The Haunted - Jessica Verday [47]
“Are you sure?”
“Yup. Now let’s get started.”
“Okay. Do you have a highlighter? We’re going to need one for this next section.”
“Let me check the junk drawer,” I said. “I think there’s one in there.” I dug through a pile of old batteries, rubber bands, burned-out lightbulbs (Seriously? Why are we keeping those?), and years-past-their-expiration-date coupons, but I couldn’t locate a highlighter.
“Not here,” I told him. “Let me run upstairs. I know I have one in my room.” When I reached my bedroom, I went right for the supply box that was stashed under my work desk. As soon as I felt the capped end of a highlighter, I pulled it free. A small piece of paper was stuck to it, and drifted to the floor. I recognized it right away.
It was the recipe for peppermint tea that Katy had given me for Christmas last year. I’d never even noticed it was missing.
That’s because you didn’t want to notice, my subconscious whispered. Noticing it was missing meant noticing that it was real.
I held it in one hand and ran my thumb over the crinkly texture. Even though Nikolas and Katy had claimed to be ghosts, or Shades, as they called it, and said they were characters from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,” they were real, in some sense. I’d visited their home.
Drunk their tea. Exchanged gifts with them.
Slowly, I sat the recipe back on the desk. My eyes and fingers involuntarily went to the dainty gilt-edged, rose-covered teacup sitting there. They gave that to me too. Barely visible, and crammed next to several full bottles of perfume that I was aging, it had collected a fine layer of dust.
I should go visit Nikolas and Katy. Prove to myself…
Prove to myself what? I didn’t know. But I was going to get proof… of something.
The doorbell rang later that afternoon, just as I was getting ready to go see Caspian again.
I was literally at the front door with my hand on the doorknob, when the chimes echoed through the house. Spiders raced along my scalp when I saw who was there, and immediately I remembered our last encounter.
It was the odd-looking boy and girl I’d met at the cemetery.
This time they were dressed in khakis—pants for him, long skirt for her—and white polo shirts. They looked like private-school kids or Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Except for their hair.
The guy still had the Mohawk, only it was red this time, and the girl’s purple-and-blond hair had been dyed completely turquoise.
As soon as I saw them, I took a step back. I couldn’t help it; my legs were no longer in my control.
“Hello, Abbey,” the girl sing-sang in that gorgeous, high-pitched, melodic voice. “Do you remember us?”
Something pushed at the edges of my memory. It made me sick to my stomach. “Cacey and Uri,” I replied.
“That’s right,” Uri said. His voice was musical too, but in a different way. A hidden timbre ran in his tone, stretched thin like a silver current. “Can we come in?”
“That’s, um… I have to… I really should…” I lost all train of thought, and the empty house loomed at my back. Dad was at work, and Mom was at a meeting. I had the strangest urge to call 911, but what was I going to say? “Help, there are two kids dressed in khaki and being polite at my front door”?
Hysterical laughter bubbled up, and I pushed the thought away. I was feeling much calmer now. Happy, even. Everything was going to be fine.
“Sure!” I said, throwing the door wide open. “Come on in. Do you want anything to drink?” First Cacey, then Uri crossed the threshold and followed me in. “I’ll take a Coke, if you have some,” Cacey said. I entered the kitchen and fetched her one from the fridge. Bringing it back in, I turned to Uri. “Anything for you?”
“No, I’m good.”
They both sat on the couch, and I sat in the recliner across from them. Cacey popped the top of her can and guzzled the entire thing in three sips. She turned her wide, clear eyes to me as I watched in astonishment.
“I just love that beverage,” she trilled. “Co-ca-Co-la. Makes me want to write songs about it.”
Well, that was definitely one of the weirdest things I’ve ever heard. I