The Box in The Cuts: A Supernatural Mystery

by Debra Castaneda

  Our circle has gotten a little bit bigger. And tighter. Raj is now a regular. And Daniel is always around. He's even transferred to Hillside High, saying goodbye to the long commute to San Francisco.

  At the beginning of the school year, we were all beginning to drift apart. But everything we've gone through has brought us closer together. We're arguing less, hanging out more. Destiny teaches us to meditate. We finally agree to let Madison show us how to surf, so on a weekend we drive to Santa Cruz and rent wetsuits and boards. I manage a wobbly stand-up and call it a victory.

  Gabe and I finally get some alone time together, but it doesn't last long. His father steps in, says it’s time to head back to college. The sudden separation feels like something's been ripped away, leaving me not quite whole. It's an empty ache that not even the sound of his reassuring voice can fill.

  I wonder if Destiny knows any magic to heal a broken heart.

  “I'll be back in the summer,” he says on the phone from Southern California. “And you’ll be down here in the fall.” The summer feels forever away, and anything can happen, like an interesting beautiful girl sitting next to him in class.

  It's the last day of February. I meet the girls in the quad, and we walk out the back of the school to The Cuts. We're wearing thick-soled boots because it's been raining nonstop for a week and the ground is muddy. Pine needles and strips of eucalyptus bark are everywhere. But the sun is finally out and raindrops glisten on the overhanging branches as we make our way beneath them.

  It’s a perfect day for what we’re about to do. I’ve even worn a dress for the occasion.

  When we enter the clearing, the guys are already there. Except for Gabe. My heart does a little sideways twist. I miss him that much. The punky freshmen and sophomores are there, too, smoking. Madison barks at them to get the hell out.

  Daniel raises his eyebrows and gives a loud, single clap. “That's my girl,” he laughs. He sits down on a tree stump and pulls Madison onto his lap. She reaches back and gives the scruff on his chin a playful yank.

  Alfie stares at the two of them, palms up in the air. “Wait. You're a thing now?”

  Daniel grins. “Hey. That's no way to talk. We are two fully realized adults who happen to be into each other.” Such a Daniel thing to say.

  Chloe shakes her head and claps her hands over her ears. “Uh. I can't unhear that.” We all laugh, even Raj.

  As I find a place to park my butt on a log, squeezed between Destiny and Chloe, I realize that the fear and dread are gone. I only feel sadness and regret for Mary McKissick, the girl I wished I'd known better, the girl I wish we could have saved.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Madison leaping to her feet. She's in Viking warrior mode, all six-foot-one of her, one booted foot planted on a boulder. Even Daniel looks startled as he gazes up at her.

  “I thought I said to leave,” she shouts at the kids, who grudgingly get to their feet.

  They'd move a lot faster if they knew what's sitting just yards away.

  Deep in the ground is a wooden box. Inside are ashes of the burned drapes that trapped the ghost of Edith Wirth. And maybe bits of the old ghost herself. For the banishment ritual to be complete, Destiny said, the ashes had to be put into a container and buried. The Cuts had been Chloe's idea. We'd all agreed, but we weren't thinking straight that night. The guys had carried the box into the woods. Later, they swore it felt unusually heavy.

  When the last of the students disappear through the trees, Raj clears his throat. “Maybe we should dig it up. Rebury it. Someplace where people don't go.”

  Destiny shakes her head. “We can't. It'll mess up the ritual. Once it's in the ground, it has to stay there.”

  Just the thought of digging up the box makes my skin crawl. “Let's let sleeping boxes lie,” I say.

  “Speaking of boxes,” Madison says. “We got another one at the mansion. From the estate of Edward Wirth. You know, David Wirth's older brother. So, I had a look. And check out what I found.” She takes something out of her backpack and hands it to Destiny, who gasps.

  She looks at Madison, her eyes full of wonder. “Is it Marguerite?”

  I peer down at the old photo. It's in black and white, pasted to a stiff backing. The girl is heartbreakingly beautiful, with a perfect oval face and a cloud of long soft hair, some of it piled on top of her head. She's looking down, away from the camera, holding a small bunch of flowers.

  Madison nods. “Look at the back. Her name is written on it.”

  We pass the photo around, admire it. When we're finally done, Madison carefully places it on a large flat rock. Raj takes out a framed picture of Mary he's brought for the occasion and sets it down on the gray slab. I add three more photos: Nicole, Emily, and Monica. Destiny arranges five candles on the rock—one for each girl—and lights them, releasing the scent of jasmine into the air.

  Madison reaches into her backpack again, this time pulling out small bottles and plastic glasses and hands them around. It's champagne. With the light-gold liquid fizzing, we raise our glasses.

  We toast the girls who died by ghostly fire, and those saved by the magic of Destiny.

  Author's note

  Thank you for reading The Box in The Cuts! If you can take a moment and rate the book, I'd greatly appreciate it. If you decide to leave a review (even a short one), I'll do a happy dance. Ratings and book reviews are especially important to new indie authors like me.

  Just one more thing. I've had comments on Samantha's mother wondering if she was supposed to be narcissistic. If that's what you thought, you nailed it. Absolutely. I wrote about this on my blog, which you can find on my website, www.debracastaneda.com, and on Goodreads.

  About The Author

  Debra Castaneda

  Debra Castaneda wrote her first murder mystery in the fifth grade, killing three characters in eight pages and turning it in as a homework assignment.

  But it didn’t occur to her to pursue a career as a novelist. Instead, she became a journalist working in television, radio and online.

  Now, she devotes herself full-time to sitting in a tiny office and writing supernatural and science fiction stories with a dash of romance.

  Debra lives in Santa Cruz, California with her husband. She enjoys rediscovering the Mexican dishes of her childhood and texting her two daughters about her latest binge watch.

  Visit her at debracastaneda.com