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

by PATRICK KAMPMAN

  “Sure!” said Richard. I made a mental note to make sure my mom had lots of whatever it was we were having.

  “Why not,” said Becky. She hadn’t taken her eyes off me since the whole Rose-in-my-room-all-night thing. “I’d like to meet her.”

  I hoped she was referring to Charlotte, because I had no plans of introducing her to Rose.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Savannah, inviting herself over; she was far too pleased at my discomfort.

  I tried to smile, gave up, and made a run for my fifth-period class.

  “Wow, you’re smooth. Offer lessons?” Savannah’s tone indicated that she didn’t expect an answer. I tried to figure out why she was following me, until I remembered that she was in my next period. She was smugly quiet after the last shot, and I got through the rest of the day unscathed.

  After school, when the no-phone-calls policy ended, I rang up my mom to tell her we were going to be having lots of company over for dinner. I closed my eyes, waiting for her response; she wasn’t keen on surprises.

  Fortunately, she was thrilled. Not only was this an opportunity to meet all of my new friends, but she got a chance to cook for people. She loved cooking. I wondered if she had time to make her pot roast or chili—they were really good.

  I stopped by the library to kill some time after school, hoping to find out more information on my ghost. As luck would have it, Mr. Parker had found the box of microfiche containing the back issues of the Pico Picayune. It was waiting for me behind the information counter.

  I carried the box to the back of the library and sat down in front of one of the old machines. I figured they must have sat neglected since the library got computers, but to my delight, the device lit up when I flipped on the power. I anxiously started reading the Pico Picayune issue dated January 1st, 1950.

  A couple of long hours later it was time to head home for dinner. My optimism was crushed. I had spent two solid hours reading newspapers and I hadn’t found a single article on Charlotte Monroe. I hadn’t even made a dent in the two years’ worth of issues leading up to her death. Contrary to what they showed on TV, one could not go through several years’ worth of newspapers in an afternoon. Even though they were only a dozen or so pages long, there were still three hundred sixty-five of them a year.

  By the time I left, I wanted to find whoever it was that denied the library the grant they were going to use to digitize all of their records and shove my skateboard up somewhere unpleasant. At this rate, it would take a month to do what I could have done in less than ten seconds with a search engine.

  Chapter 14

  I got home just after six. My friends were all at practice, so they wouldn’t be arriving for another fifteen minutes. I opened the front door and froze. A chill moved through me as the blood drained from my face.

  She couldn’t have. Why would she do that to me?

  She had done it, though: the smell was unmistakable.

  I ran into the kitchen to find my mom smiling away as she prepared little bowls of banchan for everyone. Most of these bowls were filled with different types of kimchi, which is a Korean dish made with fermented vegetables, most commonly cabbage. To the uninitiated, its smell is something akin to a group of angry skunks spraying each other on top of a pile of rotting corpses.

  Once you get past the smell, assuming you’re still conscious, you’re left with a dish that’s a little strange for the rural South. It actually tastes okay, and a lot of people love it, but it’s not something I would ever spring on brand-new friends. I wasn’t sure if Pico even had a Chinese restaurant, let alone a Korean one.

  My parents, in an effort to maintain our Korean heritage, tried their best to make sure Eve and I were well versed in Korean food, culture, and language. When we were younger, we attended Korean language classes, cultural festivals, and of course ate regularly at the local Korean restaurants. We even went on a family trip to Korea a few years back.

  To their disappointment, the sum of their efforts meant that I was used to the food, played video games, and could count to ten in Korean. Eve fared better. At least when she was younger, she seemed to enjoy the language classes and culture camps. She could actually have a rudimentary conversation in Korean back in the Bay Area. I didn’t anticipate many opportunities for that here in Pico, Texas.

  I entered the kitchen, wondering what I had done in a previous life to deserve this. I knew my mom meant well, but had it really been so long since she was in high school? Could she not know the irreparable social damage she was about to inflict?

  “Hi, dear. Eve called. She’s getting a ride home with your friends. What’s wrong?” The horror must have been evident on my face.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, still horror-struck, taking in the pots and bowls that covered every inch of countertop. This was beyond bad, and it wasn’t just one of my friends coming over, it was pretty much all of them. Plus Savannah.

  “Cooking dinner. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making both beef and pork bulgoki—that way we’re covered in case someone doesn’t care for spicy foods, or one of your friends doesn’t eat pork.” I wasn’t worried about the bulgoki, which was just Korean barbecue. It was grilled marinated meat, and just about everybody liked it. The fermented cabbage, however, concerned me.

  “Mom. Couldn’t you have cooked something, anything, regular?” There was still time to call for pizza.

  “What do you mean? This is regular. You like this. I thought it would be fun for your friends to try something Korean.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure they’re ready for this type of ethnic experience.”

  “Your friends in San Jose liked it.”

  “Mom, a lot of them were Vietnamese. They ate octopus and sea cucumber. And besides, that was San Jose. It’s like half Asian.”

  “Thirty percent.”

  “Whatever. Look, I just—” My protest was cut short by Becky’s car rumbling into the driveway. Moments later, I heard footsteps on the porch. As I went to greet my friends at the door, my brain raced to find a way to head off the coming disaster. I doubt anyone missed my look, they just didn’t understand what was wrong.

  Eve, however, knew immediately what happened. She just shrugged and said to me, “I figured she’d do that.” Then, to everyone: “Hold your breath, my mom cooked stinky Korean food.”

  As each person entered the house, I could tell from their expressions exactly when it hit them. The only silver lining was seeing Savannah’s smirk replaced by a grimace as she crinkled her nose.

  “Wow,” said Becky, at a loss for words.

  “I wish I could say it gets better. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want,” I said.

  “We’re going upstairs to change.” Eve had decided dinner didn’t warrant any more apologies, or perhaps she simply wanted to distance herself from the smell. Becky, Monica, and Savannah followed her lead.

  Richard and I said at the exact same time, “Need help?” We looked at each other and bumped knuckles. Then I remembered Eve. “Hey, that’s my sister!”

  “Sorry, dude, she’s kind of hot. So what’s for dinner, anyway?”

  I brought Richard into the kitchen to show him what he was going to be eating and introduce him to my mom. We chatted for a while in the kitchen until my mom put us to work setting the table. My dad made it home in time for dinner, and was pleasantly surprised at the crowd. He even had the decency to frown at what my mom prepared, shooting me a conciliatory look as everyone sat down.

  Our dining-room table expanded to seat eight, so we all fit; and, as it turned out, dinner wasn’t the disaster I’d feared. Everyone liked the meat, of course, but they were also either willing or polite enough to try the other stuff.

  Savannah surprised me by being a model of manners and decorum, charming both of my parents. Monica actually knew what a lot of what the stuff was, even though she had never tried it before. Becky diligently sampled everything, though some of the looks she gave the dishes
were photo-worthy. And Richard, it seemed, would eat large portions of anything set in front of him.

  My parents didn’t do anything else embarrassing like pull out old baby photos or home movies. I think they were glad that Eve and I had not only made friends, but even shared some of them.

  I spent a lot of the meal wondering how I was going to pull the next part off. I was hoping to keep the secret room a secret, at least from my parents. Complicating matters was the fact that this was a school night, so we couldn’t just wait until they fell asleep.

  As luck would have it, my parents decided to pick that evening to tackle the shed. It contained who-knew-what from the last tenants. They were so eager to get out of the house, they apparently forgot about their stuff in the shed.

  Most of our gardening gear was still boxed up in the garage, and my mom wanted it put away so she could get both cars in. I wasn’t sure if they were just trying to give my friends and me some space, but I wasn’t complaining. As an additional bonus, this meant that I might not be drafted into helping clean out the shed, which looked like it was ready to fall down given the slightest provocation.

  We went upstairs, and I was heading straight for the attic when Becky said, “So which one’s yours?”

  “Huh? One what? Oh. Over there.” I pointed to my door and watched as they filed into my room. At least it was still daylight, so I didn’t have to worry about Rose making a sudden appearance.

  “X-Box, cool. Maybe we can play later.” Richard went over to check out my game library. Monica idly flipped through a couple of comics on my desk, but tossed them aside in disinterest. Savannah scanned the room for anything she could hold against me later on.

  Becky was surveying the room as well, though she seemed to be looking for something in particular. I had no idea what. Either she saw it or she didn’t, but regardless, she seemed happy with the result.

  Finally, she said, “Hey, Richard—twenty bucks says I can beat you at Death Karts.”

  Richard made a noise that claimed disbelief, but I noticed he didn’t take her up on the challenge. After my room inspection was complete, we headed to the attic. I had planned on making a production out of the secret door, but Eve walked up and popped it open before I could say anything dramatic.

  “Whoa. Secret attic,” said Richard.

  “That’s kind of random,” Becky commented. Monica popped a bubble as she examined the door’s mechanism. Savannah walked right past us and up the stairs.

  We climbed up after her. Once we were all in the attic, I followed Eve’s example and unceremoniously opened the door to Charlotte’s lab. Monica somehow slipped in first, the rest of us trailing behind her.

  The room was a decent size and we all fit without a problem, though Richard could only stand straight up in the middle because of the slope of the roof.

  The light streaming through the dirty window provided a better look at the room than the night before, and I stood in the middle with Richard to study our surroundings. The girls scattered.

  “Now this would freak out my dad,” Becky said as she and Eve examined the jars and read labels out loud to one another. I wondered again if she was only pretending to be interested in me to get a rise out of her father.

  “Ew.” Eve must have found one that was particularly nasty, because she held it out at arm’s length to Becky, who peered at the contents and agreed, “Gross.”

  Savannah walked slowly along the counter, poking a manicured nail here and disdainfully picking something up there, her patented nose-crinkle in full effect.

  Monica sat at the roll-top desk. “What happened to the lock?”

  Richard wandered over. “Looks like someone broke it. Maybe they were looking for something? I wonder if that’s why she was killed.”

  “No, we did that last night,” I said.

  “Did what with whom last night?” asked Savannah innocently, twisting the context of my words.

  “Wow,” said Monica, ignoring her. “Vandalize much? This desk is an antique.”

  “Yeah, sorry. Rose really wanted to see what was inside.”

  “So you broke it open for her? You could have looked for the key, or at least found a way to pick the lock.” Monica pushed the splintered wood back into place, trying to see if there was any hope of repairing it.

  “She opened it herself, before I knew what she was doing.”

  “When you saw her going towards the desk with a crowbar, that was your first clue.”

  I laughed, but didn’t mention that I was pretty sure she did it with her bare hands.

  “So, where is Rose?” asked Savannah, glancing over at Becky, who was looking at the contents of a murky jar and pretending not to listen in.

  “At her house, I guess.” I tried to sound as disinterested in her whereabouts as possible.

  “Oh, sick, dude.” Richard was now watching Savannah examine the doll, bowl, scalpel, needles and chicken. I could have sworn I saw her sniff at the bowl, and I had a flashback to Mr. Sherman.

  “What, you think she practiced magic on a little kid?” I asked.

  “It looks like it. Or maybe voodoo,” said Savannah, this time definitely sniffing at the bowl.

  “That’s just wrong,” said Richard.

  “Find anything?” I asked Monica, who had been busy searching through the desk.

  “Hmmm? Nah, I was just seeing if there was a hidden compartment. Sometimes these things have them.” Sure enough, not a minute later she found one. A small section of the desk pulled out, revealing a cubby hole. In it sat a large leather-bound book.

  Monica started flipping through it as I peered over her shoulder. “What is it? It looks old.”

  “Gee, I dunno, maybe a book?” Savannah answered for her. Like Eve, she was practiced in the art of sarcasm.

  “Not sure. Wait. It could be…” Monica’s voice trailed off. She thumbed through the pages, quickly scanning each one.

  Richard wandered over to look at it, leaving Savannah free to surreptitiously smell more of the items on the counter. Becky and Eve were still busy grossing each other out with the stuff in the jars. I heard someone mention snake eyes and puréed leech.

  “I think it’s a spell book,” Monica said finally.

  “Whoa, cool!” said Richard.

  Out of the corner of my eye I caught Savannah start a little, more in shock than disbelief.

  “Hey, do you think I could use it to turn someone into a newt?” I glanced at Eve.

  “Dude, forget that. Is there a spell for a love potion?” Richard reached down to flip a page.

  “That would be a recipe, not a spell. And who do you want to use it on?” demanded Monica, batting his hand away.

  “Um…no one.” Richard suddenly looked uncomfortable.

  “Anyway, I don’t think this stuff actually works. Cool if it did, though.” She blew a bubble and popped it.

  “You’re welcome to it,” I offered.

  She looked up sharply, “Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not? Just promise not to turn me into anything unmentionable with your new-found powers.”

  Monica looked like a kid turned loose in a toy store.

  “Be careful; that stuff can be bad.” Savannah sounded genuinely concerned, but Monica wasn’t listening. She was flipping through the book, her head moving side to side as she scanned the pages.

  “Anything in there that can do something useful, like tell us what Charlotte wants?” Eve asked, examining a particularly gruesome jar.

  “Not in here,” said Monica, reluctantly closing the book. She sighed and grabbed a stack of papers. I did the same, surprised when Savannah came over to help. She seemed uneasy going through the paperwork, particularly anything having to do with spells. It was like she believed in the stuff, and really thought it was dangerous. Richard mostly fidgeted, looking around at the various things in the room.

  After a while, Eve and Becky pitched in with the papers, and we went through everything we could find. Most of it was trivial
stuff like receipts from stores, but some of it was really interesting. A few of the handwritten journals appeared to be instructions for making potions and herbal remedies. Monica even found one for a love potion, which Savannah proceeded to tease Richard over.

  I listened in with a certain amount of interest, thinking it would be nice to nudge the odds in my favor with Becky. I noticed that she had chosen to sit next to Eve rather than me. She must still have been miffed about Rose coming over last night.

  A deep banging sound made us all jump, and Savannah even let out a little yip. Richard stood by the sink, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I wanted to see if it worked. Pipes must have come loose in the walls.” He turned off the spigot, which had burbled out its first water in sixty years.

  “No problem. We should head down anyway. We’ll worry about the plumbing later. What time is it?” I asked.

  “Eight-thirty,” said Becky, glancing at her phone.

  “Ahhh! I have to go!” Monica looked up from where she had made a stack of interesting books and papers on the corner of the counter. I said she was welcome to borrow whatever she wanted, and she had taken it to heart. She looked as happy as Savannah looked worried.

  “We’re keeping this room a secret from Mom and Dad, right?” asked Eve as we left the room.

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, like there was ever any doubt.

  “Just checking.”

  We escorted everyone downstairs and said our goodbyes. Our parents were watching TV, having either finished, or given up on, the shed.

  That night I took Becky’s picture out of my backpack and looked at it for a moment before setting it on my bedside table. I enjoyed a blissfully quiet night of sleep.

  Chapter 15

  “Find any cool spells yet?” Richard asked.

  Monica nodded at the question without elaborating. Except for the occasional bubble pops, she had been unusually quiet. She had brought the spell book with her to school and spent most of lunch reading through it, and from the circles under her eyes, I guessed that she was probably up reading most of last night as well.