by Konen, Leah
Was Astrid still okay then? Or was it all just another lie?
The light through the window dimmed, and Ella’s eyes were beginning to feel strained. She set the journal down and walked to the window.
Her breath caught in her chest, because in the corner of the woods she saw red hair. A flash of cornflower.
She froze, her heart racing now, and then she bolted for the door, ran to the edge of the woods. When she got there, she stopped. Listening.
Nothing there. No one. Not a single patter. Not a step. The woods would make noise if someone ran through them. Especially right in the middle of the day. When there were no owls or cicadas. When the only noise was that of the running brook in the distance.
She was just about to turn back to the cabin when she saw it. There on a twig, dancing in the breeze.
A tiny piece — maybe a centimeter thick, a few inches long.
A tiny piece of fabric.
Of cornflower blue chiffon.
Ella ran back to the cabin, stuffing the journal and Sydney’s book into her bag as quickly as she could.
She had to get out of here — she could calm herself down, get everything ready, come back tonight. It would be okay, she told herself. It would all be okay.
But she couldn’t stay here. Not now.
She ran to the edge of the clearing, not bothering to shut the cabin door behind her — she was a few steps into the woods when, on impulse, she turned back, knelt down, and snatched the blue silk from the branch.
This is real, she told herself. This is proof.
She clenched it in her fist and she ran — through the woods and past Astrid’s house as quickly as she could. It wasn’t until she was down the road, several streets away, that she let herself catch her breath.
She slowed to a walk as she approached her street.
The sun hadn’t yet set, but the street lamps were already beginning to glow as an old man stood in his driveway, hosing off the dirt and the clay — everything appeared so normal, so lazy, just like any summer day — and as her breathing calmed, she opened her hand.
And that’s when she stopped short. Right there in front of the old man’s driveway.
The sheer blue fabric was gone.
Ella doubled back, but it was no use — she couldn’t find it anywhere. She got all the way back to Astrid’s house, but she didn’t go any further — she couldn’t take anymore — not until tonight.
So she headed home and ate something and showered and tried to clear her head. She told herself that she’d had it, that she’d held it in her hands. She thought of the vision — of the red hair in the woods — and she tried to piece together what exactly was real and what exactly was not.
When she was clean and calm, she went to her room, flopped on her bed, and opened Sydney’s book, flipping quickly through the pages until she reached the chapter that she wanted. When she found it, she scanned her eyes across it, skimming the history of séances and mediums, the benefits of communicating with those who have gone, until she found it, set apart — Conducting Your Own Séance.
She’d only gotten to the second step when she noticed the phrase “At least three people are needed.” And then she remembered. Even during their silly faux séances together they’d always followed that rule. There’d never been any reason not to.
There’d always been three of them.
Ella shut the book. Who could she ask? There was Ben — he’d probably agree, just to placate her, but she knew he’d be judging her the whole time.
And in an instant she knew — who knew Astrid well enough, who had helped her the most of anyone so far, who she hoped, at least, she could trust.
Jake answered on the third ring.
“Hey,” she said, and she didn’t wait for an answer. “I need your help. Can you meet me tonight?”
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was the first time Sydney had wished that band practice would run over.
But it wrapped anyway. As it always did. There was no escaping the sleepover-slash-séance from hell.
When she’d gotten there, Carter had greeted her with this ridiculously big smile. Like, Hey, we shared a bed! I’m going to sit here and just grin about it. She’d given him a terse “hey” and had been trying to avoid the disappointed look on his face all night. She had too much to deal with regarding Ella. She didn’t need any more emotion right now.
Now he was taking extra long to pack up his mandolin, while Max bounced around surprisingly chipper. Maybe he had gotten laid the other night.
“What are you kids up to tonight?” Max asked, as he ran a hand through his perfect hair.
Carter looked up at her like someone who’d just had their Wii stolen. Like, I don’t know, what are we doing?
Ugh.
“I’m booked for a séance,” Sydney said confidently.
“A what?” Max asked. Even Carter’s eyes opened wide, his sad-puppy look momentarily replaced by curiosity.
“You heard me,” she said. “It’s sort of a sleepover, too.”
“What are you talking about?” Carter asked. He seemed to have officially lost his hurt — for the moment, at least. Max looked at her, agape.
“Yeah, you’re not actually having a séance?” Max asked.
“Oh, I am,” she said, her eyes growing wide. “Not like I want to. Ella’s gone apeshit, and I have to do that good best friend stuff, you know. Apparently we’re supposed to meet Astrid in a cabin, or something.”
Carter looked a little incredulous, but Max just laughed. She instantly felt bad — right in her gut. She was supposed to help Ella tonight — not make fun of her behind her back. She didn’t mean to portray Ella this way, like someone to be laughed at. She didn’t think she was. And yet, when she said it out loud, it just sounded so nuts. It was almost a relief to laugh about it for a minute.
“I gotta see this,” Max said.
“Well, bring some booze, because I’m going to need something to get through it.”
“Uhh, done,” Max said, slamming his case shut. “I got a new fake, and I’ve been dying to try it out.”
“Wait, you’re serious?” Sydney asked. She hadn’t been. She was so averse to the idea, she couldn’t imagine that anyone would actually want to join in.
“Why not?” Max asked. “It sounds like fun.”
Fun. Sydney was pretty sure that that wasn’t the point. And yet, she’d been dreading this all through practice. Would it really be that bad to have another person to get her through it? They could drink and loosen up and maybe Ella could even see how silly it all was. Maybe Ella just needed an outside perspective to show her just how far off course they’d gotten. No matter what happened, she’d still be there for Ella. She’d still be supporting her. That’s what was important — that’s what she’d asked for.
“I’m coming, too,” Carter said. “Sounds cool.”
The two of them stood there looking at her, waiting for an answer.
What the hell, she thought. She didn’t have the energy to fight it.
“Your ID better work,” she said to Max. “Because we’re going to need a lot of booze.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Ella waited for Jake at the edge of Astrid’s yard, near the woods.
He was supposed to meet her right at nine, but it was almost nine-fifteen. She shivered. The night was cool now, breezy. She almost wished she’d brought a jacket. But it would be warmer in the woods, where the wind couldn’t get them.
Finally, she saw the back door of the house open, his dark hair shining ever-so-slightly in the moonlight.
He walked briskly towards her. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.
“It’s okay,” she said, but as she did, a light caught her eye. Astrid’s room. And for a second, she saw Grace, peering out. They were so far back that surely she couldn’t see them. Could she?
“You okay?” Jake asked, but the light was off now, and it wasn’t worth the worry. She had enough to worry about already — the flo
wers, the fabric — all of it weighed on her, sent shocks through her body — but at the same time it gave her some glimmer of hope, proof that she wasn’t losing it, that there were things she had to uncover, that she was really getting somewhere. That she only needed to know more.
“Did you bring what I asked you to?” she asked, and Jake nodded.
“I’ve gotta say I’ve never stolen food for a girl before.”
“Thanks,” she said. “We didn’t have any bread in our house.” And she tried to focus on the here and now, to forget about Grace’s eyes, staring out at them from that window, about the chiffon, silky smooth in her hands — then gone, like it had never even been there in the first place.
“No worries,” Jake said. “But are you going to tell me what’s going on? I never took you for the late-night picnic type.”
“Just follow me,” she said. “I’ll explain when we get there.”
“Okay,” he said. “But Ella, what’s that for?” He looked at her hand where she held a hula-hoop. She’d felt ridiculous carrying it over here, and now she felt even sillier, but the book had said that a circle was needed. This was the only circle she had.
“I told you I’ll explain everything,” she said. “Just come on.”
Ella turned her flashlight on and pushed through the first bit of brush. She moved faster once she found the makeshift path. She walked with purpose, because she knew that she still had so much to do. Asking Jake here meant telling Jake, letting him know the truth, that this was the place that Astrid had killed herself, instead of whatever Grace had told him. She hadn’t had the strength for it the other day — she hadn’t known if she should — but now that she needed him, she didn’t have a choice.
“Whoa,” he said. “Slow down.” And as he said it, he grabbed her hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She whipped her head back at him. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
She shook her hand free, but it burned where he’d touched it.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice almost embarrassed. “I just don’t have a light — I don’t want to lose you.”
“Grab my backpack then,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything — ”
“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted him. Her head was clear now — and she wanted it to stay that way — free of distractions. She was ready for whatever was coming, and she was ultra-alert. She could hear every sound. Every crack of a twig beneath her feet, the quiet crooning of running water in the distance, the sound of Jake breathing, in and out, in and out.
She felt different, too — walking through these woods that had practically raised her, had raised the three of them — but with someone completely new — she’d been right, she didn’t need a jacket in here. The warm air hugged her, while the trees whispered to her that she was doing the right thing.
Soon they reached the clearing. She shone the flashlight in front of her, and the cabin stood there, almost swayed, basking in the light, waiting for her. For both of them.
“Whoa,” Jake said. “What’s this?”
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go inside.”
He followed her across the porch and through the door. Once she was inside, she pulled out the blanket and the candles from the armoire. She put the hula hoop in the middle, the candles inside.
Jake opened his backpack and handed her the loaf of bread.
“So are you going to tell me what all this is for?” he asked.
She shone the light on his face, and he squinted, shook his head. She aimed it lower, by his torso, so she could still see his face, but it looked so strange now, almost like everything was haunted.
“I know it sounds crazy, but I feel like she’s trying to tell me something.” She pulled out the book and flipped to the séance page. “I thought that, I don’t know, maybe we could contact her somehow, maybe we could get some answers. I don’t know. It can’t hurt to try.”
Jake narrowed his eyes at her, which made him look even more gaunt.
“You think I’m crazy?” she asked. “I know everyone does.”
“I think you’re hurting,” he said. “I think you’re trying to understand. I don’t think it’s crazy,” he said. “Trust me. I know crazy. You’re not it.”
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that, but she didn’t have a chance.
“The thing I don’t understand is, why here?”
She took a deep breath. “That’s what I wanted to tell you, and I’m sorry I didn’t yesterday. You know the cabin I told you about?”
“I assumed this was it.”
“Yeah,” she said. Breathing in. Breathing out. “This was our place,” she said. “We spent all our time here. With Astrid.”
Jake nodded, but his face remained unassuming — naïve.
She was going to have to just come right out and say it. And so Ella clicked her flashlight off, because she couldn’t look at his face when she did. Maybe she shouldn’t have brought him here. Maybe he’d think it was just cruel.
They stood there, alone, in the dark. Even the bugs outside were silent, as if giving them this moment.
“It’s not just our silly little clubhouse,” she said. “It’s where …”
He let her words hang in the air, but he didn’t say anything.
“Where she …”
“Where she what?” But in an instant, his voice changed. “Oh.”
She clicked the flashlight back on, but his face didn’t look angry. Just sad.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wanted to tell you the other day, but I just couldn’t. I don’t know why Grace didn’t just tell you — ”
Jake shook his head.
“Grace doesn’t tell me shit,” he said.
“Whoa.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t say it, but she kept everything from us. She hides so much. We didn’t even know that Astrid was having problems, and when your daughter’s having issues, and you know that …” now his was the voice that was trailing off.
“Know what?” she asked. “Know what?” She felt like she was almost begging. She felt like she’d get down on her knees and beg if she had to.
“Let’s just say that Grace was probably the least surprised at what happened with Astrid.”
Ella shook her head. How could her own mother not be surprised? And if she hadn’t been, then why wouldn’t she have helped her? It didn’t make sense. It didn’t make any sense.
“But why?” Ella asked, her breathing getting heavier. “Why wouldn’t she be surprised?”
Jake kept shaking his head. “No,” he said, taking a step back from her. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean that Grace has dealt with some hard things, okay?”
Ella’s eyes narrowed. She felt that she was getting close. Close to something.
“You mean when Astrid’s dad died?”
But now Jake was the one whose brows knitted up, confused. “What did you say?”
“When her dad died,” she said again. “Is that what you mean? The hard thing?”
“Who told you that?” he asked. “Who told you that he died?”
Ella shrugged. “Astrid. Grace. Everyone.”
Jake just shook his head.
“What is it?” she asked. “What is it that you’re not telling me?”
Jake took a deep breath, like he was making a decision. Let her in or let her out.
“Ella,” he said, and his eyes looked sad, so sad, like he was losing Astrid all over again. “Astrid’s dad didn’t die. He left.”
Ella shook her head. She felt like her world was coming undone. Alive? He couldn’t be alive. Astrid had said it plenty of times. To her. To Sydney. To anyone who asked. My dad died when I was eight. I don’t want to talk about it.
“But Astrid always said …”
Jake spit the words out. “Astrid always said what Grace wanted her to.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” she almost screamed. “Y
ou said it, too, when she lost her dad …”
“Yeah, she lost him,” and now Jake was the one who was yelling. “The bastard just left them, just because things were getting hard. She lost her dad. But he didn’t die.”
Ella shook her head. She didn’t believe it. She couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t just that Astrid had covered up her moods, that she’d told her she’d applied to State when she hadn’t — it went way deeper than that. Her friend had been lying to her about her family — about her very own father. The entire time she’d known her.
“Ella, he’s alive. I saw him at the wake.”
Ella’s jaw dropped as it all came together. The man in the suit, crying over Astrid’s casket. The way Grace had pushed him away.
But she didn’t have time to ask Jake anything more. She heard a noise behind her and turned around to see Sydney at the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Hey,” Ella said, trying desperately to pull it together as Sydney walked in.
Sydney gave her a quick wave. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she said, staring right at the two of them. Ella instinctively took a step away from Jake, but she didn’t have time to answer before Max breezed in like he owned the place, Carter in tow.
“Oh, sweet, there’s, like, candles and everything,” Max said. “I should have brought my Ouija board.” He set a case of Natty Ice on top of the blanket.
“You guys want a beer?” Sydney asked.
Ella shook her head vehemently. She was already reeling from what Jake had just told her. She didn’t need this. Not now. “You can’t drink at a séance,” she stammered, trying to get out her words without completely losing it — she all of a sudden felt like if she made one wrong move, she’d burst into tears.
“Who says?” Max asked.
She just stared at him, then back to Sydney. “It goes without saying.”
“Take a deep breath, and calm down,” Sydney said, grabbing one for herself. “Who says spirits don’t drink? Come on. Let’s sit.”
