Moby Clique (14 page)

“No. This one is about a pirate ghost, on this very island.”

“Pirates aren’t scary,” Blade says, unimpressed.

I think back to the ones I saw in the forest. The ones that kidnapped the Bard student. Pirates definitely can be scary.

“Lindsay was the one who heard the story, she said a teacher told it to her,” Parker says.

My ears perk up. Teacher? Hana catches my eye. She knows this is important, too. If a teacher had been telling Lindsay a story, then it’s probably true. And if it’s a teacher like William Blake, then he’s been manipulating Lindsay to get what he wants. Blake went a little crazy last semester and tried to bring about the apocalypse. Blake hears voices, and not all of them are friendly.

“Who?” I ask.

Parker shrugs. “I don’t remember.”

“Think, Parker. Who did she say it was?”

“I don’t
know,
God, and anyway, who cares?” Parker rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know why this is a big deal. Of course, she has no idea said teachers are ghosts in the first place. Or how what Lindsay said could be a bigger clue in her disappearance. For the first time, I wonder if maybe Parker wasn’t behind Lindsay’s escape into the forest. Did a teacher put her up to it? I feel a cold hardness in my stomach. If so, then this is even worse than I thought. Hana and I exchange glances. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing.

“Do you want to hear the story or not?” Parker asks, still peeved.

“No,” Samir says.

“Yes,” Hana, Blade, and I all say at once.

“Fine, story it is,” Parker says, clapping her hands together. “Okay, so, like, two hundred years ago or whatever, this island was a place where a pirate named Peg Leg hid his ship and his treasure. Now, Peg Leg was a particularly nasty pirate. He lost his leg in a gunfight and was still pretty ticked off about it. So whenever he would catch prisoners on his ship, he’d cut off their legs with his rusty saw to get them to talk.”

“Rusty saw?” Samir asks. “So they’d get their legs cut off
and
get tetanus? That’s just cold, man.”

Parker glares at Samir, but continues her story.

“He’d throw the legs overboard and, with all the blood and everything, sharks would come to eat them.” Parker’s eyes gleam in the firelight. She seems to be really relishing the gross bits of this story. Why I find this surprising, I don’t know. It’s Parker, after all. “And when the sharks came, Peg Leg would throw his prisoners overboard, too, so that they would be devoured. Alive.”

“Is this a pirate or a James Bond villain?” Samir asks.

Blade half laughs, half snorts. Parker ignores them both.

“Peg Leg carried a rusty old saw with him wherever he went. He used this rusty saw to cut off prisoners’ legs. It was said he even slept with it by his side, and if anyone tried to take it, he’d cut off their fingers.”

“Gross,” Hana says.

“But Peg Leg was eventually captured by the British Royal Navy, and they hung him and most of his crew for piracy.”

“I’m guessing that’s not the end of Peg Leg,” I say.

“Well, the odd thing is that they never found his rusty saw. Some say he buried it. Some say he hid it, but they never found it. Rumor has it that he and his crew haunt this very island,” Parker says. “And that every full moon, they go out looking for prisoners. Peg Leg’s ghost and his famous saw were reunited, and he uses it to this day.”

I can’t help but wonder if this legend and the pirates I saw last night are connected. Could it be that they’re part of a ghost story? I wonder. Still, I don’t remember any of them having a peg leg. Or a saw. But they were taking prisoners—the Bard student. I swallow, hard. Does that mean they plan to slice and dice him with a rusty old saw? I shiver and hug myself, hard. I really, really wish Heathcliff were here. Ryan looks at me across the fire. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. And I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about figuring it out.

“At least it’s not a full moon,” Samir interjects. He’s looking up into the sky, which is covered by clouds. I can’t see the moon at all. But then, as if on cue, the clouds above our heads part, revealing most of the top of a full moon.

“You were saying?” Hana says.

“Whatever, ghost stories are all about the full moons,” Blade says. “But this one sounds far-fetched even for me to believe. I mean, ghost pirates? Is this an eighties flashback to
The Goonies
or what?”

I glance at Blade. Of course she’s not scared. Very little scares her. Besides, she didn’t see the pirates firsthand, like I did.

“I knew someone who saw Peg Leg,” Parker insists. “Two years ago, I knew this guy who went out into the woods with his girlfriend, you know, to make out. It was a full moon that night, and the two were getting it on, thinking no one was around. But then they heard the footsteps.”

Pirates were here two years ago? I shudder.

“So the girl gets spooked and she insists on going back. But the guy doesn’t want to leave. And then the girl screams, because she thinks someone was trying to take her backpack, and they both start running to campus, right? When they get there, the guy is really p.o.’d because he didn’t get any, and that’s when the girlfriend looks at him and screams.”

Parker takes a dramatic pause, the light from the campfire making her face look distorted and slightly ghoulish.

“Because, hanging from his backpack,” Parker says, serious, her eyes sharp as she looks at each one of us in turn, “was a rusty saw.”

Nineteen

We’re all silent
for a long moment, and then Blade breaks the tension by bursting out laughing.

“You call
that
a ghost story?” Blade wheezes. “Please!”

“Um, yeah, that was lame,” Hana adds.

“Oh, totally lame,” Samir chirps, even though he looks a little unnerved. Glad I’m not the only one. “Total hook-in-the-car-door ripoff.”

“Now, I could tell you a
serious
ghost story,” Blade adds.

“No!” Samir and Hana and I say at once.

“I think we’ve had enough ghost stories for one night,” I add.

“Fine, suit your weenie selves,” Blade sniffs, and then settles under her blanket. Within minutes, she’s snoring. Nothing scares that girl. Or keeps her from a good night’s sleep.

“She can sleep through anything,” I tell Hana. Which, unfortunately, is not the case for me.

Between Parker’s ghost story and the fact that Heathcliff hasn’t come back, I’m not much in the mood for sleep. I lay awake for what feels like hours. Before I came to Bard, ghost stories never scared me. Of course, now that I’m here, I know that ghosts are very, very real.

After lying in the cold for hours, I somehow drift off to sleep, only to wake again with the distinct impression something is wrong. I sit up and blink back sleep, only to find that the fire has gone out. It’s still dark and I shiver, wrapping the blanket closer around my shoulders. Somewhere nearby an owl hoots, above my head the clouds part, and the full moon gleams above my head, casting a silvery light across everything.

I look around me and see that I’m alone at the burned-out campfire. No Heathcliff. No Ryan. No Parker. No Samir, Hana, or Blade.

What in the world…?

And then I hear the sound of footsteps nearby in the woods, somewhere over in the dark where the Indian burial ground is, and the chill that’s outside seeps inside my chest and I shiver. Could it be Heathcliff? Or Ryan? Or those strange men I saw in the woods? A branch snaps and I jump a little. I don’t feel like waiting around by myself to figure out who it is. I slowly creep away from my blanket and head to the woods, where I take cover behind a large tree. I scan the cemetery, looking for any sign of movement, anything to explain the sound of footsteps. I think I see a shadow move here and there, but I can’t quite make out if it’s a person or not.

Another branch cracks, but this time the sound comes from behind me. I whip around, my eyes scanning the dark. I want to ask if someone’s there, but my voice dries up in my throat and I’m not sure where to hide. Quickly, I duck into the bushes, holding my breath. My heart is thumping so hard against my chest I think it might pop out.

Okay, I tell myself, I’m going to feel so stupid when it turns out that this is Heathcliff or Ryan or Samir. I’m going to feel so…

My thoughts disappear, as through the bushes I see a boot step in front of me. It’s black and well worn, but that’s not what catches my eye. Instead of having a pair, the man’s other leg is…a wooden peg.

Peg leg? Seriously? Parker’s ghost story pirate?

I freeze. My pulse quickens and my heart thumps loudly in my chest. I’m praying Peg Leg just moves on. I’m pretty attached to both my legs, thanks. I don’t want either one sawed off.

But then the unthinkable happens. Two strong arms dive into the bush and grab me and suddenly I’m struggling and screaming.

And then, inexplicably, I’m face-to-face with Ryan.

“You were having a nightmare,” he says, and I realize he has both hands on my shoulders.

I look around. I’m lying down right where I fell asleep and the fire is still burning. I let out a long breath. Peg Leg was just a dream. A stupid Parker dream.

“Are you okay?” Ryan asks, looking concerned. “You were shouting.”

“I’m fine,” I say, feeling suddenly very embarrassed. It’s bad enough to have my ex-boyfriend see me with bed head, but he’s also now a witness to my crazy sleep rantings. Who knows what I said? Maybe I shouted out that I still loved him. But, of course, I don’t actually. Do I? Looking at those perfect blue eyes, I’m not so sure anymore. “What did I say?”

“Nothing. You were just moaning and then shouting. Nothing I could understand,” Ryan says. He still hasn’t removed his hands from my shoulders. Ryan is staring at me a bit too intently. It’s clear that he’s got something else besides friendship on his mind.

“So Lindsay likes you?” I say, feeling suddenly uncomfortable as I try to steer his blue gaze away from me. “And I just want to say that it’s okay with me, I mean, if you like her, too.” Of course, I am totally lying. It’s
not
okay if he likes her. Even if he is my ex.

A smile dances around the corners of his mouth. He’s amused by the idea, clearly. “Did Lindsay tell you that the only thing we talk about is you?”

“Me?” I don’t have to act surprised. I am. Ryan leans forward and brushes a bit of hair out of my eyes. He looks at my hair, then my forehead, then my eyes, and finally settles on my lips.

“You know that I’m not even close to being over you,” Ryan tells me softly. He puts his hand behind my head and draws me closer.

I’m full of conflicting emotions. Do I want to kiss him? Well, of course. Who wouldn’t want to? His picture is practically under the entry for “gorgeous” in
Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary.

But still, I can’t help but think this seems to be moving a little fast—come to think of it, just like all my interactions with Ryan. They always move at light speed. And I always jump in with two feet only to find out he’s holding something back from me. Like the fact that he never told me what happened with his ex, the one who died. That, even more than the virginity question, really came between us last semester. Because I pretty much gave up everything—even my own identity—to be his girlfriend. I went from being Miranda Tate to Ryan’s Girlfriend pretty much overnight, and I don’t know if I’m ready to jump back into a relationship where I’m the one who gives up everything and Ryan gets to hold back.

And, besides, I remember with a start, he’s the one who told Parker I was a virgin.

“Wait—Ryan,” I say, putting a hand on his chest. “Don’t.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Have you been talking to Parker about us? Because she sure knows a lot.” I can’t bring myself to say “she knows I’m a virgin” out loud because it sounds so silly. My eyes dart over to where Parker is sleeping, although I don’t see her. Maybe she’s gone off to the woods to use the bathroom. I don’t really care. I’m just relieved she isn’t here to intrude.

Ryan looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry, Miranda. I didn’t mean to tell her, but she’s a good listener and I needed someone to talk to.”

Parker? A good listener? What planet is Ryan on?

“Sorry, not good enough,” I say, shaking my head. “If you want to tell her more things than you tell me, then maybe it’s her you should be dating.”

“Miranda, that’s totally wrong,” Ryan says, sighing and running his hand through his hair. “I don’t tell her things I don’t tell you.”

“What about Rebecca? She said you talk about her all the time.”

That name hangs in the air between us, heavy and hard.

Ryan looks like he’s backed into a corner. “You really want to know about her? About what happened?”

“Of course I do.”

Ryan sighs again. He knows there’s no way out. “Fine.” He pauses, then swallows. This is hard for him, I can tell.

“I’m listening,” I say.

“I had been dating Rebecca for five months. She was, uh, my first.”

“First girlfriend?”

“First everything,” Ryan says.

This is a surprise. I didn’t know Ryan lost his virginity to Rebecca. And that he’s telling me this is really amazing. Usually guys never admit they had virginity to lose.

“But she wasn’t a good girlfriend,” Ryan continues. “She cheated on me. She drank a lot. She wasn’t the perfect girl everyone thought she was.”

Given that she was one of Parker’s friends, it doesn’t surprise me.

“That night, she had had way too much to drink, but she wanted to drive. I told her no, that I would drive, because I hadn’t been drinking. This made her furious, but eventually I got her in the front seat. But then she started telling me that she had been sleeping with Connor, my best friend. She threw it in my face.”

Ouch. “Oh, Ryan. I’m sorry.”

“That’s when I broke up with her, and then she started to get physical. She started hitting me. Scratching at my face. I was afraid she was going to make us crash, so I shoved her.”

I can’t imagine Ryan raising his hand to anybody, but apparently he had, and to his own girlfriend. I’m not sure how I feel about that, but I shove the thoughts aside.