Geez, Dylan! Why did you have to run down the batteries?
Groping around in the dim light, I find a rag, dip it in the turpentine, and begin rubbing the center of the paint blob. After a few seconds, I shine the fading light on the spot and break into a sweat. The blob has spread. I scrub harder and check again, but this time, it’s grown almost twice its size. Panic fills me. I look out the dusty window to see if anyone is up in the house yet. All the rooms are still dark.
Grabbing the turpentine again, I find a different spot on the rag, this time rubbing even harder. I flash the ever dimming light on the stain and see, at long last, it’s starting to fade.
I heave a sigh of relief. Wetting my cloth again, I rub and rub until the colour of the pants begins to shine through.
The flashlight dies.
Ah, Dylan!
I put the can back on the shelf and hide the rags in a dark corner where I hope no one will notice them. Mom probably won’t be coming into the shed until spring, so I can deal with them later. Checking again to make sure no one is up in the house, I slip out and close the door. Something thuds in the shed, but I don’t have time to see what. Sneaking back into the house, I shove my pants in the washer.
A flash of light blinds me. I turn to see Dylan glaring at me, his finger on the light switch.
“Kira, what were you doing outside?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, adding more laundry and pouring soap into the machine.
He stands still for a moment, his finger resting on his bottom lip. “Hmmm ... something’s really suspicious.” He watches me for a bit. When I ignore him, he saunters to the family room and clicks on the TV to some cartoon.
I turn on the washer, gently lower the lid, scrub my hands, and then set about making breakfast.
I’m mixing up pancake batter when I hear Mom’s slippered footsteps entering the kitchen. “Oh, what’s this? You’re making us breakfast this morning … and doing laundry?”
“Mm-hm,” I mumble, pasting on a phony smile, thankful she seems to have forgotten about the concert last night.
“What a wonderful daughter I have.” She throws her arms around me. “What are you making?”
“Pancakes. And coffee too,” I say, pretending I’m too busy to hug her back.
She lets her arms drop and sniffs the air. “What’s that funny smell? I smelled that last night too.”
Huddling over the pancake batter, I give it another brisk stir with the whisk. The room seems to be getting pretty warm.
“Hmm ... what is that?”
The doorbell rings. Mom about-faces and heads to the entrance. I sigh with relief.
“Hey, Jack. Stopping by for breakfast?” I hear her say from the entrance. “Kira’s making pancakes.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” says Uncle Jack. “Especially if my niece is preparing it.”
Mom takes out the World’s Greatest Dad mug and pours Uncle Jack a cup of coffee.
“So, good concert last night, eh?” Mom says.
“That it was,” agrees Uncle Jack. “Dylan was really something. I was mighty proud of my nephew.”
“Yes,” chimes in Mom, talking extra loud. “And Kira too. I could hear her above the rest of the band. She knew that piece inside and out.” She gives me one of those Mom knows looks.
Turning away, I pour some batter in the pan and try to look casual.
Uncle Jack suddenly grins like he remembered something funny. “Oh, by the way, I ran into Constable Douglas this morning, and you wouldn’t believe what happened.”
“What?” Mom asks.
I dare not breathe.
“Apparently, someone painted the sign right outside the town, the one that says ‘Welcome to Hope.’”
“Yeah?” Mom nods.
“And they changed the P to an L. And now it says ‘Welcome to Hole’.”
Mom and Dylan burst out laughing. My heart skipping, I flip a pancake. I can feel Uncle Jack’s eyes on me.
“Boy, someone’s grumpy this morning.”
“Ah … what?”
Uncle Jack repeats the story from the beginning. When he finishes, I let out a nervous laugh and toss the pancake onto the serving plate.
“And these kids were so careless; they actually left their cans of paint and brushes.” Uncle Jack chuckles. “Full of finger prints.”
I giggle like I think they’re the dumbest people I ever heard of, hiding the panic rising within me.
“And they left a towel from Harrison Hot Springs. How stupid is that? I guess they’ll be checking the guest list there today.”
The sweat pours so hard I think it’ll soak through my hoodie. Yet still, I flip those pancakes.
“Well, if it’s someone from Harrison, I doubt it’d be teenagers,” Mom says.
“Unless it’s someone who works there,” says Uncle Jack.
“You could be right,” says Mom.
A few minutes later, I lay a plate stacked high with pancakes on the table. Throwing a couple on my dish, I soak them in syrup and gobble them down as fast as I can, and then excuse myself. I skip up the stairs and check my e-mail. Charlotte’s name pops up. I click on her message.
Kira,
I think Mom and Dad might be onto something. They keep asking me why I left so early last night and where I went.
Charlotte
I let out a gasp, then gather up my clothes and jump into the shower. When I’m clean and dressed, I call out, “I’m going to Charlotte’s,” keeping my promise to let Mom know where I am.
“Okay. Thanks for telling me,” she calls back.
Charlotte nearly accosts me at the door when I get there, throwing my coat down on the floor and running me upstairs. Buddy follows, his tongue lolling.
“What happened?” I ask.
“It’s like I said.” Worry shadows her face. “They keep asking me why I left so early last night and where I went.”
“So what’d you say?” I reach down to pet Buddy who’s vying for my attention.
“I said we went to your place.” She turns to her pup. “Buddy, sit.”
“Well, technically that’s true, and no one was home yet when we got there, so we have an alibi.”
“An alibi?” Charlotte’s face screws up. “We have alibis now? That sounds so much like criminals.”
“Aw, come on, Charlotte. It was just a harmless prank. We’re hardly criminals.”
Charlotte lets out a worried sigh and falls backward onto her bed. “Kira, we’ve got to stop doing these things.”
“It’s not like we do them all the time. It was just once,” I insist.
Buddy hands me a paw to shake. I grab it and hold it in mid-air. He throws me the other one, his eyes pleading.
“Yeah, but once is more than enough.” Charlotte sighs. “And on top of it, I’m worried Kate recognized us.”
“She couldn’t possibly have. It was too dark. Besides, Uncle Jack came by and told us all about how the sign had been changed this morning, and he had no idea who did it. And if Kate McDonough had known it was us, she would have said something to him by now.” I let go of Buddy’s paw. “You know, I still think it’s her behind all these weird goings on. Maybe that’s why she has such short gigs – because she’s on the run.”
“Aw, come on, Kira. She’s not the type. She’s way too nice.”
“Yeah, but there are lots of stories out there about really nice people who turn out to be psychopaths, right?”
“Yeah, but not Kate.” Charlotte shakes her head, smoothing her hand over Buddy’s wrinkly body. “Besides, when would she have had time to do any of those weird things? She’s always teaching or playing.”
“After her gig.” I lean forward, resting my arms on my knees. “Maybe that’s why she won’t let Uncle Jack walk her home. And I’ve seen her wandering around late at night on our street. And think about it, she’s often at the scene of the crime. Remember, I saw her leaving the cemetery when Dad’s tombstone was freshly
spray-painted, and she was watching when they found the dead eagle in front of the school. And how did she pick me out of a huge crowd at the Stompin’ Boot? Not to mention last night,” I say, dropping my voice. “We always see her when there’s trouble.”
“Yeah, but everyone comes out to see trouble. And besides, she’s so respected.”
“So are politicians and priests, and look at all the trouble they can get themselves into.”
She looks uncertain. “Well then, what do you want to do?” she asks.
“Next weekend. We’ll follow her after her gig.”
Charlotte lets out an exasperated breath. “But that’s in the middle of the night!”
“Come on. We know where she lives. We’ll follow her from a way back and just peek into her place to see what she’s up to.”
“Well, I don’t know. How’ll we get out of the house and where will we meet? This is way too complicated.”
I shake my head. “It’s simple. Your bedroom’s on the first floor, and mine’s on the second, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So I’ll stay over at your house, and we’ll sneak out your window together after the pub closes.”
Charlotte’s brows are drawn up with apprehension.
“Come on. Let’s do it.” I insist.
She thinks hard, and then lets out a huge sigh. “Okay. But this is the last time. I can’t afford to get myself in any more trouble. I really want to go on that trip.”
Chapter 25
Kate McDonough’s Cabin
By the next week, the sign’s been forgotten. Relieved we got away with the prank, Charlotte and I put our next plan into action. Mom says it’s okay to stay at Charlotte’s for the night just so long as I make it to church on time the next morning. I figure Charlotte’s parents are only too glad to have me stay over so they can keep an eye on both of us.
I blow up my camping mattress and unroll my sleeping bag beside Charlotte’s bed. “There. That should do it,” I say, plumping up my pillow. “Now all I have to do is set my watch for one AM.” I fumble with the buttons, and then unzip my bag and crawl in.
Charlotte sits on her bed dressed in her puppy dog pajamas. “What if Buddy gives us away?”
“He won’t. He hardly ever barks.” I reach out to grab the Shar-Pei’s face and rub it. “Right? You won’t make any noise, will you?”
Buddy groans as I scratch behind his ears.
“Maybe if he stays in my room with us tonight, he’ll be quiet.” She gets up to shut her door.
“Fine by me.” I kiss the puppy’s head. “Now let’s get some sleep.”
My watch beeps at exactly one AM. Half-dreaming, I reach over and turn it off, nearly dozing off again until Buddy licks my face with his long, slippery tongue. I jerk awake, remembering our plan, and shake Charlotte.
“Let’s go. It’s time.”
Charlotte mutters in her sleep until I jiggle her harder. She sits up with a jolt. Then we slip on our clothes in the dark and slide the window open ever so slowly.
Buddy whimpers.
“Shhhh,” whispers Charlotte. “Sit. Good boy. Now stay.”
I climb out first. Charlotte is close behind. Turning back, I slide the window shut. Raucous voices in the distance guffaw as the patrons of the Stompin’ Boot stumble out. Keeping low, we make our way to within a block of the pub and slip into the shadows until loaded cars drive away, and all is quiet again.
“This is really dangerous,” Charlotte complains. “Some drunk could find us and murder us.”
“Nothing like that’s going to happen. Just relax.”
The minutes seem like hours as we wait for Kate McDonough to come out. Then, one by one, the lights turn off in the pub. A few minutes later, she steps out into the dim lamplight, followed closely by Uncle Jack.
“There they are!” exclaims Charlotte.
“Shhh!” I say, pressing my finger to my lips.
They stand alone, their voices resonating in the still of the night. Uncle Jack leans over her.
“Kate, just let me drive you home,” he pleads.
She shakes her head. “Oh, Jack, you know I need the air after playing all night. I want to walk.” She makes as if to leave.
He grabs her arm. “Yeah, but there’s been weird things happening around town. You’ve heard about the vandalism and the dead birds. It’s not safe. There’s some creep out there.”
Yeah, the creep’s her, Uncle Jack.
Kate McDonough throws her head back and laughs. “Just let them try to harm me. They’ll be in for a surprise.”
I bet! They’ll probably find a dead and gutted man this time.
“What, are you some kind of karate expert?” Uncle Jack’s voice is flirtatious
Ew, gross.
Kate McDonough lets out another loud, ringing laugh, and then reaches over and kisses Uncle Jack on the cheek. His eyes widen, and he touches the spot on his face with the tips of his fingers.
Kiss of death. If you only knew.
“Jack, I’m a woman who can take care of herself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The clicks of her boots echo in the streets. We let her drift further and further away since we know where she lives.
When she disappears around a corner, we leave our hiding place and scuttle like mice until she’s in our view, then dive behind a large shrub. She stops and looks around like she’s sniffing the air. My heart pounds as she searches with her animal-like eyes. She hesitates when she looks in our direction, and then continues on her way.
Turning on Pinegrove Street, she strolls down the middle of the asphalt road until she gets to her cabin. Climbing the wooden stairs, she walks in and swings the door shut.
“Now what?” Charlotte asks.
“Let’s go hide behind that huge evergreen.”
“Okay.”
After crossing the street, we tiptoe on the grass until we stand hidden behind the trunk of a massive fir.
“Let’s duck down under these bushes,” I say, pointing to a clump of salal plants. “She can’t possibly see us from there.”
Burrowing into the shrub, we make ourselves as comfortable as possible in the middle of the cold November night.
“Doesn’t she have electricity?” I ask. “The place is dark.”
“There’s electricity. Remember? We gave her those lamps.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, recalling the pale blue lamps I had wanted. “So where are the lights?”
“I don’t know,” Charlotte says, trying harder to peer into the dark cabin.
“I mean, who gropes around in the dark? This is way too weird.”
A soft light begins to glow from within.
“I think she’s lighting candles,” whispers Charlotte.
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t see any matches flare up.”
“Moonlight, then?”
I glance up at the sky. “It’s cloudy.”
The soft glow grows brighter and brighter.
“I think it’s coming from her!” Charlotte exclaims.
Charlotte and I sit speechless as we watch the figure of Kate McDonough radiating light that illuminates the entire cabin. I draw in a sharp breath.
“She’s glowing – just like at the Stompin’ Boot Pub on Halloween night!”
“Oh, my gosh!” exclaims Charlotte. “It wasn’t just a costume.”
“Let’s move up closer.”
“Okay.”
We make a dash for the front porch of the cabin and just as we do, Kate McDonough vanishes!
Charlotte and I draw in a sharp breath at exactly the same moment.
“Let’s get out of here!” I hiss.
We run down the street all the way home without stopping, checking over our shoulders every few feet, our breath ragged. When we get to Charlotte’s place, I try to slide the window open, but it’s jammed. Buddy paws at the glass, whimpering.
“Quiet, boy,” Charlotte orders, her voice hushed.
He l
ets out a shrill yip.
Grabbing a stick, I force the window open, and we both tumble in to a welcoming bark.
“Quick, in bed!” hisses Charlotte.
I slide the window shut and dive into my sleeping bag just as the door flies open to reveal the darkened form of Herb.
With great effort, I control my breath to sound like I’m fast asleep while Buddy trots over to him.
“Dad is that you?” Charlotte asks in her sleepiest voice.
“Ah, je m’excuse, ma belle. Je pensais que j’avais entendu quelque chose. C’était probablement quelqu’un qui passait dans la rue.”
“There’s no one else here, Dad. It’s just us,” Charlotte mutters.
The door shuts, and the sound of Herb’s footsteps grows soft as he returns to his room.
“Phew, that was close,” I whisper.
Chapter 26
The Church
The next morning, Sandra’s urgent voice wakes us at 9:30.
“Quick, girls. We’ve got to go to church,” she shouts, clapping her hands. “Buddy kept us awake last night barking at people passing by. We accidentally slept in.”
“What about breakfast?” Charlotte asks, yawning.
“We don’t have time.” Sandra tosses us a granola bar each.
We roll over, groaning, and slide our clothes on. I rake my fingers through my hair, and then brush my teeth.
I’m still tying my shoes, a piece of chocolate chip granola bar sitting half-chewed in my mouth, when we climb into the Morin’s cold van, still rubbing our eyes. Everything is hazy, and I feel like I’ve only slept three hours.
Herb starts the engine and backs out of the driveway. The engine purrs as he drives, nearly lulling me back to sleep.
A few blocks from the church, Sandra sits up straight and points. “What on earth?”
I stretch my neck around her headrest to see the usual Sunday morning crowd held back by a yellow police tape.
“Let’s go have a look,” Herb says, slowing the van to a stop about a half-block from the church.
A Town Bewitched Page 13
