by Joy Elbel
Zach seemed happy, too, at least at first glance. But I knew him well and I could see that something was bothering him. Below the surface, there was something dark and untouchable. Like a wall no one could ever penetrate—no one but me, I was sure of it. If I could only talk to him, I knew his secrets would come spilling out. Unfortunately, though, so would mine.
Meanwhile, I continued to sink deeper into a loveless oblivion. Without Zach to hold, my arms felt empty. Without his kisses, my lips felt as cold as stone. When I was with him, I felt alive. Without him, I was nothing but a reanimated corpse. I was going through the motions but I was completely dead inside.
So when the guidance counselor pulled me aside and reminded me that I needed to start sending out college applications, I had a huge decision to make. Zach and I picked out a college together over the summer—one with a great pre-vet program for him and a good English department for me. Now that we were apart, I had to find a different school somewhere far away from him and the perfect memories of our love.
I picked a university in Philadelphia, the one Lee and I always assumed we would attend. It felt wrong, but I did it anyway. Any plan I made that didn’t include Zach felt wrong, so I assumed that it was probably the right choice. I didn’t tell anyone where I applied. When I left Charlotte’s Grove next fall, it would be forever. Dad and Shelly would just have to come visit me in the city. This town was too full of Zach for me to ever return.
By the end of the day on the 25th, Rachel had the final tally on RSVPs for the party. Out of the 229 people invited, 200 said they were attending. Misty chose not to RSVP at all, so I was left with an indefinite answer about whether or not she would be there. I wanted to know if Zach was coming, but I couldn’t dare ask Rachel. If I asked her one single question about her brother, she would get the wrong idea. Well, actually, it would be the right idea but one that I could never admit was right.
Homecoming was Friday night and the whole school was buzzing with activity in preparation. The Red Ravens would be playing their bitter rivals the Graysburg Giants and at halftime they would be crowning the Homecoming King and Queen. Ballots were handed out in homeroom that morning so everyone could vote. I almost choked on my own tongue when I read down through the names.
The usual couples were at the top of the list. Misty and Kody and Rachel and Boone were listed first followed by two couples I didn’t know. The last set of names on the ballot? Chloe Cosgrove and Zach Mason.
It had to be someone’s idea of a cruel joke. They’d only been together for a couple of weeks—did they really qualify to be in the running for such an honor? That should have been me, not Chloe! Even if they were dating, they didn’t have anywhere near the chemistry that Zach and I had. I wanted to slam my head repeatedly off of the top of my desk until my brain was sufficiently damaged—anything to take away the knowledge that he was dating someone other than me.
I voted for Rachel and Boone, of course, and dropped the slip of paper into the ballot box. Even if they didn’t win, that still meant that he and Chloe would be together at the game. And not just together, but together in front of the whole school. He would be standing next to her in a tux and looking like the Norse god he was. She would probably wear some gorgeous dress and not be able to take her eyes off of him the whole night. My thoughts made me so depressed that I was half tempted to hand Mr. Raspatello a rope and a clear shot at my neck. I could even draw a dotted line across my throat with a Sharpie to serve as a guide.
Offering myself to a killer wasn’t going to solve my problems, though, so I had to regain focus. Today was crucial to my plan to break into the school on Sunday. Today I would have to undo the latch on the window in the locker room without getting caught by Coach Hunter. If I couldn’t manage this one simple task without being seen, then my whole plan would be ruined.
I walked into the locker room with a guilty conscience even though I hadn’t actually done anything yet. As I sat down on the bench to tie my shoes, Coach Hunter poked her head around the lockers.
“Ruby, I have to go down to the administrative office for a minute but I’ll be right back. You can just head out to the track when you’re ready, okay?”
Score! The only time other time in my life that I got that lucky was the day I met Zach. Hopefully, this time would have a happier ending.
“Okay, Coach,” I said casually, “See you in an hour.” After she walked away, I counted slowly to twenty and then crept around the line of lockers. She was gone—time for action. I grabbed one end of the bench and dragged it toward the window. The bench only needed to move two feet for me to be able to climb on top and reach the window latch. The heavy wooden base scraped loudly across the cement floor so I put all of my weight into it to move it as quickly as possible.
Climbing onto the bench, I reached up to grab the handle and came up short by a full two inches. The window was higher than I estimated. Balancing on my tip toes, I stretched my arm out again and wrapped my hand around the latch and twisted. It wouldn’t budge. Those windows probably hadn’t been opened since the eighties if they’d ever been opened at all. But I couldn’t give up—that window had to open and before Coach Hunter got back.
I leaned forward to get a better grip and almost fell head first into the wall. Once I regained my balance, I yanked on the latch with everything I had. Slowly, the handle turned until the window was unlocked. I pushed on the bottom of the window until it popped open just a crack. Mission accomplished.
Or at least the first half of it anyway. I wiped my fingerprints off of the latch with my towel, jumped down from the bench and pushed it back into place. Standing back to survey my handiwork, I was pleased. There was no way anyone would notice that window wasn’t locked.
The wind was bitter but I had the best run I’d ever had. Everything was falling right into place. Why was it that I could pull off a heist of this caliber, but I couldn’t keep my personal life from falling apart? I rejected the idea that I was born for ghost hunting—even if I was, this was the last time I would do anything of this nature. Period, end of story. After this was all over, I was done for good.
After double checking that the window was still set for Sunday night, I said goodbye to Coach Hunter and headed home. Everything else for Sunday was ready to go. All of the supplies I needed were tucked into a bag behind my seat— gloves so I wouldn’t leave fingerprints, a low beam flashlight in case I really needed it, and a black hoodie to help hide my identity in case I was spotted. The snacks I told Shelly I would grab on my way home from work Sunday night were already safely hidden in my trunk. Time was the only thing I didn’t have under my control.
Forty-eight hours until go time. Forty-eight hours to worry about all of the different ways my plan could fail. Forty-eight hours to wonder if Zach would show up at the party with Chloe on his arm. I was staring down the barrel of the longest two days of my life.
Time always seems to move slower when you’re waiting for something big to happen and this time was no exception. Friday night dragged on forever as I lay in bed crying over thoughts of Zach and Chloe together at Homecoming. Was he only dating her to make me jealous? If so, well played Zach, well played.
I took a break from crying to go check out the ball room. Shelly put the finishing touches on the decorations the night before but I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to go check them out. When I opened the door and flicked on the lights, I hardly recognized the place. harvest wonderland.
It was a Halloween
All of the traditional elements of Halloween were present—bats, jack-o’-lanterns, black cats, etc. Woven in among them were garlands of fall-colored leaves that made the whole room look classier than most Halloween parties did. A fake coffin was set up in the center of the room to serve as a buffet and multiple tables decked out with black tablecloths and skull shaped candles lined the walls. Everything reflected back through the mirrors and made the room truly a sight to behold. Too bad I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.
There
were so many things I wanted to enjoy but just couldn’t seem to manage the slightest bit of excitement. Like the oak grove for instance. It was only after the leaves began to turn that I found out what type of oak trees they were. They were scarlet oaks. In the fall, scarlet oak leaves turned the most brilliant shade of red imaginable. The entire grove stood under a blood red canopy that put ordinary fall foliage to shame. Once the leaves began to fall, the ground, too, was covered in a lush carpet of crimson. It would have been the most romantic place to walk hand in hand, to kiss until you were breathless.
But not for me. It might as well have been painted in nothing but a palette of gray. The beauty turned ugly in my eyes. I looked at those leaves not seeing their splendor but only their death—strange, but the true splendor of fall lay in the dying process. The leaves were prettiest when they were dead—if I could see it, would my heart be just as gorgeous?
I wanted to get excited about my costume, too, but I just couldn’t. The day Rachel and I went costume shopping I refused to pick one out. Every single costume I looked at was part of a couple’s outfit. I couldn’t be Juliet without Romeo. I couldn’t be Maid Marion without Robin Hood. Hell, I couldn’t even be Little Red Riding Hood without a Big Bad Wolf. If Zach and I were still together, I definitely would have gone for Little Red. Zach would be one sexy beast as the Wolf. Finally, Rachel just made the decision for me. She picked out one of the only costumes there without a mate—the Viking princess.
The dress was stunning and under normal circumstances I would have been dying to wear it. The body of the gown was a sparkly ice blue with gray fur accents and the cape was a silvery gray trimmed with the same faux fur. The only thing I wasn’t too sure about was the wig—long, flaxen blond strands that hung to my waist. If it weren’t for the silver and blue crown that would have looked hideous next to my own red streaks, I probably would have skipped the wig altogether.
Thinking of my dress led me to think about the dress Chloe was wearing at that very second and the handsome boy who was probably telling her how beautiful she looked in it. Would he kiss her there in front of everyone? Would anyone tell me about it if he did?
I couldn’t stand thinking about it anymore. I returned to my room and opened up my laptop. If anything could make me feel better, it was writing. So that’s what I did. I wrote for hours until my eyelids finally grew heavy and then I sunk onto my bed and into sweet oblivion.
Saturday seemed to drag on forever. The shop was busy but I was eager for work to be over so of course time seemed to come to a complete stop. Every other customer was a slow, old grandma who couldn’t decide which candle to buy—the ghost or the pumpkin, the witch or the bat? My patience was wearing thin and it had to be obvious. I was about a half a step away from saying “Go with the witch, you old bat!” to the next octogenarian with poor decision making skills.
When closing time finally arrived, I practically pushed my last customer out of the door in my haste to lock up. Twenty-four hours left to go. Twenty-four hours until I would have the answers I needed. Twenty-four hours and then I would know exactly how Garnet died. The worst part would be heading back to the party afterward and facing Mr. Raspatello.
I spent Saturday night wishing the hours would fade away quickly but when Sunday morning came I changed my mind. Suddenly, my nerves were on edge and I felt sure that I would have an anxiety attack before the day was over. As always happens, now that I was dreading the passage of time, the hands on the clock seemed to be in overdrive. Noon turned into two which turned into five before I even knew it.
My chest tightened more with each mile I drove toward the mansion. What was I thinking when I came up with this plan? I’d never committed a crime before, what made me suddenly think I was a world class cat burglar now? I couldn’t pull this off alone—I needed a partner. But it was too late now. Tonight could be my only chance to learn the truth and I had to take it. I pulled off to the side of the road less than a mile from my house to throw up.
I checked the clock in the Neon as I pulled up to the mansion—5:30. It would take about twenty minutes to drive to the school and sneak into the locker room. That left ten minutes for me to go inside, feign excitement over this stupid party and then declare that I forgot to stop for the snacks I promised I would bring home. I glanced up at the house and my stomach wound itself into a tight knot. It felt like someone was watching me from the bedroom next to the ball room. I looked away quickly but couldn’t resist taking a second glance. Nothing. Nothing but the stupid paranoia of a girl about to break the law for the first time in her life. I was wasting precious time staring at nothing—time to put my acting skills to the test.
Right on schedule. I was back in the car exactly ten minutes later and driving to meet my destiny. Mr. Raspatello was already settling in at Rosewood with the other chaperones so even if I got caught, I at least knew I wouldn’t get killed. I drove just past the school and into the dirt road leading to a gas well. Pulling the car far enough in so that it couldn’t be seen from the road, I turned off the engine and reached for the bag in the back seat.
The sun hadn’t set yet but the sky was dark with heavy clouds leaving less light than on a normal day. Just perfect. I would need all of the help I could get to conceal myself from view. I shoved my arms into my black hoodie and zipped it up to my chin. Once the hood was in place, I pulled on the gloves and snatched the flashlight from the bottom of the bag. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly to calm my hyperactive nerves. This was it.
I snuck out of the car and closed the door softly behind me. Creeping just inside the woods until I was near the back of the school, I scanned the area for any witnesses. The only living creature that could possibly see me was a rabbit lurking near the track. The rabbit stopped munching on the clover to watch me with wide innocent eyes, twitching its nose rapidly back and forth as it watched. Not now rabbit, don’t look at me so innocently as I’m about to do the worst thing I’ve ever done. Please, not now.
Certain that I was alone—with the exception of super judgmental Thumper, of course—I snuck out into the open and ran swiftly to the slightly open window. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it escaped my chest and was about to shoot out through my hoodie. I crouched down by the window and gave it a shove. With a high pitched creak, the frame gave way and the window opened about six inches. One more push and it was open wide enough for me to slide right in.
Second thoughts. Could I really go through with this? I didn’t want to, but there was no other choice. If I hoped to ever rid myself of Garnet, I had to know for sure how she died. After what she did to Zach, I wanted her to disappear forever. If that meant helping her get justice for her murder, then that’s what I had to do. Before I could change my mind, I swung my legs into the opening and lowered myself down into the room below.
The locker room was a tad bit creepy even in full daylight and near darkness certainly ramped up the spooky factor. Knowing that a girl died here made it even worse. The anticipation of seeing the reenactment of that death—on Halloween no less—made it the very epitome of terror. The air was stale and the odor of decades’ worth of sweaty socks invaded my nostrils with a vengeance. The room felt hollow and every small sound bounced loudly off of the metal lockers. I tiptoed into the shower area and flicked on the flashlight briefly to check my watch. Six o’ clock. The show was about to begin.
28. …Aren’t Always Mine
I stood there in the shower waiting and watching as the last faint rays of daylight faded into darkness and started to go over in my mind all of the things that could go wrong with my plan. Garnet’s death scene was almost guaranteed to be residual, but what if the other Garnet showed up—the Garnet who pushed an innocent Zach down the staircase? If I got hurt in here, how would I get back out? There weren’t enough lies left in the treasury to satisfactorily explain what I was doing in here.
What if someone on their way to the party saw me drive here? The grocery store was on the opposite sid
e of town—what excuse could I give for being this far away from where I said I was going? I was usually so thorough—I always had a back story for every lie I told—how could I have been so careless this time? I knew the answer to that. I was distracted—distracted by Zach, distracted by my profound sadness at seeing him with Chloe so soon after our break up, distracted by how easy it was to love him even with my heart in tatters.
Focus. I had to snap back to reality. I checked my watch again to see that twenty minutes passed while I contemplated the worst that could happen and brought with it a new fear. What if I waited until seven and nothing happened? How would I explain such a lengthy absence? Even at the busiest time of day, the lines at the grocery store couldn’t account for me being gone for almost two hours. I was so screwed.
As I stood there panicking over my utter lack of planning, the darkness in the room thickened and wrapped itself around me. And it wasn’t alone. A static charge bristled at the back of my neck as a milky haze formed inside the shower area. The haze swirled counterclockwise, hovering about a foot from the tiled floor. Slowly, it congealed into a human figure, a figure I knew well.
The sound of soft sobs filled my ears as Garnet stood before me crying the kind of tears I was so familiar with myself. Those were the tears of someone with a broken heart. I considered myself an expert in sorrow—nothing else could cause such raw emotion. She was a pitiful sight, standing there crying into the sleeve of her blue dress. She could have been dressed as any number of characters—Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, or just some random princess—but I knew who she was. She was Juliet.
The dress was of medieval style, full length with puffy sleeves and cinched at the waist with a long rope sash that hung down her back. A delicate ring of blue flowers encircled her head and for the first time since I came in contact with her, I could see that beneath all of the sadness she was beautiful. All of the anger I felt toward her for hurting Zach and making my life a living hell faded away as I prepared to watch her die.
