honestly? Yes. But I won’t. I have no reason to. I really just want to move on,” Sophia answered.
Camille asked a few more questions and then with a raspy voice asked, “Where do we start?”
I smiled and put my arm around her. “How do you feel about going to a graveyard . . . in the dark?”
“I’m starting to regret this already,” she groaned.