The haunting between us, p.19
The Haunting Between Us, page 19
Cameron’s smile is the biggest I’ve ever seen. He pulls the car to the side of the road and kisses me.
“You sure?” he asks with the sweetest puppy dog eyes that make me want to hug him.
“If I wasn’t sure, that kiss pushed me over the edge.” I laugh. “But seriously, yeah. I’m ready. It’s been a long time coming.”
“You want me there with you?”
“Nah. I need to do this on my own.”
Cameron nods. “Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I will.”
We drive the rest of the way home in happy silence, smiles on our faces.
Cameron drops me off, and my heart beats faster as I enter the house. Pa sits in the living room, watching a soccer match.
“Hey, Hugo!” Pa’s face lights up. “Welcome back. How was camping?”
“Awesome. I had a great time. Fort Worden is amazing. You need to check it out.”
“You take any pictures?”
“Yeah.” I show him my phone and scroll through pictures of spooky concrete bunkers, views of the water, and my friends sitting by the campfire, their faces all aglow. I smile at a group shot of everybody making goofy faces. A picture of Cameron looking pensively into the fire makes my insides flutter.
“I’m glad you’re making friends,” Pa says, smiling. “You should have them over sometime. I really like Cameron. Maybe the two of us can convince you to go fishing.”
“Good luck with that.” I laugh. “But yeah, my friends are great.”
A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins. This is the perfect time to tell Pa about Cameron. But what if it goes badly? I’m not sure I could deal with losing Pa’s love and respect. It’s all I can do to keep my hands from shaking, and my stomach is queasy.
“Everything okay, Hugo?” Pa asks. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”
I take a deep breath. “I’m okay.” Or at least I will be if I can choke out the words burning a hole in my throat. Or maybe everything will be terrible, but at least it’ll be out in the open. No more secrets.
“Hey, Pa?”
“Yeah?”
“Speaking of Cameron. I want to tell you something.”
The tone of my voice gets his attention. He turns off the TV and looks right into my eyes. His expression is neutral with the slightest hint of a smile. “Go ahead.”
“I like Cameron. A lot.” I pause, my pulse pounding in my head. A touch of panic rises, threatening to overwhelm me. It has to be now or it’ll never happen. “In fact, Cameron’s my boyfriend.”
I hold my breath.
Pa says nothing, his face still neutral. We sit there for what seems like forever, but it must be only about five seconds. Say something, Pa.
But all Pa does is lean over and wrap me in a hug.
“I love you, mijo,” he says as we embrace. “And you could do a lot worse than Cameron. I’m happy for you, and I’m glad you’re happy. You’re happy, right?”
“Yeah. I’m happy.” Relief floods over me in a cascade. Tears stream down my cheeks, and I let out a quick sob despite myself.
“Hey, shhhh,” Pa says, patting my back. “No tears. This is a good thing.”
I pull away and smile, wiping a tear from my cheek. Pa’s eyes are glossy too.
“I’m not sad,” I say. “Just relieved and glad I finally told you.”
“I’m glad you told me too. You know you can tell me anything, right?”
I nod. “You don’t seem too surprised.”
Pa tilts his head. “I mean, I had my suspicions. You never brought up girls. And the way you and Cameron look at each other kinda gave me some hints.”
I laugh. “I thought it might be—I don’t know—harder? I mean, the whole Catholic thing.”
“I’m not that Catholic.” Pa laughs. “That was more your ma’s thing. Plus, we always went to liberal churches. Didn’t you ever notice the rainbow flags in the windows?”
“I guess I wasn’t tuned in to that,” I say. “We haven’t gone to church since I was, like, twelve.”
“I assume you’ve already told your hermana, huh?”
I nod. “Carla knows.”
“Did your ma know?” Pa asks.
“Yeah. I told her about a month before—” I look down, unable to continue as my throat gets thick.
“I’m so glad,” Pa says. “Glad she got to know the real you.”
That does it. I’m flooded with this mix of happy and sad emotions and can’t hold them back any longer. The tears pour out, and Pa hugs me again.
“I miss Mama so much,” I say between sobs.
“Me too, mijo.” Pa’s crying now. “Me too.”
We keep hugging and crying for a while. Then Pa pulls away, his hand on my shoulder.
“I know these last few years have been rough on you. We haven’t cried enough.”
“I guess we’re making up for lost time,” I say, choking out a laugh, and Pa laughs too.
“I’m sorry if I haven’t always been there for you and Carla. But let’s change that, okay? There’s nothing we can’t talk about.”
I nod. “I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too, Hugo. And I always will.”
***
Pa heads out to go bowling with some friends he made at the carpenters’ union meeting. He asks me if I want to join him, but I tell him bowling’s not my thing. In reality, the only thought on my mind is inviting Cameron over.
I head toward my bedroom with a smile, wanting to straighten up a bit before I text him. But apparently I can’t handle all this happiness, and my mind drifts back to Chloe’s dream about the medicine cabinet. It’s gnawing at the corner of my thoughts and won’t go away.
Let it drop. Don’t think about it, Hugo.
That lasts about thirty seconds.
Shit.
I head to the hall bathroom with a drill in my hand. Pa has already replaced the broken mirrors in the medicine cabinet, but I need some questions answered.
I unscrew the cabinet from the wall and set it down. Seeing the wooden framing surrounding the cabinet makes my head swim.
Three of the hardened stainless-steel screws I secured the cabinet with are shorn off, ripped right in two. Little nubs of metal are all that remain. The fourth screw is nowhere to be seen, but in its place is a nasty hole, gaping and full of splinters, like somebody yanked out a rotten tooth with a vise grip. The amount of force required is hard to imagine. There’s no way the wind could have done that, short of a hurricane.
I inspect the dent in the wall across from the mirror. Pa and I haven’t gotten around to fixing it yet. When the cabinet fell, I didn’t see what happened since I instinctively covered my head and turned away as the glass crashed around me. I assumed the mirror had fallen off, bounced off the sink, and hit the wall.
But that explanation doesn’t fit the evidence. The dent in the wall is above the sink, as if the medicine cabinet flew straight across the room with such force that it ricocheted off the wall, bounced back, and cracked the sink’s porcelain.
I inspect the back of the cabinet, and ice flows through my veins. Two indentations in the steel are plain to see—the size and shape of palms. Something pushed the mirror from behind and blasted it out of the wall with the force of a cannon. The evidence is all here, but my mind wouldn’t let me come to the obvious conclusion.
Chloe was right.
This goddamn house is still haunted.
21
Aunt Margaret: Cameron
My folks are gone when I get back from camping, so I go about my day, putting away the gear, showering, and trying not to obsess about Hugo and how things are going with his dad. I start and stop texting him about twenty times. The last thing he needs is me hounding him. I can wait. I have patience.
Never mind. I don’t have patience.
I type out a message, but before I hit send, a text from him pops up. I thank the texting gods for making me not seem too clingy.
Hugo: It’s done. Pa knows you’re my bf
Cameron: [heart emoji] How’d it go?
Hugo: Perfect
Cameron: For real?
Hugo: Yeah. He was totally cool with it. I’m a little surprised to be honest
Cameron: That’s awesome
Hugo: Dad digs you. Wants to go fishing
Cameron: Let’s go!!!
Hugo: Ugh. No way! Know what else?
Cameron: What
Hugo: Pa went bowling. Gone for hours
Cameron: Be over in 5
Hugo: [face with sunglasses emoji]
When I cross the street to Hugo’s house, he’s waiting for me by the door, backpack in hand.
“We going somewhere?” I ask.
“Yeah. I hate that house.”
“Something happen?”
Hugo lets out a long breath. “Chloe was right about the mirror.”
“Crap.” I rub my hand down my face. “I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. Chloe’s always right. What are we going to do?”
“I dunno. Talk to Chloe again, I guess. But you know what we’re not going to do right now?”
“What?” I ask.
“Talk about this stupid house any more. Come on.”
Hugo grabs me by the hand, and we head through the forest and back to the abandoned school building. On the roof, Hugo spreads a blanket he takes from his backpack and pulls out some chips and two sandwiches.
“Picnic.” He waves his hand over the spread.
“I love a picnic!” I lean over and kiss him. Hugo’s such a romantic.
“Oh, almost forgot.” Hugo grabs a tiny bottle of champagne from the backpack. “This okay? Because if not, we don’t have to drink it. Just wanted to celebrate our two-day anniversary.”
I laugh. “It’s fine. My parents don’t love me drinking, but they’re okay with it as long as I don’t get drunk or go anywhere near a car.”
“Cool.” Hugo smiles as he pops the cork. “This will barely get us buzzed, anyway. About one glass each.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“We’ve been carrying it around in a box for years. Pa doesn’t drink much since Ma died. Not sure how fresh it is.”
“Doesn’t it get better with age…or something?”
Hugo shrugs.
We eat our sandwiches and chips and drink our champagne. It’s gross, but I do get a bit of a buzz. It makes me a little giddier, if that’s even possible. We talk about how things went with his dad and a little bit about his mom, which is sad, but I like that he’s opening up. We talk about my parents and my brother. We talk about our friends and the school play. The one thing we don’t talk about is Crimson House, and I’m okay with that.
We make out, marvel at the sunset, talk some more, make out some more, and then lie on the blanket and stare at the stars.
At lunch on Monday, the gang reminisces about camping. Everybody’s smiling and having a good time, but Chloe is quiet.
During a lull in the conversation, she speaks up. “Have you two thought about what you want to do? Are you ready to talk to my aunt?”
Hugo blows out a long breath. “You were right about the mirror. I looked at the screws on the medicine cabinet. They were snapped in half. Something with a massive amount of strength shoved it out of the wall.”
The whole gang stares at Hugo in shock.
He continues, “So if you were right about that, I guess we have to take your other dream seriously.”
Having Hugo acknowledge it makes it real for me. I was clinging to the hope that maybe Chloe was wrong and the problem might go away if we ignored it, but Hugo is one of the most down-to-earth people I know.
Why does something bad happen every time Hugo and I are at our happiest? It’s like that house has a personal vendetta against us. I wish Hugo had moved into any other house on our block. But wishing doesn’t do much. We need to confront this head-on.
I look Chloe in the eye. “I guess we need to talk to your aunt.”
The next few days go by without incident, and I push the ghost stuff to the back of my mind. I’m so eager to ignore it that it’s easy. But on Thursday, as Hugo and I approach the lunch table filled with our friends, Chloe looks up expectantly.
“My aunt wants to meet with you two,” she says as we sit across from her.
I take a moment to get back into that mental space. Hugo and I texted for hours yesterday, well into the night, until we agreed it was silly to keep texting and we both snuck out and went back to the roof of the schoolhouse. That’s our spot, I guess. The stars were spectacular again, although to be honest, we didn’t look at them much. Other things kept us busy that were more spectacular.
For now we’re sticking to kissing and snuggling with the occasional “inadvertent” rub through our clothes—maybe a hand under the shirt, which still sets me on edge every time, but I’m getting better.
And maybe one time, my pinkie finger went under the elastic band of Hugo’s underwear. But that’s it! I swear. That’s okay with me. We have plenty of time to do other stuff when we’re ready. I like taking things slow, and Hugo agrees.
Chloe continues, “Aunt Margaret wants it to be on neutral territory.”
Okay. Focus, Cameron. Aunt Margaret. I shove away all thoughts of kissing Hugo and concentrate. I look Chloe in the eye. “Okay. What does neutral territory mean?”
“It means she wants to meet at a place with no emotional significance to any of us,” she says. “Not her shop, and obviously not Hugo’s place. Your place is off-limits too, Cameron.”
“They could meet at Inkwell Books,” Taylor says. “I’m working a shift there after school, and I could reserve a table in the back. It’s pretty private.”
“That sounds perfect,” Chloe says.
“What about the rest of us?” Abby asks. “Should we come too?”
“Let’s start with just Hugo and Cameron,” Chloe says. “The rest of us can hang out at Salty’s, and we can meet up after.”
Abby looks disappointed, but she nods. “Make sure you two remember to write down everything she says. I’m keeping track of all the ghost-related evidence.”
I raise an eyebrow at Abby. “Let me guess—you’ve got everything up on your bulletin board with pictures and articles connected by pushpins and strings.”
Abby scoffs. “No way! I’m way more high-tech than that.” She grabs an iPad out of her backpack and launches an app called MindMap. In it are the details of everything that’s happened, organized into little squares with lines between them, all on a timeline. She taps on several of the squares, and up pop pictures she’s taken of people, places, news articles, and floor plans. I recognize some photos I took in the library archives and the recent ones from the cemetery.
“Wow!” Matty says, looking over her shoulder. “It’s all so organized. Hey, what’s this?” Matty taps on a square labeled Hugo and Cameron.
“Hey! Don’t touch!” Abby yells, but it’s too late. The square opens up, and in it are pictures of Hugo and me kissing, sitting by the fire, and giving each other lovey looks.
My cheeks heat, and even Hugo’s face is rosy.
“Abby!” I cry. “You’ve got a file on Hugo and me?”
“You two are important in all of this,” Abby says in a huff. “Right, Chloe?”
“I’m staying out of this one,” Chloe says, looking down at her phone.
Everyone laughs except Abby, who manages a weak smile. It’s clear she put hours of time and effort into this, and I’m wracked with guilt.
“Abby, this is amazing,” I say, smiling at her. “Thanks for putting it together. We should go over everything you’ve collected. Let’s do it tonight at Salty’s after we’ve talked to Chloe’s aunt.”
Her smile becomes genuine. “Thanks, Cameron. I’m glad you appreciate my efforts.”
***
Inkwell Books is a classic brick building on Water Street with an entire bank of windows providing ample natural light. The store is quiet, save for the occasional hushed voice and the hiss of steaming milk from an espresso cart in the front. Books fill countless rows stretching as far as the eye can see, and the scents of printed pages and freshly brewed coffee fill my nose.
Chloe, Taylor, Hugo, and I weave through the bookcases to a large room filled with comfy-looking chairs, occupied by a smattering of people reading and typing on laptops. This looks like a perfect place to work on my stories. I’ll have to remember it for later.
Beyond the chairs are a few large wooden tables, one set in the far back corner, away from the rest. I recognize Chloe’s aunt from when I met her in her shop a couple of weeks ago. That bright red hair would be visible a mile away in dense fog. She’s wearing a green turtleneck sweater and black pants. She smiles and waves as we approach.
Taylor speaks to us in a low tone. “I’m going to start my shift. Good luck, all.”
Chloe approaches the table and waves us over. Her aunt gets up, and they embrace.
“Hugo, this is Aunt Margaret.”
“Hi,” Hugo says.
“And you remember Cameron,” Chloe says.
“Nice to see you again,” I say. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Margaret says, laughing in that gravelly voice of hers. “Nice to meet you, Hugo, and hello again, Cameron.” She nods to both of us, then turns to Chloe. “I think it’s better if we do this on our own.”
Chloe nods. “I’ll see you two later at Salty’s.”
She heads out, leaving Hugo and me staring at Margaret. The whole thing is a little bizarre.
Margaret looks at us with a half smile and squinty eyes, like she has just figured something out. “You two want to get outta here? I love a stroll along the water. Plus, this place is too noisy.”
The place is dead quiet. I shrug and give her a quizzical look. “Sure?”
Without another word, she heads for the door. Hugo and I exchange a glance, wondering what we’ve gotten ourselves into, then chase after her.
