Tunnels (4 page)

NOT ALONE

Leaning my crutches against the wall, I stepped through the doorway. The lock was still broken, which made it easy-peasey to go back in. I put the radio in my pocket and was ready to grab it if I needed to.

Pulling my hood over my head to protect me from incoming bats, I turned on the flashlight. I'd remembered to bring my mini-cam so I could document stuff. After all, every great scientist must document.

It was eerily quiet. Kept telling myself if the graffiti shoe guy had wanted to kill us, he could have done it already. Not positive, but I don't think there are any known serial killers who do shoe painting as a hobby.

Shining the flashlight on the walls and ceiling, I searched for more clues and also for the one Evan had seen. It didn't take long to spot it.

"A butt?" I asked myself. "Not so much." I mean it was so clearly a heart, but there it was again. Boys and girls see things so differently.

Now why would someone paint a heart right there?
Hearts mean love, Valentine's Day, St. Valentine.
Or,
I reminded myself,
maybe it
'
s some sort of a clue.
I shrugged and turned my mini-cam on.

"This is October first and I've just entered the tunnel under the Methodist Church. There's no sign of bats or creatures. Clue number one is located around the first corner, about ten feet from the entrance. It's a heart on the ceiling, one of several I've seen recently. Looks like someone used paint to make it." I know, only adults talk like that, but it's the best I could come up with. After all, my video was going to be an official historical document. Or at least go viral. Aiming the camera at the ceiling, I let it auto focus on the heart and hoped I'd gotten a good shot. It was time to keep going. My foot was still pretty sore, so I limped forward.

When I shone the light down the length of the tunnel, I saw another corner coming up. After turning there I'd definitely be headed in the direction of the old Fox Theater. As I got closer, I could hear rumblings coming from the ceiling and knew the afternoon traffic was above me. A loud honk made me jump.

"You okay down there?" My point-man's voice blasted out of the radio.

I jumped again and grabbed the radio from my pocket. My nerves felt prickly and my arm hair stood on end. I answered Evan opposite to what my body was telling me and sounding a lot calmer than I felt. "Yup, so far so good."

It was super dark, so good thing I had a flashlight. Wish there was a crack or two in the street for sunlight to peak through. It'd be a lot less scary. Guess we know the Citrus Grove street makers pave streets well even if they can't find dangerous holes people might fall into.

"What direction are you going?"

"Pretty sure I'm walking in the tunnel which goes under Center Street toward the theater."

"And what part of what you just said is a good idea?" His voice sounded worried instead of sarcastic for once. "Have you forgotten the Lady in Lace has been spotted there?"

Uh, yeah, but I didn't need to be reminded, Mr. Helpful. Supposedly she'd been some actress and her last performance had been at the old Fox Theater—they'd found her dead backstage the next day. Only, don't all old towns have a story just like that? And I'd never been able to find any proof of it in the town records or online. So no proof of the Lady in Lace, but several websites did say Citrus Grove's known as the town with the most ghosts and hauntings in the U.S. Wonder if Evan knew this little fact.

"Hey, I'm hearing crickets. You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm here, just thinking about what you said," I answered. "You don't actually believe in that stuff, do you?" I wasn't going to let a little ghost stop me, so I was trying to convince him as much as myself.

"All I know is they closed the Fox because of her." He was yelling over the sounds of traffic, but it was surprisingly easy to hear him underground.

"I think you've got your facts wrong," I corrected him. "My mom said they closed it because it wasn't earthquake safe." And I knew this was the truth. Many of our oldest buildings were being restored to be made safer and were closed until then.

"It's up to you, honey. You won't catch me making a little visit there." I could hear a huge sigh after he finished talking. He was super big on sighing to show how dense or irritating I was.

"Whatever. I can't get you to sleep with the lights off, so you're not exactly a pillar of fearlessness." I was almost at the end of this stretch of tunnel and something was beginning to look odd. This wasn't good.

"And with that, you're on your own," he grumbled. "Hit me up when you're not so snarky."

There was a click and I hoped he hadn't turned the radio off. It would big-time suck if he was on his way home right now. I still needed to be pushed back to his house before Dad came to pick me up. My foot wouldn't make it if I had to walk with my crutches all the way there. Not the way it was feeling right now.

In the distance, I could see the wall fading in and out of focus. So weird, and I knew it wasn't my eyes acting funny ‘cause I've got twenty-twenty. Shoot, I can see a cute boy two football fields away.

Closer now, I pulled out my camera again. It was trying to auto adjust but couldn't since stuff was all wavy and out of focus—like a mirage or smoke, or like something was moving around in front of it. I felt like running away, but a true detective doesn't quit no matter how much she's ready to pee in her pants.

"Hello?" I whispered, because for some reason that's as loud as my voice would come out. There was no answer. Not sure what I expected because I've never greeted a ghost before. I mean, I've never greeted a smoky haze that just happens to show up in time to hang out with me in a tunnel. Sounds perfectly logical, right?

So since it's all perfectly reasonable, I started walking toward whatever
it
was
.
And
it
smelled pretty funky—kind of like the fake fog we use at school for some of our plays. But that made no sense.

When I got to the corner, the fog became thicker and I tried to wave it away. It was hard to see and it felt like fingers running up and down me. Icky, wet fingers that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

"Get out!" yelled a man's voice.

I screamed and froze. I'd moved through the fog and it was on the other side of me now. There was no way I wanted to go back through the stuff again to do as the man said. Besides, I wasn't actually sure where the voice was coming from—behind or in front of me. So I started semi-running away from where I'd come, hopping every so often because of my stupid leg.

"I said, get out!"

The voice seemed to come from all directions, but I couldn't see anybody. Darkness surrounded me like a blanket and I kept blinking my eyes, hoping some shapes would appear. If it wasn't for the sound of cars driving on the street overhead, I wouldn't have known which way was up.

I grabbed the radio from my pocket but as I did, I dropped my camera. There was no way I could leave it behind so I stopped and felt around for it. Afraid to look but knowing I must, I forced myself to see if anyone was coming after me. The fog was starting to fade, and as it did I couldn't move. A figure was coming out of the fog, right from where I'd just come a minute ago. How hadn't I spotted him on the way through? I had to have passed him at some point.

Unless he
'
s a ghost
.

But what I finally saw seriously messed me up. Was it a man? I squinted hard. It sorta looked like a man, but what was wrong with his head? It was shaped funny—his nose was long and pointy…more animal than man, and it was huge. But how could that be? All I was absolutely sure of was there was a shape, and it was moving. Toward me.

I jumped up. "Help!" I screamed into the radio as I grabbed my camera and flicked it on.

"Get out!" the figure yelled at me again.

"Hey! Are you okay?" Evan yelled back. "What's wrong?"

I began running in the opposite direction of the thing, all the while holding my camera on my shoulder so it faced backwards. Maybe I'd get it on video as I ran ‘cause there was no way I was going to stop and film it.

"Kat!"

"I'm here," I said, breathing hard. "There's someone chasing me. I can't go back to the entrance." This was just like one of those bad dreams where you try to run, but your feet just won't move fast enough. Stupid walking cast was totally holding me back. Was I hearing panting right behind me?

"Go toward where you fell down the hole last week." I could hear the sound of the shopping cart in the background and Evan sounded out of breath. "That's right near the Fox so you should be pretty close."

"I'll try." It was then I noticed a faint light up ahead and thought I heard my name being called. Rounding another corner, I was so relieved when I saw him. Well, part of him anyway.

"Over here!" About one hundred feet from me, Evan's head peaked out of the tunnel roof and he was waving frantically.

Finally I got to him and grabbed at the ladder attached to the wall. It's a good thing there was one there, because I have super Kat-strength…except when it comes to pulling myself up. Failure on the pull-up portion of the California State Physical Fitness Test? Yeah, every year. Not even fear could persuade my muscles to get me out of this. My ankle throbbed as I climbed each rung toward the daylight. Evan helped drag me out of the manhole and it was then he heard it, too.

"Get out and stay out!"

EMBARRASSING SECRETS

Okay, so why did I get stuck taking Home Ec? My counselor must have had too much caffeine the day she chose this annoying elective for me. And I knew the General was totally in on it.

Note to self: DANGER! If your mother wants to change you into some conventional girl, fight it! After all, who needs Home Ec when you have take-out and vintage clothing stores?

Get this. Right as the doctor is putting me under so he can rip out my tonsils, Mom told me my counselor had called. Apparently the elective I chose for the next semester was full so I needed to choose an alternative. Can anything be more unfair? Just as the sleepy time medicine goes into my arm
,
Mom springs it on me how she and Ms. Lambert
chose for me,
instead of asking my opinion on how I'd like to spend an entire semester of my
life
. Like a total act of kindness was done on my behalf. Now I have to endure five whole months of cooking and sewing.

And it's why I'm sitting right now on an uncomfortable stool beside Kelley's BFF, Ashley. Ashley, who couldn't even figure out how to open up the biscuit container so we could fry up some donuts. Oy vey (that's
good grief
for all you non-Jewish peeps out there).

"You just take the edge of the spoon," I tell Miss Brainless, "and press on the line." Holy schnauzers. What kid hasn't baked up some biscuity goodness on a rainy day? It's a shame she's never had the comfort of warm biscuits, butter, and honey. Maybe wolves are raising her.

"'Kay," she said, "but I don't want to smudge my nails. Just gave 'em a polish during lunch." Her gum smacking punctuated each word, and I wondered how I was going to get through the next forty-five minutes with her as a partner, let alone a semester.

"Alright, class," Ms. Mazetti said, "now you must cut a circle in the center." She demonstrated the obvious, but for Ashley it was like learning the circumference of a circle so she fully needed the visuals.

"Ooh, I can do this part," Ashley said with the same excitement I use when I've found a new vintage shop with the best selection of black clothes ever. Seriously. I wondered how she was managing Pre-Algebra if Home Ec was a challenge.

"And remember," Ms. Mazetti warned, "don't throw away the center. There's a use for everything."

What, are we baking tiny bread loaves with the leftover dough for her beloved mice? Mazetti's known for her love of all things mousey. Let's put it this way: she has multiple dioramas of stuffed mice (yes, they were alive once) doing human stuff like picnicking and getting married. Some might call it cute, but I think it's disturbing.

It's not like we (meaning I) haven't made our (meaning my) point about the creepy decorations. I'm not saying which one of us (me—get the picture?) took a few of her diorama mice and stuck them, half in and half out, of her supply cabinets. Note: no animals were harmed during this act of hysterically hilarious vandalism because they were
already
dead
! I think she even had tears in her eyes when she came back into the room. It officially put a stop to her taking mid-period bathroom breaks.

We call her Spaghetti Mazetti. There's a rule about teachers' names. If it rhymes with something, mock them—but don't be too mean. Mazetti was just too easy to ignore since she's Italian
and
a cook. I wish her last name was House or Louse because that would be super-duper funny, given the objects of her love. I usually don't go for making fun of people, but I assure you it's all pretty harmless, and she did end up laughing about the mice scattered around the room. She said how cute it was someone got them involved in our world
.
Mazetti fully understands the
turn your frown upside down
advice she always gives.

"After you've cut the circles out, carefully place a few at a time into—"

Ms. Mazetti was cut off when the class door swung open and David walked in. Yes, my David, and he seemed to have a glow around him. I'm just saying.

Ashley was staring at me and I was about to ask her what her problem was when she let me know all on her own.

"You know you can't have him, right?" Ashley sneered. "He's totally out of your league."

Out of my league? What does she know? I hadn't told anyone but Evan that I liked David. She was probably just trying to find anything to embarrass me. I rolled my eyes at her and popped the bubble she was blowing, right in her face. She made a whimpering sound as she tried to peel the stuff off. David was talking to Ms. Mazetti and I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he did keep glancing over at me and flashing the most amazing dimples ever. Take that, Ashley.

"Who said I was interested?" I answered her finally, though if anyone was within five feet of me they'd be able to feel the supersized electrical current stretching from him to me.

"Class," Ms. Mazetti announced, "this is David Perkins. He'll be joining us. Go ahead and sit at the empty table next to Katherine and Ashley."

Next. To. Me. Holy schnauzers. I'll have to make up for the mice thing because Mazetti fully rocked with her seat assignment this time. Maybe I should bring her a latte tomorrow to thank her.

But how was I going to concentrate with him here? I need to have a little space between me and my crush. Otherwise, my crushing might be discovered. When I'm nervous I tend to have what Mom describes as "diarrhea of the mouth." Basically means I say whatever I'm thinking. And saying "I love you" in front of forty kids might be a problem.

"Hey, is this yours?"

I nodded and David handed me the backpack I'd left on the chair he was now sitting in. Unfortunately I hadn't closed the zippered pouch in the front, so all my stuff spilled onto the floor. You'd think I'd just told the biggest joke ever, the way Ashley cracked up and got everybody else laughing too. I could feel my face turn all shades of Valentine's Day as I got down on the floor to gather my stuff. At least there wasn't anything embarrassing lying there among all the pencils and stuff. Sam sometimes sticks one of those fake vomits or dog poos in my pack that he gets at the gag store just to freak me out.

"Sorry, Kat," he whispered. It was a whisper I felt throughout my whole body. Whenever he talked it just did that to me. His hand touched mine and that supersized electricity sizzled between us. I'd liked boys before, but this feeling was definitely a first and made me want to reach out, hold on, and plant a big one on him. Of course, the thought of epically bombing my first kiss or hug keeps me from such extreme acts of PDA. Which is good. All I needed was for the Citrus Grove grapevine to get back to the General and get me grounded for life.

"It's okay," I managed to say. "Thanks for helping."

We got back into our seats and Ashley was still smirking, which was strange since it wasn't that big of a deal.

"You should leave each donut in until it becomes a nice golden brown," Ms. Mazetti instructed. "David, you can partner with Jacob and Andrew for now."

Phew. I don't think I should be working with hot oil around him. No telling what kind of damage I might do to myself.

It took until the end of class for the package of eight biscuits to morph into fluffy goodness and get rolled in cinnamon and sugar. When the bell rang, I was still trying to figure out what cute thing I was going to say to David when Ashley said, "Wow, look what I found." She had a smirk on her face as she held up a fat triangular shape, which was exactly how Evan always folds the daily question we pass around our group. My stomach lurched as I reached inside my pocket, which was completely empty. Then I remembered. I'd stuck it in my backpack instead of my pocket. Double crud.

Ashley bolted and by the time I got to the classroom door, she'd already disappeared into the crowded hallway. It's like all the kids in the school were in on it. I could not break through the wall of people walking as slowly as Sam when he's been told to clean up his seriously messy room. Epic freak out happening right now. What do I do? If I acted like it was a big deal, that what she stole from me was the most embarrassing thing ever, then she'd sense my fear. Then they'd get one of the computer dudes crushing on Kelley to crack the code I'd used in my answer to the daily question. But if I acted like I didn't care, maybe it would all go away.

"What'd she take?" David asked as he caught up with me.

Like I could tell him. "Not much," I lied. "Just some class notes. " I mean, if you saw the fat triangle shape, you'd fully know it was not class notes. "Must have fallen out of my backpack, and we didn't see it when we were picking the stuff up. Look, I gotta go."

I ran off because I couldn't face him. Not before I got back what was private property of me and my friends. I had to find Ashley and use any means of force necessary to get back that paper.

And today's question of the day?

WHO DO YOU WANT TO BE YOUR FIRST KISS?

Theft was bad enough. But the fact my rep might go from nice girl to the biggest loser if they crack the code…well, that's worse, right?