Haunted Memories

by Phoebe Rivers

  “A party?” Jayden counted out the cookies before us, as Miss Klingert explained that we needed to open the Oreo and, using a plastic knife, carve the eight phases of the moon—from new moon to waning crescent—into the cream and then record the data and answer the questions on the sheet.

  Jayden eyed me with mock seriousness. “Which of us should carve?” He held out the white plastic knife. “I personally have witnessed many disastrous Thanksgiving turkey carvings by my grandfather. He shreds the bird. We eat it with a spoon. But”—he spoke in an exaggerated deep voice—“I have learned from my ancestor’s mistakes.”

  He was funny. I liked him. “Well, I’m an excellent cupcake froster,” I boasted, playing along. “With a plastic knife, I can ice any cupcake anywhere.”

  “Impressive. Have you been on any cupcake TV shows?”

  “No,” I admitted. “But I did just move here.”

  “Aha! I could tell you were new.”

  “How?”

  He sniffed, his nose scrunching in the most adorable way. “You don’t smell like salt-water taffy. It’s a special odor for locals. All that time spent on the boardwalk.”

  I pretended to sniff. “I’m not getting taffy from you.”

  “Because I’m not local either. Moved here last year from Atlanta.”

  “I see.” I reached for an Oreo, twisted off the top cookie, and handed it to him. “I’ll open the cookies. You can carve.”

  “Wise choice, since you have never been on a cupcake show.” He opened the textbook, peered at the moon diagrams, and began on the first one. “Double Stuff would have been easier to work with.”

  “My dad likes to say that sometimes less is more,” I teased. I couldn’t believe how easily the words were coming to me. I’d never flirted like this with a boy before. Ever.

  Jayden’s hair flopped in his eyes, and he pushed it away. “Sometimes less is just less. Like with Oreo cream.” He held up the first cookie moon. “Does this look like a waxing crescent?”

  We worked together on the lab, joking and teasing each other. I forgot he was The Boy. Together we drew diagrams of our cream-moon carvings onto our worksheets. I bent over my paper. I lowered my head. Closer. Squinting to see. The lines and writing were growing fainter.

  Had the lights in the classroom dimmed? Had Miss Klingert drawn the shades? I could barely make out the outline of the circles. My pencil scribbled haphazardly as I leaned in even closer.

  “Wow, you stink at coloring, Sara. Didn’t anyone teach you to stay inside the lines?”

  “Don’t you think it’s dark in here?” I asked.

  “Not really.” Jayden sped through the worksheet. I stopped writing, wondering whether I had an eye disease. Should I go to the nurse? Shadows lay heavily around me.

  “We are awesome,” Jayden declared. He jutted his chin toward the girls across from us. “We’re almost done, and they haven’t even started their questions.” He raised his right hand. “Low five, partner.”

  I raised my hand, and my fingertips grazed his skin. Instantly my body jerked backward. I snatched my hand away, as if jolted by electricity. I twisted about, confused.

  My eyes met Jayden’s for a second before he looked away. He was confused too. He examined his palm.

  I started to speak, but the sudden smell of sour milk made me push my stool back. The stench came from . . . I gazed about. It seemed to come from Jayden. How could that be? I gently covered my nose with my hand, hoping I wasn’t being obvious.

  A shadow. A darkness.

  Someone stood behind Jayden.

  The spirit of a teenage boy. He was dressed in a dark hoodie, so it was hard to really see his face, but I could feel his scowl.

  He was angry. Angry at me.

  He didn’t speak. Just scowled. His dislike blanketed me, like the darkness.

  The lab ended. We handed in our sheet. No more joking. Jayden hurried off to his next class, and the spirit trailed after him.

  Who was that? I wondered, as the odor lifted and the room brightened.

  CHAPTER 4

  I twirled the stem between my fingers, watching the pale pink ruffles spin. The flower felt as if it had just been pulled from a florist’s cold glass case.

  I searched again for a note but couldn’t find one. Strange, I thought, replacing the carnation on the metal shelf and swinging my locker door shut.

  It must be Lily, I decided, heading to the cafeteria. Why didn’t I think to put something in her locker? Did all the girls here do that? I panicked. I didn’t want to be a bad friend.

  No one at our lunch table had a flower. Lily sat at the other end, but I didn’t call out to her. What if she gave one only to me? I’d thank her later.

  “Who do you think is going to be Harvest Queen?” Miranda was asking, as Avery made room for me again. Posters for the dance had appeared overnight on the walls of the cafeteria.

  “Dina Martino, for sure,” Tamara said. Other girls nodded.

  “She’s the most popular eighth grader, but Caroline Melillo is so pretty,” Miranda put in.

  “It’s not about pretty,” Lily said from her end. “It’s all about the fear factor. Dina is popular, and people are scared that if they don’t vote for her, she’ll ruin them. Harvest Queen is a stupid popularity contest. She’ll win.”

  “Harvest Queen is more than that,” Avery argued. “It’s about someone who gives back to the community and represents the virtues of the school.”

  “Seriously, Aves, did you memorize the posters? No one really believes that. The girls who want to be queen are the self-loving airheads. It’s totally an image thing,” Miranda said, siding with Lily.

  I turned my attention toward the table against the left wall. Dancing queens, or whatever they were, didn’t interest me. I didn’t know any of the eighth graders. I barely knew the kids in my own classes.

  Jayden, the Boy in Brown, was there, except he wore a navy shirt today. I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was so cute. I watched him step toward the table, a tray of food balanced on one hand. The table was packed with boys eating.

  “One of us could run,” Avery was suggesting. “You know, to change it up.”

  Jayden wasn’t alone. Alongside him, the teenage spirit kept pace. Today he wasn’t scowling.

  I leaned closer. Watching. Did Jayden know the spirit was there?

  “No seventh grader has a chance against an eighth grader,” Lily called from her end.

  No, I decided. I didn’t think he could see the shimmery figure in the dark hoodie and board shorts. The spirit was barefoot, I noticed. His feet only skimmed the ground.

  Jayden hesitated, pushing back his thick hair with his free hand. He wasn’t sure where to sit. I watched in amazement as the spirit boldly stepped forward. Gently, with a shimmery hand, he touched the shoulders of a thin boy, and the boy unknowingly edged an inch or two to the right. Then the spirit brushed up against a boy with a crew cut in a baggy sweatshirt. Crew-cut boy squirmed as if suddenly uncomfortable, then scooted to the left, to a more comfortable position.

  Jayden spotted the opening and lowered himself onto the bench, unaware that it had appeared for any reason but chance.

  But it wasn’t by chance. The spirit made it happen. I saw.

  “You sound like you want to be Harvest Queen, Avery,” Miranda was saying across from me.

  We all turned to look at Avery.

  Avery blushed. “No, no, not me. I just thought it would be good if someone who was serious about it could ride on the float. Like one of us.” She glanced at the poster hanging behind us. “But . . . not me.”

  I felt bad. Avery obviously wanted to be queen or whatever it was. I knew there was no way she would tell the other girls. They clearly thought it was silly.

  I turned to look at Jayden, talking with his friends. Spirit Boy remained on watch behind him. Then I turned back to smile at Avery, to let her know I was on her side. But she was already grinning rainbows at me.

  As if we shar
ed a secret.

  “Lab time, class!” Miss Klingert greeted us the next morning. “Same partners as last lab, but different tables. Check the sheet, gather your materials, and get working. Okay?”

  “Okay!” we all replied. We had quickly mastered the shout-back.

  I waited as Jayden moved toward the sheet with the table listings. The shimmery spirit was still by his side. I studied him. He was tall. He looked older than us. Around sixteen, I guessed.

  I dug my left hand into the pocket of my cargo pants, finding the ruby crystal with my fingertips. I’d brought it to school, figuring if it was closer to Jayden it could work better. The jagged tip felt warm. Did that mean something was happening? Or was it just my body heat?

  Jayden moved with the crush of bodies clamoring to see the sheet. I watched Spirit Boy step in to direct traffic. A boy who was cutting off Jayden felt a sudden need to step to the side, unknowingly redirected by Spirit Boy’s guiding touch. People melted back, clearing a path—as if Jayden were a movie star or special in some way. Jayden didn’t seem to notice. He reached the list without any jostling.

  Was he used to obstacles being moved from his path? I wondered. Was that why he walked with such confidence?

  Jayden turned and searched me out with his warm brown eyes. He raised four fingers. Table four.

  I couldn’t get there fast enough.

  Five of us gathered at the lab table. The other team—Christine Wu and A. J. Carpenter—plus me, Jayden, and Spirit Boy.

  Who is he? I was dying to know. Why is he always next to Jayden?

  There was no one to ask.

  I’d seen plenty of spirits before. Lurking in the corners of houses. Waiting at bus stops. Following me to the fudge shop on the boardwalk. I’d even spotted the not-funny gym teacher in the hallway again, though I managed to avoid him.

  But I’d never seen a spirit follow one person before.

  I tried not to stare, but it was hard. He scowled. His negative energy darkened the air around me. I glanced at the other three. No one else saw him. Everyone seemed bright and happy, already reading the lab instructions.

  Pretend he’s not here, I told myself. “What do we do?” I asked Jayden.

  “We need to turn to page one forty-seven.” He flipped through the book. Spirit Boy reached his hand over, and the book fell open to the correct page. Jayden began the next part of the lab, blissfully unaware that he’d had help in something as small as finding a page.

  We worked together on the lab for the rest of the period, trying to understand how to measure the diameter of the sun. Spirit Boy took a step back but stayed in sight. Silently watching Jayden—and glaring at me.

  “So you guys know about the Harvest Festival, right?” Christine leaned over the table, as I set up the final equation.

  “Sure.” Jayden examined my work. “What about it?”

  “I love the Harvest Festival. I love Stellamar. And I’d really love to ride on the school float,” Christine explained, emphasizing “love” each time. She was now so far across the table that her face hovered over our worksheet. I could smell her berry lip gloss. “So will you guys vote for me? For Harvest Queen? I’m running. Did you know?”

  “No, I didn’t. Sure, whatever.” Jayden pointed to the sheet. “I think the decimal is in the wrong place.”

  He was right. I moved it.

  “Sara, I know you’re new and all, so you don’t know me, but I’m a really great person.” Her long black hair swung as she spoke. “You’ll choose me too?”

  “Sure,” I agreed. Christine seemed nice enough. Why not?

  “Excellent!” She clapped her hands together. “We’re done, right?” she asked A.J.

  A.J. nodded. Throughout the lab I hadn’t heard him speak.

  “I’m off to campaign!” She bounded over to a nearby table.

  “Did your old town have this?” Jayden asked me.

  “The parade-dance thing?” I shook my head. “Nothing close. It seems like it’s a big deal.”

  “Huge. The school and the town go crazy for it.” He leaned closer. “I don’t know why all these clueless girls want to be the queen. It’s dumb, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. He was so close I could smell the almond scent of the soap he’d used this morning. “Very dumb,” I agreed. “Besides, this is a shore town, right? What do they harvest?”

  He laughed. A low, infectious laugh. “Totally true. No farms that I know of. At least, not anymore. Maybe it’s a crab harvest?”

  “A seashell harvest?” I added.

  “Shark harvest!”

  “Are there really sharks here?”

  “No. I haven’t heard of any,” he admitted. Still so close to me. If I lifted my hand, I could touch his cheek. “Christine would make an excellent Shark Queen.” He laughed again, smiling at me.

  I felt off balance, my body swaying slightly. The crystal burned through the fabric against my thigh.

  Was being near Jayden making me feel this way?

  My stool, I realized. It was my stool that was wobbling.

  Slowly at first, then faster, tilting back and forth. I glanced down. Hands were shaking the metal legs.

  I grabbed the table for support, but I wasn’t fast enough. I felt myself falling . . . falling . . .

  The stool clattered as it hit the floor sideways. I landed on my backside.

  “Are you okay?” Jayden and A.J. both cried.

  “Class,” Miss Klingert said, hurrying over to me. “You need to sit squarely on these stools at all times.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, scrambling to my feet. “I don’t know what happened.”

  But I did.

  I had seen Spirit Boy squatting down, holding the stool. Shaking it. He wanted me to fall.

  And now he stood beside Jayden. Triumphant.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Extra help again today?” Dad asked the next morning, as he pulled up in front of the red brick middle school. “You’ve been going all week.”

  “Yes.” I stared at my Converse, the ballpoint doodles I’d made on the white rubber last year already faded. I’d have to draw something new if I was going to be forever staring at my feet. That’s what I did when I felt uncomfortable. And lying made me feel that way.

  He lowered his aviator sunglasses and turned to me. “You know, kiddo, I’m not half bad at math. I could help.”

  “I know. It’s just catch-up stuff. New school, new way of doing math.” That so wasn’t the case. I was actually ahead in math, but I didn’t want to be home alone with Lady Azura after school.

  I knew she wanted to talk about what I could do. What she could do. I didn’t know where that conversation would lead. Would she tell my dad?

  It had always been just the two of us. It wasn’t easy on him, I knew. Having my mom die in childbirth. Having to raise a baby girl on his own. Whenever he held my hand, I felt his strong grip, but I knew his mind was far away, thinking about my mom. What they had. What they should have had if she hadn’t died. He was here, but he wasn’t. As if he were forever straddling two worlds. That was why it was important to be an easy kid, a normal kid, to not cause trouble. I had to keep whatever part of him I could here with me. That meant no talk of dead people.

  A horn honked. The car behind us was anxious to move up in the car line.

  “A kiss good-bye?” Dad asked, the skin along his blue eyes crinkling with sudden mischief. He leaned in.

  “Not here,” I protested, gathering my bulging book bag. The sidewalk was filled with kids in my classes.

  “Too cool for Dad.” He pretended to pout. “Okay, but I’m claiming my kiss tonight.”

  “Deal.” I scrambled out of the car and headed into the school.

  Goose bumps rose on my bare arms as I opened my locker door. Once again I was greeted with the unexplainable chill. I unloaded the binders from my bag and tucked my brown-bag lunch into my own private refrigerator. Where was the coldness coming from? I searched the metallic locker once agai
n for a vent or a fan or something.

  Brushing across the top shelf, my fingers stopped at an unfamiliar object. Carefully I pulled it out.

  A crown. A small paper crown.

  I examined the shiny gold paper. Pointy zigzags cut with scissors and trimmed with gold glitter. A tiny piece of clear tape holding it together, as if a child had created it.

  Standing on my toes, I inspected the single shelf for a note. Nothing.

  Who put this here? I looked closer at the paper crown. No writing anywhere.

  Did Lily do this? Maybe her four-year-old sister Cammie had made it. But why give it to me with no note?

  I found Lily before lunch kneeling at her locker, sorting through papers.

  “Thanks for the gifts.”

  “What gifts?” She didn’t look up. She was searching for something.

  “The flower. This crown.” I reached out my hand. The gold crown rested on my palm.

  Lily gazed at me, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t give you that. Or a flower.”

  “Really? But they were in my locker.”

  “I don’t have your combo,” she pointed out. She pulled a piece of paper from her pile. “I need to hand this in next period.” She pushed the mess of papers into her locker, slamming the door. As we walked toward the cafeteria, she reached for the paper crown. “It’s pretty.”

  My mind was still puzzling over what she’d said. Who had my locker combination? No one, as far as I knew. “There was a pink flower, too. I don’t know why they were there.”

  “Oh!” Lily stopped short at the cafeteria’s opened double doors. Her eyes wide with excitement, she bounced on her toes. “You have a secret admirer!”

  “A what? No way. I don’t even know anyone,” I scoffed.

  “But someone knows you,” Lily replied in a singsong voice.

  She spent the entire lunch period debating the potential of every boy as my gift-giving admirer. Each choice seemed more ridiculous than the next.

  “Tamara sits next to Luke Goldberg in English, and she says he asked about you,” Lily reported. “I bet it’s him.” She gestured in the direction of a sandy-haired boy I didn’t know but who I’d noticed smiling at me in the social studies class we had together.