by Jody Kihara
one other thing, though?” Dad asked. “Seeing as we’re in
town, I might as well check my email and see if I can finish
off this legal stuff. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No,” I said, momentarily wavering over the idea of
going to check my email, too. But this was more important,
and I’d have to hurry if I wanted to finish up before Dad;
I’d just had another idea that might give me some clues.
“Take your time. Meet you back at the car?”
“Unless it starts to rain, then I’ll come pick you up at
the library. Can you pick me up a spy novel or something?”
“Okay!” I ran off.
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“Uh, Paul?”
I turned and jogged backwards. “Yeah?”
“It’s the other way.”
I ran up the stairs and pulled open the heavy glass
door to the library. The place was tiny, only the size of one
of the rooms in the library back home. A heavily built
woman sat behind the desk, glaring down at some papers
in front of her. She wasn’t the librarian, was she? Her
bulging arm muscles and wide shoulders made her look like
she should be the town cop, if not an army major. I slowed
my steps, debating doing some online research instead.
The only problem was, I didn’t see any public computer
terminal in the library. Life in a small town…
Still glaring, she looked up. “Can I help you?”
“Um. Yeah. Just wondering if you know of any local
ghost stories.”
“Oh, you’re looking for ghost story books?” Her
expression grew much friendlier. “Yes, we have some. I’ll
show you where they are.”
“Um, actually, no…” But she was already striding
towards the stacks. I followed.
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Before I could speak again, she was pointing out
books on the shelf. “This one’s a collection of short ghost
stories. Maybe for a younger audience, but they’re still fun.
This one is civil-war-era ones… a bit heavier going, but
good and scary. And this volume is ghost stories from
around the world…” From her delight at having someone to
give books to, I got the impression that no one in this town
ever read.
“Actually, what I’m really after is local ghost stories.
Do you have any of those?” She gave me a blank look.
“Um, they don’t even have to be in a book. Even a
magazine or whatever.”
Clearly this idea didn’t make her happy. Her frown
returned. “I don’t think there have been any books
published on local stories. I’d have heard about them.”
“Oh, well… I was just wondering if maybe you…
knew any. That you’d heard, I mean.”
She considered this. “No. No, definitely not.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say and so, not
wanting to risk her wrath over not leaving the library with a
book, I randomly grabbed one of the ones she’d pointed to.
As we walked back to the desk, I asked, “You’re sure
there aren’t any? Ones that kids tell, maybe?”
“I’m pretty sure I’d know. I do the story-time here at
Halloween.”
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I mulled this over as I left the library. If there was
no ghost story, did that mean the neighbor kids had made
it up?
It’s from around here... that makes it scarier.
The trouble was, I doubted Corey had the creativity
to make up a story like that. The twins definitely didn’t.
And when I considered it more, why would the librarian
necessarily know? She was all about telling stories out of a
book, not listening to new ones. When I was a kid, we
didn’t share our ghost stories with the adults.
I glanced at my watch as I jogged to the realtor’s.
Hopefully Dad was still busy. The realtor looked up as soon
as I entered her small office. “Hi there,” I gasped, already
out of breath.
“Well, hello. Paul, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“How’s the cabin? No problems, I hope?”
“No,” I said, still panting. “I just wanted to ask you,
was it you who rented the other cabin, too?”
“Yes. In fact, I thought you would have met your
neighbors by now. I’m surprised you haven’t.”
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The Girl Across the Water
“No, I have, I mean… I wanted to find out a bit more
about them.” I was finally breathing normally. “I was
wondering if you could help with that.”
She frowned, but not in a mean way, just like she
was thinking. “Well,” she said. “I’m afraid I can’t. Client
confidentiality and all. There are privacy rules I have to
follow.”
“Oh!” I said. Drat, I hadn’t thought of that.
“Why?” she asked. “You’re not having any problems
with them, are you? Because if you are, I can certainly try
to help. That’s what I’m here for.” She opened a drawer
and pulled out a file.
I hesitated, considering making something up so
that I could get some of the information that was in that
file. “Are you allowed to tell me how many kids there are?”
“I don’t see why not… after all, you’ll be running into
each other. There are three.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Should I tell her about the girl? Would that make her
investigate the neighbors?
“So is there a problem?” she asked, opening the file.
“Um…” I hesitated, then gave up. “No.”
As I turned to leave, she said, “If you want to know
where they’re from, you could always look at their license
plate. I can’t stop you doing that.”
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The Girl Across the Water
I turned back in surprise. I was way stupider than I’d
realized! I hadn’t even thought of that.
She gave me a smile and said, “Look, if it’s
something publicly displayed like a license plate, then I
suppose there’s no reason for me not to tell you that.
They’re from Alabama.” She smiled again. “But that’s all I
can do.”
“Thanks,” I said, and leaned forward quickly. There,
first page in the file, was a photo of their license plate. I
quickly memorized it, hoping I didn’t get it wrong from
looking at it upside-down. “Um, bye,” I said, and left,
repeating the number again in my head.
Alabama… well, it fit the redneck bill. Unfortunately,
it didn’t tell me anything useful about them.
I stood debating what to do. There didn’t seem to be
any more I could find out today… but I was determined to
do as much as I could while I was in town, and this whole
‘just a joke’ thing was still making me uncomfortable. Was
‘Pa’ really hiding a run-away-from-home daughter?
I headed back to the police station.
“Nope, no missing children reports,” the officer said
with a sigh, clearly tired of the topic.
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“I’m just worried in case it isn’t a joke,” I said. This
time I looked straight into his eyes. “What if she’s with the
family in the next cabin and is trying to run away from
them? What if it’s ‘cause she’s being mistreated? Shouldn’t
someone at least look into it? I mean, if she tries to get to
that island again by herself and drowns in the process, then
it would be our fault because we didn’t listen to her…”
The cop shifted around in his seat once or twice,
then turned to his computer. Now that I’d raised the
possibility a kid drowning, it looked like I might see some
action.
“I’ll run a background check on the father,” he said.
“Okay, thanks. I don’t know their last name, but the
realtor will, and I can give you their license plate number if
that helps.”
He gave me a strange look as he reached for his
phone and dialed I was supposed to wait around or not. I
glanced at my watch, wondering about Dad.
He looked up briefly as he waited for an answer and
said, “We’ll call you if anything comes up. But if something
does … it’s a police matter, then. You know that, right?”
“I just wanted to help,” I said guiltily, and left.
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I’d forgotten to get a book for Dad, so as soon as I
found him, we went back to the library. I hoped the
librarian wouldn’t talk to me about the ghost story in front
of him.
Dad found a book for himself and one for Jasper, and
after checking them out, we headed to the truck. As we
climbed in, two raindrops hit the windshield, and we both
glanced up at the sky. It looked much darker than before,
and as more raindrops bounced off the truck, leaves on the
nearby trees shivered in the wind.
“I wonder if we’re in for a storm,” Dad said. “Looks
pretty ugly.”
I continued to gaze at the sky as we drove up the
road. When we turned onto the dirt road that led into the
woods, everything seemed to grow darker still, and
treetops swayed overhead.
“That came on fast,” I said, and wondered if we
should’ve got more books. I hadn’t even got anything good
for myself; just the book of Civil War ghost stories, and I
wasn’t in the mood for ghost stories right now.
One advantage to the storm, I supposed, was that
no mysterious girl was likely to put in an appearance. At
least I hoped so, but then imagined her emerging from
dark, dripping woods, or rising up from the dark grey water
of the lake…
No, I told myself. She’s real, and no real person was
going to crawl walk through a rain-drenched forest with a
storm moving in.
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Chapter 12
When we got back, Jasper was fidgeting, waiting to
hear what had happened. There wasn’t much to tell when it
came down to it: Dad filled him in on the conversation with
the cop, and I kept quiet about my trips to the library, the
realtor’s, and the police station again.
Once Jasper knew what had happened, he seemed
to lose interest in the topic. I was kind of surprised that he
didn’t want to ask me more about The Girl and all the times
I’d seen her. This made me wonder if he didn’t believe me,
either.
For the rest of the day, we played games, ate, read
our books, and listened to the rain battering against the
windows. I read some of Jasper’s comics instead of the
book I’d brought back, but after a while gave up as Jasper
kept glancing over with a watchful eye every ten seconds to
make sure I didn’t crinkle any pages or handle his comics
wrongly. He kept them in pristine condition.
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The Girl Across the Water
With a sigh, I got up and wandered to the window.
The rain seemed to have let up a bit, but the wind was
gusting now, shaking the trees and making a low, eerie
sound as it blew through our clearing.
I wished the police would phone with some news
about the neighbors. Likely there would be none, but even
so, I grabbed Dad’s cell phone, ran upstairs, and walked
into each bedroom to see if I could get reception. There
was none.
That evening, we had another marathon game of
Risk, and Dad won. We all traipsed up the stairs
afterwards, yawning ― it was already late. Jasper and I
both settled down to go to sleep. Just as I was about to
drift off, I thought about the girl again, and raised myself
on the bed for one last look out the window. And then I saw
them, coming from the island: three flashes.
I shook myself to make sure I really was awake and
not dreaming it. Nope, definitely awake.
Three flashes again: I need help.
“Dad!” I yelled, leaping out of bed and running to
the door. “Dad, come quick!”
He came out of his bedroom. “What is it?”
“Come look! Dad, she’s on the island and needs
help!”
“How do you know? Paul, you can’t even see the
island, it’s dark out.”
“What’s going on?” Jasper asked.
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The Girl Across the Water
Dad flicked our bedroom light on, but I turned it
back off and ran to the window. She had to be able to see
my signals. I snatched up the big flashlight, and, making
sure Dad was looking, flashed twice. You okay?
Three flashes returned. I need help!
“That’s the signal!” I explained. “One for ‘hi’, two for
‘I’m okay’, three for ‘I need help.’” I turned to see Dad’s
reaction: he was frowning. “Dad, we have to go help her,
she’s in trouble!”
“Well, there’s someone out there, but Paul, we don’t
know this isn’t just a joke. We don’t even know it’s that
girl.”
“But what if it is, and she really does need help?” I
asked. “Dad, it’s dark out, and windy, and raining, I can’t
see someone dealing with all that just to play a joke.”
“Well, I suppose we could call the police… if I can get
reception, that is.”
“There isn’t any, I checked earlier. Dad, we have to
go out there!”
“To the island?”
The three flashes came again, this time more slowly.
“She needs us!” I insisted.
Dad ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “I
don’t know what to do, Paul. There definitely is someone
out there... I guess if it’s not too windy, we could go out in
the canoe to check things out, and if they need help, we’ll
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pick them up, and if they don’t…” His expression turned
grim. “… then we’re going to put and end to this once and
for all.”
“Okay, but we have to hurry!”
“Get dressed. Warm clothes.”
Dad went into his bedroom to get changed, and I
threw on jeans, a T-shirt and a hoody while Jasper flustered
around making incoherent protests. “Are you sure you
should go? I mean… don’t you think…?” But he didn’t have
any good reasons, either, why we shouldn’t go, so I ignored
him, ran downstairs, and pulled on my sneakers.
Dad followed me, grabbing the big flashlight as we
headed out the door.
“But what about me?” Jasper wailed from the
doorway.
“You stay here. Three people’s too many for the
canoe — we might have a passenger on the way back.”
With the flashlight beam guiding the way, Dad walked to
the canoe. I glanced back at Jasper, outlined in the light of
the cabin doorway. Somehow I didn’t think that was what
Jasper had meant with the ‘what about me’. He was
probably just as scared to be left on his own as he was to
get in the canoe.
We went to grab the lifejackets from the shed. I took
mine from its usual hook, and Dad swung the light around
looking for the other two. But there was only one other —
Jasper’s.
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The Girl Across the Water
“Where’s mine?” Dad asked, continuing to swing the
light around.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking around as I fastened
mine up. Jasper came running, the sound of a stumble and
an ‘ow!’ announcing his presence.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“My lifejacket’s missing,” Dad said. “Jasper, do you
know where it is?”
“No, I didn’t take it!”
“Well, it didn’t just walk off by itself. One of you
must have had it. Where did you put it?”
Jasper and I looked at each other. I raised my
shoulders — I had no idea.
“I don’t know!” he protested again. He was looking
scared enough to cry. “You better not go! You should stay
here!”
It wasn’t raining, but the wind was really kicking up.
I ran to the water’s edge to peer out toward the island.
Three more flashes: I need help. This time they were
slower and weaker, as if the flashlight battery was dying.
