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

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  We walked to the picket fence that separated our yard from Mr. Givens’ and she stepped over a section where a few of the wooden stakes were missing their tops. I hesitated, and Rose looked back.

  “What about the dogs?” I liked animals, but these were big, and my mom and Eve had already complained that they chased and barked at anyone who went near the yard.

  “What? You mean little old Mange and Satan? They’re pushovers.”

  “Mange and Satan? Seriously?”

  She laughed. “No. Actually, their names are Stanley and Oliver, and they’re downright unfriendly until you get to know them. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea? And whose idea was it to name them Stanley and Oliver?”

  “It fit better when they were puppies.” She tugged on my hand and I reluctantly followed her over the fence. She led me to the loveseat that hung from the oak. We sat, still holding hands. The swing was wide enough for three, but she had chosen to sit up against me and I could feel the press of her body alongside mine. I gave her a quick glance and saw that her dress had crept up to reveal a garter. I wondered who the heck wore stockings and garters anymore, especially in the Texas summer, but had to admit that even in the dim moonlight it was a nice view.

  “Better tear your eyes away from my legs or you’re going to miss dinner.”

  “Huh?” I looked up guiltily. “I’ve already eaten.”

  “They haven’t.” She pointed and, as if on cue, the two dogs trotted around the house.

  I could just make out the stocky shapes of the two massive Rottweilers, proverbial hellhounds, complete with spiked collars. Despite the air of bravado I wanted to portray, I involuntarily shrank back in the swing when they started growling. Rose shushed them, and they instantly quieted.

  “Hold out your hand,” she ordered. I took a breath and held it out, hoping this wasn’t the last time I saw the appendage. The dogs crept forward the remaining few feet, front ends hunched low, necks stretched out in anticipation.

  “It’s okay, he’s a friend,” Rose told them in a slow, steady voice.

  I knew you shouldn’t let dogs sense fear, but I failed to suppress a flinch as cold wet noses sniffed my hand. Then one of them ungracefully plopped down and scratched itself while the other licked me. When they trotted away a minute later, the stubs of their tails wagging, I was left holding out a very soggy hand.

  “There, now they won’t bother you again.”

  I thought about what Mr. Sherman had said back at the store, about Mr. Givens living alone.

  “You live here long?”

  “Not really.”

  That was vague. I tried again. “So, you live with your grandfather?”

  “Are you referring to David? Lord, no, he’s not my grandfather.”

  I looked questioningly at her, but she just smiled.

  “You ask a lot of questions, Christopher. So where were you coming home from just now?”

  After her preceding statement, I thought the question was a little hypocritical, but I answered anyway. “I got a job over at Cooped Up Books. I work Thursday nights and Sunday afternoons.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. Hey, let me know if you want me to pick up anything for you.” She was a reader. I worked at a bookstore. It was a good fit.

  “I’ll do that. So where are you from?”

  “San Jose, California.”

  “I’ve never been to San Jose. I like San Francisco, though. It’s been a long time since I was there. Are you enjoying Pico? I imagine it’s a lot different from your hometown.”

  “Yeah, but I can’t complain. I’ve made a couple of friends, got a job, live in a haunted house. It’s all good.”

  “Haunted house?”

  I nodded. “I thought everyone around here knew. Apparently my house is haunted. A witch named Charlotte Monroe was killed there, and now she wants revenge or something.”

  “Really? Have you seen her?” Rose leaned closer as she spoke, and I detected an earthy scent on her breath. There was no skepticism in her question, only interest. She clearly believed in ghosts.

  “No! I mean, come on, it’s not like she exists.”

  She pulled back a fraction of an inch and peered into my eyes in a disconcerting manner. “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

  “’Course not. I don’t believe in witches, aliens, or the Easter Bunny, either. I’m not six. I mean, Santa Claus is real, of course, that’s a given….”

  Her frown turned up at the corners. “So you haven’t seen anything at all from this ghost of yours? No signs at all that she exists?”

  “Well, I’ve heard a couple of strange things in the house. Been woken up a couple of times.”

  “Ha!”

  “It could be the pipes or something. It’s an old house.” I wasn’t about to admit I believed in ghosts, not even to Rose. I was just settling into this town, and the last thing I needed was to be thought of as a nutcase.

  She pursed her lips. “You have direct evidence you’re living with a ghost, but you’re still in denial.”

  I shrugged, defeated.

  “Do you know what she wants? Has she said anything?”

  “No. She just walks around, bangs on things, and cries sometimes.”

  “You should try to find out. Normally a ghost only sticks around because it wants something, or has unfinished business. If you find out what it is and give it to her, maybe you can get her to go away.”

  “How am I supposed to do that? She died, like, sixty years ago.”

  “The library has old newspapers. Something in them might give you a clue. Or ask people who were around back then. See if anyone knows what could cause her to remain here.”

  “I’m not sure talking to people is such a good idea. Just because I believe in ghosts doesn’t mean other people do. I don’t want people thinking I’m crazy.”

  “Oh, you’re not crazy, Christopher. Trust me, these things exist.”

  I was going to ask how she could sound so confident, but she had turned toward me and the movement hiked up her dress even more. It almost looked intentional.

  Distracted, I agreed. “I guess I could ask around.”

  “It’s either that or keep staring at my legs, though I’m not sure how far that will get you. Well, at least, not with your ghost.”

  My eyes snapped to her face to catch an amused expression lined with something predatory.

  “I’ll look around. I can try the web, too. Something might be posted about her online.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Hey, you want to come over and help me look?”

  She paused, considering for a moment. “I don’t think I should.”

  “Are you sure? It won’t take long; I’m good with the Internet.”

  “It’s probably better if I don’t. I have some things I need to do.” That was a definite brush-off. I’m no expert, but I’ve had a girlfriend or two, and Rose was sending out some mixed signals.

  “Well, the invitation’s open; feel free to come on over any time.”

  “Careful, or one day I’ll take you up on that.”

  I wish. “So how do you know about ghosts?”

  “Let’s just call it professional interest.”

  I thought of Becky’s suggestion earlier. “What? Are you a medium or psychic or whatever?”

  She laughed. “No, not quite. So this ghost of yours hasn’t done anything harmful, then? It’s not threatening? It just makes noise?”

  “Yeah, that’s about it. Wait, what do you mean, ‘harmful’?”

  “Sometimes ghosts can be a little insistent when they’re trying to get attention. It can lead to accidents. I just wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” Was that genuine concern? Again with the mixed signals.

  She faced forward again, her head tilted down in thought. We sat there listening to the shrill wail of cicadas for a few minutes until, finally, she spoke again. “So the ghost doesn’t bother you?�
�

  “Sure it does! I haven’t slept through a single night this week.”

  She laughed. “That’s not what I meant. It doesn’t scare you or anything?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “Even witnessing something firsthand like you have, most people would continue to deny things like that exist. Or they would be packing their bags and heading off to an asylum.”

  “I’m Asian; we’re imperturbable and mysterious.”

  “And good with computers, from what I hear.” She lifted her head up, and gave me a sideways glance.

  “Yeah, and good with computers. Oh, and I don’t think people call them asylums any more. I think they’re assisted living centers or something.”

  “I’ll remember that. I like you, Christopher—you’re different. I meet quite a few people, and not many pique my interest.” She was different as well. A little…off. But it didn’t bother me.

  We sat in silence for another few minutes, just swinging. It was nice. Rose was one of those types you could hang with and not have to keep a constant conversation up. At least I hoped she was, because I was having a problem thinking of anything intelligent to say. So I just swung quietly next to her until she finally lifted her head and said, “I suppose I need to get going, and you should get started with your research.”

  We stood up and she gave my hand a squeeze. “Thanks for the company and conversation. It’s been a while.”

  “Any time.”

  She leaned over and kissed my cheek with soft, cool lips before heading to the front of her house. I watched her go, and then hopped back over the fence to get some sleep before Charlotte visited.

  Chapter 7

  Friday was game day, and there was no mistaking it. Banners hung all over school, urging the team to beat Clarksville High. Football players wore their jerseys, and of course the cheerleaders wore their uniforms. Eve had spent an extra-long time in the bathroom getting ready that morning, and because of it we were almost tardy. Near as I could tell, the additional thirty minutes were used to put a bow in her hair.

  I passed Becky in the hall once that morning and did a double take at the uniform. I still couldn’t get over her constant appearance changes; she was like a cute chameleon. She had been talking to some friends and didn’t see me, or the attention I gave her.

  Unfortunately for me, her friends did. They whispered something to her as I passed. Great. I had no idea how my look was going to be interpreted, but I’m sure it would come back to haunt me.

  The rally was held in the gym right after lunch. It was huge. The student body was seriously into football, or at least high on school spirit. My friends back home were mostly what you’d call misfits: punks, skaters, and computer geeks. None of them cared much about high school sports or pep rallies.

  Oddly enough, I found that the friends I had made in Pico were either on the football team or cheerleaders. Consequently, they were all down leading the rally, which left me sitting alone. I was slightly bummed not to have someone there to share witty commentary and snide remarks with, until Becky caught my eye during the opening cheer and winked.

  After that, the whole thing became a little infectious, and I found myself hollering and whooping along with everyone else, though I did take a moment to feel bad for whoever was stuck dancing around the court in the chicken costume.

  I actually like football, though last year I’d only attended Homecoming and a few of the other big games. I avidly followed the San Francisco 49ers and planned to keep on following them, even from the middle of Cowboys and Texans country. I despised fair-weather fans, and those whose allegiance shifted with a change in geography.

  But even as a football fan, I wasn’t wild about sitting through both the JV and varsity games. That was a lot of football, in the heat, sitting on a hard bleacher.

  Unfortunately, I didn’t have a choice. Tonight was Eve’s high school cheerleading debut, so my parents were both coming. Who was I kidding? They’d be coming to every game she was in, especially now that Dad could go. Back in California, my dad didn’t get off in time to make it to games, but apparently around here the entire town shut down early on game days, even the factory.

  After school let out, I had an hour to kill before meeting my parents, so I grabbed a bench in the shade and started my homework, hoping to finish it and be free for the rest of the weekend. I had expected the schoolwork to be easier out here in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas, but to my dismay, it wasn’t.

  I was about five minutes into an essay for AP English when a voice called out, “Damn! Asians really do spend all their time studying. It’s game day, dude!” I looked up and saw a few varsity players headed my way, Trevor out in front.

  “I just wanted to see if you and your sister were going to make the party.” Somehow I doubted he cared if I was going to make it, but at least he was cool enough to pretend.

  “Why don’t you just ask her?” My tone was probably a little confrontational, but Trevor didn’t seem to notice.

  “I didn’t get a chance to earlier today, and before the game we’re supposed to go over plays and mentally prepare for the game.”

  Um, okay. “Shouldn’t you be there now?”

  “We escaped. At this point we’re as prepared as were going to get. We’re going to own those nubs.”

  In affirmation, somebody grunted and slammed into a nearby trashcan. The dented carcass detached from the post and slowly rolled away. One of the guys was Tim Peterson, and he gave me a stare that said he wished I was the trashcan.

  I closed my laptop and slipped it into my bag before someone decided to head-butt it.

  “So, you guys going?” Trevor pressed.

  Tim lurked behind him, scowling, and I was about to say no, but then I thought of a certain redhead. Before my sense of self-preservation could intervene, I said, “Yeah, we’ll be there.”

  “Cool. See you tonight!” They headed off, emitting occasional loud barks and high-fives. I didn’t know why I’d said I was going. Tim clearly looked like he wanted to get me somewhere without witnesses, and I was pretty sure Becky was just being nice to me. If she was interested in anyone, it would be Richard.

  I wondered if Eve and Trevor being at the same party qualified as a date. Even so, I seriously doubted it was the type of party that would be serving ice cream and cake, so I was well on the way to being ten dollars richer.

  I had just gotten my laptop out again when I was interrupted for the second time.

  “Seriously? Studying? On Friday afternoon? Way to perpetuate stereotypes.” That joke never got old.

  I looked up to see Becky and her blonde friend Monica standing over me. Well, Becky stood over me; Monica was maybe five feet tall, so she was more or less at eye level.

  “I thought there was some rule about you guys being sequestered in a room before the game or something. Doesn’t anyone around here follow the rules?”

  “That’s only for the football players. We’re cheerleaders; we don’t have time for rules. We’re too busy being snarky and stabbing each other in the back.”

  “Besides, we’re blonde,” said Monica, blowing a bubble and then popping it. “And rules are, like, complicated.” She tilted her head and smiled.

  Becky nodded in agreement. “We’re supposed to be warming up right now, but I’m captain so I can cheat a little. Even so, we should get back before your sister takes over my squad. I just wanted to make sure you were coming tonight.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Cool! I’ll meet you after the game.” The girls whirled, and bounded away.

  “Hey, wait—I thought Savannah was captain?” I called.

  Becky turned around, bouncing backwards. “She is, for Varsity. See you tonight!” She blew me a kiss and was gone.

  I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach: an uneasy mix of excitement and guilt. I felt bad. It wasn’t possible not to like Becky, but I could have sworn there was something between her and Richard. And I liked Richard. Not
to mention that the guy could ball me up and stuff me into some out-of-the-way locker, where my body would remain until the janitor cleaned out all the lockers next summer.

  I guess I would have to deal with that when we got to it. For all I knew, Becky was just a flirt and she didn’t even really like me. The more I thought about it, the more that seemed likely. Cheerleaders were popular, and popular girls liked to string guys along.

  I tried to concentrate on homework, but my thoughts were all jumbled, and finally I just gave up. I swapped the laptop for my PSP and played a game until it was time to meet my parents.

  They arrived early enough for us to locate space in the sold-out bleachers. I had never seen so many people come to a high school football game before; the entire town must have come. The stadium was packed, the crowd was loud, and even the hotdogs were good. My parents enjoyed themselves. Muffled by the exuberance of the crowd, they didn’t embarrass me despite screaming Eve’s name and waving at her throughout the night.

  The games were actually a lot of fun, but after six hours of football, I was more than done. At least my butt wasn’t numb; we all spent most of the time on our feet. After the game, my parents chatted with someone sitting next to us who apparently worked with my dad at the factory. I saw Becky head over to a big guy in a cowboy hat sitting in the first row, right on the fifty-yard line. I assumed it must be her dad. He looked familiar for some reason, but I didn’t think I had met him.

  Eve came by a minute later to drop off her backpack and pompons with my parents.

  “You did great, honey,” said Mom.

  “Yeah, really good,” agreed my dad.

  “Thanks, guys! I’ll see you later!”

  My dad frowned until my mom explained, “The squad heads out for ice cream after games. Eve said it’s tradition.”

  I had a pretty good idea of who was in the “squad” and I didn’t remember Trevor wearing a cheerleading skirt. I glared at Eve who, already a few steps down the bleachers, waved at us and added, “Oh yeah, and then a bunch of us are going over to Savannah’s to hang out after.”

  Holy crap, my mom bought that?