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A Ghostly Twist

Page 6

by Carla Solomon


  There were those crazy vines twisting around the Humbolt house, and the wind that kept blowing Rocky’s hat off. He’d tried to deny it, but he’d seen a face in the window at the Humbolt house and he’d felt something too. Then there was the girl in the portrait. Not just any girl though. She was Genny, who lost her one true love in the shipwreck of the Dragonfly. Had he really heard her ask for help? Why was the family portrait the only painting hanging straight? Why hadn’t anyone cleaned up the room or sold some of the antiques?

  Sam floated to the side of the pool and pulled himself out.

  He had no answers and every question just led to another question. He slapped the chair with his towel in frustration and headed back to the campsite.

  When he got back his mom handed him a piece of paper. “Here’s your itinerary for tomorrow. You start out with a cruise around the bay and snorkeling….”

  Sam stared at the printout she’d handed him. The schedule was printed out on a piece of letterhead from the campground, which meant the camp office had a printer. “Thanks, Mom. If it’s okay,

  I need the computer for just a few minutes and then I’ve got a quick errand at the camp office.”

  Sam quickly changed the downloaded files to print ready pdf’s. Then he put some paper in his backpack and walked down to the campground office, practicing his smile as he went. He might not be able to get answers to all his questions, but maybe with the articles printed out he could see some kind of pattern that would help him fill in the missing letters. Then he would finally have more data instead of more questions.

  The screen door to the campground office squeaked open and snapped closed behind him with a twang-bang. Mrs. Wilson was manning the desk, and as usual, looked as friendly as a sea urchin.

  Relax and think of something you enjoy, Sam told himself. Then he put on what he hoped was a friendly smile and stepped up to the cluttered counter.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Wilson,” Sam started. Her beady eyes narrowed to mere specks and her lips pursed like a balloon knot. Sam swallowed hard and tried to keep his smile from reverting to a grimace. He remembered Rocky connecting with the librarian by flattering her work. Sam scanned the camp office for something personal and saw stacks of paper, brochures for pirate cruises, and a yellowed poster of Smokey the Bear. In other words, nothing.

  He started to sweat as he scrambled for his next line.

  Mrs. Wilson leaned over the desk and Sam saw it—the key to his plan was hanging right around her neck.

  “I just came from doing laps in the pool and wanted to tell you what a wonderful pool it is. So clean and clear,” he said. Her glare warmed just a degree or two. “I’m on the swim team back home and this is one of the best pools I’ve ever swam in.” A hint of a smile broke up her craggy face. “My coach uses the same whistle. He says you can hear it for miles.” Sam was afraid he’d been wrong about the whistle around her neck, but she started to nod and the crack of a smile broadened.

  “Yes, I used to be a lifeguard on the beach,” she replied.

  “You need a whistle that will carry out over the ocean.”

  Sam breathed a sigh of relief. His plan was on track. “That’s a difficult job. It takes a great deal of concentration and physical fitness too, so I know you understand how important it is to stay in shape. I like to keep track of the laps I swim on paper since I don’t always have access to my phone. I need to print out a new time sheet and I know it’s asking a lot, but do you happen to have a printer

  I could use?”

  “Well,” she hesitated.

  “I have a copy right here,” Sam said pulling his flash drive

  out of his backpack. “And I brought my own paper. It will only

  take a minute.”

  Her eyes narrowed again and he thought he was doomed. Then she adjusted her whistle cord and said, “For a fellow swimmer, okay. There’s a computer and printer in the back office. Just don’t tell anyone else it’s available.”

  “Yes Ma’am, and thank you,” Sam said.

  “I’ve got to stay out here, so no funny websites or anything either,” she said, the scowl returning to her face.

  “No, Ma’am.”

  With the office door closed, Sam quickly made a swim chart and printed out two copies along with the newspaper articles. He was back in less than three minutes.

  “All done,” he said. “And I’m not sure you would be interested, but I made a copy for you too. Thanks again,” Sam said, scooting out the door amazed at his success. Maybe people weren’t all that confusing after all. Maybe you just had to learn the correct operating procedure for each one,” he thought. He looked over the articles in the glow of the yellow bug lights outside the office. Even the first lines didn’t make any sense. There weren’t enough letters left to decipher all the words.

  Mr. He bolt’s w ke ld at his h e at 15 Bay eet,

  on ue day, Au st 20th. r. He y suc mbed to t e in ries i c red ile ate ti g to esc e th cr w of the Drag fly. is ife

  Sam rationalized he was too tired to decipher the articles and would try again in the morning. Walking back to the campsite an unusual thought popped into his head. Maybe if I talk it through with Rocky, we can make sense of it together.

  Chapter 10

  The next morning, Sam studied the article printouts while his mom cooked breakfast.

  She loaded a tortilla with eggs and cheese and handed it to Sam. “The itinerary says you are going snorkeling today so you need a good breakfast and don’t forget to stay hydrated.”

  Sam was starving from last night’s swimming and devoured one tortilla and loaded up another. In between bites he tried plugging different letters into the worn spaces in the article, hoping the words would reveal themselves. He was still struggling when his mom tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Sam! You need to get going. Now.”

  Sam crammed the last of his breakfast into his mouth and put the dishes into the wash bin. “Sorry I can’t help with the dishes,” he said, carefully sliding the papers into his backpack. He was looking forward to talking to Rocky about the articles, but he didn’t meet him leaving camp or on the path into town. Sam slowed down when he got to the pier and heard the chatter of the girls near the boat. In his excitement about the articles and sharing them with Rocky, he’d forgotten about them.

  “Boys,” Mr. Henley called out. “Hurry up. I swear, if it’s not one of you, it’s the other.”

  Sam turned to see Rocky stepping onto the pier, wearing an incongruous mix of a cowboy hat and an orange life jacket.

  “Hey, Rocky!” Sam said, walking towards him. “You look like you’re going to walk the plank.”

  Rocky adjusted the brim of his cowboy hat and tightened the straps on his life jacket. As he got closer, Sam could see his jaw muscles clenching and un-clenching.

  Sam reached into his backpack and pulled out the printouts. “I printed out the articles we found yesterday, but I need some help deciphering them.”

  “Right,” Rocky said, never even looking in Sam’s direction as he passed by him.

  “I believe they contain some clues to help us find the treasure.”

  Rocky nodded, but not even the mention of treasure changed his expression. Sam had gotten the brush off lots of times but never before he delivered the goods. “Used again,” he mumbled cramming the articles into his backpack. He let Rocky and the girls board the boat then slipped on and sat as far away from them as possible.

  Mr. Henley handed out life vests. Rocky took another one and held it close to his chest.

  “You know we’re just going to the sandbar,” Eliza said, eyeing Rocky’s outfit.

  Instead of the jovial comeback Sam expected, Rocky turned his back on all of them and stood next to the life preserver hanging near the wheelhouse. Sam felt a little better knowing Rocky wasn’t just ignoring him, but not much. Yesterday had been such a good day t
ogether, or at least Sam had thought so.

  Mr. Henley droned on about the sandbar until the captain started the boat. Grateful for the reprieve from the boring lecture, Sam settled back into the comfort of his solitary world. He watched the water behind the boat form a wake, rise to its full height, only to melt back into the bay. He started to smile but let it melt away too. He’d almost had a friend. Almost.

  The boat chugged along in the bay between the coast and the sandbar. As they passed Henry’s house Sam noticed a purple haze hanging over it. He blinked a few times and looked again. This time he saw separate colors glowing blue then shifting to red and back again, over and over, like a spinning pinwheel. He wanted to show Rocky, but he didn’t want to feel the sting of rejection again. The colors faded away and soon the house was as normal as it had been yesterday. No glow. No mystery. Just an old empty house.

  The boat slowed as it made a wide circle around the end of the sandbar and dropped anchor about halfway to the jetty. The tide was out and the full extent of the sandbar was exposed—a sparkling beige refuge for seagulls and crabs. The ocean waves rocked the boat gently but on the bay side of the sandbar the water was calm. Naming the town Safe Harbor suddenly made a lot of sense.

  Mr. Henley began talking as soon as the captain stopped the engines, almost as if one switch controlled both.

  “The sandbar is natural, but dangerous, especially when the tide comes in. Ships have wrecked out there for centuries.”

  “Is that what happened to the Dragonfly?” Eliza asked.

  Mr. Henley’s lips disappeared. “The Dragonfly was lost at sea due to a reckless captain. It’s not worth discussing,” he said, dismissing Eliza’s question with a flick of his wrist.

  “You know Mr. Henley,” Libby started, crossing her arms.

  “One day a ranking of tour guides of Safe Harbor will be online and your name will be on it.”

  Mr. Henley puffed out his scrawny chest and smiled at her.

  “But,” Libby continued, “Most of the comments will say he’s

  not worth discussing. And then you’ll fall to the bottom of the list

  and virtually disappear.”

  Sam’s mouth fell open, both surprised at Libby’s comment and hopeful she’d found a way to stop Mr. Henley’s boring tirade. Unfortunately, the jab rolled off him like marbles down a hill and he restarted his lecture without missing a beat.

  “During World War II, cargo ships ran aground here trying to escape German U-boats. Even expensive schooners equipped with the finest crews and gear have wrecked in the sea off this coast.”

  Sam couldn’t let Mr. Henley’s inaccurate statement stand.

  “It’s an ocean, not a sea. A sea is partially enclosed by land and is usually found along the margins of an ocean.”

  “Ocean or sea, it still sounds like a dangerous place to be on a ship,” Libby said.

  “That’s why they call this area the Graveyard of the Atlantic. You’ve heard of that, right?” Sam asked.

  Eliza’s green eyes narrowed with anger. “We discussed fact collecting versus living yesterday. Certainly you remember that? No? Well let me jog your memory. You’re Nerd Boy. The one who pushes people away with all the facts you collect while we’re the ones who actually enjoy living life. Got it?”

  “Fine,” Sam huffed, angry with himself for getting involved in the conversation in the first place.

  Mr. Henley clapped his hands. “That’s enough! Your parents said you were all experienced in snorkeling, so come get your gear.”

  Sam and the girls grabbed their fins, mask, and snorkels while Rocky stayed near the wheelhouse.

  Sam looked hopefully at Rocky, but Rocky continued to ignore him.

  “Aren’t you coming, Rocky?” Libby asked.

  Rocky shook his head and tightened his grip on his life preserver.

  “Rocky has chosen to remain on board with me. You need to be back on the boat before the tide comes in to avoid getting pushed against the rocky jetty. I’ll sound the horn in 30 minutes. Listen for it and remember to stay away from the jetty. It’s dangerous.”

  Sam was the first to put on his gear and jump into the ocean. The water cooled his red-hot face but not his temper. He hated to admit that part of what Eliza said was true. He did like collecting facts but he didn’t mean to push people away. They just got in the way of the data. And besides, when people hurt you over and over, you try to avoid them. He kicked hard to distance himself from everything and everybody. The fins made it easy and he soon relaxed into the rhythm of the water, gliding along the edge of the sandbar.

  When he spotted a small shipwreck ahead, Sam took a deep breath before diving down for a closer look. The swish of his fins scared a well-camouflaged stingray off the sandy ocean floor. When the sand settled again Sam saw fields of pink, orange, and yellow coral growing across the broken hull like spattered paint. Bright blue tangs darted near him as he rose back to the surface for air.

  Time and distance lost their hold on Sam as he continued along the sandbar. He felt at ease in the company of fish, sand, and water, swimming along easily until he saw something big and dark looming ahead. It was covered in seaweed that seemed to wave at him urgently. Did someone say something? It sounded like “Beware the rocks, they’ll pull you in.” But that couldn’t be. He couldn’t have swum that far from the boat. He figured the seaweed was probably hiding another shipwreck and swam closer to investigate.

  The closer Sam got to the object, the more he felt the push and pull of the water around him. He popped his head out of the water to check his position. He’d been wrong. Very wrong. The gray shape he’d seen underwater was not a shipwreck. It was the rocky jetty Mr. Henley had warned them about. Sam watched as waves crashed against the rocks with a force that meant the tide was on its way back in. Searching the horizon, he spotted the boat and what looked like someone running back and forth on the deck like a target on a video game. Sam tried to signal the boat as it made its way closer to him, but each time he raised his arms the waves rose to block him.

  A wave of fear swept over Sam as he realized how far away the boat was. He swam as hard as he could towards it, but the boat never got closer. Each wave knocked him backwards further than he had gone and even closer to the rocks. He paused to catch his breath when the undertow pulled him under and pushed him against the jetty. His hands scrabbled for something to hold onto so he could pull himself up out of the water, but the slippery seaweed made it impossible. He felt the rocks under his fins and pushed off with all his might, kicking and kicking until he broke through the surface, gasping for air. Before he could catch his breath another wave hit, filling his snorkel with water and sending him back under again.

  Once again, he used the rocks to propel himself to the surface. He was bone tired from swimming and dangerously close to being smashed against the sharp rocks of the jetty. His only hope was to get back to the boat, or at least close enough to be rescued. The waves continued to slap at him and threatened to pull him under again. There was no time to waste.

  Sam struck out with his most powerful stroke and he continued up, over and through the waves towards the boat. At least he hoped he was headed towards the boat. He was disoriented and getting more tired by the second. No amount of training for the swim team could have prepared him for this. He stopped swimming to look for the boat and inhaled water as a wave broke over him. He wanted to cough but knew he would take in more water. If he coughed, it would be the last thing he would ever do.

  Voices murmured around him. They seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, twisting and swirling around him like the vines around Henry Humbolt’s house. Their accent was closer to British than local and they spoke of twisting currents and sweet smelling lavender. One voice spoke of looking for love and treasure as if they were one in the same.

  None of it made any sense and more than anything, he needed to concentrate on
breathing. He was nearing exhaustion and instead of his usually clean strokes, he was merely slapping at the water. He was facing a losing battle. He needed help and he needed it now.

  Something splashed nearby and it wasn’t a wave. Was it a dolphin? He’d read about dolphins saving people from drowning, but all he saw was water. He heard the splash again and this time the sound was even closer. He whirled around and something white caught his eye. It looked like a life preserver. Sam stretched his aching arms towards the white ring only to see it skitter away. Sam’s hopes plummeted.

  The voices resumed and this time he could hear the urgency in their words.

  “Be strong!”

  “Keep trying.”

  Sam wanted to swim, but his arm and shoulder muscles burned and his legs quivered.

  “Don’t despair. We need your help. You are the one we’ve

  waited for.”

  “Just one more stroke, and then one more.”

  Sam was faltering. The waves were endless, but his strength was not. He felt himself start to sink as his arms and legs gave up. His vision grayed as the lack of oxygen started taking its toll. He scraped his leg on the rocks and the pain of the salt water stinging the wound gave him a jolt. He would not give up! He pushed his fins against the rocks with his last bit of strength, surfacing in a short lull

  in the waves.

  He heard another splash and the small hope that someone was trying to rescue him gave him the strength to keep his head above water. He twisted around until he spotted the white ring. It was almost within his reach and he scrambled towards it before it disappeared. Reaching out as far as he could, his hands caught the rope around the life preserver and he pulled it towards him. Keeping a tight hold on the rope, he slipped his arms through the ring with his last ounce of strength.

  There was a tug on the life preserver and Sam nearly slipped back into the water, but something pushed him to the surface. Waves continued to engulf him and threatened to push him back into the water, but each time, something pushed him up. Seconds felt like hours until he felt calloused hands pulling him up into the boat. Relinquishing control of his fate, Sam let himself sink deeper and deeper into the darkness.

 

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