April's Ghosts

by Juliet Vane

I lifted. Oof, it was heavy. Worse, a corner of the fabric fell down. Instead of a ghostly face, all I saw was my own. And it was like seeing myself for the first time. My brows were pulled down in concentration, but my eyes were wide. If I had to describe the expression on anyone else, it would have been “longing.” My mouth looked pinched and sad.

  Was this the real me? A girl who felt like she’d aged ten years in the past two months? A girl who’d given up on following her heart and thought instincts about love were overrated?

  Was I a girl who would continue to willfully ignore the hints given by James—hints that he might want to make our relationship something more? Was I a girl who would turn her back on happiness when it presented itself so easily?

  I didn’t want to be that girl. It felt safer, sure…but it also made me sad.

  I stepped back, lifting my hand to my mouth in surprise. All I’d needed was this dumb mirror to reveal the truth of who I really was.

  When I moved, the fabric covering caught on the edge of the glove. And in the reflected space behind me, I saw not James and Logan, but the girl from my dream—auburn bob, heart-shaped face.

  I shrieked and turned around, running straight for James’s arms.

  Chapter Seven

  Truths and Reflections

  James rubbed his hands over my shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, and I felt the rumbling deep of his voice, calming me.

  I tried to take slow breaths. I would not be ruled by panic. My mind was playing tricks on me, and I’d had a dream about that girl, and of course while I was in a spooky basement, surrounded by evil spiders, I would see the scariest thing possible in the reflection.

  It was just…every detail about her had been the same. She’d had a freckle high above her eyebrow, and a short, stubby nose. I’d even seen enough of her in the reflection to see the scalloped collar of her white blouse.

  Sucking in another deep breath, I finally pulled myself away from James.

  Logan was watching us, a smirk on his face.

  “Can we just…pretend that didn’t happen?” I asked. “I thought I saw something and freaked out.”

  “No problem,” Logan said.

  James nodded.

  “And do you think…” I trailed off. “Do you think Natalie would mind very much if we just left that mirror here?”

  They shook their heads, laughing a little, and we carried up the extra buckets, brooms, and shovels that we’d used over the past couple of days.

  Standing outside the basement door, we looked at each other. Logan’s dark eyebrows were furrowed. “Gotta say, I’m glad we’re done in there.”

  “It’s my turn to get lunch,” James said. Logan had gotten it on Monday, I’d taken James’s Jeep to pick it up on Tuesday. “Sandwiches from Marco’s?”

  “Sounds good,” Logan and I agreed.

  “We’ll be down at the picnic table,” I said, pointing to the edge of the lake.

  James walked off, and Logan and I headed toward the tables. We reached the one closest to the water and sat down, facing the old school.

  “So…you and James, huh?” Logan asked.

  “What?” I could feel my cheeks coloring. “There’s no me and James.”

  “Didn’t look that way to me. You went straight for him when you were scared.”

  “I went for the closest guy I saw,” I said with a harrumph sound.

  “Um, April, sorry to break it to you, but I was standing about three feet closer, arms out to catch you, and you barreled right past me.”

  “I guess I was blind with panic.”

  He set down his phone and scooted closer to me on the bench. Took both of my hands in his. “It’s time for some real talk, A. I think you like him. And I know he likes you—I’ve known that since sophomore year. So if you don’t like him back, I think you should tell him.”

  I frowned, even as my heart gave a hopeful leap. I knew he liked me. At least, I’d been getting more and more certain about it. “He’s liked me since sophomore year?”

  He gently let go of my hands. “Yeah. Look, he didn’t want me to say anything, but he dropped out of Michigan. He hated being so far away—at least, that’s what he says to anyone who asks. But I think he’s missed you. So, just, if you don’t like him, go easy on him, okay?”

  “He left Michigan? He worked so hard to get in—”

  “Yeah, his spring break was two weeks ago. He came home with all his stuff and said he wasn’t going back. Don’t give him a hard time about it. His parents are already pissed, even though he’s already signed up for summer courses at Springston CC.”

  Springston was the closest community college, and it was halfway between here and my college near Boulder. “I wouldn’t give him a hard time. It’s his life.”

  Logan looked at me with sympathy in his brown eyes. “It could be your life, too.”

  Could it? Would I let it? Now that Logan had said these things, I couldn’t pretend that it was in my head. I couldn’t wonder, not anymore. I knew.

  Just then, we heard James’s Jeep rumbling over parking lot gravel. Logan picked up his phone again. I stood and walked around the edge of the school to meet James at his car.

  “Hey,” I said, and my voice and smile must have been warmer than usual, because he did a double-take and raised his eyebrows.

  “Hey,” he said. “I couldn’t remember if you liked salami or not, so I bought an extra sandwich with turkey.”

  I grabbed one of the bags and linked my free arm with his. “That was thoughtful. I like both, and I like you, too.”

  He blushed again. I remembered my epiphany in front of the mirror—before the creepy girl had shown up. I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. James liked me—I thought so, and Logan thought so, too. So after we’d gone a few steps, I paused, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  The pause turned into a full-on stop as he looked at me. “What was that?” he asked.

  “It was a…thank you,” I said.

  He nodded and gave a little chuckle. “I’ll take it.”

  We reached the picnic table, arms linked, and Logan winked at me. His phone buzzed in his hand, but I automatically reached for mine. Sort of like yawning, I’d noticed. Someone’s phone buzzes, and everyone checks their own. But my phone wasn’t in my pocket.

  Crap. “Uh, guys, I think I left my phone in the basement.” I could even envision where I’d left it, at the edge of the bottom step. I’d left it there so that I’d be able to run back down for it after the last armful of buckets and brooms that I’d carried out.

  “Want me to grab it for you?” James asked.

  “No, I can do it. Facing my fears, and all that.” I gave them a fake smile.

  I walked toward the basement, humming a song from Evita. I needed to be strong, composed, and channel the strength of Eva Perón.

  We’d left the basement door open so Natalie could check out the job when she came back from her own lunch break. After this, she’d give us some work to do in the building proper—we needed to clear out several of the rooms so she could have new photos taken for the online catalog promoting her music program.

  From the top of the stairs, I could see my phone. Just there, at the bottom. Thirteen steps down—I’d counted during my many trips back and forth—and I would reach it.

  I gingerly walked down. The wood creaked beneath my weight. At the sixth step, I was seriously reconsidering my decision to get the phone myself. James would have done it for me. Logan would have, too, although he would have teased me the entire time. But nothing bad was happening—the fear was in my head. I had to do this.

  From behind me came the muted sounds of James and Logan talking. In front of me, the scent of rot. The basement was dark because we’d turned the light off.

  I calmed my heart. Breathing in, breathing out. I was okay—this was okay. I reached the second step. Because of the darkness, I couldn’t even see the stupid mirror—all the better. I bent down to grab my phone.

 
Someone spoke. “Please help. The mirror needs to be in the hallway. Please, April. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  I gasped, froze. My hand was touching my phone. No, I wasn’t hearing this. It was impossible.

  I shut my eyes tight, closed my fingers around my phone, then spun and raced up the stairs. At the top, I gulped air. My legs shook. James and Logan both were looking at me strangely. How could I tell them that the mirror had spoken to me? Answer: I couldn’t.

  Flashing them what I could guess was a wobbly smile, I walked back to the picnic table and picked up one of the remaining sandwiches.

  Why was my brain playing these tricks on me? Did it have to do with James? My mind could have been trying to give me a message—and the message was simple—I couldn’t rely on what I thought I knew. Maybe I was making the same mistakes I’d made with Ian—committing myself too early to a relationship.

  “Everything okay?” James asked.

  “Yeah. Found my phone, no problem.” I held it up like it was evidence that I wasn’t falling apart inside.

  Chapter Eight

  The Chill and the Race

  We stayed busy on Thursday in two of the first-floor classrooms, repainting the walls and the low stage that had been constructed for the musicians, dusting the chairs, tables, and music stands, scrubbing the windows, mopping the floor.

  At one point, I had to retrieve some clean dust rags, because the ones we were using did nothing but smear more dirt around. I made my way to the janitor’s closet in the south hall across from Natalie’s office. Her office was empty—she was probably out on an errand.

  I dashed into the janitor’s closet, searching the shelves for the spare rags she’d mentioned. Between giant boxes of toilet paper and paper towels, I found the rags.

  When I stepped out of the janitor’s closet, a faint click sounded down the hall, followed quickly by another one.

  The footsteps were back. Or “pipes” as Natalie called them. I listened harder. If it was really pipes, I wouldn’t expect them to sound as if they were moving closer.

  Shivering, I turned and ran for the north hall, back to the classrooms I’d been working on.

  James looked up and smiled when I walked in. Logan held his phone with one hand, texting Helen at the same time. With a dirty rag his other hand, he rubbed ineffectively at a dusty music stand.

  “Logan,” I said. “Come on, dude, focus.”

  “I’m focusing. I can multi-task.”

  Resolving to put the mysterious footsteps behind me—literally and figuratively—I shook my head and walked over to James. “Do we need to have an intervention for him or something?”

  “Maybe,” he said. A crackling tension filled the foot of space between us. I could so easily close the distance, create something from this spark.

  Logan scowled, but put his phone back in his pocket. “I’m right here, you know.”

  “Is that you, Logan?” James asked, pretending to squint. “I didn’t recognize you without the phone in front of your face.”

  James and I cracked up, the tension between us dissipating. I still hadn’t had a chance to talk to him about us, and the truth was, I was scared. A kiss on the cheek was one thing, but Logan’s warning rang in my mind—if I didn’t feel the same, I should let him down gently.

  I’d loved James since high school, but I’d been shoving those feelings so far to the back of my mind, for so long, it didn’t feel safe to let them out. And what if they were wrong? I’d thought I loved Ian, too.

  And weaving in and out with those thoughts was the voice of the girl in the mirror, asking me for help. I’d definitely imagined her and her voice. Overactive brain, freaking out about all the new possibilities with James.

  But I couldn’t help feeling like there was another job, another task left unfinished. Like I was letting someone—the girl in the mirror—down.

  *

  On Friday, Natalie sent us upstairs. This was our last day of work, and other than the mirror in the basement and the unexplained footsteps, I’d actually kind of miss this place.

  Natalie stood before us, looking crisp in her business attire. “Some of the applicants have been expressing a desire to see the dormitories,” she explained, “so we’ll be photographing those as well. I’d like you to take the Rose Room and the Tulip Room and repaint them, and clean everything. Mr. Abbot left some supplies and extra gallons of paint in the hallway outside the rooms.”

  “Sounds good,” James and I both said. I nudged Logan so he would stop texting.

  “Sorry,” he said, putting his phone away. “We’re on it, Natalie.”

  We schlepped up the stairs, and I bounced on my heels. After working the rest of Wednesday and all of Thursday without incident, I was kind of excited to see the upstairs. This was the place where the girls had actually lived, being girls. Gossiping. Sharing secrets. Sleeping, dreaming, wondering how their lives would be different once they graduated. What had their views been like? Had they had big plans for their lives? I certainly hoped so. No, I didn’t just hope so. I knew they had.

  James looked over, saw my smile, and smiled back. He nudged me with his shoulder, so I nudged him with mine. We’d been dancing around each other like this—joking around as friends would, but with more touching than before. A quick “let’s go, champ” kind of shoulder rub, a playful shove, a hand ruffling the other’s hair.

  Logan rolled his eyes and reached for the pocket where he’d stowed his phone.

  “You can’t get caught texting while we clean,” I told him. “Natalie’s trusting us to do our work.”

  He sighed. “I know. Just an argument with Helen.”

  I wanted to tell him not to make the same mistakes I had made, but maybe the two of them would work out their problems.

  We reached the second floor and immediately saw the rooms Natalie wanted us to clean. Each had the door open so I could see in. Typical dorm-room style furnishing—an ugly, sturdy captain’s bed, a desk, a nightstand, and a dresser. Each bed had a set of new bedding, still in the packages, on top.

  “All right,” James said. “Let’s get to work. April, pick your poison.”

  “I’ll do the windows.”

  We stood close together, our heads inclined toward each other. He smelled like peppermint, and I inhaled, wanting more of that scent, wanting more of him. Logan cleared his throat, and James and I stepped apart abruptly.

  “I guess I’ll paint,” Logan said. “James, you in?”

  James grinned. “Let’s race. I’ll take this room.”

  *

  The handle of the water bucket dug into my palms as I carried it into the second room, where James was painting. I’d much rather wash windows than paint the walls or replace light bulbs—there was something so satisfying about being able to clear away grime, improve the view. The room Logan was painting was a corner room, and one of the walls faced the rear of the building, looking out toward the lake. I envied whoever would get that view.

  “Hanging in there?” James asked. He was painting fast. He and Logan didn’t even have any stakes in their race—just bragging rights.

  “Yeah. One set of windows to go, and then I’ll get the beds made.”

  Once the walls were painted and had a chance to dry during our lunch break, we would move all the furniture back against the walls.

  James continued to paint furiously, and I could feel my Duck Duck Goose drink catching up with my bladder. “Be right back,” I said, dropping my rag in the bucket.

  “Do you need me to come with you?” James asked.

  He and Logan had taken turns keeping watch outside the bathroom door for me, in case spooky footsteps happened again. But this part of the building felt pretty cheerful, actually.

  “Nah, I got it this time. Godspeed with the painting.”

  He chuckled. “I’m going to win and then I will be master of the universe.”

  The title they always fought for. “Dorks,” I muttered, smiling.

 
; “What was that?” He turned around, brandishing the roller and a menacing expression.

  “Nothing, just on my way out for a sec.” I walked down the hall to where one of the bathrooms was located. At the end of the hall stood a low table with an empty vase. I bet a fancy music program had the money for fresh flowers every day. Or maybe they picked wildflowers from the grounds—more would be blossoming in the summer.

  The wall above the table was blank, and something dark poked out of it. I stood on tiptoes to see it better. Some kind of picture hook. It had been painted over white at one point, but the paint had chipped off. Maybe I’d tell one of the boys to touch it up.

  I continued to the bathroom. On my way out again, I washed my hands. When I saw the little mirror above the sink I realized that hook in the hallway was in the perfect spot to hang something large. Something like the mirror in the basement.

  Chapter Nine

  Doors and Windows

  About an hour after lunch, I was putting the finishing touches on one of the windows, rubbing away some streaks left over from my overzealous application of cleaner.

  Natalie’s heels clacked on the hallway floor. Immediately I looked at Logan to make sure he didn’t have his phone out. Thankfully, he was too busy with the paint roller. James was already done and had been crowing about being “master of the universe” while Logan heckled him.

  Just another afternoon with my two best friends.

  Natalie came into the room, panting. “I brought up two rugs, one for each room. Wow, you guys have done an amazing job!”

  I looked around, seeing the room again with new eyes. It was true—I would totally want to stay here. Too bad classical wasn’t my thing—I was more interested in Hamilton and yeah, I’d even rather sing along with Cats than trill some kind of aria. But whoever ended up in this corner room, with its view of the woods out one window, and the view of the lake from the other—it would be a lucky person. I wondered if they’d appreciate all the hard work my friends and I had done, but I sort of doubted it. Without seeing it before our efforts, how could they know what went into it? We had a tendency to take for granted the things that were always right in front of us.