The Haunting of Gabriel Ashe

by Poblocki, Dan

  When the boys stepped onto the porch, Seth froze. “Shoot,” he whispered, glancing around the side of the house at a small blue Honda parked in the driveway. “My mom’s still home.” Gabe hadn’t met Mrs. Hopper yet. Seth had made her out to be a real weirdo: sleeping all day, accidentally putting her clothes on backward, staring into space for hours at a time.

  Inside the house, Seth practically dashed down the short hall to his bedroom. When Gabe slipped through the doorway behind him, Seth closed the door.

  “Seth! Is that you, honey?” a soft voice called.

  “Yeah!” Seth shouted out.

  Footsteps padded down the hall. “I called in sick today,” Mrs. Hopper said through the closed door. “I thought we could—”

  “Again?” Seth interrupted.

  Gabe backed himself against Seth’s bed, suddenly uncomfortable.

  The door creaked open slightly. Seth’s mother was a dim shape visible through the crack between the door and the jamb. “I wasn’t up for it,” she said.

  “Hopefully they won’t fire you this time,” said Seth, plopping down in a chair beside his desk. “Helen’s probably tired of covering your tables for you.”

  Gabe’s face burned with embarrassment. He couldn’t imagine talking to his own mother that way.

  The door swung wider. “Oh. I didn’t realize you had someone here.” Mrs. Hopper held on to the doorknob as she peered in at the boys. She wore thick glasses that made her eyes look enormous. She was dressed in a faded purple sweat suit, and her gray-streaked hair was rumpled. She looked like she’d just gotten out of bed.

  Gabe glanced at Seth, expecting him to make introductions, but as Seth stared at the desk, he realized that wasn’t going to happen. “Hi,” Gabe said, waving from his spot near the bed. “I’m Gabe.”

  “I-I’m Sharon,” she said, touching her hair, apparently realizing how she must look. “Seth’s mom.”

  “Yeah, he gets it,” Seth mumbled, looking up. “Gabe’s grandmother is Mrs. Ashe. His family moved in with her last month.”

  Sharon’s face lit up. “Oh…yes.” Then she shook her head, morphing her mouth into a serious expression. “I’m so sorry to hear about the fire.”

  “It’s okay,” said Gabe. “At least we’re all alive.” His mother’s words. “That’s what’s important.”

  “We’re kind of busy, Mom,” said Seth.

  “Oh. I apologize. Didn’t mean to intrude. Let me know if you boys need anything.”

  After Sharon shut the door, Seth turned to Gabe and said, “Sorry about that.”

  “About what?”

  “Sharon,” said Seth with a sneer.

  “She’s your mom,” said Gabe. “Why…why do you talk to her like that?”

  Seth sighed. “Because she’s trying to ruin my life.” He was silent for a moment. “She’s lost three jobs in the past three years. Thank goodness my dad’s parents left us this house, or I’m sure we’d have been kicked out by some bank by now.”

  “She said she was feeling sick.”

  “She’s been saying that ever since my older brother, David, ran away. She’s sick”—Seth made air quotes with his fingers—“which means she won’t stop thinking about him. Like, ever.”

  Gabe didn’t know what to say. This was the first time Seth had mentioned having a brother, never mind the fact that he’d run away. “So no one knows where David is?”

  “He might be with my dad,” said Seth, carelessly moving objects around on his desk. Pens, paper, books. Back and forth. “But we don’t know where he is either, so I guess that doesn’t really matter.” Seth stopped what he was doing and stared at his hands, wearing a strange smile. “My family’s screwed up.”

  “So’s mine,” said Gabe quietly, knowing that wasn’t quite true. Things weren’t nearly as bad for him as they seemed to be for Seth. In fact, right now, they didn’t seem bad at all.

  Seth nodded. “That’s why we’re friends,” he said, looking up from his desk. “We get each other.”

  “Yeah…sure.” Gabe sat down on the bed. “So the spare bedroom, the door next to this one, that was David’s?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “And all the stuff in it?”

  Seth squinted at Gabe. “Why are you asking?”

  Gabe hesitated. “Well…the last time I came over, I noticed a little figurine on a shelf in there. A black stone carved in the shape of a man in a hooded cloak.”

  “What about it?”

  “My grandmother has a collection of them. The same exact kind.”

  Seth’s face flushed red. “Oh, really? That’s funny.”

  Gabe didn’t want to press the issue, but he was curious. “The figurine in the other room belonged to your brother?”

  Seth turned back to his desk. “I guess so,” he said.

  “My grandmother said that she’s missing one of them. From her collection.”

  Seth stood. For a moment, he looked frightened. Angry. Like a cornered animal. Seconds later, he smiled. “Hey, you still hungry for that sandwich?” he asked.

  Gabe couldn’t bring himself to smile back. This whole exchange had been so weird. “I should probably get going.”

  LATER, AFTER A QUICK SHOWER, Gabe put on his new bathing suit. He packed a towel into one of his grandmother’s old L.L. Bean tote bags and asked if he could borrow her bike—the one with the big basket on the handles—to ride into town. She gave him a few stern words about being careful and looking both ways at intersections, but otherwise she seemed happy to oblige.

  He found his mom, dad, and sister in the second-floor sunroom studio, where Glen was working on what appeared to be a life-sized puppet—a shaggy gray monster with large googly eyes and a mouth full of dull, marshmallow-shaped white teeth. Dolores was sewing together pieces of a large clawed hand as Miri slept in her playpen.

  “Wow,” said Gabe. “This guy’s for the new show?”

  Glen nodded. “This guy is the new show. Have to whip up another prototype to present to the producers in Boston.” He sighed, then winked at Dolores. “Starting from scratch is painful, but I’m so happy to have an assistant.”

  “Can I help later?” Gabe offered. “After the pool party?”

  “Oh,” said Dolores, “is that today?”

  “Yeah,” said Gabe, trying to sound nonchalant. “Mazzy said to show up around one o’clock. It’s actually at her next-door neighbor’s house, Felicia something. I left the phone number on the kitchen table in case you need to call.”

  Dolores glanced at Glen, smiling a wide, silly smile. “Look at this. Our son is growing up.”

  Glen batted his eyelashes in a mawkish reply. “Oh…so…responsible!” he said, then threw his head forward, pretending audibly to cry. His parents did this to him sometimes, like it was a game they all played whenever they thought he was being too serious, which was often. Years ago, it made him chuckle. Now that Gabe finally did feel responsible, he merely blushed and rolled his eyes.

  “Just wanted to let you know.”

  “Is Seth going with you?” Glen asked, wiping at his fake tears.

  “Uh, no,” said Gabe, his mouth suddenly dry.

  “Didn’t you invite him?” Dolores asked. “He’s been so nice to you this summer.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s probably busy,” said Gabe. He waved good-bye, then closed the studio door behind him, already feeling a sponge of guilt expanding in his stomach.

  Gabe had met Mazzy Lerman the week before, at the Slade Middle School orientation for new students. They were the only two joining the upcoming eighth-grade class. During a tour around the school, Mazzy kept making ridiculous faces whenever the vice principal, Ms. Yorne, wasn’t looking. Gabe struggled to keep himself from giggling the entire time. Afterward, Mazzy asked Gabe to walk her home a few blocks away. They chatted about their old towns, about their old schools, about their favorite movies and teams and bands.

  Gabe couldn’t believe a girl was actually interested in anything he had to say.
At his old school, no one paid any attention to him, except to call him a loser or names like dorkface and Puppet Boy. Some kids in his class were obsessed that his father had created famous characters for that old children’s television show. They’d teased Gabe about it, convinced everyone that he played with dolls. And the more he protested, the worse it became.

  When Mazzy invited Gabe to Felicia’s party, Gabe had mentioned inviting his new friend Seth too. But when Mazzy asked Felicia, Felicia informed Mazzy that if Gabe wanted to bring Seth Hopper, then neither Mazzy nor Gabe would be welcome anymore. It was the first time Gabe realized that Seth might just be this town’s version of a dorkface. A Puppet Boy.

  In Slade, Gabe had a chance to start over, something he’d long wished for. The price of its fulfillment had been everything his family had owned and nights filled with ghastly dreams. Gabe told himself that the cost would be worth what they’d lost in the fire. He would not gamble by inviting Seth to the party. Nothing would ruin Gabe’s new beginning—not if he could help it.

  On the bike, Gabe skidded to a halt at the curb in front of the Lermans’ house—an attractive gray saltbox cottage with white trim. He flicked down the kickstand, went up the walkway to Mazzy’s front door, and pressed the doorbell. Inside, a soft chime rang. As he waited, he glanced around.

  The street was well kempt, the lawns manicured, the landscaping tidy and clean. The house next door was a little bit bigger. A tall white fence ran along the property line toward the backyard. Sounds of water splashing and people chatting drifted up from behind the sharp wooden pickets. Felicia’s party had started.

  Gabe blushed as he wondered if Mazzy had gone ahead without him. But then he heard footsteps. The doorknob turned, the door swung open, and Mazzy stood smiling at him, already dressed in a shiny black swimsuit, camouflage shorts, and orange flip-flops. Her blonde hair fell in ringlets to her shoulders. “Gabe!” she said, giving him a hug. “You made it!”

  Gabe felt his limbs grow numb, but he managed to stay on his feet.

  ONCE HE STEPPED ONTO THE PATIO next door, Gabe was certain he’d made a huge mistake. About twenty kids were swimming, lounging on plastic furniture, or eating hot dogs and burgers. They chatted and laughed as if they’d known one another for centuries. Again, already, he was the outsider.

  When Mazzy called out to Felicia—a petite, pretty girl with short brown hair who was sitting on the opposite edge of the pool—a hush fell over the group. All eyes were like lasers. Gabe held his breath as he followed Mazzy across the concrete, keeping his gaze at his feet so that he wouldn’t trip over anything or stub his toe and embarrass himself before he actually met anyone. “Hi, Gabe,” Felicia said as he approached, her voice sounding kinder than he’d expected. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Oh,” said Gabe, as some of the feeling flickered back into his fingers and toes. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been that Felicia would kick him out as soon as she saw his skinny frame, his freckled shoulders, his grandmother’s (suddenly inappropriate) flowery beach towel. “Thanks for the invitation,” he managed to say.

  Felicia stood. “Hey, everyone,” she called out. “This is my neighbor Mazzy and her friend Gabe. They’re new here. Be nice!”

  A few minutes later, Gabe had plopped the tote bag and towel on the poolside pile next to everyone else’s stuff. Felicia’s father, a man who’d introduced himself as Mr. Nielsen, offered Gabe a hot dog, but he politely declined and followed Mazzy into the pool, where an intense game of Marco Polo was already in progress.

  Since Gabe didn’t know how to swim, he confined himself to the shallow end and was captured a few times in a row. But he didn’t mind losing. By the end of the game, he’d already learned the names of several of his new classmates. Two seemed particularly friendly: a girl named Ingrid Jessup and a boy called Malcolm Sedgwick. Both lived nearby and were “best friends” with Felicia. Sitting at the edge of the pool, they told Gabe and Mazzy what to expect at school, which clubs to join, and which intramural sports to sign up for. When Gabe mentioned that he was staying with his grandmother in the house on the hill, their eyes grew wide.

  “That place is huge!” said Malcolm. “A real mansion.”

  “Yeah. And Elyse Ashe is so famous,” said Ingrid. She turned to Felicia, who sidled up beside them. “She did all the covers for Nathaniel Olmstead’s books.”

  “Oh my gosh, I love those,” said Mazzy. “So totally creepy.”

  Gabe didn’t know what to say, so he shrugged and reached for his towel. How long before they started to think he was creepy too?

  “I’ve always wanted to see inside that place,” said Felicia.

  “You guys should come over some time,” said Gabe. “I’m sure my grandmother wouldn’t mind.” But playing the words back in his head, he couldn’t believe he’d just said them. What if they happened upon his father’s studio? Would someone think to start up the Puppet Boy nonsense again? And what about Seth? Would Dolores and Glen force him to offer an invitation?

  “You hear that, Mazzy?” said Felicia. “Next party is at Gabe’s house.”

  Mazzy wrapped her towel around her head in a tall turban. She smiled at him, as if proud that he’d fit in so easily.

  When the sun sank low enough to create long shadows across the patio, Mr. and Mrs. Nielsen invited the group into their large kitchen for ice-cream sundaes. Everyone helped themselves to extra-large scoops, chocolate syrup, sprinkles, and whipped cream. As Gabe was adding a maraschino cherry to the top of his own sundae masterpiece, a scream came from outside. The sound shocked him, and he nearly dropped the jar of cherries.

  Outside, Felicia stood at the edge of the pool. She pointed at something large and dark hovering just below the water’s surface. “Dad!” she called. “Turn on the light!”

  Moments later, everyone gathered outside. Gabe found Mazzy a few feet from the deep end. “What is that thing?” she whispered. Gabe’s imagination raced. It looked like a large animal. A bear. A moose.

  A person.

  Gabe fought off dizziness. For a moment, Seth’s game flickered through his mind, and he thought of the Hunter, as if this were some trick he’d think to play, a trap to lure them all close.

  Mr. Nielsen flicked a switch in the kitchen and an underwater light illuminated the bottom of the pool. Now the sunken shape became a little bit clearer. As Gabe stared, he realized that it was no animal. No person. In fact, it wasn’t a single object. It was many.

  “Our stuff!” said Malcolm, pointing across the patio to where everyone had earlier dropped their towels and bags. “Someone threw all of it in the pool.” A collective groan rose from the group.

  Felicia turned on them. The bright blue eyes that had earlier appeared to be so kind were icy with anger. “Who would do this?”

  No one spoke for several seconds.

  “We were all in the kitchen,” said Ingrid. “Maybe someone snuck into your yard through the gate.”

  “But why?” Felicia asked. “What’d I ever do to anyone?”

  At the Lermans’ house next door, Gabe perched on the top step beside Mazzy, feeling like a drowned cat. Felicia’s party had dispersed quickly. With nothing dry to wear, and his grandmother’s tote bag still soaking wet, he’d called home to ask for a ride. The sun had set, and the brisk breeze would have made a bike ride up the hill even chillier. Thankfully, after Mazzy had changed her own clothes, she’d brought him a fresh white T-shirt to wear.

  “Sorry about the end of the party,” said Mazzy. “Felicia got so upset.” She shook her head somberly for a moment. Then she cracked a smile. “I actually think what happened was kind of funny.”

  “Funny?”

  “Yeah.” Mazzy chuckled. “I mean, it’s horrible and all, but it made things interesting.”

  “You weren’t having fun?” Gabe asked.

  Mazzy shrugged. “I liked meeting our new classmates. But that doesn’t compare to the thought of a mad party crasher who has it out for all of us.” She smiled mi
schievously. “There’s nothing cooler than a real-life mystery.”

  “I guess,” said Gabe. “I feel like I’ve had enough mystery for the summer.”

  Mazzy stared at him, as if trying to peer inside his head. “Did they ever figure out what started the fire?”

  Me. I wished my life away….

  “Some sort of electrical glitch in my dad’s studio.”

  “Studio?” Mazzy perked up. “What kind of studio?”

  Shoot. A month ago, Gabe had promised himself he’d never mention his father’s career to anyone here in Slade. “He’s…an artist. Like my grandmother.”

  “He draws?” Mazzy pressed.

  “He makes things,” Gabe answered, his stomach beginning to flutter. “Sort of like a sculptor.”

  “I love sculpting!” said Mazzy. “In my old town, I used to dig out fresh clay from underneath this boulder in my backyard. My teacher let me use it in class. I made a clown-head cookie jar. I glazed it and fired it in the kiln and won second prize in the school art contest.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” said Gabe, forcing himself to smile. “You seem talented at lots of things.”

  “We are going to have a hula hoop contest one of these days, you and me. I’ll prove to you that I was the official hooping champion of Cradlebrook, Virginia.”

  “But I already believe you!” he said, then laughed, happy that she’d changed the subject. “I mean, who would make that up?”

  She smacked his arm, but chuckled anyway.

  Gabe was suddenly aware of how quiet everything was out here. No cars. No birds chirping. Only Mazzy, looking right at him. He was suddenly acutely uncomfortable. Thankfully, she broke the silence. “So…how do we solve the mystery?”