The Hollow

by Jessica Verday

  "You have to know where it goes from here, right?" I interrupted myself and asked Caspian.

  He grinned. "Keep going. This is getting good."

  I shifted my weight to one side and readjusted my legs. "Okay, then… So as Ichabod is wandering home, every little noise is scaring him half to death because all he can think about are all the ghost stories he's been told. When suddenly he hears a horse following him. Closer and closer it gets. The hoofbeats echo around him, louder and louder. And then… he sees it. The Headless Horseman-riding a huge black horse and carrying his head on the saddle-is coming straight for him! Ichabod urges his horse on, but the Horseman is just too close, and Ichabod sees him rear back and throw the head directly at him!" I paused to take a breath, and shifted again.

  "And then the next morning Ichabod Crane is declared missing, a shattered pumpkin is found beside his lonely horse, and Brom Bones marries Katrina Van Tassel shortly afterward, laughing all the way to the altar."

  Caspian looked at me in disbelief. "That's it?"

  "Pretty much," I said. "Of course it's much more entertaining when you read the actual story, instead of just listening to the abbreviated version, but that's it."

  "So it was Brom Bones all along. There never was any Headless Horseman or menacing rider. Just someone who pulled a nasty trick on a gullible person."

  "Well, I wouldn't say that there's not a ghostly horseman. There are always stories floating around about him; Washington Irving didn't just make that up. But I don't think that it was the Headless Horseman who pulled that stunt. I think it was Brom. Jealous, pitiful Brom, trying to make sure he got his way. And he did."

  Then Caspian smiled, a brief you-amuse-me smile, and shook his head. I raised an eyebrow.

  "What?" I demanded.

  "Funny mental picture, that's all," he said.

  I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't feel like sharing.

  "You know it's rude to keep a girl waiting," I teased.

  He smiled again. "My sincerest apologies. I don't want to show off my bad manners. That can wait for next time."

  I nodded for him to continue.

  "I was picturing you being chased by a Headless Horseman and then stopping to tell him off. It was funny."

  "I don't think I'd do that." I shook my head. "The Horseman is one person I don't want to meet."

  "Because he's a ghost?"

  I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Wouldn't he frighten you?"

  "Never," he scoffed. "I'm a manly man."

  I couldn't hold in my snort of laughter. "Right, of course."

  "It doesn't matter, though. I won't be seeing him anytime soon. I don't believe in ghosts." Caspian stretched out his legs, and disappointment hit me again that he hadn't sat down next to me. "The only thing I don't understand about the whole story is why the town idolizes Washington Irving so much."

  I was appalled. "We idolize Washington Irving because he was an amazing storyteller, for one thing. He breathed life and imagination into literature. Taking bits and pieces of real people, and real places, and blending them into this beautiful American folktale that's lasted a hell of a lot longer than he did. When you live in the Hollow, you can't help but want to celebrate that. Or at least that's how I've always felt."

  I stared down at my feet once I realized what a tirade I had gone on. Great, now he would think I was a raving lunatic. Way to make an impression, Abbey. A nut job impression.

  Instead, he did the weirdest thing ever. He started clapping. "Bravo, Abbey. Have you thought about running for office?"

  I made a face at him. "Sorry about that. Too much? My parents are on the town council, and sometimes I go to the meetings and really get into all this town pride stuff. I'm not like a fanatic or anything. It's just that some of the stuff they say makes a lot of sense." I shrugged. "You know, as a future business owner here and all…"

  He smiled at me again. "You should never apologize for anything you believe in, Abbey. I meant what I said. You would make one hell of a politician."

  "Uh-uh." I shook my head. "There is no way I would ever become a politician. I'm terrified of crowds. Ter-ri-fied. And the speeches? If I couldn't even say three lines in our fourth-grade school play because I was so nervous I threw up everywhere… well, something tells me that the public wouldn't appreciate cleaning vomit out of their clothes every time I had to give a speech." I giggled so hard at that mental picture that I actually had to wipe tears away.

  Then I realized that I probably looked like a laughing hyena and tried very hard to compose myself. No need for more embarrassment. Luckily, Caspian was laughing too.

  "Not all the town council meetings are interesting, though," I pointed out, glad to be talking about something different. "In fact, most of them are pretty boring. Whenever the conversation turns to zoning laws, lawn watering limits, or speed bump enforcement issues, my eyes start to cross. Then I just slip out and go wander through some of the other rooms. All the meetings are held in the museum, so I kind of get to take my own private tour."

  "What type of stuff do they have in there?" he asked, leaning closer. "Like old artifacts, or newspapers, or what?"

  I tried to picture the museum displays accurately in my mind. "They have pretty much everything, from things that were found- pieces of pottery, old canning jars, used musket balls, spinning wheels-to entire outfits that were worn in Washington living's era. One of the displays is dedicated solely to the genealogy of Sleepy Hollow. Who was born here, what families married into each other, and how their children's lives were interconnected. There are a lot of family Bibles and old newspaper clippings in that display."

  I wasn't sure if that was what he'd meant about artifacts and newspapers. "If you mean actual newspapers from the town, though, all those are kept in the library's archive room."

  We sat talking about everything and nothing for another hour, occasionally lapsing into moments of silence only punctuated by the intermittent noises of birds calling to each other.

  My ringing cell phone interrupted one of those silences, and the sound echoed around us. Seeing that it was Mom's number on the screen, I sent it to voice mail. If she really needed me, she'd leave a message.

  As the caller ID flashed off, I looked back down to see if it was lunchtime yet. Right on cue, my stomach growled. "Do you want to… go get a slice of pizza… or something?" I couldn't look Caspian directly in the eye. My shyness hadn't completely vanished.

  He hesitated and stood up. "Abbey, I'm sorry, but I've got to go. I have some stuff to do this afternoon."

  I'm cool, I'm calm. "Sure, no problem. Maybe next time. I should get going too, big science paper to finish and all that." I jumped up from my rock.

  His smile was breathtaking, and heartbreaking, all at the same time. "Thanks, Abbey. I had a really good time with you today."

  "Yeah, sure." We moved back toward the boulders. "When I wasn't launching into any speeches, maybe."

  His eyes glowed with silent laughter, and a piece of stray black hair fell into one of them. He brushed it back haphazardly. "You didn't launch into any speeches," he reassured me. "Everything we talked about was cool. An exchange of wits."

  We walked side by side on the path to the bridge.

  He looked away for a moment, and then back at me again. "You have this way of viewing things, Abbey… It turns my whole world upside down."

  I didn't know what to say to that astonishing statement. Should I say something complimentary back? I didn't have to worry about it, though, because my phone rang again. Mom's name flashed across the screen for a second time.

  "Sorry," I said to him. "I probably should get this. It's my mom. Again." He nodded, and I flipped open the phone. "Hey, Mom… Yeah, your voice mail just popped up. I didn't get to listen to it yet… Why? What's up?… Wait-what? You're breaking up.

  Hold on… I said hold on."

  We were almost to the bridge now, and I quickly walked underneath it to get to the other side. The reception was much bette
r there.

  "Okay, repeat that last part. You need what? Which file?… The one in the third cabinet. Okay, got it. Not the stack of green ones, though?… Wait a sec-hold on." I covered up the phone and turned back to Caspian. He had stopped to pick up his book. "I have to go. My mom needs some paperwork for a meeting she's in, and I have to get it for her. Thanks for… everything… Caspian. I had a nice time too."

  I barely heard his whispered "Bye, Abbey" as I turned away from the bridge again.

  "Yes, Mom, I'm still here. But why can't you get it?… Okay, fine. Give me about thirty minutes to get it to you, okay?" I peeked over my shoulder and mouthed another "Sorry" as I started climbing up the riverbank. Raising one hand in farewell, Caspian waved good-bye to me.

  Shoving one hand into my pocket, I touched the crumpled-up violet that rested in there, and I couldn't stop smiling the whole way home.

  Chapter Seven

  Honorary Member

  Such heaped-up platters of cakes of various and almost indescribable kinds, known only to experienced Dutch housewives!

  "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

  To say I was distracted for the rest of the weekend would have been the understatement of the year. I had to keep pulling myself out of dreamland and back down to reality. And it was only because I really did have a science paper to finish that I didn't go back to the river on Sunday just in case he happened to be there.

  After I handed in the completed assignment on Monday morning, I spent the rest of the class debating whether or not I should take the way home that passed by the river. Will Caspian be there? What if he's waiting for me? Or what if he isn't there now but will come by later?

  There were so many variables to consider, I could go crazy trying to think of everything.

  I forced myself to relax; I was putting way too much thought into this. He knew what school I went to. If he wanted to see me again, he could find me. Then panic hit. Oh God, what if he shows up here, at school?

  I hoped Mr. Knickerbocker wasn't going over anything that would be needed for a test later, because I didn't hear a word he said during that whole science class. I was too busy trying to figure out what I should do.

  Finally I came up with the tentative plan of hanging out by the outside steps after school for an extra fifteen minutes in case Caspian showed up, and then taking the way home by the river if he didn't. But by the end of the next period, I was completely convinced that I would look too desperate if I hung around school and stopped by the river again. I didn't want to look like I was chasing him around.

  I went back and forth on it all day long, but ended up being slammed with so much homework that I was too busy to worry about whether or not Caspian would show up. I had a lot of books to shove into my tiny book bag, and it refused to cooperate. I forgot all about the whole idea to wait outside at the end of the day and quickly started home.

  What I didn't forget, though, was my indecision on which way to actually take. I tried to convince myself that there were several valid reasons to go by the river.

  I should stop there in case another piece of police tape had gotten stuck in a tree.

  And I should probably make sure that no one stepped on that shiny thing I'd seen in the water.

  Or what if someone had stepped on the shiny thing, which turned out to be glass, and there was no one around to help bandage their foot?

  There were half a dozen excuses that I could have made, but I knew the real reason why I was going. I wanted to see Caspian again. That was the bottom line. No poorly disguised excuse needed. I held my breath in anticipation as I turned toward the river and tried to work out clever small talk in my head. Hey, what are you doing here?

  Wow! What a surprise! I didn 't expect to see you again so soon.

  Come here often?

  Good move, Abbey, I chastised myself. Greet him with a pickup line used in bars.

  Yeah, I was so not good at this.

  When I got to the riverbank and scanned the edge, no one was there. I looked several times under the bridge, but I didn't see him sitting there, either. Obviously I had a lot more free time on my hands than he did. And obviously I was the only one who was desperate for us to see each other again. Disappointment washed over me and I dragged my feet the rest of the way home.

  I was not in a very good mood when I finally made it up to my room.

  Homework sucked, and it took forever to do. If this was any indication of the upcoming school year, then it was not going to be an easy one. I didn't even want to think about the stack of glossy booklets and colorful brochures that Mom and Dad had started nudging my way. My brain couldn't handle any college drama right now.

  It was after twelve thirty by the time I finished all my homework, but I was still too hung up on the disappointment at the bridge to sleep. So I started looking over my notes for Kristen's perfume, and sat down to tweak a few things. The next couple of hours flew by.

  Because of that, I ended up with only three hours of sleep for school the next day, and that resulted in a disrupted nap during study hall and the shortest route home so I could finish that nap.

  The rest of the week went by in much the same fashion, without me seeing Caspian even once at the cemetery, or the bridge, and I spent each night trying to distract myself with my perfume project.

  But on Friday I was ambushed.

  I had just slammed my locker door shut when I spotted one of the cheerleaders, Shana, trying to flag me down from one end of the hall. Hoping to avoid her, I did a quick half turn and started to walk in the opposite direction. Bad idea. Erika was coming that way, and she started waving at me too.

  I froze, looking back and forth between the two, like a deer caught in the headlights. They must have sensed my urge to run, because they started waving frantically. They looked like two people stranded on a desert island, desperate to signal the only plane flying overhead. Their arms were jerking crazily over their heads.

  Apparently I was the only one who noticed how crazy they looked, though, because no one else in the half-empty hallway paid them any attention.

  Shana reached me first, and I knew I was doomed.

  "There you are," she said, flashing a perfect, but very fake, smile. "We were trying to get your attention."

  I just stared back at her. Am I supposed to say something here? I grasped at the first thing that came to mind. "Oh, yeah, I, uh, just remembered that I have to stop by English. I left one of my books there." I smiled weakly. Would it work? Would they leave me alone?

  "Well, this will only take a minute. I'm sure you'll have plenty of time. You know Erika, right?"

  "Hey," said Erika, who had taken much longer to make it over to my locker. Probably had something to do with the fact that she'd been stopped by no fewer than seven boys on her trip from one end of the hall to the other.

  I gave her a forced smile. If I don t talk much, will it encourage them to leave quicker? I was clinging to the faint hope that it would.

  "Anyway," continued Shana, with a bored look on her face. "What do you think about joining the prom committee this year? Of course, you'll only be an honorary member, but we'd like to give you the opportunity because of, you know."

  I had no idea what she was talking about. "Sorry. I don't get it."

  "Get it?" sneered Erika. "There's nothing to get. We're asking you a question. You say yes or no."

  Yes, but why are they asking me this question?

  Erika answered my unspoken thoughts. "Look, I don't give two shits about you, and I don't give two shits about whether or not you join the prom committee. Everyone knows you're milking the whole poor-me-my-friend-died thing, but for some reason all the teachers are buying it. And Principal Meeker most of all. He's forcing us to ask you as some messed-up way to pay respect to that Kristen girl's memory."

  To give myself some credit, I actually did manage to hold in my snort of disbelief. In what parallel universe does asking me to be an honorary prom committee member equal paying respect to Kr
isten's memory? Before I could even attempt to follow that train of logic, Shana spoke again.

  "Since the prom is in October, all the major planning was done last spring, of course. Now the official prom committee members just have to decide which color combinations to decorate with, what kind of favors to give out, whether or not there will be sherbet in the punch… stuff like that. As an honorary member, you'll get to, like, listen to us decide."

  "Personally, I am voting for no sherbet this year," Erika butted in. "That stuff is disgusting. I don't care if it's not even as fattening as regular ice cream. It still goes straight to your hips."

  "Don't worry , Erika, we are totally not having sherbet in the punch this year. I am putting my foot down on that one." Shana cast her vote on the sherbet issue.

  I tried very hard not to think about all the pints of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream that Kristen and I had polished off on multiple sleepovers. It had practically been a requirement for one. Nor did I think about the fact that I very much liked having sherbet in punch, and always made an extra effort to skim a piece of it when dishing up my beverage.

  It didn't matter anyway, because there was no way in hell I was going to accept a position as "honorary" prom committee member. Or any other position, for that matter. Prom planning is against my religion would have to work. It was all I could think of.

  "So." Shana was talking again. "Like Erika said, we don't care what you do. But Principal Meeker does, and he's promised us first dibs on the senior trip tickets if you join. So guess what? You're going to join. The first meeting will be tomorrow in the auditorium at nine a.m."

  "Don't be late, loser," Erika said, with a vicious push to my left shoulder that sent me stumbling back into my locker door.

  They both laughed and turned to leave as I rubbed my stinging arm with one hand.

  My brain was still trying to form a coherent, sane sentence that involved me turning them down flat, yet all that came out was, "Ow." I looked down at my book bag, and then back in the general direction toward where they'd disappeared. "But-"