The Fade Page 4

  “Five years, about. Not on this block. Not that I’ve heard. And I would have heard.”

  So that’s what the whole Bermuda Triangle thing was about…ancient history.

  “Well, I should go,” I tell Mrs. Franz, standing. “Let us know if anyone calls about Trixie.”

  “I will. Thank you…you know, I don’t even know your name.”

  “Haley,” I remind her.

  “Well, Haley. You’re such a nice young lady. Not like that Kaitlyn.”

  I plaster on a smile and flee out the door, across the yard, and into my house. I’ve definitely reached my good-deed quota for the summer, if not my lifetime.

  I’m about to head up the stairs when I catch a flash of blond heading down the basement stairs. “Shannon!” I call, but she doesn’t stop.

  “Haley, I didn’t know you were back,” my dad says from the living room, surrounded by boxes. He looks majorly flustered, and I feel guilty about not unpacking my room.

  “Yeah, just got here….Why is Shannon in the basement?”

  “I didn’t know she was back. Maybe she’s on bleach duty? Checking the mold?” He turns back to the boxes. “Go help her if you want….”

  I creep toward the basement door. This is perfect. I’ll sneak down and scare the crap out of Shannon. It will be awesome.

  I take off my shoes and step as lightly as I can on the stairs, the old wood rough beneath my feet. If she didn’t hear me call her name, she’s probably still blasting music with her earbuds in, so she won’t notice me anyway. She hasn’t turned on the light yet, but there’s no reason for her to be watching the stairway.

  I hit the basement floor. The laminate feels cool. Still no light.

  I head over to where I remember the switch being, every inch of my skin tingling. Maybe Shannon saw me come down and is waiting to jump out and scare me instead.

  I flick on the switch and spin on my heels, searching the basement. No Shannon. “What the hell?” I say. I scour the room. Is she hiding, or did she sneak back upstairs? I know I saw her. “Shannon?” I ask, and my voice echoes through the empty space. The only other sound is my pounding heart. If Shannon is trying to scare me, mission accomplished.

  I turn in a circle but see nothing. No, that’s not true. Across the basement, under the stairs, the small wooden door is wide open. So is the hope chest. A piece of fabric hangs out of it. It’s the blue ribbon.

  I slowly walk over, my bare feet freezing, and pull the ribbon from the chest. I wore it all yesterday and then put it in the drawer of my nightstand. How did it get down here? Shannon wouldn’t go through my things; she would see that as beneath her. I rub the ring on my finger. That’s still there—I’ve been wearing it all day.

  I lean forward. The necklace Shannon took is also back in the box.

  Suddenly, I’m thrust forward; I lose my balance and tumble into the chest. The lid closes and I’m lost in darkness. Before I can do anything, I hear metal against metal: the sound of the chest being latched.

  I’m trapped.

  For three whole seconds I’m silent, waiting.

  Then I begin to scream.

  THE AIR IS thick with dust and pulverized wood. I choke on my shriek.

  I gag on the rancid smell, and it takes me a moment to regain my breath. There’s not much room in the chest, and I bang my elbow and shoulder trying to get leverage to lift the lid.

  Tears streak my face. I am going to die, alone, in a stinking basement. In Wisconsin.

  I find my voice and screech again, when the lid of the chest squeaks open.

  My father’s face appears before me. “Haley, what happened?” he asks, pulling me from the wooden box and wrapping his long arms around me. I bawl into his chest. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

  He checks my face and head, then examines my scraped elbow. “You look fine, but you gotta talk to me, kiddo.”

  “I’m okay,” I say between sobs.

  “How the hell did you get yourself stuck in there?” he asks.

  “Someone pushed me,” I say, certain. I gulp down my tears.

  “There’s no one here. I thought you said Shannon…I came to check on you girls, and I heard you…” He leans back, runs his hands through his black hair. “You sounded like you were being tortured.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “I thought someone was murdering you.”

  “I thought someone was murdering me too,” I say, my tears turning into laughter. “I thought I was going to die in there.” I start to blubber again. I glare at the wooden box, gaping at me mockingly. It could have been my coffin. I shudder.

  My dad picks me up like a baby and carries me up the stairs. I don’t even mind, though normally I would hate my smallness and being treated like a little kid. He sits me in the kitchen and grabs a towel, wetting it with warm water to clean my face. When I’m sniffling, finally calming down, he looks at me.

  “I think we need cocoa.”

  I nod while he rummages through boxes to find some mugs. My hands are shaking and my elbow throbs, but I’ve managed to regain some of my composure. I rest my head on the cool counter until the cocoa is ready.

  Shannon appears when I’m just blowing on my drink to cool it.

  “Is that hot chocolate?” she asks, pulling her earbuds out. She’s all sweaty and gross and still looks like a model. “It’s like, a hundred degrees outside.”

  “Haley just had…”

  I flash my dad a warning look. I don’t need Shannon to know what happened.

  “Haley’s having a hard time,” he says. “I thought some cocoa would do her good. Want some?”

  “Um, no. But I’ll make myself iced tea and join you guys. I’m gonna take a shower first.” She sprints up the stairs.

  “So…” My dad looks at me. “What happened?”

  “I must have tripped,” I tell him. What other explanation is there? Shannon wasn’t down there. No one was down there. No one pushed me. My clumsy ass fell and got stuck.

  “You managed to slip, stumble into a chest, and have the thing lock on you?” he asks, eyebrows raised. “Only you, Haley.”

  “I know. Please don’t tell Shannon. I’ll die of embarrassment.” I sip the hot chocolate, and it does make me feel better. My hands have even stopped shaking.

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  “I feel like such a baby,” I say quietly.

  Dad looks at me. “I know you girls are growing up, but…you’ll always be my baby.”

  “Daaaaaad.” I roll my eyes.

  “I just mean it’s okay, Haley. It’s been a while since I picked you up and dried your tears. Makes me feel like a good parent.”

  “Great, I have to almost die to make you feel like a good parent?” I ask, glad to be back in the territory of snark. Sarcasm I can deal with.

  “Maybe you should stay out of the basement. I mean, unless someone is with you.”

  “And is that good parenting?” I ask. “Telling your kid to avoid the thing they’re afraid of?”

  “Are you really afraid of the basement?” He takes off his glasses, pushing them to the top of his head, where they rest precariously.

  “Not afraid,” I assure him. “It just freaked me out.” It all seems so silly now, while I’m sitting in the heat of the kitchen sipping cocoa.

  He lets out a relieved breath. “Well, clearly you got yourself into some weird Haley-made trouble down there, so let’s not call it avoiding our fears, just making sure no more accidents happen to you. Okay?”

  “I’m fine with that.” Silly or not, there’s no way in hell I’d go back down there. I rub my bruised elbow.

  “And since you won’t be helping in the basement, you’ll have plenty of time to unpack your room,” he tells me with a grin.

  I groan. “Fine.”

  Shannon reappears and my d
ad kisses her on the head. She looks at me.

  “Haley, have you been crying?” It wouldn’t be so bad if she actually sounded concerned, but she just sounds superior. “Your face is all blotchy.”

  “No,” my dad cuts in. “She’s overworked.”

  Shannon snorts.

  “Well, I’m going up to my room…to unpack,” I announce, standing and grabbing my mug. Dad winks at me. I wonder if this is how he and Shannon feel all the time, like allies. It’s how I feel with Mom a lot, but not so much Dad.

  In my room I sit on my bed and let what just happened rush over me. Of course no one pushed me. I tripped and then panicked, like a total freak. And now I smell like a moldy old basement. I stand. First things first: shower. Second…I look around my room. Keep the promise I made to Dad and unpack. It’s the least I can do.

  I grab a change of clothes from a box and bump into my still-empty dresser. I pause and blink a couple of times because I think I must be seeing things.

  There, hanging out of a half-opened drawer, is the blue silk ribbon.

  SHE’S NOT WHAT we hoped.

  The one who can feel us.

  We are awash in disappointment and frustration.

  And yet the connection is there.

  It pulls at us like a dog on a leash.

  She is not related to any of us.

  And yet her link is stronger.

  She is a stranger.

  Even so, we want her.

  We need her to understand.

  Her bond, a pull stronger than any other, is tenuous.

  She does not understand.

  But at least she knows we are here.

  That is a start.

  “SHANNON HAS TO be messing with me. It’s the only explanation.” I’m on the phone with Raina as I survey my disaster of a room.

  “Just doesn’t seem her style,” she says. She sounds distracted. I know she’s going out, but I wanted to talk to her. I thought it would make me feel better, but knowing she’s having fun without me just makes me feel worse.

  “Well, I’m going to figure out a way to get her back. Maybe a spider in her bed.”

  “Mmmm, creepy.”

  “Remember when we put Mickey in her underwear drawer? She jumped five feet!” I laugh. Mickey was my pet rat. Shannon hated him.

  “Yeah, that was great….Haley, I have to go. Gina just got here, and—”

  “Oh, right, sure. Go have fun.” Gina and Raina have been crushing on each other for months. I wouldn’t be surprised if Raina calls me later to tell me she has a new girlfriend.

  “Don’t let Shannon get to you,” she tells me. “Love you, girl!”

  She hangs up before I can respond.

  She’s right about not letting Shannon upset me. I decide to ignore my sister completely. Not that she notices. I spend the afternoon unpacking and trying not to think about the creepy basement.

  When I’m about halfway done, my mom pokes her head into my room.

  “Nice. Progress.” She steps inside, carrying a large roll of paper almost as long as she is tall. “And I just happened to pass a craft store on the way home.”

  I smile. “This is great. Thanks.”

  I lug the roll to the wall. The first thing I’m going to draw is the Chicago skyline.

  “So…” My mom sits on my desk chair and grabs my rubber-band ball, bouncing it against the desk. “Your dad told me about earlier. You falling in the basement.”

  Her bringing this up doesn’t surprise me. My mom isn’t the type to let things go, especially when it concerns me. “I’m okay. Really. My elbow hurts a little bit….” I show her the red-purple bruise.

  “I’m more concerned about how you reacted.” She rolls the ball across the desk, then looks at me. “Dad said you were terrified.”

  “Oh, that.” Even I have to admit it was bad. “What else did he say?”

  She taps her chin. “I believe the word he used was hysterical.”

  I take a deep breath. Well, there go all my buddy-buddy feelings about Dad. “I just worked myself up, I think,” I offer.

  “I told him it was probably just a massive release of stress. You’ve been so miserable. To have a fall and a shock like that…”

  I nod. “I guess that makes sense,” I agree tentatively.

  “So what should we do about it?” she asks. My mom, the nurse, the problem solver. “Something to cheer you up. Maybe we need to get you out of the house, make some friends. There might be a summer camp in town.”

  “Camp?” I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not six.” I’ve never been to camp. It seems awful. “Unless it’s an art camp?”

  “Well, it would have to be free, or near enough,” my mother tells me.

  A surge of annoyance jolts me. “Of course it would.” I hate that my parents are broke. How did this happen, anyway? “What were you and Dad doing with your money all those years?” I mumble.

  “Gee, Haley, I don’t know. Living the good life. Champagne and caviar and…Oh, wait. We were paying our mortgage and raising two daughters and sending those daughters to art lessons and paying for sports equipment and making sure they had everything they wanted. Do you know how much a giant roll of paper costs?”

  “I met some people today,” I tell her, offering an olive branch. “They’re going to be sophomores too.”

  “That’s good,” she says blandly, back to playing with the rubber-band ball.

  “They invited me to a bonfire at the lake. I was hoping I could ride my bike over.”

  Her attention is on me again. She looks so tired. “I don’t know….”

  “You’d let me in Chicago.” It comes out kind of whiny.

  “This isn’t Chicago.”

  “Exactly. It’s supposed to be safer here, right?” I offer her a small smile and she returns it wearily.

  “Maybe Shannon can drive you.” Before I can protest, she’s yelling for Shannon. And my mom can yell.

  “Whaaaaat?” Shannon calls from her room, just as loud.

  “You’re taking Haley to the lake tonight to meet some friends.”

  There’s a pause, and then Shannon appears in my doorway. She’s wearing yoga pants and a sports bra. She always looks like she’s about to work out. “Haley doesn’t have any friends here.”

  “I met some future classmates,” I say defensively. “They’re hanging out tonight by the lake. They asked if I wanted to join them, since I’m new and all. They seemed nice.”

  “Sounds like an unwanted pregnancy waiting to happen,” she mutters.

  “Now you’re definitely taking her,” my mom tells Shannon. “And keeping an eye on her.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter,” I say.

  My words are drowned out by Shannon’s loud and probably bogus protest that she has plans. I don’t want her there any more than she wants to be there, but if it means I can go, then fine. Also, irritating Shannon in any way is a plus, and she is obviously super annoyed.

  “What plans do you have, Shannon?” my mom asks, not buying it. “Look, I just worked a twelve-hour shift. Can you just do as I say?”

  Oh, big score for Mom with the guilt. Shannon’s not having any of it, though. She’s already downstairs complaining to Dad. I can hear her voice through the floorboards. My mom gets up to follow. “I’m glad you made some friends,” she tells me on her way out.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I say, hoping that I actually like them once I get to know them.

  And that they like me.

  “IS THIS IT?” Shannon asks as we pull into a makeshift parking lot where a few cars are parked. The scowl on her face deepens.

  I peer through the window. “I guess. I didn’t really get directions.” But there’s only one lake in town, and one lakefront park. The rest of the properties on the water are homes.


  My sister sniffs disdainfully. “Of course you didn’t.”

  It definitely looks like the place. There are a bunch of people around a large bonfire. A few more people are scattered through the park, playing games. I spot a couple of people in the water. It’s late, but the sun is just beginning to set. I sigh. “You’re just mad because I’ve met people before you have.”

  “Yes, I’m sooo jealous,” she tells me, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Don’t be a hater,” I say.

  “Whatever. Hey, I lost that necklace we found. Did you take it?”

  I think of how it was in the chest in the basement before I tripped and fell in. If she’s messing with me, it’s best to play dumb. “Nope,” I lie, rubbing the ring that hasn’t left my finger in two days, wondering if it will mysteriously disappear too. “Maybe the chain broke when you were running.”

  “Volleyball,” she replies.

  “Okay, when you were volleyballing.”

  “No, volleyball.” Her eyes are fixed on something through the windshield, and I follow her gaze. Sure enough, off to the side, there are some people playing volleyball.

  “So you’ll be there, then.” It’s not a question—Shannon would much rather join a group of strangers in a competitive game than make awkward conversation.

  “Yep.” She pulls the mirror over and checks her appearance. “Come get me when you’re sick of the locals.” She looks at me. “You’d better not drink or Mom and Dad will kill me. Then they’ll kill you.”

  “I won’t drink.” I roll my eyes. One time last summer I drank a bunch of peppermint schnapps at Traci’s house and ended up puking when I got home. Apparently, when your vomit smells all minty fresh, people get suspicious. My parents had a fit and I was grounded for a month. I’m not dumb enough to do that again. “Only weed and pills for me.”

  Now Shannon is the one who rolls her eyes. “You’re not nearly as funny as you think you are.”

  I shrug. “Mom thinks I’m funny.”

  This makes her laugh out loud. “Yeah, when your mom’s the only one laughing, you know you’re hilarious.”