“What about Channing Myers?” Emily asked. “He was the homecoming king.”
“Heather said he is only a close friend,” Mrs. Palmer said.
I studied the picture of Heather on the mantel—next to a display of religious icons. She smiled with those pearly white teeth, blond hair highlighted and eyes radiant. Not a hint of the troubled teen, the girl with dark secrets lurking beneath her sunny disposition.
“Have any other boys taken an interest in her, besides Channing?” I asked.
“Well, now that you mention it, there was one,” said Mrs. Palmer, fiddling with the hem of her dress.
Emily and I leaned forward.
“Who?” I asked. “Can you tell us his name?”
“No, but he sent little gifts to my little girl—notes and flowers, that sort of thing. I thought it was rather sweet. He was kind of…old-fashioned.”
“Old-fashioned?” I repeated out loud.
“Yes, old-fashioned,” said Mrs. Palmer. “He used lilac paper and envelopes to write to her, something I’ve not seen for a long while, not like all these emails and texts and whatnot that kids use today.”
“Lilac paper?” I repeated, a sinking feeling in my chest as I remembered the note on the purple paper Henry had given to me in the Poe book.
Mrs. Palmer nodded. “When I was a young girl, boys wrote to me on that kind of stationery. They took the time to pour their hearts out on paper, to pen these long, ardent love letters. Of course, the boys today will do no such thing.”
“Can we see one of the letters?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Mrs. Palmer looked at us for a moment, then stood up. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
I glanced at Emily but said nothing. Mrs. Palmer returned shortly, holding a folded letter in her hands. She offered it to me, and I took it in my hand and silently studied the ornate handwriting.
“It’s rather lovely, isn’t it? Old-fashioned, as I said,” said Mrs. Palmer as I turned the paper in my hands.
While Heather’s mom continued to chat away, all I could concentrate on was the lilac paper. No! It’s not possible… Is it? He couldn’t have anything to do with Heather’s disappearance. Then again, the more I thought about it, the less I could really say when it came to Henry knowing so little about him or his past.
Mrs. Palmer continued to talk, rambling on and on about what growing up in Monterey fifty years ago. I remembered Henry saying he had been to many dances and on many dates in Monterey, and I assumed many teenagers went missing over the years. Is there a connection? I asked no one in particular, the thought making me shudder.
I silently handed the letter to Emily, who took it calmly. Then she closed her eyes. Her forehead started to wrinkle up, and she began to tremble and shake.
“Are you okay? Do you sense something?” I asked.
Emily shook her head and kept her eyes shut. Her long eyelashes began to twitch, and the telling kink appeared in her forehead.
Mrs. Palmer just stared at her, silenced and bewildered. “Are you all right, Dear?” she finally asked.
Eventually, Emily opened her eyes and looked around the room in a stupor, blinking. In her fingers, she still clutched the lilac paper, and she rested her eyes firmly on Mrs. Palmer. “Yes, I’m fine. Alice, I think we should go though. We’ve taken up enough of Mrs. Palmer’s time,” Emily suddenly said, bolting up from the couch.
“Okay,” I said, confused. I thanked Mrs. Palmer for her time and followed Emily as she rapidly walked away from Heather’s house, with her mother standing in the doorway, watching us go. “What happened in there? What did you see?” I asked.
“Something terrible. There was all this coldness, this—fear and this swirling fog. . . I could hear Heather’s voice calling—I don’t believe she’s dead.”
“Not dead? Then where is she?” I asked.
Emily just shrugged, unable to give me the answers I sought. Even worse, I could not pull my questioning mind off the lilac paper—I had to know the author of those love letters. More importantly, I worried her mysterious suitor had something to do with her disappearance, and what if that suitor has beautiful, blue-eyes? The blue eyes I pursued myself.
On Monday, we headed back to school. I dreaded the thought of another two months, with only Thanksgiving break to look forward to. I knew I would have to knuckle down and work hard for the remainder of my schooling, especially if I wanted to go to Berkeley or NYU.
It had been a week since Heather Palmer went missing, and she remained the talk of the school as if her spirit had settled over Monterey High with an icy grip that refused to let go. Her empty chair loomed large in biology, a strange aura surrounding it, and no one else would sit in that makeshift shrine.
Heather’s absence even affected gym volleyball. Jessica replaced her as the team captain, but she had neither the charisma nor the athletic prowess of her predecessor. We played a few games against the opposition and lost dismally.
In the locker room, I shivered after a lukewarm shower, wondering when the school would ever fix the water heater. My locker stood a couple away from Heather’s. I remember secretly watching her, admiring her beautiful fair hair and her sensuous femininity.
Heather’s locker was open, and in the semidarkness, I glimpsed an item of clothing—one of her scarves with the blue and purple stripes, one she wore often. I was surprised the police hadn’t taken it as evidence for their investigation, but there it hung, left behind.
Furtively, I glanced around the locker room. All the girls were preoccupied, drying their hair and toweling off their bodies, slathering their legs with lotion, spraying perfume and hairspray, and chitchatting about boys. When I could be sure no one watched, I reached into Heather’s locker and pulled out the scarf. I wrapped it quickly around my knuckles a few times and sneakily slipped it into my gym bag.
Why did I take this?, I’m not a kleptomaniac or petty thief, I thought as I walked the hall trying to appear normal. Strange, but I just want a piece of Heather with me as sort of a keepsake. Truthfully, I hoped the scarf would come in handy for my own investigation— with Emily’s help of course.
When Emily and I left the locker room to go to our last class of the day, I pulled her into a corner. “I’ve got something to show you,” I said. I reached into my bag and retrieved the pilfered scarf. “It belonged to Heather. I took it from her locker.”
Emily’s eyes widened like saucers. “You did? Why?”
“Because I need to find the truth about what happened to her. Will you help me? You said you’re psychic and clairvoyant, right? I’m hoping we can use this to help us find her.”
“I don’t know, Ali,” Emily said, shaking her head. “We were in her house, around her things and her mother—although I felt strange sensation around, I didn’t get an idea of where she stands. It’s like she’s completely vanished, leaving no trace—not even a vibrational presence.”
“But you said you’re not sure she’s dead. Even if she is, you might be able to communicate with her, right? I remember you told me that when your aunt died, you had that séance so you could contact her spirit. You used a piece of her clothing. Maybe that will work with Heather’s scarf. She wore it all the time.”
Emily hesitated but finally nodded. “Okay,” she agreed, “but we need to do it somewhere private. The last thing I need is our classmates trying to hire me for palm readings, throwing crystal balls at my locker, or asking me to predict who’s gonna win the next football game.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Em. Why don’t we use the old study room next to biology? No one goes there after school,” I suggested.
“All right, but we’ve gotta be careful. We can’t get caught.”
Chapter Thirteen: The Séance
When final bell rang, Emily and I hurried to the old study room and quietly shut the door. I walked over to the blinds and pulled them firmly down, shrouding the room in relative darkness. A table sat in the middle of the room, encircled by a few chairs.
/> Emily had brought a small glass and twenty-six pieces of square paper, on which she had written the alphabet. “I would normally use an Ouija board, but I think this will be okay,” said Emily. She placed Heather’s scarf in the middle of the table and arranged the letters of the alphabet around it in a circle. The small glass went in the middle. “You ready?” she asked.
I nodded, and we took our seats.
Emily closed her eyes and sat still for a few minutes, then she put her fingertips on the glass. “Is anybody here?” she asked in a solemn voice.
I tried to suppress a smile and did my best not to giggle while Emily’s eyes remained closed and the familiar kink rippled her forehead. I knew if I laughed, she would be offended, so I bit my lip hard to stave off the laughter. Even though I respected Emily and her abilities, I wasn’t exactly accustomed to a séance so she would have to be tolerant.
“Is anybody here?” Emily asked again. “Please speak to us.”
At once, the glass began to move, gliding slowly across the table toward her.
“I don’t believe it!” I exclaimed.
“Shh!” Emily whispered harshly. “I feel a presence.” She closed her eyes, in deep concentration. “I’m beginning to get an image.”
“What? What is it?” I asked with urgency while at the same time not wanting to break the mood or concentration.
“I see—a buoy,” Emily said.
“A boy? What boy?” I repeated.
Emily shook her head and was about to speak, but the glass started moving again.
I held my breath and watched it glide toward the letters. “Is it Heather?” I asked, despite myself.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a female. I feel a solidarity and kinship with her.”
The glass continued moving and stopped on one of the paper slips.
“S,” I repeated.
Seconds passed, and the glass moved to the next.
“T,” I said, frowning. “Who’s S.T.?”
“Shh. We’re not finished,” said Emily.
Within the next few minutes, the glass had indicated five letters: S, T, E, L, L, and A.
S-T-E-L-L-A? I froze and stared at the letters in disbelief. This can’t be possible, I thought—can’t be.
“Stella?” Emily said. “Who’s Stella?” she asked then turned to me. “Stella has a message for you, Alice.”
I looked at Emily, wild with fright, “Is this some kind of joke?” I asked. “If so, it’s not a funny one.”
“No,” Emily said adamantly, shaking her head. “No joke. Stella has a message for you.”
“For me? Are you s-sure?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Yes. She says she cares for you and that she will see you very soon.”
She’ll see me soon? Suddenly, my heart leapt into my throat.
“She says you must follow the light. You hear me? It is imperative that you follow that light, Alice.”
I nodded, indicating that I heard her—paralyzed with fear, I couldn’t verbally acknowledge her past the lump in my throat.
Right at that moment we heard a loud bang on the door, and a shadow appeared through the glass pane. The knob of the door started rattling violently since we took the precaution of locking it from the inside.
“Hey! What are you doing in there?” the custodian demanded.
“Uh—nothing! We’re just finishing up,” Emily called and hurriedly cleared the table. She put the glass and letters in her bag and handed me Heather’s scarf.
I opened the door and rushed past the startled janitor, Emily trailing in my wake.
“Hey, Alice, wait up!” my friend said once we were outside.
I continued walking furiously toward the school gates, not looking back. Finally, I stopped and turned back to look at my friend, my eyes flashing angrily. “That’s some kind of sick joke, Emily!” I said.
“What do you mean? You know who Stella is?”
“Yes! Stella was my mom’s name.”
Emily raised her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God. I had no idea.”
I studied Emily for a moment and realized that she was telling the truth. I took her hands in mine and sighed deeply. “I’m sorry. It just freaked me out in there.” I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her the rest. “Do you remember when I told you, after I fell into the bay, that I saw something in the water?”
“Yes, of course,” said Emily, “but you never told me what you saw.”
“Her. . . ” I said.
“Her? Who-—Heather?”
“No! My mom.”
“What!?”
“I saw her, Emily. It was very clear, her reflection in the water, smiling at me as if beckoning me to join her.”
“Oh, Alice, I had no idea.”
“I think Mom wants me to be with her. She must be very lonely, wherever she is.”
“Your mom loves you, Alice. Even then, she must have been trying to tell you something.”
“Right. To follow the light. But what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Before the glass started moving, you said you saw a boy. Who was it? Channing?”
Emily shook her head. “Not a boy—a buoy. You know, those things out at sea—only this one had a light attached.”
I looked at Emily, and my mouth fell open. “A buoy? There are some a couple miles out in Monterey Bay. I maneuvered around them when we were kayaking. Do you suppose they have anything to do with Heather? I mean, we had her scarf during the séance.”
“I dunno, Alice.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“I just don’t know. It’s not like you can buy a copy of Psychic Visions for Dummies or something. I get many images, and I don’t always know what they mean. I’m sorry, Ali.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, too.”
When we reached the coastal path, I said goodbye to Emily and walked home alone. I couldn’t believe my mom could be talking to me from beyond the grave. I had expected to contact Heather, but instead, my mother had sent me some cryptic, scary-sounding message from the afterlife.
Dad was at home when I returned. He was working at the kitchen table, with maps and data scattered all over the place. The mystery plague killing the sea otters was really disturbing him, and he looked exhausted from nights of worry. “Where have you been, Alice?” he immediately asked when I walked in.
“With Emily.”
“You look pale. Everything all right?”
“Yes, Dad.” I nodded, not quite looking him in the eye. “Where’s Sophie?”
“With a friend. I’ve been at this all day.” He stretched, looked down at the maps and data spread across the table then rubbed his eyes. “I need some fresh air. Want to go for a walk?”
I nodded, knowing a walk with my father might do me some good.
We took the coastal path down to the sandy beach by Lovers Point. The wind had picked up and was blowing the fine grains of sand along the beach like golden veils.
In the far distance, I spied something in the sand. “What’s that over there?” I asked, pointing at the mysterious object.
We trudged up to it, only to discover it was the corpse of another unfortunate sea otter, In death, they looked so different from their usual demeanor—that cute, cuddly fur-ball having once swum on its back in the bay. The smell was rank, and I plugged my nose in disgust.
“Been dead for several days,” Dad surmised, turning the rotting body over with a large piece of driftwood
“What do you think is causing it?”
“Maybe some kind of virus,” Dad said. “Well, it’s a real mystery, I plan to visit the lab so I can perform an autopsy.”
I shuddered, wondering what evil plague had attacked the helpless little sea creatures, condemning them to death. I also wondered if it could be an omen. Is there a deadly plague in the water? If so, could it have anything to do with that ancient curse?
I looked out over the sea and caught a light shining in the darkness, coming from one of the bu
oys. Follow the light, I thought to myself. Perhaps the clues to solving Heather’s disappearance lay out to sea.
Chapter Fourteen: The Storm
A number of buoys floated out in the bay, and a trio of them bobbed up and down about three miles off Point Pinos. I had first noticed their lights flashing when out kayaking. The hypnotic glow from the red beacons was both rhythmic and calming, and I thought maybe they were the lights I was to follow. In fact, I felt I needed to sail out to them as though my mom guided me. Maybe out there lay the key to removing the shroud of mystery around Heather’s disappearance.
I would need a boat. I thought about asking Connor and decided to drop by his surf shop over the weekend. I didn’t want to ask Henry. Ever since I had seen the lilac paper, I’d been harboring some dark suspicions, and to be honest, a little fear.
Dad had offered me some work at the aquarium, and much to his surprise, I accepted—only because I needed the pocket money for a boat rental.
When Saturday came, I left for the aquarium at the crack of dawn and walked along the coastal path, past John Hopkins Marine Lab, to Cannery Row. I’d always liked the aquarium where Dad worked. Housed in a converted cannery; the inside was huge and cavernous, like the mouth of a gigantic whale. Large tanks, pumped full of seawater, acted as home to exotic sea life from the Pacific, like jellyfish, sharks, and rays.
A friendly girl named Katy showed me to the staff quarters, gave me a pair of overalls, and took me to the back rooms. I was expected to do some cleaning in the storage area behind the main exhibit. Stacks of glass tanks in all shapes and sizes were piled up. Some had green algae so thick that I couldn’t see through the glass. I wiped the algae off the glass, moving the cloth in a circular motion. I must have been there for hours, as I lost all track of time.
Suddenly, a reflection appeared in the glass, a familiar face.
I screamed. “Holy Crap! You scared me!” I cried, as my heart missed a beat.
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