A breath I didn’t even know I was holding escaped.
“You’re not just able to see ghosts . . .”
I cut her off. “I haven’t really seen ghosts, just fog like stuff. And it seems to come and go.”
Cherie gave me the evil eye. “You can see ghosts,” she reiterated. “And you can communicate with them, too.” The light of understanding twinkled in her eye. “You’re going to be a Waker, aren’t you? Just like your grandma. Your abilities are developing!”
I smoothed down the wrinkles on my bedspread thinking the moment that I had dreaded had come and it wasn’t nearly as bad as I had thought it would be. “Yeah. Apparently I am.”
Cherie’s eyes glistened with glee. “Frickin’ awesome!” She twisted a lock of her hair around her index finger. “So how are you handling this? It isn’t every day your worst fear becomes a reality.”
I sighed. “I know.” I averted my eyes to the corner of the room, noting the need to vacuum, allowing myself to really think before I responded. “I’m actually doing better than I expected.”
Cherie didn’t say anything but I could see her almost shaking with excitement.
I shook my head with a wry grin. “So what’s the plan? What do I do about the ghosts?”
“I’m not sure.” She gave me a confident smile. “We’ll think of something. I promise.”
****
The following afternoon I found Cherie in our room, unpacking red candles from the huge box she had been storing in the back of her closet. A thick book was open on the floor next to her and she was crossing off items from a list as she gathered them. As soon as she saw me she dropped her list and grinned, patting the spot on the ground beside her.
“I think we need to help you grow comfortable with your gift,” she stated unceremoniously.
I groaned as I sat down next to her and leaned against her bed. “And how do we do that?”
Cherie flipped the page on her book. “We have to desensitize you so you’re not freaked out by them anymore. Then when you see them you can just order them away or something.”
I stared for a moment in surprise. “You think I can do that?”
“I hope so,” she said, turning back to her book. “I think your grandma said the stronger you get, the more control you have over your interactions with ghosts. She said at first she was nervous, but she made herself be around them. It helped strengthen her.”
“So how do I do that?”
“I’m throwing a formal dinner party for our closest friends tonight.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.” I wrapped my shoe lace around my finger. “How is that supposed to help?”
“It’s not the party that’s helping, it’s the location. I’m having it in the old pool house.”
Fear washed through me. “Why there?”
“It’s the most haunted place on campus. So if a ghost is trying to communicate with you, it would be the best place for that to happen.”
“Maybe I should ease into it a little more.”
“No, you have to learn how to deal with this and fast. What better way than surrounded by your friends? The ghost won’t try to hurt you if we’re all with you. What’s not to love— food, friends and a little training in your family business. It’s a win-win.”
“And it’s formal because?”
Cherie pointed to a slinky black dress hanging in her closet. “It’s formal so I have an excuse to wear that in front of Steve. You’re going to come aren’t you?”
I bit my lip and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the uneasy twisting in my insides before I nodded. Cherie clapped her hands and squealed.
I didn’t know what to say, so I sat on my bed and watched as she began going through her mp3 player to create a playlist for the party.
“I’m throwing your bad musical taste a bone; I put ‘Can’t Stop Dreaming of You’ on the list. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”
“Someday my music will grow on you.”
She smiled as I helped her load up the black candelabras, whose dangling beads tinkled as I loaded them into several small boxes. The red candles followed and Cherie picked up the box, instructing me to come to the pool at exactly nine o’clock.
****
I was pretty much useless the rest of the evening while Cherie was gone, preparing for the party. I attempted to write my mom and dad an email, but had a hard time writing one that wasn’t boring yet still didn’t give details that might cause them to worry. After re-reading it, I knew I hadn’t done a good job and my mom would know something was wrong. As I hit send, I knew a concerned and nosey phone call was in my future.
At eight-thirty I dangled my small silver purse around my wrist, debating about taking it. I hated carrying purses, but it matched my dress so nicely, I felt obligated as a woman to carry it.
I walked down to the lobby where Brent was reclining in one of the leather chairs, flipping through a magazine from the coffee table, wearing a black suit and a blue shirt.
“You look beautiful,” he said, setting down the magazine.
“You clean up nice yourself.”
I spun for him, letting my sequined violet gown swish around my ankles while teetering in my four-inch heels. Brent stood up and appraised me with a wide appreciative grin that did nothing to help my balance.
“Ready?” He asked walking toward the doors.
I followed mutely behind. Trying to control the nervous bounce house my stomach had become, my fingers reached to fidget with my grandmother’s necklace, but met with only my naked throat. The necklace was still on my dresser since it hadn’t matched my dress, and I felt oddly exposed without it dangling there. Brent noticed my fingers tapping my chest where the necklace should be and his eyebrows raised before he turned to open the glass doors.
He offered his arm, his shoulders stiff. When I took it, his posture relaxed and something flashed briefly in his eyes and was gone before I could interpret it. Together we walked into the chilly moonlit evening.
“Here we go,” I whispered to Brent as we veered off into the restricted zones. He pulled out a flashlight and led me expertly toward the pool, a much wider and more direct route than Cherie and I had taken.
“Done this once or twice, have you?”
He laughed. “Yeah, sneaking out to the pool is like a rite of passage at Pendrell.”
“Good to know I’m fitting in so well.”
When we got to the tree that led to the window, Brent turned around and clasped his hands on my shoulders. “Do you really want to go to this party?”
“Don’t you?” I asked, placing my hands over his.
He dropped his hands and ducked his head. “Truth be told, I’m not that eager to see Steve, and I hate this place. It makes me think of all that curse crap. Why did Cherie have to throw her party here?”
I hadn’t told him the real reason for the location and lied with a smile. “She thought it’d be fun.”
He cracked his knuckles and looked over his shoulder. “I’m not really sure why I came.”
He gave me a wan smile before starting up the tree. I followed, and then crawled through the window, which wasn’t easy in my formal dress. Brent took my hand and we walked together down the corridor that led to the pool.
When we entered the main room I stopped short, utterly transfixed by the way Cherie had fixed it up. She had swept and dusted and picked up the litter, leaving the area amazingly clean. Sandalwood, frankincense, and cinnamon were wafting around the room, and as I inhaled I actually felt myself relax. The soothing music Cherie had picked out was playing from somewhere in the room, adding to the calming atmosphere. I had expected the setup to be chintzy, but it wasn’t; it was beautiful.
The black candelabras with the red candlesticks were placed on tables in the four corners of the pool, giving the room more light than the moon did, and creating an almost romantic feel. She had placed a table with a white lace tablecloth in the middle of the pool. There were three white candle
s placed in ivory holders engraved with seashells in the center of the table, surrounded by plastic plates and cups, pitchers of water and several trays of food. Six chairs were arranged around the table, all but two of which were occupied. Cherie had found a ladder long enough to get us down and, more importantly, back up. As Brent and I climbed carefully down the ladder, I wished I had worn more practical shoes.
Cherie beamed as she watched me take in the room. “Do you like it?”
“It’s amazing.” I gave her arm a squeeze.
“Come and sit here, you two,” she said, motioning toward the two empty seats.
I exchanged hellos with Steve, Travis, and Audrey, all dressed in their formal wear, too. I tucked my purse under my chair before Brent took my hand and we slid into our seats. Brent’s cool fingers tickled my palm and I watched him trace circles along my wrist. His hand looked different and it only took a second to find the change.
“Hey, your nails have grown out. Did you finally stop biting them?”
Brent held his hands out wiggling his fingers, before lacing them together and cracking his knuckles. “I think I broke the habit only to pick up a new one.”
Cherie turned down the music and stood excitedly at the head of the table. “Thank you for coming. I’m sorry I don’t have better food but it’s all I could find from the cafeteria.” She motioned toward the manicotti and the simple salad, before striking a match to light the candles.
As Cherie served herself and passed the dish along to Steve, something scurried across a corner of the room above our heads causing Audrey to jump. She swallowed hard as she craned her neck trying to peek over the edge of the pool.
“Why are we having your party here?” Travis asked grabbing onto Audrey’s hand.
“It’s the most haunted place around and I wanted to help Yara grow more comfortable being around the ghosts trying to communicate with her.”
I kicked her under the table but her smile didn’t dim.
Brent jerked slightly as he leaned over and whispered, “You’ve had a ghost trying to talk to you? For how long?”
“All year,” I confessed spooning salad onto my plate. “Well there have been weird things happening all year but it’s only been the last few days that one has actually been trying to talk to me.”
Brent grabbed a bread roll and slammed it onto his plate. “I see.”
“This place is haunted?” Audrey asked, the pupils in her eyes widening.
“Yes,” Cherie said at the same time Brent answered, “No.”
Their gazes locked in a sort of battle until Cherie turned toward Audrey. “You haven’t heard the story about what happened here?” Audrey’s face had gone white and she shook her head. Cherie leaned forward and her voice lowered. “About sixty years ago, a group of students snuck in here after hours. It was a night like this— the moon was full and the air chilly. They snuck into the pool house to have some harmless fun. They had no idea that what awaited them was death.” Cherie had always been an excellent storyteller and her words were weaving an eerie magic, enthralling us all. Between breathing out and breathing in a now familiar musky scent became heavy in the air. The second ghost was here. The mp3 player skipped, cutting the current song off halfway through and a new one began, ”Can’t Stop Dreaming of You.”
A cold wind rushed around the room and the candles on the table flickered in response. From the bottom of the floor, a blanket of icy dark fog began rising as it rippled out, reeking of chlorine. The mist was here, too. A loud sound like a footstep echoed through the pool, followed by a long banging noise that sounded like an old wooden rollercoaster going up the track. When it stopped my stomach felt like it was at the top of the ride about to plunge to my toes. Audrey screamed. Another loud thud came from the pool floor and my stomach plunged. My mouth went dry and I tried unsuccessfully to swallow. We waited for a second, no one breathing. When everything remained silent, we let out a collective sigh.
“What . . . what was that?” Travis asked as Audrey dove into his arms.
A deep chill settled inside me, crackling with a wintry intensity, raising every hair on my arms and neck in an electrified static. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead and I lifted my hand, still entwined with Brent’s, to wipe it away, his fingers were like ice. A blinding white light exploded in the center of the table.
Its brightness was impossible to look at directly and I had to turn my head to peer into it, squinting my eyes. The intensity of the light dimmed slightly, leaving dancing spots in my vision as a figure appeared. Through the harsh glare, I could make out only a flash here, a flicker there— random details but never the whole picture. It seemed like a young man, about my age, almost completely translucent, standing on the table. His untucked white button-down shirt undulated in an unseen breeze, as did tendrils of his hair. I could make out his deep brown eyes— they seemed dazed and slightly unfocused as his gaze traveled rather aimlessly around our circle.
“It isn’t safe. He will hurt you,” the ghost whispered. My heart pricked with pity for him, sensing his loneliness, his innocence and I wanted to help him.
“Don’t trust him,” the ghost pleaded, recapturing my attention as he looked down on us, turning slowly on the spot. The way he moved, it seemed like he was lost, unsure where to go. As I glanced around the table no one seemed to be seeing him except Brent, whose thunderstruck expression I’m sure matched my own. “You must stay away from him!”
“From who?” I asked before I could think. My outburst caused everyone to look at me, including a startled Brent.
The ghost seemed to notice me for the first time. I blinked and jumped to see him squat to my eye level, his face directly in front of mine. He seemed familiar but before I could place him he screamed, “Stay away from him!” His voice was so loud and so shrill my ears throbbed in pain. The wind stirred up by his movement was no longer cold but hot, mirroring the anger in his words.
“He isn’t me.” Suddenly, without warning, he pointed at me and my hair was sent flying behind me. The hot air that followed the motion of his finger seared my skin, burning me. I screamed as the wave of heat clung to me, like burning fabric and I clutched Brent’s hand tighter as my head lolled back.
“Stay away from her!” His brown eyes turned scarlet, and I could feel the hate and anger that was boiling in him as the hot wind whirled around me. A heavy scraping echoed through the room, as the pool shuddered and trembled. I let out another scream. The intensity of the heat raged against my body threating to consume me, and my mind spiraled in chaos, breaking, losing reason, unable to stand the frenzied pain throbbing.
Then suddenly there was the sweetest release from the pain. I was blanketed in a comfortable chill, and the pool was eerily still. My soul had fled my body to protect itself, my body was frozen, my face contorted in pain, my lifeless eyes wide in terror. My friends, even Brent, were completely still.
Something chilly brushed my shoulder and I wheeled toward it screaming. It was the ghost, the intensity of light surrounding him had dimmed and we looked at each other. My ears pounded in confusion and my jaw went slack because it looked just like Brent, almost a mirror image, dressed in the Pendrell uniform. The ghost rubbed his eyes, his energy focusing on me, his brown eyes tender.
“Yara?” He asked before the candles in the room flickered out and I was pulled back into my body.
I looked toward him, shivering from the cold, but he had vanished. I freed my hands, pulled my knees to my chest, squeezed my eyes closed, and covered my ears.
“Are you okay?” Cherie pleaded, throwing her arms around me. There was a scraping of chairs as everyone gathered in
around me.
“I’m okay,” I said, not sure if I was lying.
Steve turned on an electric lantern that lit our surrounding area. I opened my eyes and saw Audrey clinging to Travis, white as chalk. Brent’s eyes were trained on the ground as he shuffled his feet.
“Is he really gone?” My voice trembled as I f
orced my hands away from my ears.
“Who? Did you see something?” Cherie asked incredulously.
“The boy . . . the one who looked like Brent?”
“You saw a boy?” Cherie asked.
“Yes . . . didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t see anything. But I felt the wind . . . cold at first and then burning hot. And I felt the ground shake and heard some loud noises. What happened?” Cherie pressed.
Steve let out a low whistle and nodded toward the edge of the pool above our head, “I think I see what that sound was.”
Not sure my heart could take any more, I took a deep breath before glancing up. Something was covering half the pool— luckily not the portion where our ladder stood.
“What is it?” Brent asked, cracking his knuckles.
“Wow,” Cherie said, mouth agape.
“The retractable floor,” Steve answered, setting the lantern on the table.
“The one that closed and trapped all those kids . . . when they died,” Travis concluded as his machine gun laugh nervously bounced off the pool walls.
“One and the same,” Cherie said, her voice cracking.
“Yes, the floor thing is very eerie,” I interrupted, “but what about the ghost? Did anyone else see him?” I questioned, looking from face to face and being bewildered as each person shook their head no. I turned to Brent. “I know you saw him.” His eyes met mine and he hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and dropping his gaze back toward his feet. I knew he was lying but didn’t feel like arguing.
“There was a boy . . . he looked exactly like Brent.” I swallowed hard. “Was it your brother?” He shrugged. I looked around the group. “I think maybe it was. He seemed to be lost and wanting to warn us about someone.” There was a collective gulp and Brent’s head jerked up. “But then he noticed me and he became angry and I thought . . . I thought . . . I thought he was going to hurt me.” Even though I had somewhat deadened myself to the experience, my breath was coming too quickly and I found myself gasping for air.
“She’s hyperventilating,” Travis said and was quickly digging through Cherie’s box for something. He came back with an old brown lunch sack that he held out for me. I took it and tried to follow his deep breaths. But all I could manage were rapid, shallow ones. Cherie and Brent each put an arm around me and I mimicked Travis’s deep breaths until my gasps had slowed to normal.
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