Secret of McKinley Mansion

by K. F. Breene

  The bus lurched forward with a groan before immediately skidding to a halt. Maggie, the grizzled middle-aged bus driver, slammed her hand on the horn. The blare drowned out her curses.

  A sleek red sports car—a Corvette—skidded out in front of us. The driver smirked our way and my heart stuttered in my chest.

  It was him. The new guy.

  I nearly flung myself sideways to escape his notice, but he was already peeling out, shooting out in front of the bus and taking off down the street.

  “Wow, did you see that?” someone said.

  “Where did Maggie learn to drive?” someone shouted.

  People laughed and joined in. “Take her license away!” “She should be walking.” “We’re all gonna die!”

  Maggie’s eyes snapped to the large rearview mirror mounted to the windscreen.

  The voices fell to a low murmur peppered with a laugh or two. The hard brown eyeballs in the mirror darted around, taking notice of anyone who wasn’t settling down. Slowly, the bus fell into complete silence. Finally, we started moving again.

  As we made the rounds and worked closer to school, my stomach became increasingly more agitated. The new guy was handsome, built like a star football player, and had a Corvette. He would have no trouble making friends among the top tier of cool people. And I, Ella the Fella, would have to confront him about ghosts and hauntings—the things for which I was routinely mocked.

  Yeah. That would go well.

  I really hoped he didn’t laugh in my face. I hoped even harder that he didn’t do it in front of the whole school.

  Chapter Four

  After I stepped down from the bus, my Walkman already stowed in my bag, I caught sight of my friend Scarlet by the bike racks. It was our meeting place every morning, because while she did have a car, she didn’t have the money to fix it. She was left taking her bike until it got too cold, and then her mother dropped her off (usually late) in a really ugly brown station wagon. Scarlet hated winter.

  She stood a little removed from the bike rack, staring down intently at the book in her hands. Her straight brown hair partially obscured her thin face.

  “Reading for pleasure?” I said as I neared. “You’re going to get made fun of for that.”

  She glanced up, her hazel eyes half hiding behind thick-rimmed black glasses. “Oh, hi.” She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you come up.” She moved the bookmark into position and closed the book before stowing it in her backpack. “Technically I’m doing homework,” she said as she slid the strap up her arm to her shoulder.

  “How many pages ahead are you?” I turned toward the steps and the stream of students heading into the school.

  “A few.”

  “A few…hundred?”

  “Maybe. It’s a good book! I can’t help it.”

  I laughed as we moved into the crowd. “You are probably the only one in school who can’t help it. Which is why you’ll get accepted by any college you choose.”

  She grabbed two halves of her side ponytail and pulled it tighter, adjusting her sparkly pink scrunchy. “That’s the plan. My parents can’t afford to send me to college, so if I don’t get a scholarship, I’ll have to stay around here. No thank you. Oh, speaking about here.” She glanced around us and lowered her voice. “Was your house incredibly active last night? Because mine was. I got hit with a marble!” A delighted smile lit up her face.

  Scarlet’s and my versions of “incredibly active” differed significantly. As did my version from most of the town. Her biggest event was getting hit with something small or hearing footsteps, whereas I had someone who wrestled with my covers or rearranged the furniture in my room.

  The rest of the town seemed the same. Houses might have some grievances and spooky events, but nothing like what routinely happened around me.

  I shook my head at her delight, something I’d never felt about my own brushes with the supernatural. “I don’t know about incredibly, but she made an appearance.” At least I could talk openly with Scarlet. She didn’t try to deny the truth about this town any more than I did.

  Her eyes widened. “And you resisted, obviously. Was it any harder?”

  We slowed at the steps. Bodies pressed in around us, everyone anxious to get inside, but there was some kind of holdup. When I got near the double doors, I saw the reason for it. The jocks and their fan group had chosen the entrance, of all places, to have their pre-school powwow. The large group took up half the hall, forcing the crowd to reduce down so they could get by.

  “Really? They do this here?” I muttered under my breath.

  Someone flat-tired my shoe. An elbow jabbed me in my side.

  “Ouch. Watch it.” I flared my elbows, giving myself a little room. Scarlet did the same before straightening up out of her hunch to her full height, easily topping the crowd.

  Dirk’s booming laugh filled the hallway. As the crowd shifted, I caught sight of his broad, freckled face. He was talking to Bobby Dawson, the starting pitcher on the baseball team, whose attractiveness was tarnished by his constant vague expression. It was like someone had snatched his brain and no one had caught on.

  “Go back to hunching,” I said, and yanked Scarlet a little closer to my level. It wasn’t easy for her, being that she was five inches taller than my five-five.

  “Why?” She looked around wildly.

  “I ran into Dirk earlier. I’d rather not deal with him a second time. Especially since last night…”

  “Ah.” She tapped her finger to her nose. “Gotcha. We’ll talk about…the big show later.”

  Only Scarlet would call it a big show.

  Past the cluster of jocks and their Madonna lookalike groupies, the crowd once again spread out, thinning as it did so. Dented lockers with years’ worth of school-kid graffiti lined the walls, only breaking for doorways. Flyers waved and fluttered, one occasionally slapped or ripped off the wall as students passed.

  “We should start entering school from the side entrance,” I said as we put distance between us and Dirk. “The jocks seem to be hanging around the front more often lately.”

  Scarlet tugged on my sleeve to slow me. She pointed behind us. “Look, Dirk just grabbed that guy you ride the bus with. What’s his name?”

  “Matt. Oh no, there go all his pogs. Dirk is such a butthead.” I watched as Matt bent to scrounge up his prized possessions. The crowd continued to push forward, their shoes landing on the array of pogs or kicking them across the linoleum. Dirk’s laughter boomed and he looked up, his gaze snagging on mine. “Walk. Start walking.” I tugged at Scarlet’s loose maroon sweater.

  “We should definitely go the other way from now on.” Scarlet jolted forward. “A little more walking wouldn’t hurt—”

  Her words cut off as the toe of her Converse stubbed against the floor, sending her staggering, proving why, in her case, extra walking might indeed be more trouble than it was worth. She reached out to me for stability, but fell on me instead.

  I fell-jogged sideways, trying to keep my feet under me. The door to the office swung open right as I was shoved toward it. The edge of the door smacked into my shoulder and slapped my forehead before I forced it shut with my body. I tried to push off, but Scarlet still hadn’t regained her balance. I braced myself as she clutched my shoulders and struggled upright, refusing to let my knees buckle under the extra weight. If we face-planted, it would be the talk of school for weeks.

  The door shoved against my palms, but whoever was behind it wasn’t applying much muscle. They probably hoped we’d get the message and get out of the way. If only. Our combined weight pushed them back, and the door banged shut for the second time.

  “I’ve got it,” Scarlet said, finally stepping away. “Got it. Sorry, I—”

  “Did you have a nice trip?” a bucktoothed boy said as he and a friend passed. “I guess I’ll see you next fall!”

  “Good one.” His friend slapped him five.

  “I am so r
eady to graduate,” Scarlet said, staring after them. She turned back to me. “Are you okay?”

  The shade covering the window in the door to the office zipped up. Mr. Morris’s face appeared in the beige frame, his mouth a thin line, curving down at the edges, and his fuzzy brow resting low over his disapproving brown eyes.

  Dang it. He was the absolute worst school official to tangle with—he even beat out Maggie the Unimpressed Bus Driver. I was a straight-A student, but he had it out for me anyway.

  “Sorry about that, Mr. Morris,” I said, grabbing the handle and pulling the door open for him. I flashed him a sheepish smile. “I fell into the door.”

  His girth nearly filled the doorway as he stood staring at me, his expression devoid of humor.

  “Sorry. Won’t happen again.” I put up my hand. “Scout’s honor. I fell.”

  “You fell?” He glanced at the ground. “I find that hard to believe, given your body is not lying on the floor.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but words eluded me.

  “She pushed it.”

  My heart sank upon hearing that voice.

  The Red Monster was lounging against the lockers on the other side of the hallway with dopey-faced Bobby and Bobby’s mean-spirited girlfriend, Buffy.

  “I saw the whole thing,” Dirk said, puffing up his chest. “She thought it would be funny to push the door when you were coming out. I saw it.”

  “I did not.” I balled my fists. “Scarlet tripped, fell into me, and then I fell into the door.”

  “Yeah,” Scarlet said, her voice barely audible and her face bright red. She didn’t do well with authority figures.

  “You expect us to believe you’re a human domino?” Dirk nudged Bobby with his elbow. Bobby, bless his heart, frowned and looked down at Dirk’s arm. Having clearly decided he didn’t need backup, and wouldn’t be getting it, Dirk added, “Don’t dominoes usually fall down in the end? As Mr. Morris so cleverly pointed out, where’s the body?”

  “What is this, a murder scene?” I asked, outraged.

  “Enough.” Mr. Morris looked between Dirk and me. His gaze settled on Mr. Varsity Football. “Get to class, Mr. Curry.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dirk’s eyes sparkled with glee. He leaned toward me just a bit. “See ya around.”

  I watched him go with narrowed eyes.

  “Mr. Morris, honestly, I didn’t—”

  He held up a hand to me as he looked at Scarlet. “You better get to class. You’ll be late.”

  “Oh.” She clutched the strap of her backpack. “Did the bell ring? I didn’t hear it.”

  Neither had I, but there was no denying we’d been preoccupied.

  “I better get going too. I have a test that I should—” I pointed down the hall, but Mr. Morris’s glower left little to the imagination.

  “In.” He gestured toward the office.

  “Seriously, Mr. Morris, when have I ever done anything malicious? Or gotten into trouble?” I stayed where I was, sparing a quick glance for Scarlet, who was drifting away with an apologetic frown. “I’m one of the best students in the school.”

  “Anything malicious?” Mr. Morris shifted. A couple of lingering students hurried through the nearly deserted hallway. “Like putting itching powder on Mr. Curry’s jockstrap?”

  “Oh. That.” I scratched my temple. “That wasn’t really my fault, actually. He drove me to it, you see.”

  “Or cutting holes in the nipple region of Mr. McAffrey’s practice jersey?”

  “Well, in my defense, I thought it was Dirk’s. You have to understand, Mr. Morris, Dirk and I have a longstanding—”

  “In.” He gestured me in again, his movements harsh and precise.

  I sighed, before I threw up my pointer finger in a last-ditch effort. “Doesn’t it seem suspect that it was Dirk who said he saw me? Because of our history, you understand. I definitely think you should look at the facts—”

  “In.”

  I bowed in defeat. “Fine.” I slouched past him.

  A high desk greeted me, its surface plastered with multicolored papers and a few baskets in varying stages of overflow. Three pens lay near the edge, each with a discolored beetle glued to the end. As if the bugs weren’t deterrent enough against stealing, the pens were attached via string to a dirty-looking brick with chips and pock marks around the edges, probably from having been dropped a time or two, possibly in the midst of a pen heist.

  If I were a betting woman, I’d say Susan, the purse-lipped lady behind the desk, was not overly fond of continuously supplying writing equipment.

  “Susan, she is to remain here until I have a chance to see her.” Mr. Morris lifted his chin, watching me take a seat along the wall beside the door.

  “But what about my test?”

  “You can do your test later, in detention,” Mr. Morris said to me, pushing the door open, now unhindered.

  “In detention?” I said. “I was falling.”

  “Whining doesn’t become you, dear,” Susan said after Mr. Morris had left. I crossed my arms over my chest in response. “If you’d come quietly, he probably would’ve been easier on you.”

  “Or…you know, had I not fallen into the door in the first place. Prevention, as it were,” I mumbled.

  Her lips tightened. She shook her head and looked down at the papers in front of her.

  I sighed dramatically and glanced down the row of empty seats. Half of a heavily scribbled-on navy backpack peeked out from under the chair nearest the principal’s door.

  At least I wasn’t alone. Some other poor schmuck would also have to endure one of Mr. Morris’s never-ending lectures. Although, sadly, this meant it would take longer for him to get to me.

  I slouched a little harder, contemplating finishing the calculus problems—assuming I could even see the rest of the assignment under the wax. It would give me something productive to do while I waited.

  A door bumped softly against the frame to my left, and a moment later, I registered movement. Someone coming from the bathroom. I didn’t bother to glance up. Knowing my luck, it was a younger version of Dirk. I knew the score. Jocks were preternaturally inclined to single out and torment nerds and misfits, regardless of who might be within hearing distance.

  I tapped the little strap on the top of my backpack, still debating the homework, when a pair of brand-new Air Jordans stalked through my field of vision. The most divine scent flirted with my senses. Fresh cotton mixed with an earthy smell infused with spring mornings and blooming daisies.

  I glanced up as a guy dropped down into the empty seat over the backpack like he was waiting for a movie, not a care in the world.

  Oh holy handsome.

  It was him! It was the new guy from across the street.

  A crisp white shirt stretched across the expanse of his shoulders, pulling at the seams. The collar folded over a navy tie with faint red spots that circled his neck and dropped down his chest. Black slacks hugged his thighs, and if it weren’t for the Jordans, I’d assume he was headed to a business meeting. As it was, he was way overdressed for this school.

  Any thought of finishing my homework fell out of my head. I had bigger fish to fry, like talking to him about the Old Woman. Or even talking to him at all.

  “Mr. Morris will be right with you, dear,” Susan said to the new guy with a smile, revealing a spot of pink lipstick staining her teeth. “He had to run out for a minute.”

  A masculine mumble preceded the new guy’s shifting in his seat. He bowed to rest a forearm on his knee—very Dylan from 90210—and glanced my way.

  I yanked my eyes to face forward, feeling my face heat. Would he recognize me instantly, or would it take a moment?

  The phone rang and Susan picked it up. “Montgomery High School, this is Susan, how can I help you?”

  She paused to listen, and I tapped my fingers against my knees. I should say something. Greet him. We were neighbors, after all. Starting a conversation should be easy.

  “What are you
in for?”

  I jumped, not expecting his very relaxed, very easygoing question.

  “Hu-huh?” The way it came out didn’t even sound like a word, but a collection of syllables that had been smashed together and thrown away.

  “I said, what are you in for?” He swiveled a little, still leaning on his leg but now mostly facing me. A smile curled his full lips and a little dimple appeared in his cheek. Dark brows matching his equally dark brown, almost black hair, lifted. “Why are you here?”

  I cleared my throat, getting my ducks in a row. “My klutz-o friend fell into me, and I fell into the door. Mr. Morris was trying to come out as I was falling in.”

  His smile burned brighter and his startlingly blue eyes glimmered with mischievousness. “You fell into the door…” He glanced at Susan, who was speaking into the receiver while flinging around papers like they’d wronged her in some way. His voice lowered. “Or you pushed the door?”

  Hesitant to be labeled a nerd so soon, I merely shrugged.

  He leaned back, chuckling softly, and looked away. Susan’s voice, an octave higher now and much faster (she was clearly upset about something), filled our gap in conversation.

  “So…” I said, stringing out the word and working up the courage to combat the real issue at hand. His focus drifted back. “Uh…about last night…”

  The entire vibe of his body changed instantly. The glimmer in his eyes dulled, the smile melted off his face, and every muscle stiffened. I caught a glimpse of what was beneath the surface of his ultra-cool exterior.

  Last night he’d been terrified out of his mind.

  And while he’d probably been scared a good few times in his life—who hadn’t?—he’d never been scared like that. Not the type of scared that came from watching objects move and candles light themselves. He’d probably felt the pull to go down to her. Felt the itching along his skin as she stared up at him with those sightless eyes.

  In that moment, I felt a kinship with him that I hadn’t felt with another living soul since Janine and Alex disappeared. I felt closer to him than I even did to Scarlet, whom I’d known all my life and whom I’d told everything. Because that shadow crossing over his eyes said he knew. The Old Woman had visited him, and it had affected him the same way it always affected me. It wasn’t the kind of experience you could properly convey to your bestie. It was something you had to feel for yourself. If you hadn’t, then you never really knew.