Stagestruck

by Shelley Peterson

  5

  CALEDON HIGH

  MONDAY WAS A GLORIOUS DAY, with the scents of crocuses and lilacs winning over the earthy smell of early spring. Birds called to each other noisily and insects buzzed and hummed. At seven forty-five in the morning, the sky was clear and the air was cool. Liam Malone pulled his car up to the school.

  “Thanks for the ride, Dad,” Abby called as she waved goodbye.

  “See you later, lass. Have a good day.”

  Liam dropped off Abby on his way to work when their schedules matched. Otherwise, she rode her bike and took the school bus home when no one was going her way. Sometimes she got a lift home. Sam Morris had his family’s old red Ford, but Abby never got a lift from him anymore.

  With the excitement of the storm, the theatre, and Dancer, Abby hadn’t thought about Sam all weekend. Now, walking up the wide stone steps of the school, Abby’s heart plummeted in an all-too-familiar way. Sam had been her first boyfriend, and they’d dated for almost a year. Since their breakup the year before, Abby had dated several other boys and had had fun playing the field. It was great going to movies and dances with different people, and she’d really liked a few of them. But lately she’d started thinking about Sam again. With his beautiful brown eyes and his sweet smile, Sam had stolen her heart the first time she saw him.

  His sister, Leslie Morris, was two years younger than Sam; Abby’s age. Abby and Leslie had been best friends since the beginning of grade school. Leslie and another good friend, Lucy, were both very supportive when Abby confided in them. Lucy didn’t want to see Abby hurt. The class comedian, she had likened the whole thing to ice cream. Abby had one favourite flavour. Why not sample all the others? In Lucy’s opinion, it was very narrow-minded to insist that just because you like strawberry you shouldn’t give butterscotch a chance. And chocolate fudge and rocky road.

  Easy for her to say, thought Abby, making her way down the hall to her locker. Lucy was one of the most popular girls in grade ten. She was outgoing and funny, and she laughed riotously at all the boys’ jokes. Abby figured that that was the way to a man’s heart, forget the cooking.

  And Abby had gone out with other boys. She had sampled other flavours. But Sam was, well, Sam. He was kind and thoughtful and insightful. He was smart and friendly and sensitive. He made her laugh. And he was so darned good-looking. But, quite obviously, Sam didn’t feel the same about her. She sighed.

  She got to her locker and dialled the combination of numbers. She pulled the lock open and started organizing her books for the morning classes.

  “Abby?” asked a sugary sweet, little-girl voice. Abby clenched her teeth. She didn’t have to look around to know who was standing behind her. The strong smell of cheap perfume almost made her gag.

  “Hey, Pam. What’s up?”

  “Just wondering who you’re going out with now. I mean everybody knows it’s not Sam.”

  “What?” asked Abby angrily, turning to face her.

  Pam Masters put her hand to her mouth in mock horror. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I upset you? I just wanted to know.”

  “Pam, I’ll tell you what I know. I know that whenever you say anything to me, it’s to make me feel bad. It’s been like that since public school.”

  “So sorry.” Pam made a good effort at looking sheepish, but Abby could see that her mission had been accomplished. She’d pressed a button. She’d gotten a reaction from Abby and confirmed her suspicions. Now she knew how Abby felt about Sam. Is it so obvious? Is that the gossip? Abby blushed, horrified that people were talking about her. When will I ever learn to keep my temper? she asked herself, turning back to the locker.

  “What did she want?” asked another voice, this one friendly.

  “Leslie!” said Abby with real warmth in her voice. She hugged her friend. “One day I’m going to murder Pam.”

  “What did she say to you? Your face fell to the floor.”

  “Oh, nothing. Just about Sam.”

  “Hmm. You know I’m not getting in the middle because he’s my brother and everything, but I did some digging on the weekend. He isn’t seeing anyone right now, I’m positive.”

  “Leslie, it’s over. It’s been over for ages. I shouldn’t have said anything. And I wouldn’t have if I’d known you were going to ask him.”

  “But you were so good together. And I didn’t ask him! I just listened to his phone calls.”

  “His phone calls? You’re crazy! You picked up the extension?”

  “Easy peasy. I heard him tell Jon he wasn’t dating anyone. With my own ears.”

  Against her better judgment Abby considered this piece of news. Then she looked intently at Leslie. “Leslie, listen to me. Sam and I are finished. Read my lips. I wouldn’t go out with him if he begged me, not after the way he dumped me.”

  “He didn’t dump you, Abby, and you know it.”

  “Okay, then, he didn’t dump me. He just stopped asking me out and started avoiding me.”

  Books in order, Abby snapped the lock back into place, and the two girls walked down the hall to their first class. There was so much noise that their conversation had to be postponed. Cheerful banter, heels thumping on tiles, locker doors banging, books crashing to the floor, all mixed together to create a boisterous Monday morning cacophony.

  “Hey, Abby! Hey, Leslie!” called out Lucy, going the other direction.

  “See you after second class?” Lucy bellowed. “We have to talk!”

  “Who? Me?” yelled Abby.

  “Yes!” Lucy was swept away with the flow of students, leaving Abby wondering what she wanted to tell her. Her brow furrowed. It was likely more gossip about Sam. She didn’t want to hear it.

  That morning, Christine James was on the phone in her home office.

  “Is Mr. LeFarge there, please?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Gus? It’s Christine James calling.”

  “Hello, Christine. How can I help?”

  “My client, Joy Featherstone, would like to put in an offer on the Wick property.”

  “Your mother? You must be kidding. She’s seen it?”

  “Yesterday afternoon. You left the key for me, remember?”

  “Sure I do, I just didn’t know it was for your mother. Excuse my surprise, Christine, but this is the first offer in three years.”

  “Then it must be good news. Shall I stop by in an hour?”

  “Well, just to warn you, there’s a first refusal on it.”

  Christine paused, startled. “Usually, out of courtesy, that would have been mentioned when I asked for a viewing.”

  “Quite right. Quite right. An oversight. I didn’t think Mrs. Featherstone would be interested, nobody else has ever been. I’m very sorry.”

  “No problem. How would you like to proceed?”

  “Well, why don’t you drop by? I’ll look at the offer, check back with the gentleman who has the first refusal, and call my client. We can go from there.”

  “You’re not going to make this into an auction, are you, Gus?”

  Gus LeFarge snorted. “Mr. Wick deserves the best price, and with a first refusal on the property, is there another way to do this?”

  Christine hung up the phone. Who had the first refusal? She shrugged. There’s always something. She returned to the stack of papers on her desk, sorting out which items of business required her immediate attention, and which could wait. The phone rang.

  “Hello. Christine James speaking.”

  “Hello, Mrs. James. I want to know what my house is worth.”

  “Certainly. I’ll come out and give you an evaluation. What is your name, please?”

  “Gladys Forsyth.”

  “And where do you live?”

  “Right beside Samuel Owens’ place. I’ve got an acre. It’s a small house. My name’s not on the mailbox, but you can’t miss it. It’s the first lane past the Owens’ big black gates.”

  “Is there any time that would be convenient for you?”

  “I’
ll be here all day. You know why I’m calling?”

  Christine took the bait. “To get your house evaluated?”

  “Yes, but, strange thing. You know LeFarge Realty?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Some young man called me from LeFarge Realty and offered me cash for my house. I would’ve taken it, but my son told me to check it out. You’re the first real estate agent I saw in the Yellow Pages, so that’s why I called.”

  “It’s always a good idea to get a second opinion.”

  “That’s just what my son says.”

  “Well, Gladys, I’ve got to make a trip close by anyway, so why don’t we say eleven thirty or twelve?”

  “Any time you get here is swell.”

  Christine hung up. She knew exactly where Gladys lived. The shack. Old car carcasses, rusted metal junk, and cats. Dozens of cats. Off the top of her head she couldn’t think of who would be putting in an offer. She took the price of an acre of land in Caledon, then multiplied it by six because a severed acre with hydro and sewage was worth that much more. Since the house was worth nothing, she planned to give that base figure as her estimate.

  She checked her watch. She’d have to leave soon. Hilary came into her study, followed by Pepper.

  “Hi, Mom. Busy?”

  “Never too busy to talk to you.”

  “I brought you a coffee.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve got just enough time for a coffee, then I’ve got to go.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Running around. Real estate stuff.”

  “Will you be back by three?”

  “I’ll be home well before that. Why?”

  “Because Abby’s coming to ride Dancer after school, and I could come with you if we’d be back by then. I’m leaving tomorrow and I have nothing to do but study and I know the stuff backward. Plus it’s too nice a day to stay inside.”

  Christine smiled. “I couldn’t think of nicer company.”

  Lucy caught up with Abby between classes. “Abby! Over here!”

  “Lucy, if this is about Sam, forget it. I don’t want to hear about it.” Abby kept walking, face straight ahead. She spoke harshly. “I don’t care a thing about him, and I wish I’d never said a word about liking him again. It’s all over the school! It’s embarrassing. I’m over him, totally!”

  Lucy regarded her friend with skepticism as she kept up with her pace. “Liar. Anyway, it’s not about Sam, so you don’t have to be so touchy.”

  Abby stopped and looked at her. “What’s it about, then?”

  “Dancer. My grandfather told me that you rode him yesterday. Cool!”

  “Yeah.” Abby’s face softened. “He’s a fantastic horse. How did your grandfather hear?” Lucy’s grandfather, George Farrow, had given Abby her first job riding Moonlight Sonata.

  “No secrets around here, Abby. Everybody knows. It’s news, whether you know it or not. Old Pete Pierson was all excited about it. He told my grandfather you could win any competition, hands down, and he’s prepared to put money on it as long as Mrs. Pierson doesn’t find out. Nobody but Hilary James could ever ride him without being thrown off.”

  “Lucy, I’m flattered that Mr. Pierson said all that, but Dancer basically allowed me to look good. It was his choice not to throw me. I’m not kidding. He did everything.”

  “That’s what I mean.” Lucy moved flat against the locker to avoid a running boy, presumably late for class. “The way I see it, all horses do that for you.”

  “Never mind, Lucy. It’s hard to explain.”

  Leslie came around the corner, arms full of books. “Hey, guys!”

  “Hey, Leslie,” answered Abby. “When’s your next class?”

  “I have a spare. I’m going for tea in the cafeteria.”

  “Great!” said Abby. “My French teacher’s got the flu. I’m taking a spare, too.”

  “And that’s my French teacher, too. Hooray for the flu. Let’s go.”

  The three friends hurried out of the hall, where the pushing and running and darting bodies were making it impossible for them to linger. They got their tea and sat down at a table.

  “I know something I’m dying to tell someone,” Abby said quietly.

  “Tell! Tell!” shrieked Lucy.

  “Quiet!” hissed Abby. “It’s really private. You can’t tell a living soul. Understand?”

  Leslie nodded seriously. “Absolutely. On my honour.”

  Lucy swept up her hand, drawing a cross on her chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  Satisfied, Abby leaned across the table and asked, “Do either of you know the Wick farm?”

  “Sure,” said Lucy. “The haunted barn.”

  “Ooooh,” said Leslie, wiggling her fingers. “Spooky.”

  “You make fun, Les,” said Abby, “but it really is haunted. I saw the ghost, and Mr. Wick told me he’s real, too. It’s the ghost of an unhappy actor, Ambrose Brown, and I saw him.”

  “You are so weird,” said Lucy. “I can’t believe you’re trying to make us believe you saw a ghost. We’re not babies.”

  “Believe it.” Abby took a sip of her tea, as Lucy gave Leslie a wink.

  “I saw that, Lucy. You don’t have to believe me. I saw what I saw.”

  “Hold on, Abby,” said Leslie. “I didn’t say I don’t believe you.”

  Lucy snickered. “You believe in ghosts, Les?”

  “Sort of. And if Abby saw it . . .”

  “You’re just being nice. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

  Abby sat quietly while Lucy and Leslie argued. Then she said, “Let’s go. I’ll prove it.”

  The other girls were stunned.

  “Now?” asked Leslie. “I can’t miss English.”

  “And Mr. Saunders will kill me if I skip math.”

  “Okay, then,” responded Abby. “We’ll go at lunch. Who can get a car?”

  “I have my grandfather’s truck today,” answered Lucy.

  “I’ll drive.”

  Abby nodded. “Good. We’ll meet in the parking lot as soon as the lunch bell rings. We can eat on the way.”

  One minute after the bell, Lucy stood beside her grandfather’s truck, waving to her friends. “Over here!”

  Abby and Leslie came running.

  “Let’s hurry,” said Abby. “We’ve only got forty-five minutes.”

  Lucy started the truck. “Destination, Wick Farm,” she said as they pulled out of the parking lot.

  Seven minutes later, they bounced up Robert Wick’s pot-holed lane, splashing mud all the way up the sides of the truck and torturing the suspension. Lucy stopped beside the barn, where the lane ended.

  “This better be worth it, Abby,” Lucy said. “I’ll have to wash the truck.”

  “Oh, it’ll be worth it.” Abby smiled knowingly.

  Abby led the way. She unlatched the door and slowly pushed it open, finger to lips. “Shhh.”

  “What do we have to be quiet for?” said Lucy, loudly. “It’s a barn. It’s noon. There’s nobody around.”

  Abby closed the door again. “This is a bad idea. You have no respect for ghosts, Lucy. He’s not going to show himself if you come barging in, yakking away. Let’s go back to school.”

  “I want to see him, Abby,” pleaded Leslie. “I haven’t said a word. Can’t Lucy wait here while we go in?”

  “No way! I drove. No way I’m waiting out here.”

  “Lucy, will you keep quiet if we go inside?” asked Abby, sternly.

  “Okay.” Lucy’s posture indicated submission, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I promise.”

  Abby opened the door again. She entered silently, followed by Leslie and Lucy. They stood for a minute in the dark.

  “What now?” whispered Lucy.

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “The ghost, for goodness’ sake. Lucy, you promised to keep quiet.”

  “I just wanted to know.”

  They waited. Two minutes passed.
Three. Four.

  “Okay,” said Lucy loudly. “That’s enough. There’s nothing here.”

  Leslie was angry. She whispered hoarsely, “Lucy, that’s so unfair! You keep breaking the silence! How do you ever expect to see a ghost?”

  Abby switched on the lights. Lucy and Leslie covered their eyes in surprise.

  “You’re right, Les,” said Abby. “We won’t see the ghost as long as Lucy’s around. But look at this.”

  Lucy and Leslie stared at the sight before their eyes.

  “Wow,” murmured Leslie.

  “Double wow,” said Lucy. “This is amazing. This is incredible.” Lucy propelled herself up the stairs and onto the stage in a couple of bounds. She twirled around and danced and laughed. “Abby, this is great! What’s the big deal about a ghost? This secret theatre is worth a hundred ghosts! To see this is worth having to wash the truck!”

  Abby couldn’t help but be pleased at Lucy’s reaction. She laughed out loud, joined by Leslie, who threw her arms around Abby and twirled her. Dancing around the stage, Abby celebrated the fact that her friends found the theatre as enchanting as she did.

  Cody was investigating the intriguing smells he’d ignored when he’d been in the upper Wick field two days before. These were dangerous smells, and very exciting. Cody’s ruff was up, and he sniffed and circled and ran, getting nearer to the place where they gathered. They were wild. They were like him, but different. This confused Cody. It drew him, and repelled him.

  Even in his excitement, he felt the eyes upon him. Suddenly, silently. He didn’t look. Two, three, four. More. Many of his kind were here. They were drawing nearer. He must leave. Now. Not toward home. Leave no tracks that lead to home.

  Cody headed north as fast as he could. He was gone before the wild coyotes devised their strategy, before they knew that he knew they were there. He ran out of their territory. Still running, Cody felt Abby’s presence. Stronger and stronger as he neared the old barn where they’d waited in the storm. Nose in the air, concentrating on finding his Abby, Cody didn’t watch where he was stepping.