The Haunted - Jessica Verday [70]
“They were playing in the mud with those large dump-truck toys, you know, the heavy metal yellow ones, with big wheels?” He nodded. “I sort of moved closer. Curious about what they were doing, but I didn’t really want to be noticed. Then I saw that they weren’t just playing with dump trucks. There was this huge toad being held down, and they just kept squishing it with the tires, over and over again.”
I could hear my voice growing fainter, but I was lost in that awful memory of bulging toad guts and muddy ground.
“It was horrible. I was horrified by what they were doing, and even more horrified that I wasn’t saying anything. But I was scared. I felt powerless and mute. And it was just a stupid frog. I wasn’t hurting it, so what did it matter? Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.” I let out a shaky breath. “I never told that to anyone else. Not even Kristen. I didn’t want her to be ashamed of me.”
Caspian nodded slowly.
“Nice, huh?” I said. “I could have saved that frog and I didn’t. I’m a frog killer. Bet you always wanted to know that.”
I tried to read his face. Was he thinking I was an awful person? Did he hate me for what I’d just told him?
“You’re not going to get it,” he said, shaking his head.
“I’m not going to get what?”
“Condemnation. You’re not going to get that from me. I know you want me to tell you how bad and awful of a thing that was. But you were just a little kid. Forgive yourself for it, and let it go.”
I flopped back down on the bed, stretching my legs and flexing my toes. Anger at myself ran through my veins like hot fire. I didn’t know if I could just let it go.
“Don’t pout,” Caspian said.
“I’m not pouting,” I replied. “I don’t pout.”
“That looks like a pout to me,” he said. He shifted so that he was facing me now, propping himself up on one hand. His grin was contagious, and I grinned back, feeling silly and romantic and wonderful.
“Black,” Caspian said abruptly.
I raised my eyebrow at him. “Black?”
“It’s my favorite color. You never asked, so I’m telling you.”
“But that’s not really a color. It’s all the colors put together.” He pointed to his shirt, which was black. “It’s a color. Oh, and I don’t have one.”
“Don’t have… a pet skunk?” I guessed.
Caspian laughed. “A middle name. I don’t have a middle name.”
“Mine’s Amelia,” I said. “But I prefer Astrid.” I sat up slightly. “Hey, you need a nickname.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m a nickname kind of guy.”
“No, really, you are. Let me think about it. Caspian… Casp… Casper… There you go, Casper! Has a nice ring to it. Plus, you’re friendly and you’re a ghost.”
“A cartoon character?” He gave a mock sigh. “Seriously?” I lay back down and folded my arms under my head, trying to keep my face straight. “Get used to it, Casper. At least I didn’t suggest Shaggy or Scooby-Doo. Although…”
“Don’t get any ideas,” he mumbled.
I closed my eyes then, and let the laughter that was building up take over me.
˜ ˜ ˜
When I awoke, the sky outside was gray and ominous. The sure signs of a summer storm about to hit. The clock said nine thirty, and I couldn’t figure out why I was sleeping at the foot of my bed. Then I remembered the stars.
Glancing around the room, I looked for Caspian. He wasn’t there, but a folded note next to my pillow had Astrid written on the outside. I reached for it, stomach clenched.
It was short and sweet.
Hope you had pleasant dreams, beautiful. I stayed until you fell asleep, and then let myself out. I’ll be thinking of you…
Love, Caspian
I read it a dozen times and then tucked it safely under my pillow so I could read it again later. Hopping out of bed with a smile on my face, I didn’t even mind the crack of thunder that followed me as I got in the shower. The hot water was delicious, and I found myself humming a song as I lathered up my hair.
After I got dressed, I decided to grab sturdier shoes than my flip-flops, and I went to the closet. Lifting the pile of extra pillows and blankets that were stashed in there, I dug around for a pair of sneakers. My hand hit something solid, and I pulled