Ghost of a Shadow Read online

  How sad, she thought. It happened right off the main highway on the other side of town. It was only a few miles from where she stood right now.

  Sadie sat on one of the wobbly chairs flanking the table. Farther down in the article was a picture of the family, their smiles radiating into the present. Sadie was intrigued by their old-fashioned clothing: bow ties, suspenders, gloves, and long dresses included. She sighed. I should stop complaining about everything in my life. A story like this shows me how lucky I am. She looked at the mom’s smiling face.

  “Mom!” she exclaimed. “She’s going to kill me.” Sadie could picture the look on her mother’s face; she was probably frantic with worry. She dug into her jeans pockets, hoping to find enough money to buy the article, but only found a quarter and an old gum wrapper. She left the store just as her mom’s car pulled up.

  “How did you find me?” she asked through the open window, passenger side.

  “You’re lucky I did, young lady,” Mom yelled. “I’ve been circling every block in this town for the last fifteen minutes, trying to track you down! Thank goodness I found you!”

  Sadie got in the car, and that’s when she saw the tears on her mom’s face.

  “Oh, Sadie, I was so scared.” Her mother reached sideways and held her so tight she couldn’t breathe.

  Sadie wiggled out of her grasp. “Geez, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore. I know I shouldn’t have run off like that, but why were you so afraid? It’s only in our little town.”

  Sadie’s mom bit her lip then hugged her again. “Honey, please don’t do that to me again, okay? Why on earth would you run off like that?”

  “Sorry, Mom. I thought I saw Gramma, but I guess I made a mistake.”

  “Aww, Sadie. I know how much you miss her. Sometimes I think I see her too.”

  Sadie’s eyes went wide. “Really? You’ve seen her?”

  Her mom never had told her that before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dear Christopher

  Dear Christopher,

  I can’t believe it’s already been a year since I last saw you. I can still hear you calling me “m’lady.” I can feel your hand in mine as you showed me so many things I’d never seen before. I never want to explore the world with anyone else but you.

  I remember how you told me you would never leave me—how one day we would get married and always be together. I remember all those things, and it hurts my heart so much. I still see you everywhere I go.

  The other day I almost went up to someone I thought was you. Imagine how embarrassed I would have been. You would have laughed about it, teasing me. Making me giggle about how funny it was.

  I still can’t get over you not being here with me. How you left and everything fell apart. How within two months of you leaving, I lost my Ruby and then Gramma Rose.

  You loved Ruby and Gramma too. How could you not be with me when I needed you most? You weren’t here to comfort me like you always did, to tell me everything would be okay.

  Nothing is okay. I have no one now. My parents hardly talk to me, and I guess that’s a good thing because I don’t want to talk to them.

  Why did you stop writing? What did I do?

  I miss you so much. It feels like you leave over and over again. I have no friends now, and everyone is so mean to me. When are you coming back? You have to come back.

  Please come back.

  I have nothing.

  I am nothing.

  Dear Rufus,

  I never sent that letter. I just couldn’t. It hurt too much. I mean, I wouldn’t want Christopher to laugh at it. To laugh at me. That would be the worst. It’s been so long I’m sure he has someone else now. Someone else to call his lady. I’m sure he doesn’t think about me at all.

  Thank you, as always, for listening. xoxo

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Juvie, Juvie, Juvie

  Finn rode on the blue-and-white school bus, staring at his seat. It was made of standard-issue green plastic, meant to feel “leathery.” His had a hole in it. He doubted it was made by a cigarette. Not on this bus. Too many guards. More likely it was caused by some deadbeat rider picking nervously at it until the surface wore away, exposing the cotton beneath.

  The stench of mildew assaulted his brain. He gazed out the window, breathing mist on the cool glass, leaving a damp layer thick enough to write on, but he was too bored to follow through. The sunset grabbed his attention. He guessed it would be a while before he saw one again. For lack of anything better to do, he took over for the previous rider and picked at the green-and-white scab. Soon it was three times the size, all the way around. In his stupor he didn’t hear the jeers coming from outside until this minute.

  Finn’s seat was on the side of the bus closest to all the noise. He looked out and noticed a group of boys dressed in bright-orange jumpsuits, leaning up against a high barbed-wire fence, aiming unintelligible insults at the newcomers. Annoyed, he decided to turn it all…off.

  Later, when he turned it back on, he was in a tiny room on the top bunk. He glanced around quickly to gather clues. An odor of gym socks prevailed. The space was barely large enough for a single set of bunks, let alone the kitty-corner toilet and sink and each boy’s small storage trunk. He shared the space with a slight blond boy who looked to be half his height. The kid wore the same orange jumpsuit he’d seen on the other boys when he’d arrived. Looking down, he noticed his new attire matched. Perfect. Part of a team.

  His cellmate sat in the middle of the floor, staring up at him. He made Finn think of a cherub at a graveyard. Small, tousled hair, but thinner. Much thinner. His pale-green eyes took on a faraway look, giving Finn time to scan the blond’s posture. The boy’s blank expression, along with that black eye and hunched demeanor, led Finn to a swift conclusion: he was juvie’s punching bag.

  “Didn’t you know it’s not polite to stare, kid?”

  “I wanted to see what you were all about, Finn.”

  “How the hell do you know my name?”

  The boy shrugged. “You told me.”

  “Well, there’s no way to know anything about me from merely looking. And who dressed you today? The jumpsuit clashes with your face.”

  In a voice hardly audible, the boy ventured, “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

  “Where have I landed? Cliché Palace?”

  “No.” The boy stood up and crossed his arms. “It’s called juvie. Hanover Juvenile Detention Center. And the outfit is something everyone wears. Have you ever been before? To juvie, I mean?”

  “No. Have you? Why are you here in the first place? I doubt you could pull anything off.”

  “‘It was a case of mistaken identity,’ my lawyer told me. ‘Wrong place at the wrong time, son. They’ve ruled against you, so I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do for at least a couple of years.’”

  “That was boring. How about a name?”

  “Um—”

  But Finn cut him off. “It hardly matters, as from now on you’ll go by the name I give you: Beagle. Good boy.”

  “But I wanted to tell you. My real name, I mean.”

  “No need. It’s all settled now. So tell me everything I need to know about this place, Beagle. Start with how the food works.”

  The boy stood there, his mouth open and head shaking from side to side. Then it was over. He accepted his new name: Beagle. It didn’t take long for him to go over what he knew.

  The kid is concise, Finn thought. I have to give him that much. “Good job, Beagle. You’ll make an excellent attaché.”

  Beagle lost a little of the hunch in his shoulders. “Does that mean you’ll watch my back if I watch yours? I know things. I’m good at watching even though sometimes I get hurt for it.”

  “Never mind that now. It’s early to bed for you, Beagle. Rest up while you can. We have work to do.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Orange Cone of Shame

  “Sadie, come back here, please. It’s cold o
ut today. Wear the hat I made for you.”

  “I don’t need a hat, Mom. Don’t we live in Florida for a reason?”

  “Must you debate everything I say? It’s cold out, and you need one. Wear it.”

  “Ugh. Fine!” It’s sixty-five degrees out, Mom. Not exactly a frozen tundra out there.

  Sadie had mixed feelings about the hat. Did she like it? No. Did she care about it? Yeah, sort of. Why? Because it meant so much to Mom. It was the first and last thing her mother ever had done with yarn and a pair of knitting needles. Besides that, she couldn’t stand arguing over every little thing.

  No one wore bright orange at school. It would be a nice hat if it wasn’t orange, Sadie thought. Orange, really? What’s the matter? They run out of crap brown or puke green? Might as well be one of those two. Anything’s better than a hat that can be seen from outer space. “Mission control, mission control, come in, please. We seem to have a problem in sector six. A blinding orange light has surrounded us, and we can’t see where to put the next satellite. Do you think you can get down there and remove that horrific orange beacon from that Sadie Myers girl?”

  She usually took it off immediately. Today, however, she was halfway to school and still had it on. I’m still wearing it! Probably because the weather was chilly this morning. It was past time to take it off, so she yanked it.

  Oh, no. Here comes Dave. This isn’t good. He had kept his word. Kylie’s pin didn’t reappear by his deadline, so he and his buddies tormented her daily.

  Before Sadie had a chance to hide the hat, Dave came running up to her. “Nice hat, stupid. Where’d you get it? The circus?”

  Wow, that’s the best he could come up with? He’s usually much better at this. He must be losing his edge.

  Keeping her head down, Sadie continued walking.

  Dave wouldn’t let up. “Here, let me help you with that traffic cone you call a hat. It really brings out the ugly in your eyes.”

  Sadie groaned.

  He grabbed it right out of her hand. Taunting her with his hyena laugh, he ran the rest of the way to school. She watched as his form grew smaller.

  By the time Sadie got to school, a line of kids waited in the front hall. They all pointed and laughed at her. The line parted, and there, in the middle of the floor, was her sopping-wet orange embarrassment.

  “There you go, Sadie,” Dave crooned. “I gave it a nice bath in the toilet for you.”

  All the blood rushed out of Sadie’s extremities, and she went limp. She took a deep breath, pulled herself together, and silently headed to her classroom. A marching band of laughter followed right behind her.

  With pangs of guilt, despite the punishment she’d endured, Sadie was relieved that the glowing orange hat was no more.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It Is Time

  “It is unusual to find you on this side of the straime. What brings you here this day, Thelonious?”

  “Have you been watching the signs?”

  “Yes. Are we thinking the same thing?”

  Thelonious nodded. “We are. She cannot fail. The stakes are too high.

  “So, is the time now?”

  “Indeed. It is time.”

  “Then I will send the messenger.”

  Act Two

  Walk on Through

  Is it firelight or morning,

  That red flicker on the floor?

  Your good-by was braver, sweetheart,

  When I sailed away before.

  — “The Shadow Boatswain,” William Bliss Carman

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Who’s Afraid of the Fletcher House?

  For the first time in her life, Sadie Myers took a permanent marker to school property. She couldn’t face another soul, and this was the best time of day for using the “secret bathroom” on the second floor. Hardly anyone ever used it. The door’s lock gave it a unique benefit but was also a gamble. Sometimes the custodian locked it, but other times she didn’t.

  It was like playing Russian roulette with her sanity. If the lock opened, she would win the solitude she needed to make it through the afternoon. If it was locked, she’d have no choice but to return to class and the onslaught of humiliation.

  What would be the outcome this time?

  Thank goodness it’s open. That’s the only good thing about today. SAVE YOURSELF! She found the message she’d just written on the bathroom tiles philosophical in nature. She hadn’t thought about leaving school early, but fate had made plans for her. She looked at her handiwork with approval. She would leave the communication there as her legacy. It might be helpful to another student sitting in similar misery.

  After half an hour of sitting and standing, she grew restless. It was either now or much, much later. Once the halls grew silent, she had her best chance of escaping the building unnoticed before last period ended. On the other hand, she could wait until the building was completely deserted. She opted to go now, collected her scattered books and papers from where she’d thrown them, then opened the door a few inches. The long hallway was deserted.

  Unnoticed, Sadie ran down the stairs, slipped out the side door, hurried down the steps, and crossed the street. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one saw.

  She was tired. Tired of hiding from Dave and his friends. They’d been at it nonstop for more than a week. Even without Dave, the whole school thing was a colossal waste of time. And she was tired of having no friends. She was exhausted from watching Mom and Dad act like they were the only ones who had lost something. But more than anything, she was angry at the world—no, the universe. How much would she have to endure before she caught a break?

  She reached the crosswalk that would take her home. She couldn’t bear to go there. She needed to be alone. Since all the pedestrians around her were turning left at the first intersection, she turned right. One foot went in front of the other, eventually parting the various grasses. Sadie headed to the one place she knew no one else would go.

  Cutting across yards and open spaces, she wound up at that old subdivision, the last one before the forest. No one in the neighborhood had any idea how far back these woods went. Within minutes she stood in the cul-de-sac where the rundown home stood. She felt drawn to the Fletcher house in a pleasant sort of way. There was a peace about it that pushed the earlier tension gradually away.

  It was the only house she knew of that had its own name: “the Fletcher house.” She took in the sight of it and its surroundings. Like all the kids around her neighborhood, she’d heard those stories for years, but somehow, now, she wasn’t afraid.

  It was a two-story white house, simple in construction, though “rundown” was putting it mildly. The porch appeared dangerously unbalanced. The paint was scratched and weather worn. The shutters hung askew or were off completely. Some of the shingles had fallen off, which had led to the roof’s decline and allowed every form of weather inside. Still, it was a place where people had lived. It was once somebody’s home.

  The interwoven cracks in the pavement created a black-and-gray repeating pattern up the driveway. Its surface rolled up and down with crumbly ridges and valleys that made walking treacherous. As Sadie walked across the uneven asphalt, a sweet buzzing filled her ears. It reminded her of springtime in Gramma Rose’s garden and the bees that hovered from flower to flower.

  She walked through the front yard, its grasses brushing her knees, releasing their green fragrance each time she stepped down. It was hard to tell where the yard gave way to the thick, impenetrable forest behind it. The scent of ozone came on the breeze, and she knew it must be raining nearby.

  The buzzing grew louder. It called her closer, friendly and familiar. Sadie’s hand met the railing with trepidation, and she carefully climbed the front stairs. Seeing the house up close, she easily saw why this was the same place that had inspired nightmares and made those who claimed they’d visited get all wobbly kneed. Oddly enough, Sadie felt comfortable here.

  She looked at the first wind
ow she came to: cracked glass and a few slats of wood across it. There wasn’t much to see on the inside either, just enough to know the place was deserted. So much dust floated in the air that she could see it in the rays of sun coming down through the roof. A few filthy blankets sat in one corner, and an old-fashioned table lay tipped over near the entranceway. Feels like no one has lived here in a thousand years.

  Backing up and retracing her steps, she felt something soft brush against her leg and looked over in time to see a navy-blue tail disappear around the corner of the house. It couldn’t be…

  Sadie heard a faraway meow. She hurried to follow it past the side of the house and into the backyard. She explored for a good five minutes before finally spotting a cat’s blue tail swinging back and forth under some bushes. As she got closer, the navy blue intensified and turned iridescent.

  “Barnaby, is that you? How can it be possible? No one’s seen you since Gramma died.” It’s not for lack of looking either, she thought.

  The cat responded to his name, and by the time he reached Sadie’s outstretched arms, he purred up a storm. He rubbed against her fingers and sat down as she scratched behind his ear. After a moment, he meowed loudly then took off toward the woods. Before Barnaby crossed over into the dark, dense vegetation, he stopped and looked back, as if waiting.

  “Barnaby, where are you going?”

  Sadie followed him, pursuing the blue tail through the slanted sunbeams, struggling to maneuver through the brush as it grew thicker. She eventually wound up crawling on her hands and knees. The undergrowth, full of brambles, gripped her clothing and hair. Is that a wild rose up ahead? Its perfume traveled on the breeze in her direction. She had to pick up her pace, as she couldn’t chance losing Barnaby. Scraping her arms and legs along the way, she followed the bushy tail of Gramma’s cat.