The Ghost of Fossil Glen (3 page)

Allie called down the stairs, “Mom! Dad! Can you come up here?”

Her parents came to the bedroom door. “What's up, Allie-Cat?” said her father.

“Look!” said Allie excitedly, pointing to the page in her journal with the words, “I am L.”

Mr. and Mrs. Nichols looked at the book, then gazed at Allie questioningly. “What?” asked her mother.

Allie explained about the peculiar sensation she'd felt at the mailbox and the odd appearance of the book she was using for her journal. She left out the part about the voice, not wanting to worry her parents with the story of her near-disaster in Fossil Glen. She told about leaving the room and returning to find the message.

“Hold on a second,” said her father. “This book just came out of the blue? In the mail?”

“It was in the box when I got home,” Allie said. “It was wrapped like a present, in white tissue paper and red ribbon. My name was written on the paper.”

“I don't understand it,” said Mrs. Nichols. “How did it get there?”

Allie shrugged.

“And you're saying it was completely blank when you left the room for a minute, and then those words somehow appeared?” asked her mother.

“Yes!” Allie nodded. “Pretty weird, huh?”

Allie's parents exchanged a glance. Her mother said, “Well, we know the book didn't come through the mail. Somebody must have put it there.”

“I know, but who?” asked Allie. “And who wrote in it just now?”

“Well, your father and Michael and I were downstairs in the living room,” her mother went on logically. “So the writing must have been in the book all along, and when you flipped through the pages, you didn't see it.”

“I thought of that,” said Allie. “But I'm sure it wasn't there before.”

“Then how would you explain what happened?” asked her father.

“I don't know. How would
you
explain it?” Allie asked.

“I think,” said Mr. Nichols slowly, “it's possible that a certain creative young lady with a desire for excitement might have concocted an interesting story to write about in her journal.” He looked at Allie with a teasing smile. “Is there any chance of that?”

Karen's accusation flashed through Allie's mind:
Pam and I decided we're totally sick of the way you make up stuff all the time
. “No!” Allie nearly shouted. “I didn't make it up!”

“Allie, honey,” said her mother, “your father and I are wondering if maybe your imagination is running away with you.”

“I told you,” said Allie stubbornly. “I didn't make it up.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Allie could tell that her mother and father were sending those invisible parent communication vibes back and forth, deciding who would speak next. Her father cleared his throat and said, “Well. I'm sure there's some kind of logical, rational explanation for all this. Maybe one of your friends left the book and meant to enclose a note or something. Whoever it was will probably let you know. Let's wait and see.”

“Good idea,” Allie said quickly. “Let's wait and see.”

When her parents left the room, Allie sighed. She supposed she couldn't really blame them for their skepticism. Maybe there was, as her father believed, a logical, rational explanation. But Allie
knew
that those words had not been in the book before. She didn't know how they'd gotten there, or why, but she was going to try to find out.

At least, she thought excitedly, her father had given her an idea for her first journal entry. She could write about the strange message. Mr. Henry had told the class to be creative and daring. Well, her entry would be unique—she was pretty sure of that.

Eagerly, using her mother's fountain pen to form her letters as neatly as she could, Allie began to write. When she was finished, she looked at the clock. Eight-fifteen. She could catch the last half of
Teen Twins
if she hurried downstairs.

She turned on the television in the family room. The faces of Stephanie and Jodi, the twins, filled the screen. They were in a school hallway, hiding behind a locker door, watching as another girl opened her locker and looked inside. The girl picked up a note and read it. Her expression showed surprise followed by great happiness. The camera zoomed in on the note, which said, “I love you,” and was signed, “Brian.”

The girl folded the note and placed it carefully in her backpack, closed her locker, and walked down the hall. Her face glowed with pleasure.

The picture shifted to Stephanie and Jodi, who were collapsing with laughter as they emerged from their hiding place. “She fell for it!” Jodi exclaimed.

“Like Brian would ever love
her
!” said Stephanie with a giggle.

Allie frowned. She hadn't seen the beginning of the show, but it appeared that the twins were playing a joke on the other girl. A cruel joke, it seemed to Allie, one that was purposely designed to embarrass their victim. She didn't get it: was it supposed to be funny? She stood up and turned off the television, not really caring to see what happened next.

In the morning, Allie walked downstairs to find Michael and her parents finishing breakfast.

“There's some toast here, Allie-Cat,” said her father.

“Thanks, Dad,” said Allie. Taking her seat, she reached for a piece of toast and asked, “Is it all right if I take a rake and a broom and some trash bags to school for Earth Day?”

Michael banged his cereal spoon on the table enthusiastically. “Earth Day!” he crowed. “Fritzi and me are going to plant flowers today!”

“Fritzi and
I
are going to plant flowers,” Mrs. Nichols corrected gently.

Michael's round face gathered in a scowl. “No!” he protested. “
Not you. Me!
Fritzi said.”

“That's right, honey,” Mrs. Nichols hastened to say. “You and Fritzi are planting flowers. I just meant—Oh, never mind.”

Michael smiled happily. Mr. Nichols turned back to Allie and said, “Sure, go ahead and take whatever tools you need. What are you going to use them for?”

“We're cleaning up the cemetery at Fossil Glen today,” answered Allie.

Mr. Nichols nodded approvingly. “Good idea.”

“If you're going to be carrying all that, why don't you let me give you a ride?” asked Mrs. Nichols.

“Great, Mom,” said Allie. “Thanks.”

“Go brush your teeth, and I'll meet you in the car.”

As Allie and her mother drove past the Stiles house, Mrs. Nichols said, “Why, that's Mr. Curtis's van in the driveway. There must be more furniture to move out.”

Ordinarily, Allie would have been interested in any sign of life at the Stiles house, but she had spotted Karen Laver and Pam Wright walking to school. They were headed toward the place where her mother would pull up to drop her off.

A little knot of anxiety began to form in the pit of Allie's stomach. “Mom,” she said quickly, “this is good enough. Stop here.”

“But, honey, I have to pull into the parking lot to turn around, anyway.” Mrs. Nichols kept driving, right up to the front door of the school, where she stopped.

“Thanks a lot,” Allie said glumly.

“Have a good day, sweetie. And stop by the shop after school if you can. I'd like you to see that desk.”

“Okay,” said Allie. But she didn't move. She calculated that if she stalled for just a minute, Karen and Pam would be inside the building before she got out of the car. Since both girls were in her class, she'd have to face them soon. But it would be better in the classroom, with all the other kids and Mr. Henry around.

“Oh, look,” said Mrs. Nichols, “I see Karen and Pam.” She raised her arm to wave.

“No, Mom. Don't.” Allie sank down low in the seat.

Mrs. Nichols turned to Allie, a puzzled look on her face. “What's the matter? They're your friends.”

“Yeah,” said Allie unhappily. She watched as Karen and Pam disappeared into the building, laughing together.

“Is something wrong?” Mrs. Nichols asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Everything's fine.”

Mrs. Nichols looked at Allie questioningly, and Allie could see that her mother was waiting for a better answer than that. She tried to make her voice breezy and carefree. “Karen told me yesterday that she and Pam were talking about me. She said that, as my friend, she thought she should let me know…”

“Know what, sweetie?”

“That they think I'm a liar,” Allie said quickly, the words coming all at once in a rush.

“Why would they think that?” said Mrs. Nichols indignantly.

Allie shrugged.

“No reason?” asked Mrs. Nichols.

Allie sighed. Finally, in a low voice, she said, “They think I make stuff up. But I don't!”

Mrs. Nichols lifted her eyebrows. “Because sometimes you let your imagination run away with you?” she suggested gently.

Miserably, Allie said, “Well, that's what you and Dad call it, anyway.”

Her mother sighed. “Allie, honey, we've been through this before, haven't we? I know you don't mean any harm when you make up your stories. You get carried away. Like last night, with that business about your journal—” She stopped when she saw Allie's face.

“You think I'm a liar, too, then!” shouted Allie.

Her mother reached over to touch her cheek. “No, sweetie, I just think that—”

A loud bell rang, signaling that students were to be in their homerooms.

“I've got to go,” Allie said.

“I hate to have you go into school so upset, Al. Are you going to be all right?”

Allie nodded.

“We'll talk more tonight,” Mrs. Nichols said. “Okay?”

“Sure, Mom. Bye.” Allie took the tools from the back seat and walked up the path to school, aware that her mother was still sitting in the car, watching her.

Mr. Henry's classroom was humming with excitement and activity when Allie walked in. Rakes, shovels, edging tools, clippers, and trash bags were piled near the door. All the kids were dressed, as Allie was, for working outside. Mr. Henry was wearing jeans, a denim shirt, and worn leather boots.

Allie saw Karen and Pam standing over by the cage that held Butterscotch, the class guinea pig. She took a deep breath and started toward them, but Dub caught her sleeve as she passed his desk. “Did you remember the trilobite?” he asked.

“Yeah!” said Allie, and she reached eagerly into the pocket of her jeans. “Look!”

Dub took the fossil from her hand and whistled softly with admiration. Some other kids came over to see what Dub was looking at and began asking questions.

“What is it?”

“Where'd you get it?”

“Can I see?”

Dub was passing the trilobite around and Allie was explaining what it was, when Karen and Pam joined the group. Karen took a look and wrinkled up her nose. “Oh, it's another one of your little rocks,” she said, sounding bored. “I thought it was something interesting.” Then she sauntered over to her desk as Mr. Henry turned the lights off, then back on, the signal for everyone to stop talking and sit down.

Allie sat at her desk, all the pleasure of showing her fossil draining away.

When the class was quiet, Mr. Henry smiled and said, “Before we head over to the cemetery, I'd like to collect your journals, so would you please pass them forward?” He continued talking while desktops and backpacks were opened, and journals were retrieved and passed forward. “I'll read these tonight and return them to you tomorrow. Any problems or questions about journals before we go?”

Joey Fratto raised his hand. “I forgot mine,” he said.

Mr. Henry thumped his forehead with his palm in mock despair. “Joey, Joey, Joey, how many times have we talked about this?” He paused. “You'll bring it tomorrow?”

Joey nodded.

“Without fail?”

Joey smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.”

Mr. Henry made his face very stern, but everyone in the class knew he was only pretending to be mad. “
Or else
. And you don't want to find out what I mean by that, do you?”

Joey shook his head. He was grinning, but Allie was willing to bet that Joey would remember his journal the next day. Mr. Henry had a way of getting kids to follow the rules without making a big deal about it.

“Anyone else?” Mr. Henry asked.

Karen raised her hand. “You said nobody is going to read them except you, right?”

“Class, we all took the oath of secrecy, didn't we?” said Mr. Henry.

“Yes,” everyone chorused.

“So your journals are safe in this room,” said Mr. Henry. “And they'll be safe at my house as well, because Hoover is much more interested in chewing up pillows and drinking out of the toilet bowl than in reading journals. Okay?”

Several kids laughed, and Karen looked satisfied. Hoover was Mr. Henry's golden retriever. Mr. Henry told stories about her all the time, and even brought her to school sometimes. She was the official class mascot.

Mr. Henry was young and unmarried and, Allie thought, handsome. The kids were always trying to worm information out of him about his girlfriend. He always answered by saying, “Ah, you mean Miss Hoover,” and began recounting one of his dog's latest misdeeds or amazing accomplishments.

He'd told them, for instance, that, the week before, she had dug up his neighbor's entire flower garden and proudly presented Mr. Henry with the prize she'd been seeking: an old cow bone. She had been named after the Hoover vacuum cleaner, because she'd sucked up a large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese when she was a mere seven weeks old.

“All right,” said Mr. Henry, rubbing his hands together in eager anticipation. “Let's get going. Will the team captains please come up front?”

Five students, including Karen, went to the front of the room.

“Trash captain?”

Julie Horwitz stepped forward.

“All trash collectors, raise your hands.”

The four members of Julie's team raised their hands. Mr. Henry ran through each team to make sure everyone knew what to do.

There was a team in charge of removing fallen leaves and twigs. The debris would be carried to the school grounds, where the class, as another project, was going to create a compost pile.

There was a team to prepare a new flower bed along the cemetery fence, and another to plant and water the flowers. The biggest team was Karen's. Allie was on it, along with Pam, Dub, Joey Fratto, and Brad Lewis. They were in charge of clearing dirt and overgrowth from the graves, and cleaning and straightening the headstones.

“Okay,” said Mr. Henry. “Let's go. And remember how we talked about acting respectful when you're in the cemetery.”

“We don't want to stir up any ghosts,” said Dub.

Allie shivered as two light but chilly hands touched her shoulders. She turned quickly to see who had come sneaking up behind her. There was no one there. She glanced around to see if anyone else appeared to have seen or felt anything unusual. But her teammates were busily gathering their tools.

Something very strange was happening, Allie thought. And, for some reason, it was happening to
her
.