Wake Up Page 3

  “You okay? I heard something fall.”

  I smiled, a little confused. “I’m fine. I thought it was you. It must have been a gust of wind, or whatever.”

  He looked relieved. “Yeah, I guess.” He turned to leave, but then glanced back. “Oh, and hey, what was that song you were humming a minute ago?”

  My blood went cold. “Humming?”

  “Yeah, some sad song.”

  When he finished those words, his easygoing expression fell. His eyes wandered beyond me, wide with dread. I followed his gaze to the wardrobe, whose mirrors reflected a girl, about ten years old, biting her fingernails and wearing a white nightgown. We both glanced around the room. It was empty.

  Speechless, we watched as a man in a white shirt and white slacks approached the girl from behind, placing a pale hand on her shoulder. They both turned their heads, slowly, until they faced us. Black-hole eyes.

  “Holy sh-” Luke began to whisper. The two figures stepped toward us until they were just on the other side of the glass. The man reached out his arm. It breached the mirror horizon as if it were an open window.

  I broke from my stupor. “Run,” I shouted.

  I reached out my own palm, sending the wardrobe flying across the room with my mind. The mirrors crashed to the floor. We stumbled out of the doorway, but as we did, the man and the girl pulled themselves out from the shattered glass, following We bolted down the hall and out the front door. With a few flicks of my wrist, I slammed it shut behind us, locked it, and dragged an old aluminum boat across the lawn to blockade the entrance.

  We ran until we reached the stick-and-barbed wire fence with its “No Climbing” sign that marked the edge of the cliff. Luke stood hunched over, breathless. I kept my eyes on the way we came, satisfied when the only creature that followed was a chubby gray squirrel.

  Luke spoke between breaths. “What the- What just happened?”

  My fear subsided as I opened my mouth to speak, but I clamped it shut again. I’d never had to explain anything to a clueless Luke in any other dream. But there was no getting out of it now. I went back and forth in my head about how much to tell him before settling on my answer.

  “I’ve got no clue, but those things have been following me for a while now, ever since I came back to Shy Harbor.”

  “Is- is your house haunted or something? Like The Shining?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not the house. It’s me. They’ve been popping up everywhere lately. Even in the middle of town. Sometimes other people see them, but most of the time, only I can.”

  Having caught his breath, he stood to full height. “And the whole…” He mimicked the hand motions I’d used to move objects with my mind, his eyes bulging “…thing?”

  I winced. “I’ve had that for a while, too.”

  He laughed in disbelief, wandering toward the fence while furiously scratching the back of his neck. “Life sure has gotten interesting since I met you, girl.”

  For a few minutes, I was lost for words. There wasn’t much to say, after all. Remembering Aiden’s note, I grabbed the paper from my pocket where I’d stuffed it. “Things are about to get even more interesting.”

  Still shaken, he walked back to me, looking over my shoulder to read the ominous note. “Did you find that in your brother’s room? What’s the big deal?”

  I rolled my eyes. “First off, I knew all of Aiden’s friends. None of them were bookstore types. Second, the way it was hidden makes me think Aiden was trying to keep it a secret.”

  Luke shrugged. “Maybe he was seeing a girl and didn’t want your parents finding out.”

  I shook my head, pondering the possibilities. “He would have told me.”

  With another glance at the still-quiet house, Luke sighed, picking up a stone and throwing it over the cliff. “I think you might be reaching.”

  “I know what it looks like, but my gut’s telling me that something is wrong about this. About all of this. Aiden’s death couldn’t have been an accident. I have to find out what happened!” I bit my tongue before I said anything more, staring down at my sneakers.

  Damn it. How did I let that slip?

  Luke gave me that predictable, infuriating look of pity. “Is that what all this is about? Look, I didn’t want to say anything before, but I think Shy Harbor might not be good for you right now, after everything you’ve told me.”

  I clenched my jaw, shooting him a cold stare. “I’m not crazy, and I’m going to prove it to you.” I held up the paper. “This was obviously written by someone Aiden knew. His closest friends were the other guys who worked the docks and canoe rentals from the beach, so I’ll start with them.” With a little hesitation, I added, “Are you coming with me?”

  “Hell no, girl!” From his face, he was clearly trying to decide whether to leave the whole mess behind him, or pull out his cell and call the loony bin to come get me right there and then.

  “Running from ghosts and playing detective might be your thing, but I have my own crap to work out.” He tried to collect himself. “Look, I’m not dumb. I saw what I saw, but that doesn’t mean there’s some wild conspiracy about your brother’s death and you gotta get all Scooby Doo on me.”

  I folded my hands, pleading. “Come on, everyone in town has been thinking I’m clinically wacked out since the moment my memory went down the gutter. If I’m wandering around town alone, asking questions, no one’s going to take me seriously. But if there were two of us...”

  Luke held up his hands, way too dramatically. “No, no, and no. In fact, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’m hopping on a bus up to Minnesota. You can go ahead and solve your mystery, Velma. It was nice meeting you. I’ll pick up my stuff, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

  He started making his way to the house. Sure, I could have commanded him to stay, wished him to be my faithful companion through everything, but I didn’t. I still had to follow rule number one, even if the game had changed.

  “Wait!” I shouted in desperation.

  He turned back.

  I snatched the house key from my pocket and held it up for him to see. “Help me now, and the house is yours. I’ll square it with the neighbors, and you can count on my parents never coming near the place for at least a few summers.”

  He wrinkled his brow, caught in a moment of indecision. “Look, even if I needed a place to crash, and I’m not saying I do, what makes you think I’d be cool chilling with a bunch of ghosts?”

  I couldn’t help but cackle. “I’m pretty sure there’s enough beds for all of you.”

  He put his hands on his hips, mouth in a tight line.

  I sighed. “Like I told you, they’re not connected to a single place. I’ve seen them all over Shy Harbor. They’re probably gone already. Believe me, you’re as safe in my place as anywhere.”

  He pursed his lips, thinking over the offer.

  “So what do you say?”

  Feeling hopeful, I tossed the key in his direction. He caught it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We walked side-by-side down desolate Main Street, toward the carpenter’s shop where we’d find Aiden’s best friend. At least, that’s what I was counting on. We were just a few blocks down, but the rising winds nearly knocked us out of our shoes. The moment the freezing rain began falling like little needle pricks on our hands and faces, our pace was reduced to a crawl.

  I glanced at Luke, who shielded his face with one arm. The fact he accepted my bribe made me realize just how much he wanted to make his life here work. Whatever he was running away from in Florida, he felt safer in Shy Harbor.

  I wondered if Luke’s situation was a reflection of my own subconscious needs and desires. I inwardly scolded myself for over-thinking things again. Anyway, I could sort that out later. Now was the time to find out who wrote that note.

  All the planters along Main Street stood empty, save for a few shriveled stems. Not a single dried flower remained. I tore my eyes away from the dead plants when Luke nudged me. Ahead of
us was an aluminum-sided workshop with a sanded tree trunk out front that read “Henderson Furniture” in a carefully carved script.

  “That’s the place,” I nearly shouted into a blast of wind. We picked up our pace until we stood under the shelter of the awning. I took a deep breath before turning the doorknob. I had a feeling this was going to be painfully uncomfortable.

  We walked through the door into a cloud of sawdust, the scent of varnish fresh in the air. Mr. Henderson looked up from the rustic pine bench he was finishing. Curiosity gave way to a warm smile, eyes sparkling under his spectacles. “Well, if it isn’t little Madelyn!”

  He pulled his work shirt over his white beer belly, waddling over with a good-natured chuckle. “I tell ya, I had this funny feeling you folks would be coming back to visit before winter set in. How is the fam? We’ve got to get together, just like the old days! Gwen is going to be thrilled.”

  I accepted his warm handshake with a smile. “It’s good to see you Mr. Henderson, but this time, it’s just me. Me and my friend Luke.”

  After a quick introduction, I tried to look casual. “Is Corey working with you today?”

  “Oh, you bet. Why, I should have mentioned it before. You two probably have a lot of catching up to do. He’s always out here, such a hard worker. Gwen says it’s the Indian work ethic. Of course it has to come from her side of the family.”

  Suddenly catching himself, he threw his hands in the air, “Oh, sorry, I meant Anashinaabe. Gwen always uses ‘Indian’ when it’s just the three of us around the home, but I remember that your father was very stern about correct terminology. He said Natives shouldn’t ‘marginalize’ themselves, or something of the sort.”

  I played with my piercing, smiling politely. “That’s Dad all right.”

  He laughed at himself. “Anyhow, why don’t you go say ‘hi’ to Corey?” He nodded toward the back of the shop where the skulking teen was sanding a coat rack. Corey looked up when he heard his name, but he turned away in embarrassment when he saw me.

  I shared a glance with Luke before walking to the back of the shop. He waited behind. When I reached the work area, Corey stopped sanding and stood up with forced friendliness. “Uh, hey Madelyn. How are… things?”

  I couldn’t help but smile to myself at his awkwardness. Things had been weird between us ever since that one time we kissed under the docks. His demeanor was just like the fourteen-year-old I remembered, but the rest of him was, well, more grown up. I wondered if the real-life Corey looked the same way.

  “It’s fine, fine.”

  The silence stretched on for longer than either of us wanted. “You look good.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, your hair looks cool.”

  I smiled, blushing a little. “Uh, thanks. Try telling my parents that.” We both smiled. “So, I actually came here to ask you something about Aiden.”

  The mention of my brother’s name brought all of his discomfort back. He began sanding the coat rack again. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

  I pulled the note from my jacket pocket. “Do you have any idea who might have written this? I found it in Aiden’s room.”

  He took his eyes off his work for less than a second to study the note. “Nope, no idea.”

  I just stood there, a little lost. Why was he so cold, almost indifferent? He and my brother had been inseparable. Whether they were hiking, fishing, or smoking pot with the other guys who worked the docks, they basically lived the exact same life together every summer.

  “Are you sure? Do you know if he was hanging out with anyone else that year? Did he ever talk about anyone,” I remembered what Luke said, “A girl, maybe?”

  Corey’s muscles seemed to tense, his jaw set. “Whatever your brother did was his business. It’s not like I followed him around, or anything.”

  I was about ready to kick his stubborn, angst-ridden ass when Luke came up beside me.

  “Looks like you got that coat rack pretty smooth, buddy.”

  Corey glanced down at the wood under his sandpaper, which was beginning to form an ugly groove. He glared at Luke.

  “And who are you?”

  He held out a hand, smiling politely. “The name’s Luke. How ya doin’?”

  Corey stood with arms crossed over his chest, shunning the gesture. “And what are you doing in our shop, Luke? We’re not open to tourists until summer.”

  “What? Hey, just because I haven’t lived here since I was in diapers doesn’t make me a tourist.” He ground his teeth, taken aback.

  Corey half smirked. “You look pretty cold, buddy. You should really think about moving down south.” He knelt down to sand a different part of his coat rack. “Some people just aren’t built to live here.”

  “Why, you motherf-”

  I held Luke back from lunging at Corey, who shook his head with a smug grin.

  I gripped the sleeve of Luke’s hoodie. “Come on, let’s just get out of here.”

  Luke stood firm, glaring.

  “Let’s go!” I spoke with more resolve before I got him to budge. We turned our backs on Corey and passed Mr. Henderson, who worked steadily on his varnishing, clueless to his son’s rude remarks.

  “You come back now, little Miss Clarke.”

  After composing himself, Luke whispered into my ear, “Well then, it looks like mister a-hole is out of the question. So now what?”

  “It’s okay, I have another idea.”

  Just as we crossed the entryway, I knocked Corey’s coat rack onto the floor with my mind. Hearing him curse behind me, I smiled, feeling just a little too satisfied.

  ***

  The bell on the door jingled as we walked into the bookstore. The owner glanced up briefly from his magazine before going back to his reading. His long, black hair was tied back in a ponytail, a goatee and deep wrinkles accenting a fixed scowl. “We close in ten minutes,” he grumbled without looking up again.

  “We won’t be long.” I said sweetly, perusing the new titles. Luke entered one of the narrow passages between shelves that were packed with all genres of new and used books.

  I walked the length of the shop to look down each corridor. A single soul occupied the last one. I stepped closer to see past a stack of books. A girl in a white dress with dark hair to her ankles read a tattered copy of Sense and Sensibility. She looked up from the page with dark holes in place of eyes. She lifted a finger to her lips for silence before looking back to her book.

  A tremor crept up my spine until my scalp prickled. I hurried to a bookshelf nearer the cashier’s desk, mapping out my escape route should the ghostly creature decide Jane Austen wasn’t quite exciting enough.

  I picked up a copy of Hunting for Agates and approached the store owner. With a sigh, he dropped his magazine and scanned my purchase. “That’ll be nineteen ninety-five.”

  I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and opened it. Empty. Turning away from the storekeeper, I closed it, making a quiet wish. I opened it again. A twenty-dollar bill.

  As he handed me my change and receipt, I ventured my first question. “You run this store yourself, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else working here.”

  He gave me a long look that seemed to say a thousand unpleasant things. “Yup.”

  “It’s Gerald, right? Can I call you Gerald?”

  He maintained his defiant stare in silence.

  “Okay, then. I was just wondering if you could help me out with something. I’m not sure if you remember my brother, Aiden. Tall, long hair, Anashinaabe. You probably saw him buying chord books every summer.”

  His mouth didn’t budge, but something in his eyes changed. For the better or worse, I couldn’t tell.

  I continued. “Three summers ago, he met someone here. I know you have a lot of people coming through, and there’s no real reason you’d remember this one instance. But anything you might recall would help me a lot.”

  “Why you askin’?” he finally spoke.

  “It’s kind of personal.”

&n
bsp; Gerald shook his head. “I seen your brother, but I ain’t never seen him with somebody else. Always alone.”

  With that, he picked up his magazine again and averted my gaze. I tried to decipher him. Either he was hiding something, or Aiden had met the person when Gerald wasn’t here. It made sense, in a way. If they wanted to meet in secret, maybe they would have met in the middle of the night.

  Either way, I wasn’t going to leave until I discovered what this bookstore had to tell. Even the creepy girl behind the bookshelf couldn’t stop me.

  With a moment of concentration, I sent a stack of books in the back of the shop crashing to the floor. Gerald cursed, marching back to where Luke was browsing. I went behind the desk and made fast work of searching through the calendars, planners, notes, and stuffed drawers. I cringed when Gerald started condemning Luke for the accident, but I kept scanning.

  A sticky note hidden behind the computer monitor caught my eye. Today’s dream-world date was scribbled on the yellow paper along with the reminder:

  Beverly’s place at 9:00 PM

  Remember the Lost

  Footsteps stomped closer, and I quickly crept back to the front of the desk. Gerald went back to his magazine with an exasperated sigh, mumbling about “damned kids” under his breath. I picked up my book and said a quick goodbye before walking over to Luke.

  I glanced through the corridor that held the girl as I passed by. I gasped, dropping my book. She stood inches from my face, following me with a scowl and an empty stare. I hurried past and snatched Luke’s arm.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  We stumbled out of the bookstore. Luke protested in confusion as I dragged him to the sidewalk, forcing him to speed-walk with me toward the lake. One look behind revealed the long-haired girl stepping out of the bookstore, her face twisted in rage.

  “Wait- hold on, would you- Madelyn!”

  “Don’t talk, just walk.”

  “Why are you in such a hurry all of the sudden? That sour old man scare you or something? He’s all talk, believe me. I’ve seen his type before.”