FINNED (The Merworld Water Wars) (7 page)

“A haunted…room? Just a room?” I asked incredulously. Haunted houses I’ve heard of, but a haunted room? Yeah, not so much. “I really need to find Trey.”

“If you’re scared, then by all means…”

“I’m not scared.”

“Well, go in,” she said, opening the whispering door. “Dare you.”

Not that word again! “Fine. What do I do?”

“Walk through, then exit out the door on the opposite side of the room.”

As soon as I walked in, Katrina slammed the door shut. “Yeah, really spooky—a rubber mask and a giant plastic shark with cardboard teeth. You’re gonna have to do better than that, Kat,” I shouted after a couple of lame objects jumped out at me. “Is this all you’ve got?”

Nearing the exit, a hazy blue light caught my eye; sheer black curtains that billowed without a breeze barely concealed its glow. As I approached the curtains, I could hear distressing cries growing louder and louder. I felt drawn to the blue glimmer and desperate, terrifying moans. When I parted the curtains, a ghostly reflection stared at me from within an ornate porthole mounted on the wall, only it wasn’t my face looking back at me—it was that of a girl, silently screaming. Her espresso skin was pale and chalky, her violet eyes wide with terror. Directly above her image, a blood-red stone glistened from within the frame, like the eye of the devil. Soon, more faces joined her, but they were partially obscured by foggy wisps. They kept floating around, fading in and out of focus, restlessly looking over their shoulders, as though something or someone tried to pull them away from me. Their eyes pleaded for help, while their muffled screams filled my ears with static I wished I could comprehend.

“What do you want?” I asked, placing a hand on the porthole.

Misty gray claws shot out from inside the porthole, grabbed my shoulders, and pulled me against the ice-cold glass.

“I am you…you will be me,” they whispered in my ear.

My strength waned. Pure panic filled my mind, and my last shred of sanity rapidly vanished. The terror was so loud in my head, I couldn’t hear my screams. Just when I thought I would melt through the glass, strong, warm arms lifted me off the ground. Soon, the blue light faded from sight, and I felt the cushion of a chair underneath me. I heard the laughter of partygoers in the distance.

“Trey,” I said, feeling very dizzy.

“It’s not Trey.”

I opened my eyes and gazed in wonderment at the concerned face of Troy Tombolo.

“You? You pulled me out of that room?”

“I heard your screams,” he said. Only now did I notice he had been holding my hand. I immediately yanked my hand from his. “We need to get you home.”

“Where’s Trey?”

“I don’t know. Someone said he left.”

“He wouldn’t leave me.”

“Let me take you home,” he said, offering me his hand.

With Trey gone, I knew I had no other option. “Fine, but I don’t want you to.”

I initially ignored his attempts to help me up, but could hardly refuse when I nearly fell to the ground. He effortlessly scooped me up and carried me to his truck. I wish I could say his arms repulsed me, that the beat of his heart failed to quicken my own, and that his lips didn’t entice me after the hurtful words they spoke earlier, but I cannot. I hated myself because of it.

Neither of us spoke a word the entire way home. When he stopped in front of my house, I immediately exited his truck and ran to the front door. I wanted away from him, from his smell, from the warmth of his body…from my feelings. I wanted to sit by my bedroom window, stare at the sea, and not think about the porthole faces, Troy, or the fact that I saw Trey’s lonely jeep in Katrina’s driveway when we left, still waiting for its owner…still empty…just still.

Chapter Six

Visits With Mr. Campbell, Troy, & a Seal Pup

November: Giving thanks & wondering why

Monthly Life Caption: Confusion All the Way Around

Mood: Confused, sad, questioning

Eating: Not much (shock)

Music: The Great American Songbook (my comfort music, thanks to my great-grandfather)

November 18
^th
: Still no sign of Trey
. Trey has been missing since Halloween. I had hoped for a true Halloween night, and it didn’t disappoint. Trey was gone, and my life was suddenly crap. I’m missing everything about him: his humor, his support, his desire to make me smile. My grades have even slipped, and my mom, bless her, has avoided going all helicopter on me. Instead, she has been using every nosy administrative busybody at her disposal to learn new tidbits on Trey’s whereabouts. According to Vice Principal Smarmy, Trey’s grandfather informed the school about his grandson’s habit of wandering off on fishing excursions. Bull crap! He never, ever would have left me alone at a Ravenflame-happy party. Oh, and on top of everything, those porthole people have been haunting my dreams since Halloween, leaving me disoriented and drenched in sweat during the witching hour.

Trey’s disappearance hasn’t only affected the Normals. The Fairhairs appeared much more anxious than usual. By contrast, the Ravenflames had this silent fury boiling just beneath the surface. Interestingly, their red streaks appear brighter. The tension between the two groups has never been greater, particularly during lunch.

Today, the cafeteria could pass as a graveyard on the brink of becoming a war zone, where the Fairhairs were like the scared humans and the Ravenflames were bloodthirsty zombies.

“I’m going to take time from my busy thinking schedule and get in the way of yours. You’re too quiet. You usually talk so much I want to claw my ears off,” said Polly. “And you’re not eating. Humans need food, even when their butts don’t.”

“Zero appetite,” I said, sipping a little milk.

“Of all days, I guess today would be the toughest,” said Meikle.

“What’s today?” I asked.

“Did you sniff too much incense again? She wouldn’t know about today. We weren’t allowed to disclose our birthday with anyone in the institution, unless we wanted to lose our vocal chords,” said Polly.

“I know that!” Meikle snapped. “I just thought he might have told you by now, Marina. Today is Trey’s birthday.”

“I had no idea. He never said anything. I broke the birthday rule on day one, talking about that dang Snitch Demon date. Pavlov’s dog, I’m not. I’m glad you told me, Meeks.”

Still completely in her own world of mind dump, Polly said, “We could exchange bodily fluids, but not birthdays, or breast size, for that matter. My breast size is obviously of the jealous-causing kind. And I’d tell you when my birthday is, but I’d rather have you throw me a surprise party with cake and presents…and a tiara.”

“You really don’t get how monumentally screwed up you are, do you?” said Meikle. “You told me all about your birthday last year, along with some bonus details no one wanted to know.”

“Yes, but I haven’t told Marina. Meeks won’t share her birthday. Too cheery a day for her. She probably thinks presents and cake are evil.”

“Presents are evil. There’s always a price attached to them, and I don’t mean of the sticker variety. Cake, I like.”

“We don’t care, Meeks,” said Polly. “You know, Trey has disappeared before, usually to follow the scent of a lie. He always comes back.”

“According to the tea leaves, this time is different,” said Meikle.

“Tea leaves are a fool’s future-reading tool. Marina had the only reliable talent, but she chucked it away with her temper,” said Polly, throwing up her arms.

“Have either of you been to see his grandfather?” I asked, barely able to think.

Meikle and Polly looked at each other warily.

“Um, well, he’s—” started Polly.

“Completely batshi—”

“Meeks! That’s ridiculously rude. Even I’m not that insensitive. Surprisingly. We stopped by a few days ago. After five knocks, he finally answered the door. He smelled like a Sewer Drip Demon, and he had a shotgun hanging on his arm like a scary mercenary…an old, stinky, crazy mercenary,” said Polly.

“Y’all, he does have PTSD. Remember? Trey was really worried about him while we were in the institution. Apparently, it’s pretty bad,” I said.

“Pitsid?” asked Polly with a completely clueless look on her face.

I stared at her blankly before doing a little forehead dive into the table. “I can’t believe you said that,” I said, banging my head against the table.

“Not Pitsid! PTSD,” said Meikle, aghast. “Posttraumatic stress disorder. Trey’s grandfather was in the military. Ring a bell?”

“Not really, no,” said Polly airily.

“Just wow. Anyway, yeah, I think his PTSD is getting worse or something. His eyes kept darting back and forth, and he kept muttering, ‘They’re coming, get away,’” said Meikle dramatically.

“Who’s coming?” I asked.

“Dunno. He slammed the door on us and wouldn’t come back out,” said Polly, shrugging her shoulders.

“I think a visit with Trey’s grandfather is in order—today, after classes,” I said.

“Don’t forget to put a clothespin on your nose,” said Polly.

Preventing a worrywart-Mom-meltdown was critical, so I stopped by admissions after lunch to tell her about visiting Trey’s grandfather.

It took every ounce of patience I had to sit through the rest of my classes. The second I heard the foghorn bell after English, I bolted past Troy—who has been attempting to talk to me every afternoon since Halloween (attempts I happily ignore)—grabbed junk from my locker, and headed for Trey’s house.

Downtown Saxet Shores was aflutter with villagers roaming from doorways to ladders, hanging all sorts of merry decorations for the upcoming holiday season. Trey was right—everything looked so breathtakingly jolly.

Working to keep my emotions in check, I finally made it to 41 Valleta Lane. The old house looked weathered and abandoned. Large plywood sheets covered the front windows. Climbing the porch steps, I could hear movement coming from behind the front door.

“Mr. Campbell? I’m a friend of Trey’s from The Helena Hambourg House for Maladies. I was hoping we could talk,” I said after ringing the doorbell and receiving no answer. “Please, Mr. Campbell! He disappeared during Katrina Zale’s Halloween party, and I’m just trying to find out where he went. I’m worried about him.”

No answer.

“All right, I’ll go. Sorry to have bothered you,” I said, turning to leave, but before taking a step, a hand grabbed my backpack and yanked me into the house. “Crashing to the dirty floor wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked to talk.”

“Sorry. Had to be sure,” muttered Trey’s grandfather. Polly and Meikle were right—he looked completely mad.

“Be sure of what exactly?” I asked, getting up off the gritty floor.

“That you were a friend. Marina Valentine. Am I right?” he asked, swiftly turning to peek through cracks in the plywood.

“Yes. Do you know what happened to Trey? He’s not fishing, is he?”

“No, he’s not fishing, but I don’t know where he is,” he said, once again whipping around to look outside.

“What’s going on? Why are you so frightened?” I gently asked.

His face perked up, as though he heard something in the distance. Sniffing the air, he said, “They’re coming, get away.”

“Who’s coming?”

“They are.” He shuffled forward, grabbed my wrist, and shoved something into my hand.

I looked at the object he gave me and immediately recognized the silver owl. “This is Trey’s luck charm. He always wore it.”

His grandfather nodded. “He’d want you to have it. Oh, they’re coming, get away,” he said, shoving me backward.

“Please, who’s coming, and where’s Trey?”

“They are. Trey’s hiding. He knows things. He has discovered the secret.” Mr. Campbell flipped around, grabbed his gun, and ran to the window, but he didn’t have to check—this time I heard something outside. “They’re here.”

“Mr. Campbell? Open the door. We just want to talk with you!” shouted Vice Principal Anderson.

“What’s Mr. Anderson doing here?” I asked.

“Shhhh. They know you’re here! Come, come,” he whispered, urging me to follow him into a back bedroom.

Hesitantly, I followed him into a room covered in newspaper clippings, calendars, and books open to pages on the Loch Ness Monster, the Kraken, and various sea beasts. This was Trey’s room.

“Listen! Listen! Something’s happening in this town—something horrible. Trey knows. You are in danger.” A loud boom distracted him.

“MR. CAMPBELL!” yelled Mr. Smarmy.

“Are they inside?” I asked, alarmed.

“Out the window! Stay along the houses. Take a right at the first street. Keep between houses until you get home.”

“What about you? What will they do to you?”

“I’m an old man. I need to help my grandson any way I can. Please, find a way out of this town,” he said, shoving me out of the window.

I crashed to the ground, landing flat on my back.

“Run!” he yelled.

As soon as I turned down the first street, I heard Mr. Campbell scream. I sprinted all the way home and climbed through my bedroom window just in time to hear my mom knock on the door.

Throwing off my coat and bag, I shouted, “Come in!”

“What are you doing in here, pumpkin?”

“Just working out,” I said, wiping sweat from my face.

“How did your visit go with Mr. Campbell?”

“Um, fine. No news of Trey, though. Mom, did you tell anyone I was going to see him?”

“Don’t think so…wait, yes, I did tell someone. He wondered why you left school so quickly.”

“Who wondered?”

“Mr. Anderson.” Suddenly, Mr. Campbell doesn’t sound so crazy. “Anyway, whatever you and Mr. Campbell talked about must have done the trick.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I got a call from Mr. Anderson just now. Apparently, Mr. Campbell found Trey! He said Grandpa Campbell has decided to join Trey on his fishing trip!”

“What about school? Wouldn’t Mr. Smar—Anderson—require Trey to come back for school?” I asked, my stomach churning.

“Actually, he’s going to make up his exams over Christmas break. Why don’t you look happier?”