Okay. I’ll admit that the first time I was over there, we straight-out hid it from the kid. It wasn’t right, but it was hilarious. Miss Nibbles hanging halfway out the window. Miss Nibbles dangling over a pot of chili.
“Henry,” Sophie said. “Have you seen your sister’s mouse?”
“No,” Henry answered. Straight face. Not even a hint of a smile. I was so proud of him.
“Well, could you at least look?”
I’m pretty sure the little stuffed rodent was in Henry’s pocket the whole time while we went around the house calling, “Miss Nibbles! Miss Nibbles!”
Sophie glared at Henry.
“What?” he asked. “You wanted us to help. We’re helping.”
Henry’s always really polite to everyone else. I guess his stepmother just doesn’t bring out the best in him.
* * *
—
Of course, I wanted to use the Ouija board the second I got it, but because of Alice (whose favorite sentence is “I’m telling!”), Henry and I had to wait a couple of days. Until Alice had a ballet lesson. Those were the only days Henry had the house to himself—for a little while—until Sophie got home from work.
I never had the house to myself because that’s what happens when your dad works from home some days and your baby sister is an actual baby. All you can do is put a KEEP OUT sign on your bedroom door and hope for a few minutes’ peace when everyone falls asleep—Rachel in her crib, and Mom and Dad on the couch in front of the news. That’s when I get the rest of the pizza to myself and a bit of privacy. Henry didn’t know how lucky he was. So, while Alice was off learning how to put her feet in second position, we went to Henry’s house.
As soon as we got there, I started to set things up.
“We have exactly one hour to finish. One hour until Sophie gets home from work.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I understand.”
“If we were at my mom’s house, it would be different, but Sophie just…”
“It’s all right, Henry,” I said. “What’s your mom doing in England, anyway?”
“Studying Shakespeare,” Henry said. “Uncle Marty told me she’s writing about ghosts.”
His answer surprised me so much that I just stared at him for a second. Then I said, “We’d better hurry.”
* * *
—
Henry had no idea what to do with a Ouija board, so he really should have been more cooperative.
“What are you doing?” he asked me as I closed the living room curtains.
“Making it darker.”
“How are we supposed to see the board?” Henry complained.
“Have you got any candles?” Honestly, sometimes he has no imagination.
“We don’t need any candles. Just leave the stupid curtains open.”
“Henry,” I said. “Do you want this to work or not?”
“Fine. But at least leave them open a crack.”
It ruined the whole mood, but it was hard to refuse him. If you could have seen how nervous he looked, you’d understand.
We put the Ouija board in the center of the coffee table and sat crisscross applesauce on the living room floor.
“Spirits, are you here?” I asked. “Make yourselves known!”
“What’s wrong with your voice?” Henry asked.
“That’s how you do it!” I said.
“Says who? Your Ouija board teacher?”
“Do you want to do it?” I asked him.
“No,” Henry said. “I want you to do it. In your regular voice.”
“Stop wasting time,” I said. “Put your fingers on the edge of the planchette.”
“The planchette?” he asked.
“Yes. That’s what it’s called. And don’t push it! You just touch it lightly. Spirits, are you—” But I never finished because we both felt it: the disk lurched toward the corner of the board, to the small circle that said YES.
“Who are you?” Henry demanded.
And it happened again. Five times, to be exact. Once for each letter: E-D-G-A-R.
And just like that, Henry’s ghost had a name.
I suppose it’s possible you don’t believe me. Even now. Maybe you’re thinking Henry and I are just two kids making up some game to scare ourselves. Like that time my cousin Monica and I went to Girl Scout camp, and everyone charged out of the cabin in the middle of the night, screaming, so sure they’d just seen Mary Worth in the bathroom mirror. Mrs. Sorenson was standing there, in a flannel pajama top and sweatpants, yelling, “If you girls don’t want to settle down, we can just load up the vans RIGHT NOW and head home!” Immediately everybody got really quiet—which I don’t understand, because it was so obvious that she wasn’t going to do anything until she had a full night’s sleep and at least two cups of coffee. P.S. We got to stay until the next day, when they told us to “forage” for our breakfast, which turned out to be miniature boxes of cereal hanging from the nearest trees. This is supposed to teach us to survive in nature? Seriously? Not much of a camper, that Mrs. Sorenson.
But just because the Mary Worth thing was a big fat fake doesn’t mean something didn’t happen that day with Henry and me. Lots of people have held séances with Ouija boards. You can look it up. Once, a really long time ago, there were these two sisters called Maggie and Kate Fox. They lived in a farmhouse in New York, and they wanted to scare their parents, so they started making ghost noises in the middle of the night. They tied apples together and bounced them along the floor to make it sound like footsteps. They taught themselves to make loud snapping sounds with their toes, which isn’t easy. I’ve tried it.
Anyway, once their mother heard the noises, she was completely convinced the farmhouse was haunted. She just got up out of bed, lit a candle, and started searching for ghosts. That’s when Maggie and Kate started to think that maybe they’d gone too far. They tried to say that it was almost April Fools’ Day, and maybe someone was playing a joke. Hint, hint, hint. But it was too late. The whole thing had gotten out of hand. Before they knew what hit them, Maggie and Kate were conducting séances for money. They had to learn how to snap their toes with shoes and socks on, but I suppose it was worth it. I bet it paid a lot better than collecting chicken eggs.
I guess when I read about those two, I might have taken it as a warning to slow down on the whole Edgar thing. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Edgar wasn’t a game. He wasn’t a trick that Henry was playing on me. Even if Henry didn’t always want to admit it, Edgar was real. And he kept showing up.
* * *
—
One day after school, I was at Henry’s house, playing catch in the yard. It wasn’t our first choice, but Sophie said we should go outside, and I figured Henry could use the practice. Not that he appreciated my efforts. At all.
“You have to stand sideways,” I told him. “Sideways and shift. That’s what my dad says.”
“It doesn’t matter where my feet are,” Henry said. “This isn’t dance class, Barbara Anne. It’s about my arm.”
I was sincerely hoping that wasn’t true, because Henry had an arm like an overcooked spaghetti noodle. And he wasn’t any better at catching than he was at throwing. Every ball I threw escaped him. Even when I threw right to him, Henry kept missing. It was like his mind was a million miles away. The ball sailed past him and rolled toward the bushes at the edge of the yard so many times that I quit helping him search for it.
I sat down in the grass instead. And when Henry got back, he joined me. “What’s up with you?” I asked him.
“I saw him,” Henry said.
“Just now?” I asked.
“No,” Henry said. “Last night. It’s getting worse. It happens all the time now.” And that’s when Henry told me that the night before, Edgar had shown up in his room. “He was right there,” Henry said. “Standing
at the foot of my bed—by the window. He had this brown wooden yo-yo. And he was doing tricks with it. The one my grandfather used to do where you hook your fingers through the string and form this opening. Then the yo-yo just hangs there in the center, swaying.”
“Rock the Baby,” I told him.
But Henry wasn’t listening.
“He looked right at me!” Henry said. “His voice was all breathy and strange.”
“You talked to him? What did he say?”
Henry turned to me, his eyes creepy and wild; he grabbed my hand really tightly in his own.
“What did he say?” I asked again.
Instead of answering right away, Henry started lacing our fingers together. Then he looked off into the distance like he was watching a movie that only he could see. When he finally looked at me again, he had those strange, scary eyes. “Play with me!” Henry said.
And I screamed. Not an Oh no, I’m about to be tagged on the playground scream. An actual full-out scream that scraped against the back of my throat. That’s how real Edgar was, even for me. And I’d never seen him.
At school, Henry had to face another sort of horror because we had a new class project: the school play.
“Everyone in the fifth grade gets a part,” Ms. Biniam said. “I expect one hundred percent participation!”
Usually, you want to be in a play. You have to audition to get a part, and it’s super exciting when they post the cast list. But this was as voluntary as a fire drill, and from the very first second it went badly. And it did not help that we lost our afternoon recess almost every day to make time for the rehearsals.
“I’m organizing a strike,” Henry said as we were waiting backstage, hidden behind a cardboard castle. Renee was up on a stepladder because she was Rapunzel.
“You can’t organize a strike,” I said. “This is Biniam’s favorite assignment all year. She said so.”
“Well, I’m not going onstage in that costume she gave me,” Henry said.
“Be quiet!” Renee hissed at us. “I need to hear my cue.”
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel! Let down your golden hair,” Ms. Biniam said.
“Why is Biniam reading the lines? Where’s the prince?” Henry asked.
“Had to go home,” I said. “I heard he has lice.”
“Every time I hear that word, my head starts to itch,” Henry said.
“Rapunzel, RAPUNZEL!” said Ms. Biniam.
“See,” Renee said. “You made me miss my part.”
“You know that doesn’t make any sense,” Henry said. “Obviously her hair is not golden. It’s brown.”
“Maybe they’ll give her a wig,” Zack said. “A wig full of lice!”
“Shut up, Zack!” Renee said.
“Don’t worry about it, Renee,” I said. And then I stepped out from behind the castle.
“What’s going on back there?” Ms. Biniam asked.
“We were thinking he should say, ‘Let down your beautiful hair.’ You know, since Renee has brown hair.”
“Fine,” said Ms. Biniam. “Let’s continue with the rehearsal.”
“I don’t care what she says,” Henry was saying behind the castle. “I’m not wearing it. There’s no way.”
I sighed and went out to talk to Ms. Biniam again.
“Also,” I said. “Henry is really unhappy about his costume. Just so you know.”
“Henry’s costume is already sewn. And that is the costume that Henry will be wearing. Just so you know,” said Ms. Biniam.
I was speechless. Ms. Biniam had never talked to me that way. Ms. Biniam, who is so beautiful she looks like an Ethiopian princess, and so kind that kids look forward to having her as their teacher for years. Years! I just stared at her, neither of us saying anything. And then we heard the fight break out backstage.
“Maybe I already know my lines!” Zack was yelling.
“You don’t even HAVE real lines,” Renee said. “You’re an ogre! All you have to do is stomp and grunt.”
“What are you laughing at, Henry?” Zack screamed.
And that’s when the castle tipped and collapsed with a thud. Renee shrieked, Henry laughed harder, and Ms. Biniam closed her eyes and started to rub the bridge of her nose. “Line up at the door,” she told us. “Twenty-minute recess.”
* * *
—
Things got even worse during dress rehearsal. Because of the costumes. Since Ms. Biniam changed the part about the golden hair, Renee did not have to wear a wig.
“You saved my life, Barbara Anne!” she told me. After that, she acted like we were best friends or something.
Renee got to wear her real hair, braided, of course, and this pale blue princess dress that was basically the best costume in the whole show.
I did okay too. I was Little Red Riding Hood, so I got to wear a checked dress with a white apron and a shiny red cape. Ms. Biniam painted solid red circles on my cheeks. That part was a little ridiculous, I thought. But other people said I looked adorable, and who was I to argue?
But Henry. Oh wow, Henry did not do well in the costume department. Here’s what he had to wear: green velvet shorts with white kneesocks and suspenders. I felt sorry for him. I really did. People were just starting to get to know him, to see the real Henry a little and not the kid in the chess school T-shirt, and Biniam went and dressed him like some leprechaun lost at Oktoberfest. It was an outrage, really.
But it was kind of hard not to laugh too. I managed, but certain people did not have my level of self-control. Renee and Zack? Well, they could hardly contain themselves.
“Zachary!” Ms. Biniam said. “This is dress rehearsal. Show some respect.”
“Yes, Ms. Biniam,” Zack said. But then he whispered to Renee, “What is he? An elf?”
Biniam heard him. She has amazing hearing. It must be her strongest sense. (Mine is taste.) She is good at everything, really. Except makeup. I’d give her a C, C+ tops, for makeup.
“He is Hansel, Zack. His name is Hansel,” Ms. Biniam said.
“I thought his name was Henry,” one of the younger kids said.
“His name is Henry, sweetheart,” one of the volunteer moms said, looking up. And then she pointed to Ms. Biniam to get the kid to pay attention.
“His name is Henry/Hansel, whatever. And your name is Zachary,” said Ms. Biniam. “And this is dress rehearsal! And that does not involve talking!”
Before I had time to point out that we would obviously have to speak to perform the play, Ms. Biniam said, “Barbara Anne, that goes for you too.”
Man, she was taking this thing seriously. Henry gave us all a smug look because we had gotten in trouble. All because of him and how stupid he looked in his stupid costume. That smirk on his face made me mad. I had a few things I wanted to say, but, fortunately for Henry, I had to go onstage. It was time for me to get fake-eaten by the wolf.
* * *
—
Things were pretty tense in our pod the day of the play. Actually, the whole class was pretty cranky, but I tried not to pay attention to any of it. A good actress has to know how to concentrate. I figured that once the play ended, things would go back to normal. Everyone would congratulate each other on how well we all did, and we would be friends again.
And I was right, in a way. Things went great. For me. I remembered all my lines, and it was really exciting to be onstage! When I got off, it was Henry’s turn to go be Hansel. He looked ridiculous in his green velvet shorts and goofy suspenders. He also looked terrified.
And that is why what happened next happened next. I was afraid he wouldn’t go out there at all if I didn’t give him a little encouragement.
“Break a leg, Henry,” I whispered.
And then I gave him a little push. Not a shove. Just a little gentle nudge, really. I’d call it a nudge. The trouble
was that whatever you call it, it was enough to send Henry out onto the stage while his green hat with the feather on top landed just behind the curtain at my feet.
And so I did what you do when somebody drops something. I yelled, “Hey, Henry, you forgot your hat!” And then I walked out and handed it to him. And then I noticed everyone. The audience. It looked like the whole city of Seattle was staring back at us, waiting for something to happen. So I did a quick curtsy before I ran off.
People laughed. And clapped. There were a few whistles, even. And Henry, of course, was mortified. I couldn’t see it because of the makeup, but I knew his face was bright red. And the look Henry gave me before the audience stopped laughing! Well, I pretty much figured that my friendship with Henry was over.
* * *
—
When I got offstage after the show, I didn’t know how to feel. Everyone was there: my mom; my dad; my baby sister, Rachel; my grandmother; my cousin. It was a nice turnout. They were all telling me how great the play was, and it would have been the best time ever except that all I could think about was what happened with Henry. His family was there too, so I asked my mom if I could go over and say hello, and I got just-for-a-minute permission.
“Henry was really great in the play,” I told his stepmom. Because everyone likes to get a compliment. Also, I was hoping they weren’t mad at me about the whole thing with the hat.
“Where did they get that costume?” Alice asked.
“Alice,” Henry’s father said in a serious voice (and he gave her a warning look). Sophie put her hand on Alice’s shoulder. Alice is such a stepmother’s pet. Is that a thing? I’m pretty sure it is. And I’m pretty sure that if you look it up in the dictionary, Alice’s picture is in there.
“We should get going,” Sophie said to Henry’s father over the top of my head.
The Haunting of Henry Davis Page 2
