The Peculiar Incident on Shady Street

by Lindsay Currie

  “I guess that’s possible,” I mumble, feeling a little embarrassed. I was so afraid in that graveyard when the lightning and thunder started that I honestly believed the statue of Inez had somehow crawled out of that box and was chasing Andrew and me.

  Cassidy’s blue eyes sparkle. “I can’t say for sure that’s what happened since I wasn’t there, but it’s a pretty good theory. The same thing that happens to house windows sometimes, and even on shower doors. It might have looked empty inside, but my guess is that the color of the statue matched the condensation so it was sorta camouflaged.”

  “But if the statue had been bright red . . .” Richie prompts.

  “They would have probably been able to see it!” Cassidy finishes. The two of them high-five each other, grinning like maniacs.

  I think back to the look Richie gave Cassidy in the cafeteria that day. It was familiar—like they knew each other well enough to communicate silently. Now it makes sense. Science nerds. Just like Andrew said.

  “Thanks for this,” I say to Cassidy, jiggling the paper on condensation in the air.

  A flicker of pride crosses her face. “Yeah, no problem. Hey—um, can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”

  Ten minutes ago, I would have answered no to this question without even thinking about it. But this Cassidy seems friendlier. Less angry. And she did just solve the vanishing statue thing. Maybe I should hear her out.

  “Sure. Can you watch my stuff?” I ask Andrew. Worry twists his expression. I feel bad for him. I know how important it is to him that Cassidy and I get along. It’s important to me, too. But I can’t be the only one who’s trying to make this work. I look down at the paper on condensation, hopeful. Maybe I’m not anymore . . .

  I follow Cassidy over to the edge of the school building. Just far enough away that no one can hear us if we talk in normal voices, but close enough that if I scream, they’ll hear me. Better safe than sorry.

  Cassidy takes a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize. For the way I acted before, I mean.”

  “Oh. That. Thanks. I wasn’t sure what to think. I mean, other than that you obviously hated me.”

  Cassidy shakes her head. “It wasn’t you. Not really, anyway. I’ve had some bad stuff going on at home and when you showed up . . .” She trails off, lost in a memory. “I don’t know. I guess you could say it was bad timing.”

  “Bad timing for you?” I laugh. “I’m the one who had to move to a new school a month into seventh grade.”

  Cassidy snorts. “Yeah, that sucks. I moved here in first grade and even then it wasn’t fun.” She glances over at Richie and Andrew. They’re taking turns throwing pretzels at each other’s open mouths. “These guys are my best friends. My only friends, really.”

  “And you were afraid I was taking them away from you?” I ask.

  “Maybe. Ugh. I don’t know.” She leans against the building, her hood slipping off her head. I can’t help but notice that when she isn’t frowning, Cassidy is really pretty. “I’ve never been very good with asking for help, or whatever. But I’m trying to get better.”

  Interesting. Andrew said Cassidy likes her privacy, but maybe it’s more than that. I think back on how embarrassed I was to tell Andrew and Nina that I couldn’t open the music box by myself. Even though I knew they wouldn’t laugh, admitting my fear made me feel silly. Weak. Is that how Cassidy felt? Like sharing her problems would make her look like a coward? Too bad she can’t see herself the way her friends do. Andrew described Cassidy as creative and thoughtful. Nina said she has a crazy hyena laugh. And although I don’t know her that well, I think I would describe her as . . . bold. When she’s not glaring at me, that is.

  “Anyway, I was planning on telling them about my parents and how much they’ve been fighting.” She stops talking suddenly, as if she said something she shouldn’t have. An awkward silence settles between us.

  “I thought a cement statue was chasing me,” I offer sheepishly. “If that isn’t something to be embarrassed of, then fighting parents definitely isn’t.”

  Relief smooths out the worried lines in her face. “Thanks. I guess I chickened out of talking to them.”

  “Because of me,” I say. It seems so obvious now. Cassidy is having a rough time at home. She was working up the courage to tell her best friends about it, but by the time she did, they were busy helping me. I know Andrew and Nina didn’t mean to hurt her feelings, but I get it. “I wasn’t just trying to get attention. And I wasn’t making the ghost stuff up, either. I wouldn’t do that. Swear.”

  “Oh, I know. I mean, I thought you were making it up at first, but then Richie said he saw you guys coming out of the library and then I knew you must really believe it.” She smirks. “I think that might have been Andrew’s first time in a library.”

  Mmm-hmm. No wonder Andrew didn’t know where anything was in there! He tried to say it was because they rearranged, but Nina’s whatever look gave him away. “Did you tell Richie? About the problems—er, stuff—at home?”

  Cass nods. “Yeah. I think all the ghost talk wigged him out, so he hung out with me a lot this week. That’s how I knew about the glass case at the cemetery.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh. “I don’t think ghost hunting is in his future.”

  “I don’t think anything that isn’t molecules, soccer balls, or hot dogs is.” Cassidy giggles. Richie yells in the background—something about Andrew being a big fat cheat at the pretzel-throwing game. We laugh harder.

  “Thanks again. For helping with the research and all.”

  Cassidy’s mouth lifts into a half-smile. “No prob. It was actually nice to have something else to focus on besides my problems. Fun, even.” She laughs weakly. “Maybe I should be thanking you.”

  “I’ll keep you in mind if anything else disappears. Ahhh, I should probably go,” I say, hiking a thumb in Andrew’s direction. “We still have some things to figure out. Did . . . did you want to stay?”

  She considers it for a second, then shakes her head. “Nah, I’m good. Another time, though.”

  Nodding, I give a small wave as she walks back toward Andrew and Nina to say goodbye. The unease in the pit of my stomach slowly begins to fade. Things might not be perfect, but they’re better. Cassidy said there will be another time—a time when she does stay and hang out with all of us—and this time I believe her.

  38

  “EVERYTHING OKAY?” ANDREW ASKS. HE’S leaning against the railing of the school steps and the sun is landing on his hair, making it look lighter than it actually is. “You’re not bleeding or swearing, so I assume so.”

  I laugh and nod. “Yeah, we’re cool.”

  “Good.” He beams. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “So, what is she doing? She’s been staring at that screen since we got out here.” I point to Nina.

  “Um, not sure. But I think she’s in her happy place.”

  I creep up behind Nina and look over her shoulder. There’s a video rolling on her screen. I can’t tell exactly what it is, but I do see gravestones. In fact, I see Inez’s gravestone. “Yup. It’s her happy place.”

  I giggle and tap her on the shoulder.

  “Ahh!” Nina screams and jumps to her feet. Her e-reader tumbles from her lap and lands on the cement with a nauseating crack. The jack to her headphones dangles in front of her and her expression changes from surprise to worry.

  “Oh my god. Nina, I’m so sorry!” I rush forward and grab the e-reader, flipping it over and exhaling the breath I’ve been holding. It isn’t broken. Not even one crack. “It’s fine. Just a little dinged up on the side.”

  Nina takes it from my hand and turns it over in hers. Then she smiles the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on her. “Even if it had been broken, it would have been okay.”

  “Because you secretly hate e-readers and that one got what it deserved?” Andrew asks, an annoying smirk playing on his face.

  “No, smarty-pants. Because I think I just solved our mystery once
and for all,” Nina says. A jolt of excitement runs through me. Could she really have solved it?

  I wave my hands in the air impatiently. “C’mon! Don’t keep us waiting!”

  Nina tilts the screen toward us.

  “What are we looking at?” Andrew asks.

  “A documentary on Chicago ghosts with a focus on Inez Clarke . . . er, Briggs. I’ve watched it from beginning to end twice, then also done some research on the side to see if there’s any truth to it.”

  “And?” I ask impatiently. I can’t help it. I have to know what she knows. Now!

  “And it turns out that you are holding the missing link!” she nearly screams.

  “The missing link? What are you talking about?”

  “The death certificate we found. It’s real, Tessa. It has to be.”

  I let her words sink in, my mind wandering back to the moment I pulled that slip of paper out of the music box. Andrew and Nina’s faces were white. Sheet white. The boxes were so dust-covered it looked like no one had touched them in years. The door was sealed shut . . . painted over and forgotten.

  Is Nina right? Could that certificate actually be real? I run a finger over the small metal ring on my pinky and breathe deeply.

  Andrew lowers himself down to the pavement with us. “Whoa, I’m officially lost. Start at the beginning, Ghost Girl.”

  Nina cracks a grin at the nickname. “Okay. After the documentary, I started my research with Mary Clarke. I found out that her first marriage was to a man with the last name of Briggs!”

  “Briggs! Like Amos? Did they have a son?” Andrew asks.

  “No. No. Remember, Amos Briggs isn’t in the Chicago census, either. Actually, Inez was Mary’s daughter from her first marriage!”

  I suck in a giant lungful of air. Inez Briggs. “Wait, so are you saying Inez Clarke was definitely, for one hundred percent sure, actually Inez Briggs?”

  Nina nods. “Yup! It looks like maybe the name was a simple transcription error. They used her mother’s new married name on the gravestone instead of her proper last name of Briggs!”

  So we were right. Inez didn’t die from a lightning strike. It was diphtheria. Was that why she kept messing with the electricity in my house and blowing huge storms up around me? Was it a message? I think about the way the electricity crackled and burned under my skin, like a lit sparkler on the Fourth of July. Maybe that was Inez’s way of telling me that the lightning strike stories are all wrong.

  Andrew looks thoughtful. “So the Amos Briggs name on the cemetery plot records was also just a mistake?”

  Nina nods again. “Yup. When spoken, Amos Briggs sounds a little like Inez Briggs, and so the wrong name was recorded.”

  “One girl. Two huge mistakes.” I say, shaking my head. I feel so bad for her. “What else?”

  Nina unloops her headphones from her neck and meets my eyes. “I also found proof that when Inez died from diphtheria, she was living with her grandparents on Center Street.”

  Center Street. I remember that address from the death certificate. My skin tingles with anticipation. I stand up so I can pace back and forth.

  “Shortly after Inez died, her mother, Mary Clarke, was questioned—probably something to do with life insurance, according to all these websites—and she claimed she didn’t have a daughter,” Nina finishes.

  My mind is boggled. Why would Inez’s mother have denied her? Was Inez sent to live with her grandparents because she was sick? Or was it because her mother didn’t want her anymore? My heart aches for this girl.

  “Center Street,” Andrew murmurs, sliding his finger across his cell phone screen. “Huh. This says their home was in the neighborhood we call Uptown now.”

  I have no idea where Uptown is, so I just look to Nina for confirmation. She nods and shows me the neighborhood on a map. “Uptown isn’t far from here. I don’t know where her original residence was, but according to a few of these websites and a couple of pretty knowledgeable historians, it could have been in Lincoln Park.”

  A hush falls over our group. Andrew finally speaks. “You were right, Tess.”

  Goose bumps break out on my arms and legs. The loose brick and the I. B. on the back of the drawings spring to mind. Inez was trying to tell me who she was all along. “My house was Inez’s original residence.”

  Nina lifts her chin in a quick nod. “Seems so. I think that’s why no one has solved this mystery yet. Without a death certificate, all these theories about Inez’s statue were just that . . . theories. When that box of Inez’s old stuff got locked away and forgotten, so did the truth.”

  The truth. Inez led me to it after all. The loose brick. The wooden crate. The music box . . . they were her clues. Her bread crumbs.

  “If Inez really did live in your house, maybe her ghost still haunts it because she was forced to move,” Andrew suggests.

  I sink back down onto the cracked pavement, a familiar feeling of sadness sweeping over me. I was forced to leave Fort Myers and it felt terrible. But at least I have my parents with me, and Jonah. How would I feel if I had to move without them? Like Inez? Terrible, I think.

  I roll the idea around in my head, feeling strangely calm. All this time I thought Inez reached out to me because she was a budding artist, and maybe she was, but the possibility that my new house on Shady Street is the real connection makes so much sense. The rattling doorknobs and wailing. The possessed bathroom and the painting in the stairwell. The death certificate, tucked away in a musty old music box. It all makes sense now.

  Pride swells in me. I might have been terrified, and I might have failed at more than a few things along the way, but I still did something special. I solved the mystery.

  Inez Clarke used to live in my house. No, Inez Briggs used to live in my house.

  39

  BACK IN FLORIDA, WE HAD a lot of storms in the summer. They’d sweep in during the late afternoon, blacken the sky and scatter the gulls. But they weren’t cold like they are here in Chicago. They were warm, and afterward the beach always seemed so clean. So peaceful, like even though the storms were freaky at the time, they happened for a reason.

  Sounds nuts, but that’s how I feel right now. Like everything with Inez has happened for a reason. The thought sends a blanket of calm over me.

  “Tessa?” There’s a long pause, followed by a sigh. “I think she’s in shock.”

  I blink off the haze, suddenly realizing that Andrew and Nina are both staring at me. “What?”

  “You’ve been quiet for a really long time,” Nina says. Her hands are clasped in a worried knot. “Are you okay?”

  Looking from her to Andrew and back again, I chuckle. “Yeah. Actually, I am.”

  “I’m impressed, Florida. If I found out the kind of stuff you just did, I’d probably be putting a for-sale sign in my front yard.” Andrew takes one last look at the image of the cemetery on Nina’s e-reader, then hands it back to her. “You’re really okay with all this?”

  Standing, I look out over the school lawn. The sign by the parking lot still says WELCOME BACK TO SCHOOL. The first time I saw that sign, I was sitting in the car with my dad and wanted nothing more than to leave. Now? I like it. I have friends here—good friends—and Chicago isn’t half bad. Sure, it still smells a little like a toilet sometimes, but Mom was right—there’s beauty if you take the time to look for it. Plus, there’s a Starbucks on pretty much every corner, and who doesn’t love vanilla bean Frappuccinos?

  I can’t help but think that maybe Inez understood me somehow. After all, she had to move, like me, and when she got sick with diphtheria, she didn’t even have her parents at her side. It must have been lonely. Maybe even more lonely than I was after moving here from Florida.

  “I really am okay. This whole thing has been scary, but there’s definitely a silver lining.”

  Andrew looks perplexed. “Silver lining to being haunted?”

  Nodding, I waggle a finger at them.

  “Us?” Nina asks, laughing. “How are we
a silver lining?”

  “Think about it,” I say. “When I came here, I didn’t know anyone. If Inez hadn’t scared me with the flickering lights in my bathroom, I wouldn’t have gone to North Pond.”

  Andrew’s face brightens. “And if you hadn’t gone to North Pond, we wouldn’t have met!”

  I look down at the bruises on my legs, the ones I got the night I fell over boxes trying to escape Reno in my room. “Exactly. And if Inez hadn’t dropped clues about Graceland, you wouldn’t have asked Nina to help. You guys didn’t really know each other before, right?”

  “I knew she has some weird hobbies,” Andrew chuckles.

  “And I knew he smells like a donkey after gym class,” Nina adds, raising an eyebrow as if baiting him to say something else.

  “Don’t you see? Inez never tried to hurt me. She never tried to hurt any of us. She just . . . brought us together.”

  Nina’s mouth curves up into a smile. “I didn’t want to say it before because I was afraid I would upset you, but I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”

  “Me neither,” Andrew says with a sheepish grin. “I mean, I don’t wanna be a Ghostbuster or anything, but I had fun.”

  “What about all the soccer you missed?” I ask, feeling bad.

  He stands up and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Everyone needs a break sometimes. When I go back, I’ll tear things up. I’ll have my position back in no time.”

  I hope that’s true. Reaching into the side pocket of my backpack, I pull out my half-empty water bottle and lift it into the air. “To Inez.”

  With a straight face, Andrew lifts his Gatorade bottle. Nina searches her backpack frantically, finally coming up with an open bag of Goldfish. Lifting it in the air, she laughs loudly. More loudly than I’ve ever heard her laugh.

  “To Inez.”

  40

  LIFTING THE PASTEL OFF MY sketchpad, I stare down at the bold outline I’ve just completed. The name Inez Briggs in clean, perfect strokes. Usually, I would fill in with different colors, but looking at these letters, I know the best choice is jet black, and only black. It will stand out best that way. All it needs now is to be shaded in and laminated, and then it’s ready.