Shadows of New York (22 page)

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Authors: Heather Fraser Brainerd

Tags: #Middle Grade Fantasy

BOOK: Shadows of New York

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“Um, no. No epilepsy.”

“Well, that’s good. Of course, you wouldn’t have taken any mood-altering substances, so that’s out.”

“Right. No drugs.”

“Then maybe…no, it couldn’t be that.”

“Couldn’t be what?”

“I don’t want to freak you out or anything.” Her brown eyes intensified.

“Anna, I know that look. What are you thinking?”

“I know you don’t like horror. Or anything…supernatural.”

“Spit it out!”

Anna gave me a look of utmost seriousness. Her flawless, light brown skin flushed slightly with excitement. Whatever thought was running around that brain of hers, it had her pretty jazzed.

“It could have been,” she paused, her intense eyes gleaming, “a paranormal event.”

“A what?”

“A ghost.”

My bark of laughter sounded totally fake even to my own ears. “Yeah, right,” I scoffed. Despite my bravado, a shiver ran down my spine.

Chapter Two

Dropping gracelessly into a chair at the lunch table, I couldn’t believe I’d made it through the first three periods of the day without falling asleep. The first two classes weren’t too bad, but third-period Economics was quite a challenge. Today’s topic had been the effects of corrugated metal on the shipping industry. Mr. Galpin was a nice, older man who liked to entertain the class with lame jokes whenever possible, but no one could make corrugated metal interesting, despite Mr. Galpin’s assertions that the innovation was “slicker than snot on a doorknob.”

Staring dismally at my chicken patty on a bun, I felt a distinct lack of appetite. With nothing better to do, I took a bite and chewed forlornly while my friends arrived at the table in twos and threes.

Oh good, Anna was on her way over and, oh crap, Will Conor glommed onto her and started following her to our table. He was so obviously crushing on her, but she seemed oblivious. Will was a nice guy who had been in our accelerated classes all through junior high. He was good looking, in a nerdy kind of way, tall and lean, with short brown hair that he sometimes wore spiky, and nice green eyes behind cool, retro glasses. If Anna found him the least bit attractive, however, she showed no sign.

Anna sat across from me as usual. Will took the opportunity to sit at the head of the table, with Anna on his left and me on his right. So much for a semi-private conversation with my best friend.

“How are you doing, Sarah?” Anna asked with genuine concern.

“Okay, just tired.”

She put a diet cola on my tray. “Thought you could use the caffeine.”

Now why hadn’t I thought of that? Too tired to think clearly, I thanked her and chugged it.

“So,” Will said, “got any plans for the weekend?” His question seemed a bit premature since it was only Thursday. Maybe he just couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yes, Sarah and I are having a séance,” Anna promptly replied.

Will looked slightly taken aback. “Really?”

“Yes, really. We need to contact the spiritual plane.”

“We do?” I asked nervously, having no desire to do anything of the sort.

“Yes, we do.”

“I don’t think we do,” I said quickly.

“Yes, we do.”

“Uh, sure sounds like fun.” Will sounded totally unsure.

Anna looked slightly annoyed. “It’s not for fun, it’s for research. Though research
can
be fun, of course. Like, right now, I’m researching the Underground Railroad for a history paper, and it’s absolutely fascinating. Well, that’s partially because of the family connection, but still…”

Since this was one of Anna’s favorite topics, I knew that her great-great-great-grandfather, Martin Quincy, had been a conductor on the Underground Railroad. He’d even been a good friend of Harriet Tubman, according to stories passed down through Anna’s family. This was all pretty cool, but the fact that she called schoolwork “fascinating” was a little embarrassing.

“Um…so…what are you researching on the…uh…spiritual plane, exactly?” Poor Will sounded like he regretted bringing up the topic in the first place.

“Well, we have to determine if Sarah’s house is haunted.”

My stomach lurched at the thought of a séance, but I tried to act casual and rolled my eyes. “Anna, I told you, it was just a dream.”

“No, you told me you
thought
it was a dream. It might not have been a dream. We need to rule out the other possibilities. Do you want me to sleep over at your house tomorrow night or Saturday?”

I could tell she wasn’t going to let it go. With a deep sigh, I answered, “Friday. Let’s get this over with.”

“Great! I’ll bring my mom’s old Ouija board.”

Will looked back and forth between us during this exchange. “Do you mind if I come over?” he asked. “It sounds pretty cool.”

“Will, you cannot sleep over at my house.” I can’t deny it was fun watching him squirm a little bit. Why should I be the only one feeling awkward?

His face flushed slightly. “No, I mean, can I help out with the séance part? I’ve seen some of those ghost hunting shows.”

From the look on her face, Anna was clearly about to reject his offer. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, and appeared to be thinking things through. “You know, that would be a good idea,” she finally said.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” I said hurriedly.

“Oh yes, we absolutely need you there,” she told Will.

“Great!” He grinned.

“Why?” I demanded. The whole idea was crazy enough without including Will in this nonsense.

“To rule out the ideomotor effect, of course,” Anna stated matter-of-factly.

“The what?” Will and I asked in unison.

“Subconscious movement of the planchette by one of the participants.”

Will looked to me for clarification. I just shook my head, looking back to Anna for further explanation, which I knew would come.

She took a deep breath and launched in. “Okay, so a Ouija board—or more accurately, a spirit board—has letters, numbers, and maybe a few words on it, right? The triangular object that moves across its surface, pointing to the letters and numbers, is called the planchette. You know how the people using the board have a couple of their fingers lightly touching that little pointer? Well, the ideomotor effect is when one of them subconsciously guides it to spell out a particular message that is supposedly from the spiritual plane.”

Will looked as baffled as I felt. “Uh, how am I supposed to help with the idiot-motor thing?”

Anna graciously let his butchering of her scientific term pass. “I have an idea for that. I think that Sarah and I should close our eyes when we touch the planchette.”

My panic level rose a bit. “Who said I was touching anything?”

“You have to,” Anna explained, “because Will is going to be busy recording the séance with his cell phone. We won’t be able to subconsciously guide the pointer because we’ll have our eyes closed. Will can record the whole thing, zooming in as needed to make sure he gets everything, and then we’ll review it to see what was spelled out on the board, if anything.”

“But I hate being on camera!” Anna knew that my shyness included a fear of being video-recorded. First she insisted on a séance, then she added the presence of a boy, and now she wanted a visual record of the event. My anxiety went up a few more notches.

“Just your hands will be on camera, Sarah. We’ll need a tight shot of the board in order to see what it says. Think you can do that, Will?” She turned her intense gaze on him.

His flush deepened. “Yeah, sure. I can handle it.”

“I don’t know.” Using a skeptical tone, I tried a new approach. “I don’t think my mom will let us get away with this.”

“Oh Sarah, you know your mom will be thrilled that you’re having people over. Isn’t she always trying to get you to socialize more?”

So much for that tactic.

“Besides,” Anna continued, “your mom probably thinks séances are cool. Wasn’t she kind of goth when she was in college?”

“Yeah, she was. We’ve got some hilarious pictures to prove it.” This made me smile a little, despite my inner anxiety.

“All right, then. Tomorrow night it is.” Anna sounded satisfied.

“Yeah, tomorrow night it is,” echoed Will, sounding nervously ecstatic.

With a sigh, I went to the vending machines for another diet cola.

* * * *

My caffeine buzz got me through fifth and sixth periods. Before long, I was back in the cafeteria for study hall. Thankfully, this was the last period of the day. Plus, Nate Spencer was in this study hall on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Maybe I would catch a glimpse of him from afar.

Getting out my French textbook, I tried to get some homework done. I must have stared at the same page for a good five minutes before finally realizing that my tired eyes couldn’t keep the words in focus long enough to actually read them. Propping my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands, I longed to just go to sleep…

“Are you okay?” came a voice on my right.

Lifting my head, I looked blearily in that direction.

Oh, my God! It was him, Nate Spencer, standing right next to my chair.
What should I do?
My mind went into a panicky blur.
I suppose I need to answer him.

“Yeah—” I croaked.

He handed me a bottle of water.
Oh my God! Nate Spencer just handed me a bottle of water! What should I do? Drink it? Yes, drinking it would be good.

Twisting the cap off the brand new bottle, I took a small sip. To my horror, it went down the wrong way. A loud coughing fit ensued. After eventually getting my dorky self under control, I realized that he had sat down beside me, rather than rushing away. He smiled and asked again, “Are you okay?”

I smiled back sheepishly. “Yes. Thank you for the water.”

“It didn’t really seem to help your situation,” he said, looking at me with a gleam in his eyes. “Are you sure you feel all right? You looked really pale.”

“I’m…yeah…um…I’m fine,” I stammered. “Just tired.”

“Late night?”

“No, not really. I just had trouble sleeping.”

He nodded sagely, as if he totally understood sleepless nights. “Well, if you’re sure you’re okay…”

“I am. Totally.”

“Okay, then,” he said, a trace of a smile still playing on his lips. His perfect, perfect lips. “See ya.” He got up and walked away, leaving me breathless.

End of Sampler:
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