The Haunted - Jessica Verday [118]
Took twelve stitches to close up.”
I cringed. I didn’t like thinking about him bleeding.
We turned the corner and left Main Street behind. It just fell away. There one block, gone by the next. The streets grew dirtier, and the houses shabbier, the farther we went. Row-houses sat crammed next to each other, practically one on top of the other.
“That’s strange,” I said to Caspian. “No kids playing outside. Since they’re out of school, I’d expect to see them in the yards, or on the street.”
“There weren’t very many kids around when I lived here,” he replied. “It’s mostly elderly people who can’t afford retirement homes. They can’t really afford their own homes, either.”
“Oh.” That was sad.
At the end of the block Caspian stopped in front of a small gray house that sat right next to some railroad tracks. The windows were tiny and dirty, and there weren’t any shutters. “Home sweet home,” he said.
“This is where you lived?” I tried to keep the surprise out of my voice, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.
He kicked a loose stone. “Yup. This was my house.” Moving closer, he stooped to peer in-to one of the front windows.
I came up next to him and looked in too. “Is anyone home?” I whispered.
“There probably isn’t anyone living here.” He tried the door, but it was locked.
Two or three paint cans, half a dozen brushes, and some empty beer bottles littered the floor of the small kitchen. “Somebody’s redecorating,” I said.
Caspian sat down on a concrete slab in front of the house and put his head in his hands. “I hope they rip up that damn carpet in the kitchen.”
“Carpet in the kitchen? That’s weird.”
“Tell me about it. The whole house was rigged with duct tape and chewing gum. Faucets only worked half the time, the shower didn’t have hot water, and you couldn’t use more than two outlets at a time or the whole fuse box would blow. The house was a death trap.” He looked embarrassed, and I thought about the house that I lived in. Sure, it creaked and settled every now and then, but it was big and spacious and remodeled. I never had to worry about what plug I used, or whether or not I had hot water.
“It was still your house, and I’m glad I got to see it,” I told him. “It’s a part of your childhood.”
“A part I’d rather forget.” Caspian looked away from me and kicked at a stone again. “The only good thing about this house was the railroad tracks.” He stood up. “Follow me.” He led me across the train tracks, and we came to a steep embankment that held a drain-age pipe at the bottom. After climbing down, he reached behind the pipe and appeared to be wiggling a section of it free. “It’s loose,” he called up to me.
I stood at the top of the embankment until he motioned for me to climb down. In his hand was a small cigar box. He looked at me with such pride on his face that a sweet joy flooded my heart. “It’s still here. My box of treasures from when I was a kid.” There weren’t very many items, but he pulled them out one by one, showing me all of them. “Here’s a Mike Schmidt baseball card, my favorite kazoo, a lucky rabbit’s foot…”
“It wasn’t lucky for the rabbit.”
Caspian smiled at me and kept talking. “A LEGO man, a lucky medallion, and here… the best for last.” He tipped the box over, and flashes of silver and copper winked up in the sun.
“Give me your palm.”
I held my hand out flat, and he dropped a completely smooth, flattened piece of silver metal into it. I glanced down, recognizing the stretched markings. “It’s a quarter!” I said. “What happened to it?”
“I put it on the tracks and a train flattened it. Used to do it all the time when I was a kid.
Here’s a dime, a penny, and a nickel that are all flattened too.” He dropped the rest of them into my hand, and they clanked together. I closed my fist, feeling the cool smoothness, and imagined Caspian as a little boy.
“I bet you were adorable,” I said softly. “When you were little.” He shrugged and looked back in the direction