Don't Forget to Breathe (3 page)

“It’s not the same,” I retorted, rolling off the couch. “Mom was an innocent victim.”

Through his whimpering, Dad said, “So are those boys, so young.”

“You can’t take every murder to heart. It’s not healthy.”

“Leo, how many murders have occurred in Star Hallow in the last year?”

Feeling ill. His question caught me off guard. “I…I don’t know.”

“Only one—Lily, your mother. Now two more.” He hiccupped as drool dribbled from his mouth. “This is a sleepy little town. Murders don’t happen in the Hallows.”

“Dad, you’re talking ridiculous.” I couldn’t stand looking at his crushed face as my stomach pitched. I scurried to the bathroom and barfed the paltry scraps I’d eaten that day.

While trying to ignore his wallowing sobs, I hobbled to my room like an old lady. Just as I flipped the lock the telephone rang. Dad wasn’t in any shape to answer so I raced into the kitchen.

“Where have you been?” Nona’s voice blared through the receiver. “I’ve been calling your cell for over an hour.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I lost my cell.”

“Where’d you lose it?”

Hesitant to explain the incident in the cemetery I felt the need to keep it secret, at least for now. “I don’t know.”

“Will your dad fork out money to get you a new one?”

“I hope so.”

She burst with impatience. “You know why I called, right?”

Nona knew nothing of my funk and I tried to absorb her gusto. My whole psyche flip-flopped as I relayed, “He asked me to go for coffee.” I had to hold the phone away from my ear as she screeched like a banshee.

“I told you so.” She pealed a redundant squeal. “Becket’s been eyeing you for a while now.”

“What did Reggie tell you?”

“He’s closed mouthed. Won’t nark on a friend.” She sounded flippant. “All I know is that Becket actually
did
need a ride to get his car. It was fate, Leo, plain and simple.”

“Hah, that’s what you call it? I call it a coincidence.”

“I don’t believe in coincidences.” She was getting dramatic. “It was fate.”

“Okay, fate then.” I paused, thinking. “Becket asked me to go for coffee, but he never said when. And he never asked for my phone number.”

“You mean he didn’t make an actual date?”

“No.”

“Don’t worry, girl. If he’s interested, nothing will stop that boy.”

“Maybe he said that to be nice.”

Nona countered, “Then why’d he want to drive you home if he wasn’t interested?”

“Probably to repay Reggie for giving him a lift to his car.”

“Leo, you’re reading too much into this. Stop dissecting every little thing.”

I didn’t want to get my hopes up, yet, gambled a tiny squeal.

***

An hour later, while lying on my bed finishing my math homework, I heard a tap on the window. Not again. I raised the blinds to see Henry leaning with both hands on the house.

I drew up the window. “Hey, Henry. This is getting to be a habit.”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Are you ignoring my calls?” I detected a trace of spite in his tone.

“
No
.” I had an idea. “You want to go for a walk?”

His mouth curved. “Sure.”

“I’ll meet you out front.” He nodded and pushed away from the house.

I left my bedroom and noticed the interior of the house had darkened. Dad was nowhere in sight, he must’ve gone to bed early. I scrawled a note and placed it in the middle of the kitchen table. Snagging my hoodie and slipping a flashlight in the pocket, I went to meet Henry.

Clouds had obstructed the moon sheathing the avenue in darkness. “It feels like rain,” I said and glanced to the menacing sky.

“It gets dark so early, but this time of year rocks,” Henry said while following my lead. “Halloween is the best. What do people do in the Hallows?”

“What’d you mean, do?” I crossed the street and stalled on the sidewalk in front of Henry’s house where I discovered my phone was missing. I kept my eyes lowered toward the ground ready to retrace my footsteps from last night.

“New York’s a virtual nightmare around Halloween. Every year there’s kick-assing parties and the clubs are insane. We hit one of those haunted mansions or something.” He unzipped his jacket and winged the sides like he was too hot. “It’s even better when you’re flying high. I’m going to miss that.”

“Star Hallow has haunted everything. People like to say their houses or farms are haunted and charge admission to scare the pants off you.”

“Sweet. We’re going right?”

“Umm…I never liked Halloween,” I lied, and kept my eyes to the ground.

“You’re shitting me, right? We’re definitely doing something. I’ll bag us some good stuff so we can get really freaked-out. I’ll show you how we party in the city.”

I had no intention of disclosing to the new boy that I essentially lived a nightmare the whole year. It had been right before Halloween when I found her. Even now, I see her body. I shuffled the memory away the best I could.

Not that I participated last year, but Nona and the girls frequently had a master plan for celebrating Halloween. Besides, I didn’t want to commit to Henry. Especially since Becket finally knew I existed. As an alternative, I explained, “There’s this one decrepit place on Lucien Court. It’s haunted and… ”

Henry broke in, “Are you looking for something?”

Towing my head upward, I looked at his inquisitive eyes. “Yes, I lost my cell phone last night.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve looked for it earlier when it was light out.”

“I didn’t get home from practice until almost seven.”

“I never had to wait that long for you. Why so late?”

“I missed the late bus so Nona and Reggie gave me a ride.” I answered with another petty fib. “I had to stay and watch the boy’s football.”

His lips drew into an apologetic bumpy line. “I was so tired I raced home and zonked-out or I would’ve given you a ride. Sorry.”

“It’s not your job to chauffer me around.” I returned my sights to the ground, and added, “I really appreciate it though.” The intermittent streetlamps helped in my search, showering the neighborhood until we reached Tarpon Hill. Vandals and kids liked to rock the lamps as a game, and over the years Star Hallow seemed to give up on replacing them. The one surviving streetlamp I’d been standing under the night before had been snuffed out.

Henry kept my snail’s pace, and he also hunted for the cell. As we walked, he brushed the blades of grass on either side of the concrete sidewalks with his sneakers. He looked up when I stopped to read the street sign.

He asked, “Why do you always take the long route on Tarpon when Lucien Court would be faster?”

“You’ve cut through the Court?”

“When we first moved here I didn’t have anything to do.” The cold must’ve gotten to him as he zippered his gray jacket. “I came down this road a couple of times and crossed over the tracks into the cemetery and had a radical idea of hanging out there. No body to bother us.” He snorted. “Get it?
No body
?” I must’ve had a funny look on face since he said, “Is it because of that haunted house?” His arms lifted and wiggled his fingers making fun of me. “
Ooooo
…are you afraid?”

“That’s part of the reason.”

Henry hooked my arm and yanked me to the crossroads of Lucien and Tarpon. “I want to see this haunted house. C’mon.”

Overshadowed with a wave of dread, I dug my heels into the ground. “No, Henry. I’m not going down that street.” I yanked my arm from his hold. “I’m looking for my phone. And it’s not on Lucien Court.”

“C’mon, Leo. We’ll come back and look for your phone. I want to see this house.” He faced me with a wayward leer. “Do people live there?”

“It has a macabre reputation.” I looked toward the street which gave out valid murky vibes. “Been vacant for years. I think realtors have given up trying to unload it.” My hands rubbed over my long sleeved hoodie for warmth. “Last I heard the Hallow was thinking of demolishing it.”

“Crap, what a waste. Let’s go before I miss all the fun.” He dashed ahead.

“No, Henry—” My voice dissipated in the wind. I watched him trot down the dismal street. He wheeled around, beckoning me. With an overstressed shake of my head I mouthed—“No. Way!”

He wasn’t taking no for an answer, spinning frontward he persisted along Lucien Court. I lost sight of him as he vanished behind a giant oak tree. Unsure, I begged my legs to move. Everyone in the Hallows had been well aware of the history of the Lucien Baskerville Estate erected in 1895. Its property buckled into the railroad and Hallow Saints Cemetery was practically in its backyard.

A cul-de-sac, named after the founder, Lucien Court sustained only three houses: The Lucien Estate and two ancient shingled colonial houses. The Estate had been abandoned after several new homebuyers had claimed inexplicable occurrences. Three years ago, the beige colonial situated on the east side of the Estate had burnt to the ground, more than likely squatters or kids. On the west side of the street, the unkempt green colonial was where I grew up—until Mom had been murdered there.

Making an effort to control the shakes, I removed the flashlight from my pocket and pressed the button, it didn’t work. I smacked the cylinder tube into the palm of my hand, and thankful, it flickered on.

My light floated over weedy grass and along the curb-less road. Imbued with reluctance, my feet grazed on the familiar broken sidewalk, recollecting every crevice and irregular concrete pad. “He-e-nry.”

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance and the ominous sky was caving in. I needed to look for my cell phone before it rained. It wasn’t my desire to get stuck in a rainstorm, in particular on the Court. “Henry, where are you?” I walked in a hurry, meaning to grab him and get the hell out of there.

It seemed instinctive for my body to stop and turn. A shroud of darkness engulfed my old homestead. Petrified and trapped in a mysterious spell, my legs had an inescapable gravitational pull to where I grew up. I toddled toward the porch like a zombie in motion and directed light on splattered crimson stains. It wasn’t possible, was it? A horrific reminder, blood had leached into the craggy wood.

Like touching my sneaker on the stains was sinful, I sidestepped onto the porch. My vision was drawn to the suspended porch swing. A flash of memories: Mom tucking a blanket around me. Mom reading while rocking back and forth.

The squared picture window now blanketed in dusty dirt. I pocketed the flashlight and skated over to the window. Employing the sleeve of my hoodie, I erased a grimy patch.

I cupped my face like a pair of horse blinkers and plastered my nose to the cleaned patch. Too dark to see anything and, scooping out the flashlight, I affixed it to the glass. It didn’t make a dent in the dark.

For sure I thought I saw something move. My breath fogged the pane and I swiped at the condensation and looked again. A tongue thrusting, open-mouthed face sneered at me from inside the house. I let loose a gut-wrangling scream.

I backed away and hit the porch railing, falling to my knees.

“It’s me.” The face yelled through the glass. “It’s me—Henry.”

Within a minute Henry was leaning over me.

“Chill, Leo,” he said through a chuckle. “Just a Halloween gag. What’s with the fainty crazed gig?”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God—” severely hyperventilating—“You gave me a fucking heart attack.” The world tipped upside down. Henry supported my elbows and carted me to the porch swing. “I think—” gasping —“I think I’m going to kill you.”

I tingled like pins and needles were sticking into my face. “How’d you …get in…the house?”

“I didn’t break in if that’s what you’re thinking,” he relayed. “The side door was open.”

As far as I knew the house was supposed to be locked up tight. It’s been on the seller’s market for the past six months. Your average Joe normally didn’t like to purchase a home where an unsolved murder had transpired, go figure.

“What’s gotten into you?” He swept the hair from the sides of my temples, rendering free my face which remained tingly. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“How long have we known each other?” Not waiting for his answer. “Two months, Henry. You don’t really know me.”

“I know that I like you. I know that I want to be with you.” His brow lowered, turning sober, he reached for my hand.

Oh, no
. I created a monster just by being nice; helping the new kid, and now it backfired. When did I acquire such compelling charm? If Henry persisted in hounding me, Becket would think we were an item. “I do like you.” I tried sounding earnest while putting the kibosh on the phony fixation he’d conceived. “Like a friend.”

He grinned. “Friendship that’s growing.” He slanted into my body as his thumb stroked the top of my hand.

I pulled my hand away and scrubbed off his touch. To eliminate my current predicament, I leapt to my feet sending him crashing to the ground. “You wanted to see the Lucien Estate.” I indicated the way with a hop over the two front steps and ran through weedy grass. I threw over my shoulder, “C’mon or are you a scaredy cat?”

He whooped while pole vaulting over the porch railing, running after me.

The Lucien Baskerville Estate spread over sixteen acres of land: A three-story Victorian structure resembled the classic haunted house. Weathered planks boarded a few of the first story windows where kids had thrown stones and rocks. I still recollected the day when cruising on my new two-wheeler bicycle, Hallow crewmen had hammered boards over the broken windows. The structure consisted of four gables, a hexagon turret and at its summit, centering the facade, a exceptional, circular stained glass window. Pillars and posts upheld a wraparound porch and the second and third story balconies. Sun-baked grime covered a galore of rectangular windows.

“So what’s the story on this crib?”

Henry and I lingered on the sidewalk staring at the lofty mansion, tall stalks of brown grassy weeds infested the property. I inspected the windows for signs of recent break-ins and located a broken window on the second level. “There’s lots of stories,” I related. “Probably most of them are fabricated bullshit.” We stood shoulder to shoulder and I turned to look at him. His eyes squinted behind his lenses, peering upward.

“
Holy-moly
, this place rocks.” The breathy phrase plated around his head. “I see a fun-ass Halloween bash.” He strode over a bricked pathway toward the wraparound porch. “So, Leo, give me a history lesson.”

The mansion encased with overgrown shrubbery and mutinous vines twined the main pillars, bleeding over the roofline. Scads of fronds dangled from gutters weaving intricate netting over the porch, and a rusty chain bolted the double-door entry. “I’ll give you the condensed version. It starts with Lucien Baskerville and his new bride Monique.” Weeds scraped at my jeans as I tracked in Henry’s footsteps. “Lucien started a cargo business and set up shop on Lake Erie. His investment paid off and had shipyards all around the Great Lakes.”

Henry fought at disentangling vines that ate the side of the house and the door as I continued, “He met Monique at Port Sault Ste. Marie. Lucien thought she was nobility, a daughter of a wealthy land baron. She conceded to his proposal of marriage
if
he built her a beautiful home, supporting her in the lifestyle she was accustomed.” I spread my arms. “Here it is. After they married, Monique squandered Lucien’s fortune. He pleaded to his wealthy father-in-law for a loan. Monique’s father laughed in his face. And then Lucien ascertained that Monique had been sending funds and gifts to her family in Sault Ste. Marie, leaving him penniless. Her task complete, Monique had another wealthy suitor waiting in the wings.” I paused, waiting for Henry to look at me. “
Her lover
.”

“Whoa, you have the tale memorized. Awesome.” Henry’s fingers circled the rusty chain and wrenched the links devoid of results. Flexing his arm and squeezing his biceps, he said in a Swedish accent, “I need to pump some iron. Let’s find another way in.” The porch creaked underfoot as we trekked further. He swerved back to me. “Okay, go on.
Her lover
…?”

I tweaked my eyebrow and strived for a dastardly grin. “Before she left, Lucien had been drinking heavily and claimed to see ghostly people wandering aimlessly in the mansion. These
ghosts
informed him of Monique’s adultery. Nowadays a psychiatrist would’ve called him a schizophrenic, but he only saw these people at the mansion, nowhere else.”

“Are you making this shit up?”

“It’s a major part of Star Hallow’s history.” Feeling a chill, I tugged on the long sleeves of my hoodie. “Pretty much every kid who grew up in the Hallow has memorized the story. If you don’t believe me you can check out the book in the library.”

“How’d you know Lucien was psychotic?”

“It’s documented. And I’m adding flair just for you. Stop interrupting, okay.” I cleared my throat. “While Lucien had been gone on his many business trips attempting to recoup his floundering company, Monique could be found having
relations
with her new conquest. One day he surprised the staff and came home early. A servant confided to him of the mistress’s illicit affairs.

“Lucien went berserk. He stomped into the study where his honored sword from the civil war decorated the wall. Removing it from the mount, he marched up the staircase.” I reached and grasped Henry’s arm for emphasis. “It’s said to this day people who’ve been in the mansion can still hear the clunk, clunk, clunk of the sword hitting each step as he walked.”

His body shook as I released him. “Lucien surprised Monique and a man leapt from the bed only to be spliced in two.” Pretending I held a sword, my arm whooshed through the air. I stopped for a breather, actually frightening myself.

Henry pried a wooden plank from one of the window frames, then fed his body through the aperture. “Hand me the flashlight,” he said, sticking his arm out of the gap.

After handing over the light, I peeked in. A delicate shine rolled over ghostly shawled furniture in white sheets.

“Come on in.”