April's Ghosts

by Juliet Vane

  April’s Ghosts

  a Blood Flesh Bone prequel

  by Juliet Vane

  Chapter One

  Heartbreak and Spring Storms

  My car, Grizabella, was a freaking mess. She looked exactly like the old glamour cat from the musical Cats—torn, dirty, old, and knocking on death’s door. But she was a Honda Civic and other than the trash littering the passenger’s seat, I’d taken good care of her. She had plenty of years left, and on the first morning of spring break, I’d decided to help her look the part.

  My parents’ driveway was on a hill, angling up toward the road. I went out through the garage, opening the wide door to the warm Colorado morning. Our little road was shady, with large pine trees hugging it on either side, separating us from the rest of the town of Switchback.

  I dug the shop vac from the far reaches of my parents’ garage. A cobweb clung to my bare arm below my t-shirt sleeve, and I brushed it away, trying not to shriek. I was fine with beetles, roly polies, butterflies, and all kinds of insects. Even cockroaches didn’t scare me that bad. But spiders? Evil buttholes, every last one of them. Something about those two extra legs, or the classification of arachnid, did me in every time. And no matter how often my ex-boyfriend had told me, “They’re more afraid of you than you are of them,” I remained convinced that every spider I happened across had the willful intent to do me harm.

  Once I had the shop vac situated next to Grizabella, I realized that I couldn’t actually vacuum anything because there was too much garbage in the way. This was what came of practically living out of my car for the past eight weeks. I’d made the stupid, stupid, stupid decision to move off campus with my boyfriend, Ian. I’d told my parents during winter break, and my dad had been absolutely certain it wouldn’t last and I’d end up on my butt in the street by spring break.

  Dad had been wrong—I was out on my butt by Groundhog Day.

  I leaned into Grizabella, grabbing as many food wrappers and crumpled papers as I could find.

  Now that it was spring break, I had to pretend everything was fine and no, of course I wasn’t living out of Grizabella and hoping for couch space in friends’ apartments each night. I couldn’t afford anything else because I was still paying my share of rent for the place I’d gotten with Ian, while he brought home a different girl whenever the whim struck him.

  “April?”

  The low voice startled me, and I dropped a nasty fast-food bag on the ground. It rolled a couple of feet and stopped at the toes of a nice pair of Nikes. My gaze went up from the Nikes, traveling over a guy’s hairy, well-defined legs, a pair of basketball shorts, and abs. I stopped at the abs. These were the kind of abs that went on romance novel covers.

  “You okay?” the owner of the abs asked.

  I forced my gaze up the rest of the way, making a brief stop at the pecs and the light dusting of hair that covered them, and to the concerned face of my friend James.

  “James!” I said, and felt my mouth twist in a genuine smile, probably the first real smile I’d worn since Groundhog Day.

  Normally I would have launched myself at him and given him a hug, but my brain was still stuck on abs and pecs and why the hell was he outside without a shirt on? So instead, my hand went to the blue and green friendship bracelet that I wore on my left wrist. James had made it for me for Christmas in eleventh grade.

  “You still have that?” he asked, pointing to it.

  “Oh, yeah. Well, you tied it on pretty strong.”

  His blue eyes danced as he said, “Didn’t want you to forget about me.”

  “Never,” I said, my voice serious. “So, how are you?”

  “I’m good, just going for a run. I’m home for a while. You?”

  An involuntary smile spread across my face. Being around James had this effect on me. “Same, on spring break like you. Obviously, I didn’t have anything better to do. No wild college trips to Cancun.”

  “Living the dream,” he said, offering me a fist bump.

  I took it, and he took the opportunity to grab me in a half hug.

  “Sorry I’m all sweaty,” he said, “but dang, it’s good to see you, April. You look great.”

  “Thanks.” Inwardly, I congratulated myself on at least keeping to my daily gym schedule. It helped because at the gym I could shower without having to inconvenience my friends.

  “How’s the semester going?” I asked. “Do you still like Michigan?”

  “Yeah, but Michigan’s a lonely place. I’ve missed you.” He gave me one of those heart-stopping grins that he always used to send my way in high school. I used to wonder if those special grins were just for me, if they meant anything.

  Even now, I wondered whether James flashed the same smile to other people—girls in particular. But I was the worst judge of character and boys’ intentions. I’d thought Ian and I were going to get married. Even thinking about that now made my face heat up in embarrassment. It all came back to the question, How could I have been so wrong? And the follow-up question, How can I ever trust my own judgment again?

  I couldn’t, was the answer.

  So I smiled and gave James a light punch in the shoulder. “Ow,” I said. “What are your biceps made of, titanium?”

  He laughed. “I have too much time on my hands. No girlfriend, and my buddies are all gym rats, so that’s all I do. Well, and study, of course.”

  “Of course.” My grades were falling because I wasn’t studying enough. It was hard to concentrate when I didn’t know whether I’d have a bed each night, or whether I’d be sleeping in Grizabella.

  Seeing my attention back on my car, James patted the door frame affectionately. “How’s the old broad?”

  “Hanging in there.”

  “She’s getting you to and from that fancy-pants school?” he asked. “It’s, what, a couple hours away?”

  “Yes, and it’s not fancy,” I said.

  “Just full of crazy artist types.”

  “Stop it, you sound like my dad,” I said. Majoring in music probably wouldn’t make me rich, unless my mad talent was suddenly discovered by Broadway. But if I hadn’t made it already, I felt like chances were that I probably wouldn’t. Still, the thought of learning something “useful” like engineering or, I didn’t know, maybe business or science, made me panic. I loved singing, and I loved music. But maybe it was time to grow up.

  My phone chirped on the front seat where I’d set it, and James’s phone buzzed in his shorts pocket. We both looked at each other and said at the same time, “Logan.”

  Smiling, I checked the message.

  I saw Grizabella in front of April’s house, so I know she’s home. April, we have a job. James, you too.

  I looked up at James. “He’s such a stalker.”

  “Wonder what he’s getting us into this time,” James said with a shake of his head. He was smiling, though.

  Logan was the third friend in our little “triumvirate,” as James’s mom used to call us. James could be too serious sometimes, and I could be too anxious, and Logan was too rowdy. He was the one who’d brought us all together when I’d moved into Switchback at age ten. His crazy ideas had gotten us into trouble more than once—trapped in a cave during a summer thunderstorm, stuck in a tree behind his house because I was too afraid to climb down, and detention for a week because he thought it would be “funny” to decorate the history classroom’s exterior with naked portraits of the founding fathers. It had just been chalk, so not outright vandalism, but the vice principal hadn’t seen it that way…even though my skills with chalk had rendered near-perfect faces for Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton. At least we’d gotten some good photos before we had to hose off our masterpieces.

  I leaned against the warm metal of Grizabella’s doo
r while James tapped out a message. It showed up on my phone a second later. Yeah, I’m in. What’s the job?

  Logan: Cleaning out Rosebud.

  “Rosebud?” I mouthed to James. Rosebud Girls Academy was a hulking, abandoned school by the lake. It was also the setting of more than one ghost story told at middle-school sleepovers.

  Me: Yeah, no thanks, guys.

  James looked up from his phone and back to me. “Why not?”

  A gust of cool wind rushed past me and I shivered. The road in front of us looked just the same as before—dappled in shadows from the pines, the sun peeking through cheerfully—but the very thought of Rosebud had my skin crawling. “It’s only the creepiest place in Switchback.”

  Logan: Come on, A, my mom’s making me do this. $600 for a week’s work.

  Six hundred bucks was pretty tempting.

  James: She’s gonna cave. You should see the look on her face. Greedy woman.

  Me: Shut up, James.

  Logan: James, you’re with her? At…8 am? Hmm.

  Me: He’s out for a run. I’m cleaning Grizabella.

  Logan didn’t write back, and I looked up at James. His bright blue eyes were locked on mine. When his gaze dropped to my mouth, delicious sparks of lust went flowing through my body.

  I’d forgotten about the near-constant draw to be close to him.

  “Let’s do it,” James said. “Logan will never leave us alone if we don’t. Besides, we’ve always talked about Rosebud and what it’s like. This is probably our best chance to see inside of it.”

  “Just because opportunity knocks, doesn’t mean I gotta answer the door.”

  He grinned. “And six hundred bucks could buy a lot of beer.”

  I laughed. “Look at you, learning how to party.”

  “Gotta start sometime.”

  I remembered a party the three of us had gone to during our junior year. Organized by Logan, of course. It had been out at Green Lake, not far from the Rosebud. I’d gotten drunk for the first time, and Logan and James had taken it upon themselves to act as my caretakers. I’d passed out in the back seat of Logan’s mom’s car, and James had sat with me on the way home. They’d carried me up to my room, where James tucked me into my bed.

  I could still remember the way my forehead burned where he’d kissed me goodnight.

  But he’d never said anything about it, so I didn’t, either. And now here we were. Good friends, home from college for the week.

  If nothing else, I could use my friends right now. I looked up at him and nodded.

  He held his phone up and tapped something out. My phone chirped.

  James: We’re in.

  Chapter Two

  The Job and the Basement

  On Monday, James was quiet in the passenger’s seat as we made our way to Rosebud. His peppermint-y scent surrounded me, making my old car feel like a much more exciting space. He must have slept in this morning, because the line of a pillow crease still crossed his cheek. I wanted to reach over and trace it with my finger, and then maybe move my hand back to curl my fingers in his messy-long blond hair. But I kept my hands firmly on the steering wheel.

  The road was pitted because nobody had done any work on it in years, and the elements had wreaked havoc with the pavement. Grizabella lurched through potholes.

  “I’m not sure about this,” I said. “Even the potholes are trying to keep me from going to Rosebud.”

  James smiled, and the pillow line on his cheek contracted. “It’ll be good. Gives us an excuse to hang out, too. No more hiding in your parents’ house like last night.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just didn’t feel like hanging out.”

  The two of them had wanted me to meet them at the local pub. We were too young to legally drink, but because the pub served food, we could get in. I’d been tempted to go, but I’d just explained to my parents what had really happened with Ian and the apartment, and the emotional hangover was too great.

  Besides, I was still trying to come to terms with James-my-friend, and James-who-gave-me-the-kind-of-smiles-that-melted-my-insides.

  Stop it, April, I told myself. Bad judgment, remember?

  I cleared my throat and changed the subject. I could do forced cheer. I could look at the bright side like James was doing. “This is kind of neat, though. I didn’t even know you and Logan had the same week off as me. What are the chances that all three of us have the exact same spring break? We’re at three different colleges.”

  “Yeah.” James had a weird look on his face.

  I opened my mouth to ask about it, but just then, Grizabella hit a monster pothole. I held my breath as we eased forward. Good, nothing broke…that I could tell.

  “I can’t believe we’re actually going to be inside Rosebud,” James said.

  “Me neither.” I was trying to feel excited about this. Ever since I’d moved to Switchback as a kid, we’d been telling stories about creepy headmasters and girls going all Salem Witch Trials, accusing each other of casting spells and worshiping the devil. The girl who threw herself off the second story and landed, neck broken, in one of the big trees where she remained suspended for a year until she was found.

  They were just stories, I reminded myself. In fact, I was pretty sure that Logan had completely invented the one about the girl in the tree.

  “So, you’re not in any productions this year?” James asked.

  I shook my head and kept my eyes on the road. “Nope. I wanted to, but there just wasn’t time this semester.”

  That, and I wasn’t sure how I’d manage rehearsals and studies and figuring out where to live. I needed to get my life together before committing to something as intensive as a musical production.

  “That’s too bad,” he said. “I wanted to see you sing again. Watch you get into character. You always get so into it, it’s like you’re…transported.”

  I had to swerve to avoid another pothole, and it kept me from blurting out, “You really get me!” But he did seem to understand me, more than anyone ever had. “It’s kind of what it feels like,” I said, “becoming someone else, putting their feelings and emotions into their songs and dialogue.”

  “I always envied that,” he said.

  As we got up to the slightly higher elevation from Switchback, I noticed more aspen trees and thick grasses. It wasn’t all evergreens and pine needles. The view was like something from a postcard—mountains in the distance, green trees and wildflowers.

  Finally, the trees cleared somewhat, and James, Grizabella, and I faced a long drive into the school grounds. I couldn’t see the school yet because it was blocked by trees. A wrought-iron fence stretched as far as I could see on either side. Off to the left, outside the open gate, was a newly-cleared area, covered in fresh gravel.

  “Parking lot?” I asked.

  James nodded. “Logan was telling me they’ve fixed up the place quite a bit. They have a classical music thing out here in the summers now. The parking lot is for people to come watch performances.”

  “We don’t have to park down here and walk all the way up, do we?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I drove through the large gate. Closer up, I could see twining images of vines with rosebuds. On anything except wrought iron, the effect might have been cheerful, but here it looked downright sinister.

  James got out his phone and texted Logan. “He says there’s a smaller lot up next to the school and we can park there.”

  I followed the gravel drive to the large group of trees. Then the road curved. As we went around it, Rosebud Girls Academy came into view. Green Lake sparkled in the background, sun glinting off the moving water, but it was the mansion that captivated me.

  “Wow,” James said, raising his eyebrows and turning to me.

  “Yeah.”

  We’d seen pictures of it, of course. Local history. A wide, long porch and white columns. Brick exterior. The white trim and columns looked as if they’d been freshly painted, and a lot of the windows lo
oked new, too. The wooden sign in the front lawn had the words Rosebud Girls Academy carved into it. Beneath that was a smaller wooden sign, reading, Available for Camps and Special Events. Please call the Switchback Historical Society to schedule, followed by a local phone number.

  “It’s not exactly the run-down haunted house I’d imagined,” I said. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

  A couple of cars were parked in the lot off to the side, so I navigated Grizabella over to them. Logan sat on the hood of a Volvo station wagon that looked older than Grizabella.

  James and I got out and walked over to Logan.

  Logan eyed James. “Still feeling okay after last night?”

  James laughed. “I told you, I’d be fine.”

  “You should be proud of our little James,” Logan said in a conspiratorial voice. “He’s learned how to have a good time. He’s grown up.”

  Yeah, I thought, remembering his muscles when he’d stood shirtless in my driveway. He totally had grown up. I gestured to the car Logan sat on. “What is this?”

  “This baby’s mine,” he said. “My grandma gave me the money to get her. My mom’s pissed, of course.”

  I made a sympathetic clucking noise with my tongue. Mrs. Mancuso, Logan’s mom, had some kind of hang-up about people getting things for free. Even when Logan’s dad had taken off years ago and she’d struggled to raise Logan, she’d accepted no charity from anyone.

  “So she’s making you get a job during your spring break?” I asked.

  “And here we are,” he said, nodding. “I guess we should go find our new boss.”

  We started walking toward the front doors of the school building, the gray gravel crunching beneath our shoes. My arm bumped into James’s wrist. The brief brush of skin against mine reminded me of electricity, of heat. I stepped to the side so it wouldn’t happen again.

  James stopped before we reached the porch. “I think I hear voices coming from the back.”

  We adjusted our direction and walked around to the rear of the building. There was a paved path leading to the lake and what looked like a boat house, and then a second path winding around the school building.