The Haunted House Project

by Tricia Clasen

  “Me too, Candy. Me too.”

  He stares past me absently for a minute before looking back at me and asking, “How has Paige been dealing with her grief? Do you know? I know you meet with the folks at school, but I don’t know how she’s doing.”

  “I don’t think she has.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “But she said she was going to go running today. I thought that was a good thing.”

  He nods. Then he grabs my hand.

  “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you this or not, but, um … your mother, she kept some journals. Paige wasn’t interested in reading them, but you might be.”

  My mouth drops open and my heart skips a beat. That’s what the fight was about.

  I stammer out some sort of answer that involves thanking him and telling him maybe but not right now. At least not until I can get them back into the storage tub, I think. I hope I don’t sound too crazy as I back out of the room saying something about being really tired now.

  I have to get them back down there. I never should have taken all the diaries in the first place. I’d have been better off just taking one at a time.

  What’s weird is that Dad said Paige wasn’t interested. I don’t get that. Why wouldn’t she be? Did she even bother to look at the journal on her desk? Did she read the words?

  When I go to bed that night, I set my alarm super early, and at three in the morning I sneak downstairs and put them away. The whole time my heart races and my hands shake. But I don’t get caught.

  When I get up again at my regular time and make my rounds to wake everyone else up, I realize I had no reason to be nervous. No one was even home last night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Dad had just told me even he didn’t trust himself. I should have seen this coming. I don’t know why I bothered to get my hopes up in the first place. I’m madder than ever. But not just at him this time. In fact, I’m probably less angry with him than I am at Paige. At least he’s been known to mess up before. But not my Paige. Not my rock. She stayed out all night and didn’t even come home for breakfast. I have to walk to school.

  I wonder if I should tell someone. I’m really worried about both of them, but I know it will raise too many questions and open up all kinds of problems if I do. As I walk to school, I make a list of all the things that could have happened to Paige. I can’t come up with any good ones.

  Thankfully, she texts me right before I get to school. “Sorry, Andie. Overslept at a friend’s house.”

  I don’t accept the apology, but I’m relieved to find out she didn’t end up doing something really stupid. I send a quick “OK” back to her. It’s short and vague enough that she’ll know I’m mad.

  I feel a hand slap me on the back. “So, I’ve been thinking …” The gruff voice catches me off guard and I cough from the slap. “We should go to rec night tonight. Bring your little geek friend, too.”

  Amanda towers above me. Her arms are crossed and she looks so sure of herself, but I can sense the uncertainty in her voice.

  “Why?”

  “Aren’t rec nights supposed to be fun?” They are, I think. I love them. With my friends, that is.

  I shrug.

  “Well, this is the last one of the year, and I’ve never gone. Something tells me Isaiah hasn’t either.”

  “How do you—”

  “I pay attention to things. And I’ve noticed you haven’t been hanging out as much with your usual group, but you spend a lot of time with that kid in the library. Not my business, but I think you’re better off. That blond cheerleader friend of yours thinks she’s something special. I’ve heard some things she’s said, too, and …”

  “What things?” Becki may be mad at me, but the idea that she’d talk about me stings.

  “She tells people you’re crazy.”

  “What?”

  “She laughs about the fact that you’re in therapy.”

  “How do you even know that? You don’t really hang out with Becki.”

  “I told you—I pay attention.”

  Maybe I’ve noticed Becki being meaner lately, and I know she can be thoughtless, but this seems extreme even for her. I don’t know whether I don’t believe Amanda or I just don’t want to believe her, but I’m not ready to make nice.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I’d want to know.”

  Don’t shoot the messenger, I tell myself. She’s right. I do want to know. But it’s the last thing I want to know, too.

  “But you’re not nice to me.”

  “Andie, I’m not nice to anyone. You’re not special.”

  That’s true. I guess I can’t say Amanda isn’t honest. I wish I could say the same thing about Becki.

  “So are we on? Rec night?”

  “I don’t know.” I kick at a rock on the ground. “I’m just not sure.”

  She hands me a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “Let me know.”

  For the first time, when I look at her I don’t see the angry girl who hits people and calls them names. There’s actually only one case of her hitting someone, but now she’s a legend, so people think it’s more. That kid deserved it, though, because everyone knew he was tripping sixth graders and stuffing them in lockers. He just hadn’t been caught yet. One day, Amanda just punched him as she walked past him at his locker. Didn’t turn around or anything. After that, she just hit lockers next to people, enough to scare the pants off them. But right now, I only see a little girl who was always teased for being big. I think of Isaiah, who is always being made fun of for stupid stuff like being into science. “Okay,” I say.

  Later at lunch, I think maybe Amanda’s idea isn’t so bad. I eat my sandwich outside the library, and then Isaiah and I discuss strategy. This time we’re talking about my home project again.

  “I want to try something new.”

  Isaiah’s eyes snap up from the page.

  “I want to be even more direct. How about a recording?”

  “Huh?”

  “Can we splice words from video to put together a message?”

  “Seriously, Andie?”

  I nod.

  His eyes are double their usual size and he scratches his head. “I don’t know. How would it work?”

  “I don’t know. There are a bunch of videos on my mom’s computer. I know I’ve seen things on TV where ghosts could make messages. There are all those YouTube videos where they do it.”

  “We could research it.”

  I sit up taller. I’m so excited that the tingles make my skin feel electric.

  “How would you play it for them?”

  That I had figured out. “Wireless speakers hidden in a room. It wouldn’t be that hard.”

  “What if they catch you? This was not in the original plan.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe you can do more with the smells thing,” he says.

  I’ve already blown that based on my conversation with my dad last night. Smells are out. I shake my head. “Nope. I need something new.”

  He begins clicking away on the computer, trying to find information about splicing. While he punches at the keyboard, I spring the next thing on him.

  “We should go to rec night tonight.”

  He stops mid-click, but he doesn’t speak. He goes back to typing. “It’s not my thing.”

  “It would be if you gave it a try.”

  He laughs. “You make it sound like I should have just shown up at rec night by myself and had a great time.”

  My shoulders slump. “That’s not what I meant. I just think we could have fun.”

  He turns away from the computer screen and faces me. His glare burns a hole right through me.

  “Andie, I love hanging out with you, but I need to know, when your fight with your other friends is over, what will that mean for me?”

  I grip the sides of the chair. “I don’t think this fight is going to end.”

  He sighs. “But what if it doe
s?”

  Just tell him what he wants to hear, Andie. Don’t leave him hanging. But I can’t. I am so mad at Becki, but my friends have been my friends for so long that I can’t promise they won’t ever be more important again.

  “Don’t be silly,” I say. “Just come to rec night with me.”

  He rolls his eyes, and looks back at the screen. “Maybe,” he says.

  But his maybe to me and my maybe to Amanda both turn into yeses by the end of the day. I had to say yes after I saw Jena Jordan standing in the circle with my friends between classes. It was like I’d been replaced already. Not that I have anything against Jena. She’s just not me. Gisela sees me, and she waves. I guess you could call it a wave. She lifts her hand slowly and cautiously in my direction, anyway. I can’t help but notice that she doesn’t seem happy, but she also doesn’t do anything to indicate that she’d like to talk to me.

  At first, it’s like a bee sting. It hurts, but I’ll get over it, I think. But then, maybe it’s more like a bunch of mosquito bites. Like when you get bit by a bunch of them at once and you have to suffer through the agony of a constant itch and annoyance. And the more you scratch, the more it hurts.

  That’s how I spent my morning—itching and trying not to scratch at my wound. I sit through social studies telling myself it doesn’t matter. I can make new friends. Ignore it. Ignore them. I repeat that over and over. But of course it’s a lie that not scratching a mosquito bite makes it itch less. It’s still there, begging to be scratched. By the time I’m in my history class, I’m digging my fingernails in at rapid speed.

  How dare they? Seriously, why are Gisela and Leah siding with Becki? What has she done for them? And where is my sympathy, darn it? Yes, I’m playing the sympathy card. What kind of friends won’t stick by me when I’ve lost my mom? I thought they’d be with me forever.

  But I decide they aren’t going to keep me from having fun. I am a girl on a fun mission. If anyone deserves some fun, it’s me. I’ll create a fun caravan populated by me, Isaiah, and—for whatever crazy reason—Amanda. I just hope we’re enough fun that she won’t start hitting people. I wouldn’t even know how to punch someone.

  By the time class gets out, I’m done asking Isaiah; when I run into him in the hall, I demand he join me for rec night, and I expect him to be ready to have fun.

  “Uh, okay.”

  “You know what? Let’s do it up. Let’s have pizza before we go. Oh, and Amanda is joining us. You know her, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” It might be my imagination, but I think when he heard her name he might have flinched a little. Common reaction.

  I raise my arms up in the air. “Woo-hoo. Party!”

  “You’re scaring me, Andie.”

  I stick my tongue out at him, and he laughs.

  I swing by Amanda’s locker next. “Isaiah and I are meeting at Pizza Ranch at five thirty. Want to join us?”

  There’s a flicker of something in her eyes, but she stays cool as she shrugs. “Not sure. I’ll see how I feel.”

  “Sounds good. See you tonight.”

  Chapter Twenty

  At first, I’m alone at Pizza Ranch, and I feel like a complete moron. I sip a Coke and try not to look desperate. It’s not like I’m the only kid to have the brilliant idea of going for pizza before rec night, so plenty of groups gather. Some with parents, some alone. It’s too busy for me to even be tucked back in a corner. Nope, I’m completely visible at a table in the middle of the room. Alone.

  Finally, at 5:43, I see the pouf of Isaiah’s hair bobbing along outside the window, just skimming the tops of the booths. I would know that hair anywhere. Of course, so would everyone else, and I hear a table of girls giggle and I see them point toward the window. I guess no one expects to see Isaiah here. Maybe I should have picked Mama Maria’s instead. No one goes there. No, I tell myself, you have no reason to be embarrassed. Still, my body betrays me a little when he bounces in. I feel my cheeks get hot.

  “Sorry, my mom was running late.”

  More giggling from the table next to me. I command my cheeks not to turn red. Do not let Isaiah see that you are a sorry excuse for a friend.

  Of course, now is the time Amanda picks to saunter in. Despite my best intentions, my cheeks flame so hot I wonder if I might explode, but when she sits down at the table, she turns and glares at the girls sitting next to us.

  No more giggling after that. My cheeks cool. Maybe it’s not so bad hanging out with someone who’s tough. Then I look at Isaiah, and I swear he’s shrunk into his chair.

  “Uh, hey, Amanda. Do you know Isaiah?”

  She smirks. “Who doesn’t?” She reaches over and tousles his hair. “Why’d you quit coming to group?”

  My mouth drops open and Isaiah’s eyes shift to the table. Isaiah used to go to group, too. Of course.

  As I look at him, he shrinks farther into his seat.

  “So,” I say, changing the subject. “What do you want on your pizza?”

  Despite the rocky beginning, things take a turn for the better pretty quickly. It turns out Amanda is funny. Who knew? She does impressions really well. Her Mrs. Carter is dead on.

  “And, Amanda, please tell me, how did it feel when you punched Joey Bartlett’s locker?”

  “Why, it felt fantastic, thanks for asking.”

  I laugh so hard my Coke sprays out my nose.

  Even Isaiah loosens up. He still flinches every time Amanda slaps him on the back, but at least the fear is gone from his eyes.

  By the time we get to school, embarrassment is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m having so much fun, I forget to care that it’s with people who everyone thinks are too weird to hang out with.

  Leave it to Becki to ruin that mood.

  I hear the snort and know who it is before I even see her. Be brave, I command myself. You’re having fun. Who cares what she thinks? I take a deep breath, turn around, and wave.

  I see Becki roll her eyes, but Leah waves back, at least until Becki grabs her hand and puts it down.

  Isaiah leans over. “Do you want to join them?”

  I shake my head.

  “So what’s up with that, anyway?” Amanda asks. I’m starting to realize I like how direct she is. I’m tired of everyone dancing around the important questions.

  “I wish I knew,” I say. “It came on pretty quick.”

  Or did it? I think back over the past year. “I mean, it’s always been hard since my mom died. They never knew what to say, but since things with my family have got more complicated, it’s been even worse.”

  “Huh,” Amanda says.

  “What?” I can tell there’s something behind her huff.

  “I was just thinking about how you laid into Brian. It’s made me think a lot about people and what we see, you know? I really don’t think he knows that he whines all the time.”

  “Oh my gosh, he really does,” Isaiah chimes in. “I ate lunch with him for a while last spring, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.”

  “What does that have to do with me and my friends?” I ask.

  “I don’t know if it does. Maybe you just see things differently than they do.”

  I’m not in the mood to think about any of that. I’m in the mood for fun. So I shrug, and I announce there will be no more serious talk all night.

  The school has been set up in different sections. I know the route my friends usually take on rec nights, so I am prepared to go a completely different way all evening. We can still run the circuit. There are video games set up in the library, and chess in one of the classrooms. Isaiah has already indicated that he has to play at some point. Amanda and I groan, but of course we’ll go. I’ve never actually been to that area of the school on rec night before. There are some sports games in the gym, but none of us plan to shoot a basketball tonight, so we all agree the gym is off limits. In addition to other games throughout the building, there are snacks and music in the cafeteria. No one ever dances, but people like to stand around in their groups
and act like they are on the verge of dancing.

  My friends will mostly spend time in the cafeteria, but they also like to visit the gym—because a lot of boys hang out there. And Gisela likes to play volleyball. Amanda insists we head to the video game room first, which works for me. I’ve never been a big fan, but I won’t have to worry about my other friends being there. I’m not really planning to play, but Amanda seems hardcore. She’s talking about her stats on games I’ve never heard of.

  The library is packed. Who knew? It’s even busier than the gym usually is, but it’s filled with kids I don’t usually hang out with. People clear a path when Amanda walks in. Isaiah nudges me with his elbow as if to say, “How cool is that?” And it is. My friends and I fare well in the social world of middle school, but it’s amazing how Amanda commands a room. I know it’s not because people like her but because they’re afraid of her, which maybe isn’t a good thing. Still, I admit, it’s kind of fun to walk behind her and have people wonder what’s going on.

  I see the awe in Isaiah’s face. He’s so used to being bullied that I can’t imagine what it feels like for him to know that no one would dare say a word to him tonight. Amanda holds out her hand and someone puts a controller in it. And she really is fantastic. I don’t think they’re letting her win either, because she announced before she started that if anyone held back she’d slap them.

  Kind of a mixed message, I guess, but whatever. Isaiah and I hang back and watch. We clap whenever she wins. No one else dares cheer for or against her.

  At least an hour must go by, but we’re not really paying attention to time because it’s actually a lot of fun watching Amanda. She comes alive with a controller in her hand; it doesn’t even matter what game she’s playing. I think other people start to see it, too.

  When I concentrate, I tend to get this very serious look on my face. People always ask me what’s wrong. Amanda’s the opposite. The harder the game, the happier she looks. She laughs at obstacles and practically dances when her opponent is actually good.

  “Who knew she could smile so much?”