Sound

by Juliet Madison

  Savannah sighed. Only softly, but I could hear it. She needed to keep the peace with Mandy long enough to get her project done for school; it wasn’t worth the stress of getting in her bad books. No one messes with Mandy.

  Rapid footsteps sounded on the path up ahead, and I turned to look. Lara was running—well, jogging. She wore an orange scrunchie in her hair, red shorts, and a yellow T-shirt with a cartoon cow on the front (I could almost hear Sasha’s thoughts saying Someone give that girl a fashion makeover). Her eyes were focused directly in front of her, slightly on the low side, as though she couldn’t even see any of the crowd around her as they parted to make way for her to pass. The boardwalk might as well have been deserted.

  “Run like the wind, cowgirl!” Samantha called out, but Lara didn’t seem to hear.

  Then Mandy muttered, “Yeah, run back to whatever planet you came from.” She laughed, and Samantha did too.

  Tension gripped my chest. Normally, I’d avoid confrontation, but I couldn’t let this slide. Lara wasn’t the easiest person to know, but she didn’t deserve this. Even if she hadn’t heard the remark, the bitterness of it was like a sour aftertaste that wouldn’t budge. “Don’t be so cruel,” I said.

  Mandy eyed me with raised eyebrows as though she’d only just noticed I was there, like I had been invisible until now. “Cruel? Lighten up, triplet girl.”

  “Her name is Serena,” said Savannah.

  “Then get more serene, Serena.” She waved her hand in front of her to indicate being relaxed. “Like your new age crap, it’s just a bit of fun.” She smirked.

  “But you don’t know what Lara is going through. She deserves to be treated with respect, and understanding, and—” My voice broke away when Savannah yanked my arm and pulled me away from Mandy.

  “C’mon, let’s just go,” my sister said.

  I glanced back at Mandy, who was shaking her head and giggling. I didn’t know how Savannah could bear to put up with her during study sessions.

  There is always a reason.

  The psychic’s words floated into my awareness again. Okay, so what was the reason for Mandy being such a bitch? Could it simply be that that was the way she was? Maybe she had low self-esteem for some reason and targeted the easiest person to bully. But if so, then why the low self-esteem? She was pretty. No pimples. Had friends. Boyfriends. Seemed happy and healthy, in her own, I’m-so-amazing way.

  “Maybe I should take that aquamarine pendant back,” Savannah said with a chuckle. “It’s turning you into me.”

  And I thought I had been turning into Sasha. Flirty and feminine one minute, assertive and confident the next. Next I’d be taking control of the household menu like Tamara, or acting with authority like I was the eldest out of all of us like Talia.

  Speaking of Talia, she looked more like the youngest and most fragile of the five of us when we arrived home earlier than expected. She wiped the corners of her red-rimmed eyes when we came through the front door. “Oh, you’re back. I’m hungry; think I’ll get a snack,” she said, retreating to the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Tamara as we followed her in there.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t give me that,” said Savannah. “You’ve been crying.”

  Tamara draped an arm around her twin. “Are you okay?”

  She turned from the pantry to face us. “Is Mom on her way back too?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  Her shoulders appeared to drop an inch. “I shouldn’t have, but I read Dad’s letter again. I started thinking how unfair all of this is. How he was taken from us when we were so young. There are other fathers out there who hardly pay their kids any attention, but he wasn’t like that. He loved us, he was…” Her bottom lip quivered and she brought her hand to her face. “It’s not fair. And I can’t help but feel there should be something more we could do to find out the truth. I just wish I had answers.”

  Now my bottom lip trembled. Just when I’m feeling confident and strong, she goes and reminds me of everything that shook my nerves to the core and makes me feel like a frail piece of tissue paper floating in water, absorbing and drowning in the enormity of the ocean. I rested my palm on the kitchen counter and took a deep breath. As Tamara hugged Talia, and the others offered words of understanding and reassurance, I felt that familiar urge to cry. But just when I was ready for the deluge of tears to sweep me away, something else filled the empty space in my heart.

  Resolve.

  My resolve. To move forward with strength and persistence, and blind faith that somehow, there was a reason for all of this. I dipped my hand into my pocket and pulled out the aquamarine necklace, then curved it around the back of my neck and fastened the clasp. The teardrop-shaped gemstone cooled my chest and a twinkling sounded again. There’d be no tears from me today. Not that crying was bad—it was a healthy response—but I’d shed enough tears to fill the sea. Nope, today we wouldn’t wallow in the past, today we would forge ahead to the future. One vision at a time.

  “C’mon, girls,” I said. “I think it’s time to connect.”

  • • •

  After we’d filled Talia in on our interesting visit to the psychic (and she’d noted down everything we told her), we held hands and closed our eyes. When the bubbles came I was ready. No fear today, just readiness. I wanted clues and I wanted them now.

  They came quickly and clearly.

  Water. Splashing, sloshing, and that damn recurring sound of plates or teacups or something. Next up: the sound of my phone pinging with a text message. I almost opened my eyes to check my phone but realized it wasn’t happening now; it was in my mind. And then I almost opened my eyes again thinking Mom had come home early and put the TV on, as the theme song for The Big Bang Theory played in my mind. I smiled at that. It was one of my favorite shows. Even though I still didn’t know all the words to the song, except the bit about the pyramids. I didn’t judge or try to figure out why I was hearing these things, I simply listened and absorbed the information.

  The medley of sounds merged into silence, which then broke with the sound of someone taking a sharp, angry breath. I knew the voice that followed. It wasn’t the grumpy, geriatric ghosts at the Jamesons’ place; it was Mandy again: “Doesn’t deserve it? Oh, what does Serena know? Of course she deserves it. She stole it from me. Lara is nothing more than a thief.”

  My eyebrows furrowed as we released our hands and opened our eyes. A thief? What did she steal? Something valuable? Why would Lara need to steal anything anyway? Her family was obviously wealthy. I was about to discuss with my sisters when I heard the front door open.

  “I’m back, girls,” echoed Mom’s voice. “And we have a visitor for dinner.”

  Chapter 10

  There was no escaping school these days; it seemed to infiltrate every aspect of our lives. At school, after school with our study sessions and homework, and last Saturday night: dinner at home with our science teacher, Mr. Jenkins. Talk about awkward. Mom had casually invited him over when she’d bumped into him at the market. She still felt she owed him for helping Riley and Savannah to save her life. He’d been quite the unsuspecting hero, especially as at one point we’d even thought he could be the arsonist who’d been lighting fires around town. It was silly now, thinking of it. I hoped he wasn’t psychic and couldn’t tell that we once didn’t know whether to trust him.

  Anyway, the past was the past, and today was Monday. A new week, a chance for a new start, to keep moving forward. And moving forward with our science project we were, thanks to Lara’s rigid timetable and guidelines. If she didn’t know what she wanted to do after school, despite her limited time, she could always be some sort of mission planner at NASA, if such a job existed, or something in the military or FBI that required high-level strategic thinking and the ability to stand her ground and not take crap from anyone. Then again, maybe she’d be a kickass school principal. The students would be afraid to mess up. So then why had I thought Lara was an easy target for Mand
y to bully? I didn’t know about easy now. Different, yes, but not necessarily easy.

  “So then we’ll move to the next slide about delta waves,” continued Lara. “What information have you got to put in there, Serena?” Lara tapped her colorful fingers against the table, as though should I say, “I don’t have any information yet,” she would be ready to say, “That’s okay, because I prepared something earlier,” and then launch into a PowerPoint presentation she’d already completed in about twenty minutes while waiting for Damon and me to gather our information and references.

  I opened a file on my laptop and cleared my throat. “Okay, well, I can send this to you to copy and paste, but I’ll read out the main points.”

  “It’s okay, I’ll take notes.”

  “So, delta brain waves are the slowest brain waves, at 0.5 to 4 hertz. They occur in deep sleep when the person is not dreaming.” And hey—they also occur when my sisters and I connect! At least, that’s what we decided might be the case. “They may play a role in healing, because when a person doesn’t get enough deep sleep, their health is affected. So these waves might be an important key in maintaining health.” I glanced up from my notes. Lara gestured for me to continue. “Delta waves tend to decrease gradually with age, and some researchers believe this may be a contributor to the aging process. Some other research suggests that delta activity may also be present in deep states of relaxation where the person feels detached from their body, and could be why meditation is beneficial for health.” I glanced up again, my mind buzzing. I was probably experiencing beta brain waves right now on account of my alertness and focus. “It’s interesting—there are also people who say that delta waves are experienced in the waking state by some people with psychic ability, like they are tapping into the collective intelligence of the universe. Or something.” I shrugged, as though it were simply a novel piece of information I added at the last minute.

  “You seem to be very passionate about this topic,” said Damon.

  That’s because I’m a Delta Girl. I almost laughed out loud. I had a brief image in my mind of knocking my chair backward and standing, pushing my hair back off my face in a confident swish, and raising my fist in the air to say, “Delta Girl at your service!”

  “Um, yeah, I guess so. It’s kinda interesting.” I scratched my head. I’d so suck at being a superhero.

  I was about to expand on my pathetic response, when my phone pinged. I looked at the screen. Savannah.

  I bet your study session is going better than mine. Apparently I’m going to need to do this project on my own. Freaking wonderful.

  I replied: Ours is productive at least. My mind is doing crazy things, though.

  Her reply: That’s nothing new ;)

  I was about to reply when Lara said, “There’ll be time for sending messages later, so unless it’s important you should stay focused on our project.”

  I felt like I’d just gotten in trouble with a teacher. And I never got in trouble with teachers. “Right, sorry.”

  I turned my phone to silent but kept it on my lap.

  As Lara talked about the main points of delta waves to include in our presentation, my phone vibrated against my thigh. I glanced down: Don’t worry about her. She just likes to be in control.

  It was from Damon. My face warmed, and I discreetly glanced at him. One corner of his mouth was lifted up into a smile.

  Lara didn’t seem to have noticed anything; she was talking nonstop while looking at her screen.

  I carefully typed back: Thanks. But be careful, you might get in trouble.

  Damon laughed.

  Did I just make a boy laugh? Go me! My phone vibrated again: I’ll take the risk.

  I replied: Then I guess we’ll both get in trouble.

  Our eyes connected and for the first time I noticed a sparkle in them. I saw him look down and tap into his phone, then I received the message: Bring it on.

  When our session finished, Damon asked, “Do you want to hang out for a bit, watch some TV?”

  I nodded, then almost asked Lara if we could have permission.

  “It’s my turn to prepare dinner; I’ll be downstairs,” she said.

  Damon flicked on the TV, and a DVD menu screen appeared. “Do you like this show?” he asked.

  I gulped, and nodded. He pressed play and the theme song blared through the speakers.

  The Big Bang Theory.

  Just like in our vision. I always got a funny sense of accomplishment whenever something that we’d sensed came true. The good things, anyway. And this—this was a good thing.

  As we watched an episode, I thought about what else we’d sensed. I’d heard water sloshing, and Savannah had confirmed that she’d seen Mom’s hands washing up the dishes with overt enthusiasm. This was a little concerning, as Mom always did a marathon washing-up spree, even with clean dishes, whenever something important was on her mind. Could it be about Mr. Jenkins? Or maybe about Dad’s letter. Maybe it was weighing on her mind as much as it was on ours. Maybe she was wondering whether to tell us about it, while we were wondering whether to tell her we already knew about it.

  Sheldon on the TV show made me laugh out loud, Damon too. “He reminds me a little of Lara,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, just a bit,” he replied, then looked at me. “I don’t know if you know, but Lara has Asperger’s syndrome.”

  I shifted sideways a little to face him. “Oh, I didn’t know. I think I know what it is, it’s sort of like autism?”

  “Yeah. It’s like a high-functioning form of it. Most of the difficulties are around the social side of things, not understanding or recognizing social cues, taking things literally, and not liking changes to routine, that sort of stuff.”

  I nodded in understanding. “She seems quite comfortable with who she is, though.”

  “Oh yeah, she doesn’t seem to care what people think,” he said. “But sometimes she does seem to be a bit lonely.”

  “She has a lot to deal with.” And Mandy was making it worse. But what did the vision mean about Lara being a thief? Maybe it was a misunderstanding.

  As we watched the show, I became aware of an unfamiliar sensation. I’d always felt awkward around boys, including Damon, but right now I felt comfortable. Like I could just be me.

  “C’mon, we have to keep trying,” said a voice.

  Oh no. Not now. Just when I was feeling calm and confident.

  A thump sounded and I flinched a little. Damon kept his eyes on the screen.

  A louder thump, then a crash, sounded from the sitting room and we both flinched. Both of us? I looked at Damon, he looked at me. I knew it. He heard something too.

  “I’m going to get a drink, want one?” he asked, getting up.

  I nodded. He obviously didn’t want to admit he’d heard the same sound I had. How on earth do you talk about something like that? I decided to forget it happened. Maybe if it happened again, then I’d have the guts to bring it up. But one thing was for sure, those ghosts meant business.

  Chapter 11

  By Thursday afternoon I was both excited and apprehensive about another study session at the Jamesons’ haunted house. When nothing strange had happened by the end of it, I thought maybe the ghosts had decided to leave me in peace and drink their fancy tea and smash their fancy cups elsewhere.

  Our project was coming along nicely. I got up from the table to leave, when a creak sounded on the hallway floor outside the living room. I hadn’t heard footsteps up the stairs so it couldn’t be Mr. Jameson. I pretended I didn’t hear it and gathered up my things. “Well, I’ll see you again next—” A loud pounding on the door made me jump, and my bag dropped to the floor. Damon’s head flipped toward the door, and even Lara’s gaze followed. We froze. My heart pounded more powerfully than the pounding on the door.

  Damon looked at me and our eyes connected with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “Tell me you heard that too?” I asked.

  His chest rose high with a sharp breath and he nodded.r />
  I glanced at Lara. Her face didn’t look too different, but her eyes seemed more alert. “You too?”

  “Yes,” she replied with a straight face. “We have ghosts.”

  I gulped. And shivered. It wasn’t something I expected to hear from a scientific mind like hers. Or anyone else, for that matter, except my sisters.

  Damon ran a hand through his ruffled hair. “There could be a simple explanation, Lara.”

  “That’s not what you said last time,” she replied. “You agreed with me after my research that it was the most likely cause of the noises we’ve been hearing. Nothing else explains it.”

  Ah, so he just didn’t want me to think he was crazy. And here I was, trying not to come across as crazy either.

  Damon looked at me again. “If you don’t want to do the project here anymore, I’ll understand.” He crossed his arms and gripped his elbows.

  Now that I knew they could hear the noises (at least some of them—I didn’t think they could hear the voices and I wasn’t about to tell them), I didn’t feel as scared. Fear was gradually evolving into curiosity. Damn this brain of mine, it always needed to know the whys and hows of things. Like my father’s. “What makes you think I wouldn’t want to hang out in a haunted house?” I offered a half-smile. “Maybe they want something. Maybe we can help them and then get rid of them.”

  Creaking sounded, then a door slamming. We flinched. Okay, so they weren’t too happy with my suggestion.

  Damon’s eyebrows rose. “You mean, you believe in this stuff?”

  I shrugged. “Like Lara said”—I glanced at her—“what other explanation could there be?”

  Was that a smile from Lara?

  Damon shifted on the spot, and Lara went over to the door. She tentatively reached for the handle, turned it, then flung it open. It rebounded on the wall with a bang. The hallway was empty, of course. If I were Savannah, I would have squinted to try and prepare my eyes for what I might see. But only my ears were privy to whoever was hanging around this place, thankfully. And anyway, they must have gone back in the sitting room, because I had heard the door slam. Those ghosts sure liked that room. And tea.