The Haunting of Henry Davis

by Kathryn Siebel

  “Have you been on the Ferris wheel?” Martin asked Henry.

  “Sophie took me, and Alice, a few weeks ago.”

  “So she’s not all bad, this stepmother of yours,” Martin said.

  “I guess not,” Henry answered.

  “And the new school is working out?”

  Henry nodded and chewed on his sandwich.

  “Well, I can see you’ve done a fine job of making new friends,” he said. And he smiled at me.

  When we finished, Uncle Marty asked if we wanted to continue with the journal. “I could walk you to the bus stop,” he offered. “If it’s been enough for one day.”

  Henry surprised me when he said, “I need to hear the rest of it.”

  And so we trudged up the hill. We returned to the library. We went back—to the journal and the little glass room, to 1918.

  Wednesday, October 23, 1918

  It seems all we do is search for more space, more beds, more nurses, and more supplies to care for all who are ill. The courthouse is in use, and now we look toward other sectors too for assistance. Visited our pastor today to see if the church might be temporarily converted, as services have now been banned anyway. The kitchen is large, and the Red Cross still has enough supplies to assist us. Will return this evening to see to the arrangements. The streets are empty. Even the Green Lake trolley is not as crowded as before, and everyone’s eyes (above their masks) seem full of fear.

  “Why can’t they go to church?” Henry asked.

  “Too many people,” Martin said. “They were afraid the flu would spread. They called it a ‘crowd disease.’ They closed the schools, churches, movie theaters. Every large public gathering was canceled. It was too dangerous. And the hospitals couldn’t keep up, so they had to look for other places where they could care for the people who caught it.”

  “So he’s going to build a hospital?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Martin said. “He’s talking about making a hospital, a temporary one, inside a church by bringing in cots and supplies and medical staff. That’s what they did at the courthouse too. Everything was coming to a stop.”

  “Like a snow day?” I asked.

  Uncle Marty smiled a sad smile. “Well, they were indoors, if that’s what you mean. And after a time, there was no school and no chance to play outdoors or go to a movie. But more than being bored, they must have been afraid. Especially the adults, who knew what might happen. This next entry mentions the temporary hospitals. Listen,” Martin said. And he read aloud to us.

  Friday, October 25, 1918

  The church has been set up, and beds there fill as quickly as they did at the courthouse. We have been largely spared so far, losing only a few of those we know directly—Mrs. McAdams, who worshipped at our church, passed away a week ago. The grocer’s wife, Elizabeth tells me, is another victim. But then, this morning, as I passed the Pritchett house, the shades were being drawn. By evening, the white crepe hung near the bell. One of the twins must surely have succumbed. We must go pay our respects, or at least drop a note once we are certain what has happened. How I dread mentioning this to Elizabeth, worried as she is about our own two boys. Miss Leary tells me her family is well, which is a relief. Don’t know what I would say to Phillip and Edgar if we lost Constance or Candace.

  “Stop for a second,” Henry said.

  “What is it?” Martin asked.

  Henry and I looked at one another. There they were. All the names, linked together, not just Winterson, which had struck us both the moment Uncle Marty had said it, but Constance Leary and Phillip and Edgar. Was that what Edgar had been whispering through Henry’s radio? Not “wind” and “stone” but “Winterson”?

  “Phillip and Edgar,” Henry said, his voice sounding shaky. “They’re Dr. Winterson’s—”

  “His sons,” Martin said. “The younger one, Edgar…well, I can keep reading, but…”

  But we already knew the awful truth. We both realized that Edgar must have died from the flu, even though neither of us wanted to say it. Not out loud.

  “Are you all right?” Martin asked Henry.

  Henry nodded, but he didn’t look good. I touched his forehead with my wrist the way my mom does. “He’s burning hot,” I told Uncle Marty. “Henry, I think you have a fever.”

  “I think we’d better finish this another day,” Martin said.

  * * *

  —

  Henry looked horrible on the ride home—pale and tired—and he’d started to cough. I felt awful for dragging him out. What made it even worse was reading the journal. In our world, Edgar had always been dead, but on those pages, he was just a little boy, a real, living little boy whose father had no idea that he was about to lose him.

  Henry was absent when I got to school on Monday. I wasn’t surprised, of course. I knew he was still sick, but it was disappointing. All I really wanted to do was talk to him about Edgar. We knew so much more now, and it was the best secret I’d ever had with anyone. Well, maybe you couldn’t really call it a secret anymore, since Renee and Zack knew too, and, of course, Uncle Marty. But somehow I still felt Edgar belonged to Henry and me—which didn’t stop me from telling Renee and Zack about Uncle Marty’s research.

  “There’s a book written about him?” Zack asked.

  We were standing at the far edge of the playground, where no one else could hear.

  “Not a book,” I said. “It’s a journal—like a diary—that his dad wrote.”

  “And he died?” Renee asked. “Edgar?”

  “Of course he died,” Zack said. “That’s the first step if you’re a ghost.”

  “He had influenza. It’s like pneumonia,” I said.

  “I hope that’s not what Henry has,” Renee said.

  “I thought he had bronchitis,” Zack said.

  “Hey, do you think he caught it from Edgar?” Renee asked. “The pneumonia?”

  “Hundred-year-old pneumonia germs?” I asked. “I don’t think so. Dust doesn’t even have time to form in that house with Sophie around.”

  “Sometimes they keep them on purpose,” Zack said. “Viruses. They put them in a freezer in a lab somewhere, like Popsicles. And then they have to hope they don’t escape.”

  “Well, Henry’s room’s as cold as a freezer,” Renee said. “And I’m never going back there again.”

  “Why not? It’s more fun than finding out everything at the library,” Zack said.

  And that gave me an idea. “We don’t always need the library,” I said. “I have a plan.”

  * * *

  —

  “Do you think we should have called first?” Renee asked as she and Zack and I stood at Henry’s front door that night.

  “Now you ask this?” I said. “I was just about to ring the bell.”

  “Isn’t it going to look suspicious?” Renee asked.

  “No,” I said. “We’re bringing him his homework.”

  “I guess,” she said. “But it doesn’t really take three people to carry one math book.”

  “She has a point,” Zack said, but then he pushed the bell anyway.

  “Hey, you’re early,” Sophie was saying as she opened the door. And then she seemed to realize that it was us, just as we were recognizing that she expected somebody else. Somebodies, actually. Her book club, to be specific.

  “We brought Henry’s homework over,” I said. “We thought it would be fun to surprise him.”

  “Thank you,” Sophie said. “That’s so thoughtful of you. I’d invite you in to say hello, but—”

  Fortunately, Henry’s dad appeared over her shoulder then and invited us all in anyhow.

  “Just for a minute,” he said to Sophie.

  * * *

  —

  Upstairs, the three of us told Henry why we were really there. “You guys can’t
set up a Ouija board here,” he said. “You can’t even stay. We can’t even stay. Sophie just told me not to leave my room, and my dad’s going to hide in the basement. Alice only gets to show her face downstairs because she promised to serve cookies.”

  “Wow,” I said. “They must really want privacy. What do they talk about at this book club?”

  “Who knows?” Henry said. “All I know is that they laugh a lot. And they get all the cookies.”

  “Oh well,” Renee said. “I guess we better go.”

  But even though Renee was willing to forget the whole thing, Zack and I were more determined.

  “Wait,” Zack said. “Didn’t you say your ghost guy haunts the school too?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “The music room.”

  “Perfect,” Zack said. “Let’s take the Ouija board to the music room.”

  “How are we getting in?” I asked. “Breaking and entering is a felony, in case you haven’t heard.”

  “They don’t arrest kids,” Zack said.

  “Of course they do,” Henry said.

  “Well, we’re not going to do breaking and entering. We’re just going to do entering,” Zack said. “It’s Family Fitness Night. We can get in through the gym like everybody else and then go up to the music room.”

  “This is a terrible idea,” Henry said. “Count me out.”

  “Listen,” Zack said. “None of us would even be doing this if it weren’t for you. We’re trying to help.”

  Ah, guilt. Always a good strategy. And I thought it would work on Henry, but it didn’t. Not at first.

  “You’re not going for me,” Henry said. “You just want to play around with the Ouija board.”

  “Okay,” Zack said. “I admit it. But you have to come. We need your help.”

  “Zack’s right,” I said. “You’re the one who knows Edgar. You’re the one he’ll want to talk to.”

  “Yeah? Well, I’m the one my dad is going to want to talk to if I leave the house without permission.”

  “How will he know?” Renee said. “You told us he was going to the basement, right? Couldn’t you just go down there, tell him your friends are leaving, and say good night? Then we sneak you out.”

  Pretty devious, coming from Renee. I was impressed.

  “Great,” Henry said. “How am I sneaking back in?”

  “Easy,” said Zack. “Just don’t lose your keys this time.”

  “If nothing else works,” I pointed out, “you could always fake sleepwalking.”

  “Brilliant, Barbara Anne,” Henry said.

  But he got up and headed down to the basement to say good night to his dad. I grabbed a sweatshirt out of Henry’s closet so he could throw it on over his pajamas. Then we waited until Alice and Sophie were in the kitchen getting the snacks. That’s when all of us snuck back down the stairs.

  * * *

  —

  The walk to school that night seemed superlong, but maybe it was because my backpack was so heavy. It was jammed full of stuff. The Ouija board, of course, was the main thing. That’s right. I still had it, which might have been wrong, I suppose. But going after a ghost isn’t like trying to catch a butterfly with a net. You never know what you might need. Besides, Monica would get the Ouija board back when Edgar left. Who knew when that might be, but like my grandmother always says, “It’s better to owe you than to cheat you out of it.”

  The Ouija board wasn’t the only thing inside my backpack, though. There was a bunch of smaller stuff in there too: a compass, a thermometer, a notebook, candles, matches, and some rope. (Yeah, I’m not sure what the rope was for either. Even if Edgar was there, it wasn’t like we were going to tie him up.) I was prepared, that’s the real point, and I knew what I was looking for.

  Here are the signs that a ghost might be near:

  Lights that flicker for no reason or bulbs that suddenly blow out

  Strange shadows or movements in your peripheral vision

  Noises—like music or whispers—that you can’t find the source of

  Changes in temperature—usually a sudden breeze or cold spot

  Unusual scents—like the lilacs in Henry’s dream

  And don’t bother chanting or asking them to appear. Ghosts come and go as they please. They’re the ones in charge, and they know it.

  Anyway, it was pitch-black outside as the four of us made our way to the school. I felt scared but excited too. This was just like those ghost hunter shows on TV. I could picture myself becoming famous this way. I would have my own office and everything. Terrified people would sit in chairs in front of my huge desk and burst into tears. “I don’t know what to do!” they would sob. And I would hand them Kleenex. And my business card.

  Barbara Anne Klein

  Ghost Hunter

  I was picturing the four of us inside the school, our shadows stretching along the walls as we crept toward the dark music room. Doors would slowly creak open and—

  Then Zack opened the gym door, and bright lights and Hawaiian music sprang out. Family Fitness Night! Our gym teacher was there in a flowered shirt and a fake grass skirt, and everybody inside—little kids, chubby dads, everybody—was having some sort of hula hoop contest. It totally, totally, totally ruined the mood!

  * * *

  —

  Upstairs, things were more what I imagined—quiet and dark. We started down the hallway, but right away I made everyone stop. “Wait!” I said. And I took out my notebook and handed it to Renee. “Write this down. Date: November 19th. Time: approximately 8:33. Slight wind. Clear skies.”

  “Clear skies?” Renee said. “We’re in a hallway.”

  “Not here,” I said. “Outside.”

  “Who cares?” Henry complained. “What is this, anyway? A weather report?”

  “I’m trying to do this right!” I said.

  “I’m not sure we should do this at all,” Renee said.

  It was so like her to try to chicken out at the last minute. “Obviously, we’re doing this, Renee,” I said. “We’re already in the middle of doing this.” Honestly.

  “Well, I’m using my flashlight,” Renee said before we even reached the stairs that led up to the music room. Then she started digging through her backpack.

  “Hurry up,” Zack said.

  “Here,” I said. And I handed Renee a thick white candle. “You can hold this instead. The flame attracts the spirits.”

  “Oh, great, Barbara Anne,” Henry said. “Let’s just burn down the whole school while we’re at it.”

  “Well, it’s better than her mini flashlight. You can’t see anything with that!” I was starting to get nervous myself; I was remembering what happened the night of the school play—with the piano. I lit the candle and handed it to Renee. Then we continued down the hallway. The candle was flickering, lighting up random sections of this jungle mural we painted last fall in art class. We made it only a few feet before Renee let out a bloodcurdling scream. All of us jumped about a foot in the air.

  “What?” Zack yelled.

  “A rat!” she said. “I think I just saw a rat! It went behind that garbage can in the corner!”

  “Calm down!” Zack said.

  To be fair, I should say that Zack was never going to understand, because he has a rat for a pet and is always telling everyone how clean and smart they are. I, for one, got it. The screaming, that is. Not a fan of rodents myself. I hate rats. And mice too. Those tiny, pointed teeth. Those teeny-tiny, supersharp claws. Nope. Not for me. Give me a dog or a cat anytime. Nothing that can escape its cage and scurry.

  “Which way did it go?” I asked Renee.

  “That way!” she said, pointing at the hallway ahead.

  Henry took one look at us and said, “It’s okay. Let me go first.”

&nbs
p; And so we waited while Henry went ahead alone. Henry—who still had on the dinosaur-patterned pajama pants he was wearing when we snuck out of his house. In a minute or two, he motioned to the rest of us. “It’s okay,” he said. “I think it’s gone.”

  We kept going then. But Renee still looked petrified.

  Then Zack opened the door that led to the staircase up to the music room. Every stair seemed to squeak, and the candle tossed weird shadows along the walls.

  “I don’t like this,” Renee said. And nobody could blame her. She was only naming what we all felt.

  The music room, when we reached it, was colder, draftier, than the hallway below. It was like we had climbed a whole mountain instead of a flight of stairs. Renee held the candle up like a torch and stepped forward into the darkness. “Where should we do it?” she asked. “Where should we set up?”

  It wasn’t like a regular classroom. So there were no desks. We usually sat on the floor, or on folding chairs that were packed away in the closet. All we found now was a dark, open space. At the edge of the room, I could just make out the shape of the piano in the moonlight.

  “Put the board near the window,” Zack said. “So we can see.”

  “Good idea,” I said. Then I told Renee to hand me the candle.

  “Don’t blow it out!” she said.

  “I’m not going to blow it out. I have a holder,” I said, pulling my mom’s brass candlestick out of the bottom of my backpack.

  “Hey,” Zack said. “This is just like that murder game. You’ve got a rope and a candlestick. All we need now is a wrench.”

  “Very funny,” I said. “Just help me set up the board, or we’re going to be here all night.”

  * * *

  —

  Henry, Renee, Zack, and I arranged ourselves on the floor, cross-legged, in front of the window. Between the candle burning on the piano above us and a bit of moonlight, we could see pretty well. I explained how it worked, and we all put our fingers on the planchette.