The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1)

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  When I got downstairs, everyone was in the kitchen talking on separate phones. My dad was pacing by the sink.

  “No, we just closed on the 19th. The house inspection said the AC was fine. Yes. That’s right. No, that’s why we got your home warranty. Sure, I’ll hold.”

  I dodged past my dad and grabbed a donut from the box on the counter, next to where Eve was whining into her phone. “I know, right? I mean they don’t even have a real mall! Seriously, what am I supposed to do? And you know the guys are going to be all redneck hicks.”

  “That’s redundant,” I said, taking a bite of donut. Eve flipped me off, hiding her hand with her body so our parents wouldn’t see.

  “Yup, they’re here now. I have to go. Bye!” My mom hung up her phone and went outside to accost the movers. I pitied them. While my dad was patient, slow, and steady, my mom was fast, precise, and had unrealistic expectations.

  The one good thing about moving to a small town was that I could skate most places. I had another three months until my sixteenth birthday, so until then, if I wanted to go somewhere, I was relegated to skating, hoofing it, or bumming a ride.

  I went outside to wait for my skateboard to be unloaded. My mom had already started instructing the movers where she wanted what. An hour later a frazzled, sweaty man handed me my board. A few minutes after that, I was rolling around town checking things out. It was Sunday and the first day of school was tomorrow. I wanted to see what this place had to offer before I was stuck going to class every day.

  Four blocks’ ride down shaded streets lined with tired-looking houses built during the early part of the twentieth century brought me to an old downtown. A hodgepodge of quirky shops, including a taxidermist, the Clark County Museum, Marty’s Farm Supply, and Sam’s Ammo, Guns, and Beer were interspersed between “for lease” signs.

  Most of the buildings were built in brick or light-colored limestone, which looked odd to me; those materials were shunned in California because of their less-than-stellar track record with earthquakes.

  I came to a town square. In its center was an incredibly gaudy brick courthouse sitting on an acre of manicured lawn and rosebushes. I was looking at the shops that surrounded the square when a “Soda Fountain” sign caught my eye. It was in the window of the old-fashioned-looking City Pharmacy.

  It was not even noon, but the temperature was close to one hundred, and it was anything but a “dry heat.” My Paramore concert t-shirt clung to me, soaked through with perspiration, so I skated over to the pharmacy and ducked in for a respite from the Texas summer.

  A blast of cold air rushed past me as I opened the door. Sure enough, a bar ran along one wall, lined by a row of bar stools protruding from the black and white tiled floor, each one topped with a round cushion upholstered in red pleather.

  A single patron, a goth girl about my age, was perched on one talking to a big Hispanic guy behind the counter. She was pointing something out in a video game magazine as he laughed. I walked up to the counter and saw that despite his enormous size, the guy was probably in high school. He wore an outfit straight out of the fifties: white button-up shirt, white apron, white hat and black pants.

  I sat down a couple of stools over from the girl and examined the whiteboard menu on the wall. The guy behind the counter stared at me until the girl hit him on the shoulder with her magazine.

  “So take his order already!”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah.” He hustled over. “What can I get you?”

  “Root beer float,” I said. He nodded, then grabbed an ice cream scoop from where it sat in a glass of water next to the cartons of strawberry, chocolate and vanilla. The muscles in his arm bulged as he attacked the vanilla. The guy was huge.

  “Sorry. But you’re obviously not from around here and his brain couldn’t handle it,” said the girl, giving the guy an exasperated, but not unkind look. She got up, slid her magazine and soda over, and sat down next to me. “I’m Becky.”

  “Hey.” I gave her an appraising look. Underneath all the makeup, black-and-green hair, and piercings, she was really pretty. I didn’t even mind the black jeans, or the tank top with its evil version of Hello Kitty waving at me.

  “And you are…”

  “Oh, sorry. Chris.” I was lousy with introductions. I extended my hand and smiled.

  She smiled back at me for a second then took my hand. “Well, howdy, Chris. So what brings you to these here parts?” She shook my hand vigorously while doing a bad Southern accent, which was amusing only because she had been speaking with a pretty good one before.

  “Just moved here from California.”

  “Wow, what part?” asked Becky, dropping the over the top fake-Texan routine.

  “The Bay Area. San Jose.”

  “And you moved here? That sucks, man. Drink’s on me. I’m Richard, by the way,” said the guy, setting the float down in front of me. I frowned at his name tag, which read “Paul.”

  Becky saw me look at the tag and grinned. “That was Richard’s brilliant idea of a joke. His plan was to get people to call him by the wrong name. Trouble is, in three years, you’re the only one who’s come in who didn’t already know him. And now he’s told you his name.”

  “Aw, man,” Richard said, realizing he had just ruined his one chance at the gag.

  “So,” said Becky, “Why did you move here? Some sort of witness protection thingy?”

  “Uh, no. Dad got a job at the factory.”

  “Beats plucking chickens,” said Richard.

  “He came all the way from California for a factory job?” asked Becky.

  “Yeah, kind of. He’s the new general manager.”

  “Whoa,” said Richard.

  “Sorry,” agreed Becky.

  “Huh?”

  “That was Timmy Peterson’s daddy’s job. He lost it after he was fired for harassment,” Becky explained.

  “Sucks to be you, dude,” added Richard.

  I knew where this was going. “Let me guess: Timmy is going to take it out on me?”

  “Yeah, probably.” Richard shrugged. “He will for sure if you call him Timmy; don’t ask me how Becky gets away with it.” I looked over at her and had a good idea. Becky made even goth look cute.

  “At least tell me he’s small.” I was five foot nine and, contrary to stereotypes, was not a black belt.

  “He’s a linebacker.”

  “Oh.”

  “And kind of a dick.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Cheer up!” said Becky. “You’ve got a whole day until school starts. A short life’s better than none at all. And there’s always homeschooling if things get real bad!”

  Fruit flies also had a one-day lifespan, but at least they got to mate before they died. I glanced at Becky’s magazine and decided to change the subject. “You a gamer?”

  “The magazine’s his, but I play when I have the time. Unfortunately, between practice and my job over at Freddy’s, I don’t have much of it.”

  “She’s lying, dude. She has mad skills. If she asks you to play for money, run.”

  Becky snorted.

  “Seriously. Run. Since she gave up hunting she gets way too much pleasure from murdering things digitally,” Richard said, taking my glass behind the counter for a refill.

  “Freddy’s?” I asked Becky.

  “It’s a drive-in burger joint near school. This place has better ice cream, though. Ours is just soft-serve. So where do y’all live?”

  I tried to remember. “On Plum Street?”

  “Cool! You should check out the haunted house. It’s right on your street.”

  “I think I live next door to it.”

  Richard looked impressed. “In the mansion? I didn’t know Old Man Givens had finally died. You got a cool house, though.”

  “No, the one right next to that.” I was confused.

  “To the left or right?” asked Becky.

  “Right.”

  “Um…” Becky hesitated. “That’s the haunted o
ne.”

  I must have misheard. “What?”

  “Yeah, it’s been haunted for years. I can’t believe Savannah’s mom managed to sell that thing to someone,” said Richard.

  “Sucker born every minute,” said Becky, then she scrunched up her face in apology. “Sorry.”

  Richard shrugged. “Cut him some slack; he’s from California. The only haunted house they have is at Disneyland. Anyway, a witch or something lived there. It’s probably all just made up, but still, no one’s been able to last in that house longer than a couple of years. It’s been empty since I was like twelve.”

  “I heard a bunch of people from the town killed her a long time ago. Burned her at the stake in the front yard or something,” Becky said. “Now she haunts the place. Wants revenge, I guess.”

  “Great.”

  “Look on the bright side,” she said. “It’ll give you something else to worry about besides Timmy Peterson.”

  I couldn’t believe my dad bought a haunted house. I mean, I didn’t believe it was haunted, but still. I thought about the footsteps that woke me up last night and wondered if it had really been raccoons roaming our attic.

  “Hey, do you have a phone?” Becky asked.

  “Sure.”

  She held out her hand. I dug the phone out of my pocket and handed it to her. She snapped a picture of Richard, who realized what she was doing too late to protest. “C’mon, you didn’t even let me take my hat off!”

  She laughed, entering in what I assumed was his number, then held it out in front of her and smiled. She punched in her number and handed it back to me, still grinning. “There. Now you officially know people in town.”

  “Oh yeah, you’re hooked up, dude,” Richard said, grabbing a towel and wiping down the clean counter, apparently out of habit.

  I talked with them for a while longer. They seemed cool. They both went to my school, of course; there were no other options. Becky was in my grade and Richard was a year older. He played football, a varsity lineman since he was a freshman. Considering he was six foot four and probably three hundred pounds, I wasn’t surprised.

  Eventually, I left the soda fountain and rode around for a bit. I found a cool-looking book store called Cooped Up Books that carried some comics. The sign said it was open Sundays from noon to five, but it was twelve-thirty when I got there and it was still closed.

  Not finding much else within skateboarding distance that was very interesting, I gave up and went back home. The bedraggled movers were finishing up by the time I got there. One of them stopped to give me a desperate look, until my mom noticed his lack of movement and barked an order. He flinched and scurried off to grab a box.

  Blissfully cold air drifted out of the open door, indicating that the AC was running again. I wandered the inside of the house; it had been transformed into something like our home. Now that our furniture was all moved in, I realized the place was bigger than I’d first thought. Furniture that had crowded some of the rooms back in California now spread out with room to spare.

  I went up to my room and set up my TV, computer, and stereo. The cable guy wouldn’t be here until tomorrow, but at least I got my game console working, and to be honest, that thing ate up more of my free time than anything else.

  We had pizza for dinner, delivered from one of the three nationwide chains in town. My dad had yet to find a large pizza chain he liked. He tried to find a mom-and-pop place in the Pico phone book, but with no luck. Within a twenty-mile radius, we were stuck with chain restaurants for anything other than burgers or barbecue. I was a little glad to see my dad look disappointed about this move for a change.

  During supper, I got up the nerve to ask if anyone else had heard about our house being haunted.

  “Don’t be silly, Christopher. Of course it’s not haunted. What gave you that idea?” My mom gave me her Disapproving Look.

  “Just some kids I met over at the soda fountain. They said some witch owned the place, and it’s been haunted since she was killed here or something.”

  “So stupid,” Eve muttered, shaking her head at me. She pulled out her phone and started texting the latest dumb thing her brother said across the internet.

  “I mean, I know they were kidding,” I added so I didn’t sound so gullible.

  “Maybe that explains the AC,” my dad joked. Then, to my mom, he added, “Just in case, I have a repair man coming over tomorrow to look at it. He said he’d be here sometime between eight a.m. and five.”

  I headed back upstairs after dinner. The AC conked out again around nine, immediately followed by my dad swearing and telling my mom he was going to go check the breakers. I stripped down to boxers, opened both of my windows, and read until I fell asleep.

  Like the night before, something woke me up. Light from the full moon shone through my window. I got out of bed and saw that the girl from the mansion was reading again. She glanced up just then and somehow looked right at me. I waved like an idiot. She smiled and went back to her book. She couldn’t have seen me with her light on, which was a good thing, as I remembered too late that I was only wearing a pair of Scooby-Doo shorts.

  I had just laid my head back on the pillow when I heard a muffled thumping sound from outside my room. At first I thought I imagined it, but then it came again. I opened my door and listened. It was coming from downstairs.

  I headed down, careful not to run into anything in the unfamiliar house. The sound was coming from the kitchen. I expected to find Eve raiding the fridge, but as I got close the thumping stopped and was replaced by distant sobbing. I flipped on the kitchen light and the noise stopped.

  The room was empty except for an enormous roach sitting on the counter waving its antennae at me. We stared each other down for a second, then it bolted as I went for Eve’s magazine. It made a good run for it, but I was faster. I decided to leave the carcass smeared across the faces of whatever boy band adorned the cover as I set the magazine back down from where I’d grabbed it.

  I took a quick look around the kitchen but didn’t find anything of concern, except for our outdated appliances. There was certainly no noise.

  Either those were a different kind of mushroom on my pizza, or I was in need of therapy. I turned off the kitchen light and trudged back in the dark, cursing when I stubbed my toe on a stray box near the base of the stairs.

  I was more careful the rest of the way, making it back to my room without further damage. Glancing out the window, I saw that the girl was still reading. She flipped a page and then waved without looking up. I quickly lay down and spent the next thirty minutes trying to get to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  My alarm went off at six. I ran out into the hall, but I was too late—my sister was already in the bathroom. It was not a great start to the first day of school. I went down and grabbed breakfast, disappointed to see my mom throwing away the magazine with the present I had left for Eve.

  “Remind me to call a pest control company,” she told me.

  I ate breakfast, and then waited forty-five minutes until the bathroom was free. It left me just enough time to take a five-minute shower and throw on my clothes before mom was calling for us to leave or we’d be late.

  As it turned out, they didn’t have traffic in Pico. It wasn’t quite a one-traffic-light town, but it was close. We made it to school in plenty of time.

  When we pulled up to the front, I felt kind of guilty for hating on my parents’ cars. This wasn’t like California, where status-conscious people tended to drive newer European models. Most of the cars pulling up here were American made, and close to ten years old.

  My sister and I got out of the wagon and started our first day at Robert E. Lee High.

  The first thing I noticed was the naked guy streaking across the front of the school. Well, to be fair, he wasn’t totally naked; he had on shoes and a backpack.

  “Who’s that?” my sister asked no one in particular.

  The nearest guy who heard her fell over himself to be helpful.
Not only was Eve pretty, she was probably the only Asian girl in town, which made her exotic.

  “That’s Trevor Collins.”

  “Won’t he get suspended?”

  The guy shrugged. “His dad owns the largest chicken ranch in Texas.” Apparently that got you a little leeway.

  “Chickens? This is Texas; shouldn’t you guys grow cows or something?” Eve asked.

  “Not in Pico. We do chickens.”

  “Yeah, chicken capital of Texas,” I said.

  “It’s great as long as you stay downwind,” said the guy, grinning.

  The helpful guy wasn’t cute or interesting enough to warrant any more of my sister’s attention, but I did note that she headed off in the direction of the naked Mr. Collins.

  The day wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Aside from the naked dude, it was uneventful. The school was large, and actually in good shape. The lockers had a fresh coat of paint on them, and someone had even scraped off most of the stickers before applying it. The campus contained multiple buildings, but covered walkways linked them, so students wouldn’t get burnt to a crisp between classes.

  I had already prepared myself for the looks, and I saw plenty of them, but no one was outwardly hostile. Mostly they seemed curious; a couple of them looked like they maybe wanted to poke me and ask what I was.

  It helped that I managed to go through the day without running into Tim Peterson. Maybe he was in remedial classes, or hopefully prison. I did see the cute hostess, Savannah, from Saturday night; she was in my economics class. I smiled and said hi, which earned me another eye roll.

  I saw Richard once, at lunch. He was surrounded by the typical popular jock crowd. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself in case one of them was Tim, but Richard saw me and gave a friendly wave. The rest of the group looked over and one girl actually smiled. I hadn’t seen the goth girl Becky all day, which was disappointing but not surprising. I assumed she hung out with her friends someplace out of the way, like they did back in California.

  When my last class ended, I walked out to the front of the school. My mom, who was forever punctual, was not there. Neither was my sister. There was a no-phone policy at school, but it ended with the final bell. I took mine out and listened to the message my mom left a couple of hours before. Mom was with the AC guy and would be half an hour late. I sat down on a shady section of curb along with the other students who were waiting for rides, and did homework. Twenty minutes later and there was still no sign of my sister…not that I was complaining.