Once Was a Time (9 page)

Chapter 16

“Melanie tells me your first day of school went well,” Keith said to me over supper that night.

“I suppose so.” I cast about for something positive to say. All I came up with was, “I'm hopeless at American history.”

For some reason this made Melanie and Keith laugh. We were eating in front of the television, which, I'd come to realize from the two weeks I'd lived with them, was where they always ate dinner. They had a big dining room with a long table, but I had never seen them use it. We mostly ate takeaway food. Tonight we were having something called burritos. They were quite nice.

Before Mum left, she used to cook for us every night. She made a lovely Sunday roast, and she knew how to make a ration card stretch. But after she left, we more often than not ate plain jam on bread, or whatever Justine brought home from the fish and chip shop. So I didn't mind the takeaway at Melanie and Keith's. It was better than what I'd grown used to.

“What are you thinking about doing for extracurriculars?” Melanie asked.

I stared at her blankly. I thought about saying “Oh,” as usual, but it didn't seem like it would fit here.

“She means after-school activities,” Keith explained. “Like soccer.”

Over the past two weeks, I had learned two things. One, “soccer” was what Americans in the future called “football.” Two, Penelope had been an absolute soccer champ. What I did not learn, because I had already known it, was that I was rubbish at sport and would not be following in Penelope's footsteps any time soon.

“Must I have extracurriculars?” I asked.

“You don't
have
to,” Keith began.

“But it's a good idea,” Melanie finished. “Especially since you're new in town. Activities are a wonderful way to make friends. And it will make you well-rounded.”

I didn't know what “well-rounded” meant, exactly, but I was fairly certain I did not want to be it.

“Plus,” Keith added, “you don't really want to spend every afternoon hanging around with us old folks, do you?”

It occurred to me then that maybe
he
did not want to spend every afternoon hanging around with
me
.

“You could join the school band,” Melanie suggested. “Do you play an instrument?”

I shook my head. “But my mum sings,” I blurted out. I didn't know why. It was true, though, wasn't it? The obituary had said that it was true.

Melanie and Keith glanced at each other quickly. I had told them almost nothing about my parents, and I could tell that they had been trying hard not to ask too much, not to push me. I could almost see them filing this fact away with the few others that they had:
Charlotte is from England, she's ten years old, and her mother sings.

“Dance classes?” Melanie offered next. “Ballet or something?”

“Chess team?” Keith said.

“Oh, honey, be serious. Do you think the girls are going to be friends with the new kid on the chess team?”

“Mostly I just like to read,” I said. I thought about adding
and play pretend
, but I didn't. “Can't I read for my extracurricular?”

Melanie just shook her head, turned back to the television, and unmuted
Beach Bums
, her favorite program.

The question of extracurriculars was still bothering me after school the next day, when I stopped by the library to say hello to Miss Timms and get a new book.

Today Miss Timms was a million places at once: picking up magazines that had been left on the ground, showing a young woman how to look for a new job on the computer, and trying to help an old man find a book with print big enough that he could read it without his glasses. I followed her around like a little puppy.

“I'm sorry to be so busy today, hon,” she said as she hurried down an aisle of books, straightening spines as she went. “Now that school is back in session and everyone is home from summer vacation, I'm finding it really hard to get everything done. There's just not enough time! Anyway, not your problem. How are you liking school?”

I shrugged. Today Dakota had got new pencils, and Kianna, Sydney, and I had to spend most of the day admiring them. They were imported, Dakota told us. From Japan.

“I feel you,” Miss Timms agreed, even though I hadn't spoken. “Settling into a new school is never easy. My dad was in the military when I was growing up, so we moved four times before I was even your age! When I was a teenager, I went to boarding school just so I wouldn't have to deal with packing up my bags and trying to make new friends every two years. It's hard.”

“Not only that,” I said, “but Melanie and Keith told me I need to have extracurriculars. Like soccer. Or the chess
team.”

“Well,” Miss Timms said thoughtfully as she restarted a computer that wasn't working properly, “that's not a bad idea. Activities are a good way to make friends with similar interests to yours.”

I frowned. I'd expected that Miss Timms would be on my side. She often seemed like the one person who was. “But I never had to have extracurriculars at home. I don't see why I should start now.”

“What did you do at home, then?” Miss Timms asked.

“I read books, of course.” I sighed. “I reckon
Melanie
and Keith just want me out of the house so they don't
have to watch me all
the time. Not that they
do
have to watch me all the time, even if I was there. But I think they
feel
like they do. I wish I could just stay here with you all
day.”

Miss Timms paused. It was the first time I'd seen her stop moving since I got to the library that day. “That's a great idea, hon,” she said. “Do you want to work here?”

“At the library?” I felt my eyes grow wide.

“Yes. You'd be a big help to me. You could take care of the shelving when I'm too busy to do it. I can even teach you how to check out books. That would free me up enormously to work on some of my bigger projects that I can't seem to ever find the time for. And fund-raising, obviously.” She made a face. “I feel like half my job is fund-raising sometimes. The depressing half. Anyway, I couldn't pay you very much, I'm afraid, but I could give you a small stipend. What do you say?”

My mouth was hanging open a little. “You'd trust me with all that?”

“Charlotte,” Miss Timms said, leaning in closer. “When it comes to books, I trust you one hundred percent.”

“I would love to,” I said. “I would love, love,
love
to work here!”

Miss Timms chuckled. “Excellent! Then all we need to do is get permission from your foster parents.”

How odd, I thought, that these two near-strangers would be able to stop me from doing something that I wanted so badly, just because they were grown-ups and somebody had told them that they were in charge.

But Melanie and Keith didn't say no. They said if working at the library was what I wanted my extracurricular to be, they would give me their full support. (Then they added that if I ever decided I
did
want ballet lessons, after all, I should just tell them.) So I went to the library almost every day after school. I got better and better at using the
Internet. I
learned how to read the labels on books to figure out where every one belonged. Soon I could answer almost every question about where to find books on different subjects.

After I'd been in Sutton for nearly two months, going to school, working at the library, and quietly fitting in, I gathered the courage to ask my new friends if they would hold a séance with me, like the kids I'd read about in that book. “Wouldn't it be brilliant if we could conjure an actual
ghost
?” I said.

It was recess, and we were sitting back on the Top of the Playground, even though the autumn chill had started nipping at our skin. I'd worried that my friends would respond to the séance as dismissively as when I'd asked if we could play Martians. But instead they loved the idea—even Dakota, who I quickly had learned did not often love ideas unless they were her own.

“A séance! Can we do it right now?” Kianna asked.

“No,” Dakota told her with authority. “We have to do it in the dark, and with a Ouija board or a crystal ball. We have to create an atmosphere that a ghost would be comfortable coming to.”

I didn't know where Dakota had gotten her expertise on séances, but I was glad for it.

“We can do it at my house on Saturday,” Sydney suggested. “We can have a slumber party! I'll ask my mom, but I'm sure she'll be okay with it.”

“And we can order pizza!” Kianna suggested, bouncing up and down.

“And watch a scary movie,” Dakota added.

“And have the séance,” I reminded them. “The séance is the important part.”

On Saturday evening, Keith dropped me off at
Sydney's
house. As Kianna had hoped, Sydney's mom ordered us a couple of pizzas, though we had to share them with Sydney's little sisters, who kept begging me to say “British” things. I was glad the kids at school had already tired of that game. It was boring.

After dinner we watched a movie, though not a scary one, because Sydney's stepdad said that her sisters had to watch with us and it couldn't be anything that would give them nightmares. Dakota whispered to me, “If we unleash a restless spirit into this house, do you think
that
will give them nightmares?”

I shivered.

“Are you scared of ghosts?” Dakota hissed.

I didn't think I was scared of ghosts. But I was terrified of the thought of Kitty being restless, caught somewhere between heaven and Earth.

Once everyone else had gone to bed, it was time for the séance. “We have to be quiet,” Sydney said, “so we don't wake them up.”

“It's almost midnight,” Dakota said, checking her phone. “The witching hour.”

I felt goose pimples break out all down my arms.

The four of us sat in a circle on the floor of Sydney's bedroom, holding hands. We'd turned off all the lights, so I could see my friends thanks only to the streetlamps outside and the night-light casting eerie shadows on the walls. None of us had been able to find a crystal ball, but Kianna put a glass of water in the middle of our circle, because she'd read online that spirits could disturb the water to make their presence known.

“Everyone close your eyes tight,” Dakota ordered. We did. Then she went on, in a deep voice: “Spirits, we welcome you into our home tonight. We wish to communicate with you; we wish to hear whatever you have to tell us. You are safe here.”

I cleared my throat. “Dakota?”

“What?”

“Shouldn't we try to summon a particular spirit? Don't you think that might work better than just calling any random spirit at all?”

“My grandmother!” Kianna blurted out, squeezing my hand. “I want to know how she's doing.”

I took on a deep voice of my own and intoned, “Kitty, are you there? It's me. I'm here.”

“Who's Kitty?” Kianna asked in a whisper, her hand gripping mine even more tightly now.

“Kitty,” I said again, my eyes squeezed shut. “I'm here, Kitty. I'm waiting right here. I want to talk to you. Please,
please
, talk to me. If you're with us, do something to make your presence known. Please.”

A moment passed in silence. I felt a cool air, and a quiet rustling.

I heard Kianna gasp beside me. She pulled her hand away from me.

I opened my eyes to see that the cup in the middle of our circle had been knocked over. Water was spreading across the floor, seeping into the rug, dampening our legs.

Then Kianna started to scream.

Chapter 17

It took more than an hour for everyone to calm down after the séance. Sydney's parents had sprung awake at the sound of Kianna's screaming and had come running into the room in their pajamas. Once they realized that nobody was hurt, and Kianna was just screaming because a glass of water had spilled, they immediately turned from concerned to
annoyed.

“Go to bed,” they told us. “It's late.”

But Kianna wouldn't stop shrieking. “There was a ghost! This house is haunted!” There seemed to be a part of her that was relishing the drama. But I was furious with her.

Kitty had been here. Kitty had come to see me. And Kianna had ruined it all by breaking the circle and panicking. If she'd just stayed still, maybe Kitty would have told me something useful. Maybe I could have begged for her forgiveness. To Kianna this was all some big game. But it was my
life
.

All the commotion woke Sydney's sisters, and they started crying, so their parents left us to comfort them. “
Go. To. Bed
,”
Sydney's stepdad said in an I-mean-business tone before firmly closing the door behind him.

But we didn't follow his orders right away. Dakota kept teasing Kianna that the spirit might come back, and it might want something from her.

“It won't,” I snapped at last, weary of all of this.

“Won't what?” Kianna asked, her voice extra-trembly. “Come back, or want something from me?”

“Either,” I said. “Both. You frightened it away, Kianna, and it's not coming back. Excellent work. Now can we just go to sleep? This séance was a terrible idea.”

“No, it wasn't,” Dakota objected. “I can't wait to tell everyone that we caught an actual spirit from the afterworld. They are going to be
so
jealous.”

Eventually the girls followed my advice, and they fell asleep. It was late, and I imagined they had worn themselves out with all the drama. But I lay on the floor in a sleeping bag and kept staring at the night-light, running through anagram after anagram of anything I could think of, wishing
with all my heart that Kitty's
ghost would come back for me.

When I couldn't lie still anymore, I got up and stood by the window, looking at the empty street. Other than the slight rustling of tree leaves, the view outside the window looked like a photograph, frozen in time.

“There wasn't really a ghost,” a voice whispered.

I turned. It was Sydney, standing next to me, her hair messy from being in bed.

“Yes, there was,” I said, but she shook her head firmly. “How do you know?” I asked softly.

“Because I opened my eyes a little and I saw Dakota knock over the glass with her foot.”

“Really?” I breathed. Sydney nodded. “But . . . why would she do that?”

Sydney shrugged. “To make it more exciting, I guess. And to mess with us, especially Kianna. Don't worry about it. Dakota does stuff like that.”

My heart felt heavy and raw, as if I'd just lost something I hadn't even known I had.

“You really wanted to see a ghost, didn't you?” Sydney asked, looking at me closely.

I shrugged and swallowed hard.

“Did you believe we actually got in touch with a spirit?” Sydney asked, her voice gentle. “I knew Kianna was going to believe it. I'll tell her the truth tomorrow, once Dakota's gone.”

“I didn't believe it,” I told her, finding my voice at last. “Not for a minute. What do you think I am, stupid?” And I went back to my sleeping bag without saying another word.

On Monday, I was back at the library, looking for my next idea for getting back home. One thing I knew was that I wasn't going to hold another séance. Not with those girls, not ever again. But that wasn't going to stop me from trying anything else I could.

Things kept going from there, more of the same and more of the same. School. Friends. Library. Home. Supper. Washing up. Homework. Reading. Bedtime.

Each night Melanie would tuck me into Penelope's pink bed and draw shut Penelope's pink curtains. I would fall asleep hoping as hard as I could not to dream of Kitty.
Tonight, please, tonight at least, don't make me dream of Kitty
. Some nights this prayer worked. But just as often, it did not.

In the morning I would wake up, and the daily pattern would repeat.

In a way it was shocking to me how little anyone asked about where I had come from, or my life before Sutton. The whole town accepted me as if I had always been there. I think some people—like Miss Timms, and my teacher at school—felt that my story wasn't any of their business. And some people—like Dakota—simply weren't interested.

The one person who did push me for information and explanations was Mr. Babcock. Once a week, he came to the house to meet with me. But over time, when I had nothing new to report about either my foster parents or my real parents, Mr. Babcock's visits dropped off, though he always reminded me that I could call him “twenty-four seven” if I needed to.

That was my life, day after day. Then those days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the months into seasons. And just like that, almost three years went by.