Past Midnight

by Mara Purnhagen

  “I’ll get it!” I called to Shane. Maybe Avery hadn’t gone to pick up her mom after all, I thought. Time to face the music. I took a deep breath and opened the door.

  It wasn’t Avery standing on my front porch.

  It was Jared.

  “What are you—”

  “I need your help,” he interrupted. His face was red and he was out of breath as though he’d run the entire way to my house, which I knew wasn’t possible.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Jared took an awkward step forward. “Please, Charlotte. Help me. I’m desperate.”

  thirteen

  Jared stepped into the foyer before I could stop him.

  “You can’t be here,” I said. “Avery’s coming over soon and she’ll go ballistic if she sees you.”

  “I won’t stay long. Ten minutes.” He reached for my arm. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

  I looked past him. Outside, the street was empty, but Avery could drive by at any moment. I closed the front door.

  “Ten minutes. Then you have to leave.”

  He nodded. “I need to sit down. I walked here.”

  I knew from where the school bus had dropped him off that he lived at least two miles away. With his limp, it should have taken Jared a long time to get to my house. I led him to the dining room, where he collapsed onto the sofa.

  “I don’t understand why you’re here,” I said.

  He was still trying to catch his breath. I felt bad for him, so I went to the kitchen and got him a glass of water. He drank it in one long gulp.

  “Thanks,” he said when he was finished. I stood across from him and waited with my arms crossed over my chest. Finally, he spoke.

  “I didn’t kill Adam.”

  “I never said you did.”

  He looked at me. “A lot of people believe I did.”

  “Why is that?” I asked. It didn’t make sense to me. Even after listening to Avery’s version of events, I couldn’t figure out why the entire school hated Jared. Even if the accident had been his fault, he had obviously suffered. No one seemed to have any pity for him, though.

  “They think that I killed Adam because that’s what I told them.”

  I sat down. “Okay, you’re going to have to make a little more sense. Why did you tell them that?”

  He leaned his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes. “I had to. Avery wouldn’t let it go. She kept coming to see me at the hospital, asking questions.”

  “And you said you killed your best friend?”

  “It was my fault. I was to blame.”

  I was having trouble processing everything. “You just said you didn’t kill Adam. Now you’re saying that you’re to blame. Help me out here, Jared.”

  Jared opened his eyes. “Adam is dead because of me, but it was an accident. After it happened, though, I told Avery a different story.”

  “Why?”

  His voice was quiet. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Can’t tell me or won’t tell me?”

  “I can’t. I promised Adam I wouldn’t. And now I need his permission to tell everyone the truth.”

  “What?” I was shocked. “Jared, you’re going to have to explain—”

  “No.” He sat up straight. “Look, I saw the channel guide article and I know who you are. I have to contact Adam, and you can help me. It’s the only way to prove that I didn’t kill my best friend. It’s the only way I can move on, and the only way I know to help Avery do the same.”

  “Whoa. I don’t know what you think I can do, but let me tell you right now I can’t talk to dead people. It’s not like that.”

  Jared stood up. “I’ve seen the show. I know you can do it.”

  “It’s not like we have a spirit phone,” I protested. “We don’t just call the other side and ask to speak to a specific person.”

  “Adam died too soon. He’s still here. I feel him. We’ll just go back to the scene of the accident—”

  “No! Jared, I promise you, he’s not there.”

  One of the biggest misconceptions people had was that ghosts hung around the place they died. But in my parents’ experience, that was true only if the person died in the place they had lived. Their energy lingered in the area that held the most emotional connection for the person during their lifetime.

  My parents had another theory, too, one that tried to explain why some energy lingered for years. They found that the locations with the most activity tended to be places where people had spent a great deal of time before they died. For example, old prisons or asylums were usually incredibly active, almost crowded with energy. Mom and Dad believed that some people made a conscious choice to leave energy behind, usually because they had some unfinished business that they felt passionate about. Their intense emotions lingered until something triggered the leftover energy, releasing it. My parents weren’t sure how this happened, but it was something they studied intensely.

  The scene of a sudden car accident rarely held anything more than a little residual energy. The person’s spirit didn’t hang around waiting for his or her friends to show up.

  “Okay,” Jared said when I was done explaining all this to him. “We need a place Adam was emotionally connected to. We’ll go to his house.”

  “I thought Avery said his family moved?”

  “They did. We’ll wait until the new owners are away, then we’ll get in through a window or something and—”

  “No! I’m not breaking into someone’s house!”

  Jared looked me right in the eyes. I’d never really noticed his eyes before. They were a cloudy kind of blue, but hollow somehow.

  “You don’t know what it’s been like,” he said softly. “Ever since the accident, my life has been a living nightmare. It’s like I died, too, that day. I can’t make it right, but with your help I know I can make it better.”

  It was such a heartbreaking plea. I could hear the desperation in his voice, the weight of his grief. I wanted to help him, but I knew it was probably useless. I didn’t want to get his hopes up only to find nothing. It would be worse, I thought, to believe you were so close but not find the answers you were looking for. I’d seen people become fixated on reaching their dead loved ones. They would spend hours every day trying to capture EVPs on their digital recorders. It was a dangerous obsession, one that sometimes triggered strange and powerful energy that could quickly grow beyond someone’s control.

  “I wish I could help you,” I said, returning Jared’s gaze. “I really do. But it’s not that clear or simple. Adam’s gone, and there’s no reason to think otherwise.”

  “You’re wrong, Charlotte. And I’m not leaving until you agree to help me.”

  We were getting nowhere, and I didn’t know what to do. I tried to think of a compromise while he stood staring at me. Then the doorbell rang.

  “It’s Avery!” I hissed. “You’ve got to get out of here.”

  The doorbell rang again. “Follow me,” I whispered. Jared nodded, and I knew he was just as scared of Avery seeing him as I was.

  Shane was still working in the living room. He had his headphones on, so I doubted he was even aware that Jared was in the house. I tapped him on the shoulder and he pulled his earphones off.

  “Hey, kid? Who’s your friend?”

  “This is Jared. Can you give him a ride home? It’s a long story, but I’ll explain later. Use the back door!” I added as I ran to the foyer.

  I waited as Shane and Jared left the house. The doorbell rang a third time and I opened the door.

  “Finally!” Avery said as she walked in. “What were you doing?”

  “Bathroom,” I said, hoping the answer would suffice. It did. Avery went into the dining room and sat in the exact same spot Jared had just occupied.

  “So, what’s up? You said you needed to talk to me about something. Sounded important.”

  “It is. Kinda.” I relaxed a little when I heard Shane’s van pulling out of the driveway. I grabbed t
he channel guide from where Mom had left it on the end table and handed it to Avery.

  “Hey! I’ve seen this show.” She chuckled. “They look like your parents.”

  “That’s because they are my parents.”

  Avery frowned. “Oh.”

  I apologized for not telling her sooner and gave her my rationale—that I didn’t want her to think I was weird—and said that I hoped she would understand.

  “In the past, it’s been a problem for some people,” I explained. “I was worried how you might see me.”

  I sat down and waited for her to say something. She just stared at the channel guide. “I knew they looked familiar,” she murmured. Finally, she tossed the magazine aside and looked at me.

  “Anything else? Any more deep dark secrets I should know?”

  Her tone took me by surprise. I couldn’t tell whether she was being sarcastic or not.

  “No. That’s about it.”

  “Okay, then. We’re even. I didn’t tell you something and you didn’t tell me something, and that’s it. I need to get home now.”

  She stood up and walked to the foyer. I followed her, my stomach twisting. I didn’t want her to leave this way. I wanted to be sure that she would come back.

  “Avery, please don’t be upset.”

  She had her hand on the doorknob. “I’m not upset,” she said as she opened the door. “It’s not a big deal, okay? I’ll see you on Monday morning.” She smiled a little too brightly and left. I watched her walk down the street to her house, hoping that she would turn around and wave or something, but she didn’t.

  A little while later, Shane returned from dropping off Jared. He went to the kitchen, and I followed.

  “Poor kid,” he said, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

  “What did he tell you?”

  Shane popped open the can and sat at the counter. “Everything. His accident. His life. What he asked you to do.”

  I sighed. “I can’t contact Adam. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I know. But you don’t have to find his friend. You just have to try.”

  “Why should I try when I know it won’t really help?”

  Shane folded his hands together. “Because trying would help, Charlotte. This kid needs to know that he did everything he possibly could. I know it’s not something we usually do, but after talking to him, I think it’s worth a shot.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I think my parents would disagree.”

  “Maybe.” Shane shrugged. “Maybe not. Look, your parents spend a lot of time trying to release energy so it moves on. Don’t you think it’s even more important to help people do the same thing?”

  “Mom and Dad don’t see it as something moving on. They see it as balancing the energy fields of the universe.”

  “Fine. Then let’s say that Jared’s energy needs balancing.”

  Shane outlined a plan for me. He said I should take the thermal camera and a digital recorder from my room, spend a few hours with Jared and basically talk him through the process.

  “Show him that you tried but it’s not working. Tell him he needs to find a new way to deal with this. Suggest counseling. Better yet, find a way to get him to talk to your friend Avery.”

  “Ha. He tried that at school and Avery almost had him arrested.”

  “That’s too bad. They could probably use each other for support.” Shane stood up. “Your folks will be home late tonight. They’re at another meeting.” He winked.

  “A psychic?”

  “She prefers the term ‘occult specialist,’ I think.” He slid a piece of paper across the counter to me. “Just in case,” he said as he took his beer into the living room and returned to his computer.

  I picked up the slip of paper. There was a number written on it and the words Call him scrawled in Shane’s scratchy handwriting.

  Jared’s phone number.

  I put the paper in my back pocket and retreated to the dining room. Maybe I would call him, but not tonight. I’d had enough conversations about talking to the dead for a while. Instead, I flopped down on the sofa and grabbed the remote control. There was never anything good to watch, especially on a Friday night, when most normal people were out with their friends.

  After thirty minutes of watching overexcited hosts push their products on infomercials, my mind wandered.

  If I decided to help Jared—and I wasn’t absolutely sure that I would—we would need a place that had been special to Adam. His former house could be a good site, but I wasn’t going to break the law on the slight chance that the place might hold residual energy. I needed someplace more public.

  “You hungry?” Shane called from the living room. “I can order a pizza.”

  “No, thanks,” I hollered back. I wasn’t in the mood for pizza. The only good place to go was Giuseppe’s, and they didn’t deliver. The thought of their pepperoni made my mouth water, though.

  It also gave me an idea. Giuseppe’s was a public place, one that held happy memories for Adam and Jared and just about everyone else at Lincoln High.

  I pulled Jared’s phone number from my back pocket. Maybe I would take Shane’s advice. I just had to make sure that Avery didn’t find out, and to do that, I would need help.

  I smiled. I knew the perfect person.

  fourteen

  I could see a woman in a long, pale dress walking down a crowded sidewalk. She held the hand of a small girl who kept turning to look at the horse-drawn carriages clopping down the street.

  “Are we almost there, Mother?”

  The woman nodded. “Almost, sweets.”

  “Why couldn’t Papa come with us today?”

  “He had business to attend to in town. We will see him later.”

  They turned at a side street. Charlotte Pickens paused, her gaze drawn to a little park. “Do you see that big tree?” she asked her daughter. “It has been there for a long, long time.”

  “Longer than me? Longer than you?” the little girl asked. She had the same dark hair as her mother, but her eyes were also dark, like her father’s.

  Charlotte laughed. “Longer than any of us. It was the only thing standing after the great earthquake. That makes it a very special tree.”

  They arrived at a familiar house and rang the bell. While they waited on the porch, Charlotte smoothed her daughter’s hair and patted her own locks, which were pulled back in a tight bun.

  An older woman answered the door. “May I help you?”

  “Good afternoon. I am here to call on Mr. and Mrs. Pickens.”

  “I see. Are you family?”

  Charlotte hesitated. “I am an old friend,” she said. “Of their daughter’s,” she added quickly.

  “Do come in.” The old woman ushered them inside to a sunny parlor. “Would you like some tea?”

  “Tea would be lovely. Thank you.”

  The woman left the room and returned a moment later holding a silver tray. “I’m afraid the Pickenses are not here,” she said as she poured the amber-colored drink into tiny white cups.

  “Do you have any idea when they will be back?” Charlotte asked. Her daughter fidgeted and looked around the room, which was decorated with heavy velvet drapes and oil paintings depicting forest scenes.

  The old woman sat down in a plush red chair. “They left nearly a year ago,” she said. “They send telegrams once in a while. I maintain the house for them.”

  Charlotte set her teacup down. “A year ago? Where did they go?”

  “You said you were an acquaintance of their daughter?” The woman sipped her tea.

  “Yes. I was a close friend.”

  “They went searching for her, you know. Poor souls believe she’s still alive. They’ve been traveling across the North. I imagine they’ll head west soon.”

  Charlotte nodded. When she raised her own teacup to her lips, her hand shook slightly.

  “I can tell Mr. and Mrs. Pickens you were here, of course, but I don’t think they will return for a while. You said your n
ame was—?”

  Charlotte stood up, and her little daughter did the same. “That’s quite all right. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  As they left the house, the little girl began to skip. “That was a pretty place,” she said. “Can we go back there?”

  “I hope so,” Charlotte replied, looking back. “I certainly hope so.”

  I awoke on Saturday morning with the dream fresh and heavy on my mind. Charlotte Pickens had returned to Charleston, but her parents had not. I guessed that her little daughter was about six years old, which meant that less than a decade had passed since Charlotte had run away.

  The real question I had, though, was why I was having these dreams to begin with. If the spirits of her parents were the ones now following me, how was it that I could see Charlotte’s actions? It made more sense to me that I would see her parents, that they would somehow show me their own experience of searching for their lost daughter. I wanted to trust that these dreams were authentic and were being given to me as a bizarre gift to help me understand what had happened a hundred years ago. But who was giving them to me?

  After folding my blankets on the sofa, I went to find my parents. I hadn’t heard them come in the night before, but Dad’s keys were sitting in their usual place on the foyer table. No one was in the living room and the computer monitors were off. The coffeemaker hadn’t been started, either. Usually my parents were up at six and working. They were natural morning people, which I thought was actually very unnatural. Humans were not made to jump out of bed at the crack of dawn, smiling and ready to go.

  I made the coffee and went upstairs. My parents’ bedroom door was open slightly, so I peeked inside. They were both asleep. The clock on their nightstand read 9:30. It must have been a late night, I thought. They never slept in so long.

  I took a hot shower. When I went to my room still wrapped in a towel, I remembered that Shane had set up cameras in there. So I went back downstairs, grabbed a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the folded stack sitting on the dryer, and returned to the kitchen.

  Mom was sitting at the counter in her bathrobe, sipping from her favorite mug. “Thanks for making the coffee, hon,” she said drowsily.