One Hundred Candles [2] (10 page)

“No! Not at all.”

I wasn’t sure how to ask Gwyn about the voice she had heard in her house. With everything that had happened over the past couple weeks at school, what would she think?

“This is awkward,” I began, “but I really need to ask you something.”

“I told everyone that this would happen,” she said.

“What?”

Gwyn crossed her arms. “It took more time than you thought, right? But I said that weird things would begin happening after we lit all one hundred candles, and now they are.”

“You know the ghost dog was a hoax, right?”

“So? There have been other things. The cell phones going off. How do you explain that?”

“I can’t,” I admitted. “Not yet, at least. But, Gwyn, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” I pushed aside my confusion about why Gwyn seemed so hostile toward me and focused on the question I had been wanting to ask her for a month. “The voice you heard in your kitchen, the one that mentioned pushing back a curtain,” I said. “What did it sound like?”

Gwyn looked surprised. “You want to know about the voice?”

I nodded. “Please.”

She eyed me suspiciously. “It was distinctive.” I could tell Gwyn was thinking about it, trying to choose her words care fully. “It wasn’t a man or a woman’s voice. It was neither. And both.” She looked at me. “That makes no sense, I know.”

I was already moving away from her. “No, it makes sense. Thanks, Gwyn.”

“Wait!” She reached out for me, then stopped herself. “Did you hear it, too? In my kitchen?”

“No. I didn’t hear anything in your kitchen.”

“Then why do you want to know?”

“It’s not important.”

“What is wrong with you people?” she shouted. “Why won’t you believe me?” Her voice echoed throughout the empty hall. A janitor peered at us from a nearby supply closet, probably wondering if he was witnessing the birth of a fight.

“I’m sorry, Gwyn. I didn’t mean to bother you.” I tried to keep my voice soft, but she was upset and not ready to let it go.

“Don’t you get it, Charlotte?” Gwyn had lowered her voice, but not enough to placate the janitor, who was still eyeing us warily. “It’s all connected. Everything that’s happening here began at my house. There’s something in my house, and things at school are only going to get worse unless you stop it.”

“Me? How am I supposed to stop it? I’m not a psychic or an exorcist, Gwyn.”

She glared at me. “Of course not. Because you don’t believe in any of that, do you? Your superior intellect refuses to acknowledge anything beyond your power.”

“My what?” She sounded like she was quoting something Zelden would have written.

“Forget it.” She began to storm back toward the main office. I cast a helpless look at the janitor, but he shook his head and returned to his work.

I hated confrontation. I hated upsetting someone like that, so completely and unintentionally. As I walked back to class, I tried to make sense of some of the things Gwyn had said. She had said “you people,” as if there was more than one of me and we had turned our backs on her. She wanted help and truly believed that something lived inside her house, something that destroyed furniture and caused her mother to move out.
It’s all connected,
she had shouted. But I couldn’t see how a fake ghost and broken kitchen cabinets were connected to one another, and as far as I knew, no one at the party had told a story about cell phones.

Back in AV class, the computers were still down. Morley announced that we wouldn’t have a newscast the next day. Bliss was upset, but everyone else seemed relieved.

“Everything okay?” Noah asked me.

“Sure.” I wanted the day to be over. I was still exhausted from the night before and wanted to go to bed early.

“Really?” Noah asked. “You seem distracted.”

“I’ve just had too many surprises for one day, I guess.”

Unfortunately, I was in for a few more.

twelve

It was the cookies that scared me. I’d experienced some terrifying things—a certain asylum immediately came to mind—but walking into the kitchen after school and seeing a plate of freshly baked cookies sitting on a plate, the chocolate chips glistening and melting, was enough to stop me in my tracks.

“Charlotte! You’re home!” Mom emerged from the laundry room holding a basket of folded sheets. She set the basket down and went over to the table. “Sit down and tell me about your day.”

It was a trap. Mom didn’t bake. I wasn’t sure she even knew how to turn on the oven. She was watching me, though, a wide, fake smile stretched across her face, so I sat down at the table.

She pushed the plate toward me. “Here. Have one. Have two!”

I picked up a cookie. “Who died?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No one died. Can’t a mother make her daughter a batch of cookies?”

“Sure, a mother can. Just not my mother.”

Mom frowned. “I knew the cookies were overkill.”

“What’s wrong? Tell me.”

She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. “Dad moved out.”

I dropped my cookie. “He what?”

“It’s only temporary,” Mom said quickly. “He’s going to be staying with Shane for a few weeks, just to get a little space.”

“That’s all? Are you sure?” I didn’t like the sound of “a little space.” Little spaces tended to become big spaces, which grew into wide chasms of nothing.

“I’m sure.” But she didn’t look at me when she said it.

“Well, if that’s all,” I said sarcastically. “Our family is falling apart, but a couple cookies and a few weeks’ living apart should put it back together.”

“Charlotte, stop. I know you’re upset now, but this is for the best.”

“Aren’t you supposed to try counseling or something first?”

“It was our counselor who suggested this.”

I could feel my jaw drop. Mom went on to tell me that she and Dad had been going to couple’s therapy twice a week for more than a month. They attended sessions in the early afternoons, when I was at school. “We didn’t want to worry you,” she said. But I was past worry. It must be bad, I thought, if their own counselor was recommending a trial separation. And when had a separation led to anything but divorce? It was the beginning of the end, and I knew that the scent of fresh-baked cookies would forever remind me of that awful moment in the kitchen.

I retreated to my room. The thirteen roses Harris had sent me stood on my nightstand. A few of them were beginning to droop, their blooms bent over as if they were napping. They wouldn’t last through the week. Not that it mattered.

I sat on my bed and pulled out my cell phone. Harris had already left two messages, but I didn’t feel like talking to him. The only thing on my mind was what was going on with my parents, and I didn’t feel comfortable enough yet with Harris to spill my guts about that. I took a chance and dialed Annalise, hoping she would answer.

“Hello?”

“Dad moved out. He and Mom got into this huge fight last night and he left. He’s staying with Shane for a while.”

“I know. Mom called me last week.”

“Wait. What? It just happened.”

Annalise sighed. “Yeah, but they’ve been talking about it for a while. They didn’t have a date planned or anything. It’s only temporary.”

“Right. Temporary.” I was livid. Everyone knew more about what was taking place in my own house than I did. Didn’t I have a right to at least the same information as the rest of my family?

“They didn’t want you to be concerned, Charlotte. They’re trying to keep you out of it.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t keep me out of their fights.”

Annalise began to respond, but there was a crackling surge of static and then my phone went dead. “Hello?” It was useless—I was talking to dead air. My annoyance grew. I had just charged the phone—it was part of my Sunday-night ritual—so it should have had plenty of battery life. I marched downstairs so I could recharge it in the kitchen.

A little later, Mom went out for groceries. As soon as she left, Dad and Shane came over. While Shane worked on the computers set up in the living room, Dad gave me the same talk in the kitchen Mom had, using terms like
trial
and
temporary.
I nodded, knowing there was nothing I could say that would change their minds. Dad ended the conversation by patting me on the shoulder and telling me that things would work out.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “This is all for the best.”

No, I thought. The best would be if you and Mom could settle your differences and we could all move on as one big, happy family. The best would be if none of this had ever happened. We are far, far away from what is best.

I stayed in the kitchen for a while and listened to the sound of Dad and Shane as they debated on footage for the next DVD. Later, Shane came into the room to get a drink and saw me sitting at the table, staring into space.

“Hey, kid,” he said as he poured himself some iced tea. “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m done talking about it. Or listening to it, for that matter.”

Shane nodded. “Want to focus on something else instead?”

I was hopeful. “Like what?”

“Some tape from over the weekend. Nothing too exciting, but maybe you’ll see something.”

It was just the distraction I needed. Sitting down in front of a monitor felt so familiar, and having Dad and Shane there with me made it even better. Of course, the scenario would have been perfect if Mom were with us, but I pushed that out of my mind and focused on the night-vision footage in front of me, most of which featured the local group that had come to work with Dad.

“They’re a little overeager,” Dad said. “A few of them show promise, though.”

After an hour of watching grown men panic every time the wood creaked beneath their feet, I was ready for a break. I was also ready to talk about the cell phone incident at school.

“Something happened today,” I began. Dad and Shane leaned back in their chairs, as ready for a break as I was. “All of the cell phones within the school went off at the same time. What would cause that to happen?”

“Cell tower malfunction in the area?” Shane asked.

“That may affect certain phones, but all of them?” Dad turned to me. “Are you sure it was every one? Maybe the majority of phones were connected to the same provider.”

“No, it was all of them. And the calls came from the same four-digit number.”

“Satellite phone,” Shane said. “Not sure how it could call everyone at once, though. How many phones are we talking about here?”

“There are five hundred in the student body. At least four hundred had phones, I would guess. And most of them were turned off.”

“Not possible,” Dad declared.

“Well, it happened. I was there.” I got up to retrieve my phone from the kitchen. It was still charging, but I unhooked it and handed it to my dad. “Check the history.”

As he was examining it, our home phone rang, so I returned to the kitchen.

“Hello?”

There was a pause. Then I heard a familiar male voice. “Karen? Karen Silver?”

“Dr. Zelden?”

Dad heard me from the other room and got up.

“Is this Charlotte?”

Dad was now standing in the kitchen doorway. “Give me the phone,” he demanded. But Dr. Zelden sounded worried. Something was wrong.

“Yes, this is Charlotte. Is everything okay?”

“No, I’m afraid it is not. Charlotte, I need you to tell me if anything, um,
unusual
has been happening to you lately. It’s very important.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Listen to me very carefully. I believe that you—”

Dad grabbed the phone from me before I could hear any more. “How dare you call my home!” he shouted into the receiver. “You are not to contact anyone in my family, especially not my daughters, do you understand? If you have anything to say, you can say it to my lawyer. He’ll be in touch.”

With that, Dad slammed down the phone, then stormed into the living room. “I want that man out of our lives,” he fumed. “I’ve held back on legal action, but that’s it. I’m done playing games.”

Shane and I shared an anxious glance. Dad had never been so angry. He’d raised his voice more in the past two months than he had throughout my entire life. Everything set him off. It was like he’d grown a temper overnight.

“He sounded concerned,” I said.
I need you to tell me if anything unusual has been happening to you.
Was Zelden connected to the cell phone malfunction? That was the only really unusual thing that had happened recently, and it hadn’t happened only to me, but to the entire school. The demon dog was a hoax, and I was sure that the other things people were saying, such as hearing footsteps in the empty hallways and sinks turning on in the bathrooms, were nothing more than eager imaginations at work.

“Of course Zelden was concerned!” Dad put on his jacket. “He was checking to see how far I’d gone with the lawsuit. Your mother convinced me to back off, but now that he’s called our home I’m going forward with it.”

I wanted to remind him that at the moment, it wasn’t his home at all. Dad gave me a quick, tight hug. “I will take care of this,” he said. “You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Right. No need to worry about the fact that my parents weren’t living in the same house, or that someone was trying to convince the entire student body that the school was haunted, or that Zelden was worried about unusual things happening to me.

I knew there were certain things Dad could take care of.

It was everything else that had me scared.

thirteen

“March madness” had taken on an entirely new level of meaning at school. It wasn’t just that our basketball team was doing well or that spring break was getting closer or that the weather had settled into warm perfection, creating shades of green outside the cafeteria windows that made everyone inside ache to be outside. “March madness” was the term being tossed around the hallways to refer to all of the craziness that was erupting inside the school, beginning with an assortment of small, odd things that no one could explain.

Two weeks after the cell phone incident—something I still hadn’t figured out—we arrived at school to find every locker in the freshman hallway open. All one hundred blue metal doors faced out. For a while, no one touched them, as if we were afraid they might be rigged with explosives. A few days later, we came in to discover every single chair in the cafeteria had been lined up, single file, against the wall leading to the gym. Throughout the week, the clocks would randomly speed up, the black hands circling all the way around several times before deciding to rest at noon, despite the actual time. Harris had been asking around and was trying to compile a list of the stories told at the party. So far, the incidents mostly fit with the same things described around the candles.

“Still think this is part of a hoax?” Noah asked me.

It was a Friday, and at least today, nothing unusual had happened, but everyone was on edge. Noah and I had just finished splicing together footage for Monday’s school news broadcast, which featured Bliss interviewing seniors about their spring break travel plans.

“Of course it’s a hoax,” I said as I pulled up a new video. “So far, nothing has happened that a person couldn’t pull off.”

“Except for the cell phone thing.”

“True,” I admitted. “And it’s the one thing we haven’t been able to connect to a story told at the party. But it could still be the result of something we haven’t figured out yet.”

I knew I sounded like my dad. Even when faced with physical proof—like when our house was trashed by angry spirits a few months earlier—he refused to define it as anything other than energy gone wild. The only case that still bothered him was a brief encounter at an old prison with an unseen entity that had whispered, “Pardon me,” as it had passed by him. That simple event, which had been captured on a thermal camera, was not something Dad could reconcile. But he tried, stubbornly returning to his research and tapes for a scientific explanation. I had a feeling he would never find the answer he wanted.

“Okay, so let’s say a person is behind all of this,” Noah said. He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. I loved it when he was thinking out loud—he took on a comfortable, casual approach as he sorted through his thoughts. “This person would need to be able to get inside the school after it was locked, turn off the security system and spend their time rearranging furniture, opening lockers and basically messing with things. Why? I mean, why carry on so many different pranks?” He ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like we’re missing the message.”

Matthew, the freshman who maintained the demon dog website, walked over to us. I was surprised to see him because he had ignored me ever since I’d told him that the ghost dog was a hoax. He had begged me not to tell anyone. “You have no idea what this website has done for me!” he pleaded. “I have a date. With a girl!” I told him that his love life was not my concern, but I did feel bad for him.

“I wanted to let you know that I have officially renamed my website,” he announced. “Check it out. It’s called the Haunted Hallways.”

I smiled and nodded. I wasn’t going to shatter his hopes again. If he wanted to believe the school was haunted, fine. As soon as he left, though, I turned to Noah. “Ten bucks says he’s going to have to change the name again when this is all over.”

“Yeah?” Noah opened up his browser and began typing in the web address.

“I’m thinking something along the lines of the Swindled Schoolhouse.”

Noah smiled. “Nice use of the word
swindle.
You don’t hear it much these days.” He clicked on something. “Here it is. Take a look.”

The Haunted Hallways web page featured the obligatory black background and spooky font. “I like how the head line drips blood,” I said. “It adds a classy touch, don’t you think?”

“The wailing ghost animation does it for me.” He clicked on the photo gallery, which showed a still image of the demon dog in the cafeteria, although it resembled little more than a white blob near the floor. There were also photos from earlier in the week of the open lockers and the chairs lined up against the wall. More Coming Soon, the site promised.

“Lucky us,” I murmured.

“My mom asks me every day if something new has happened at school, and she doesn’t mean in my classes. She’s really throwing herself into this new job.”

“Yeah, I know what you—” I stopped and looked at Noah. “New job?”

“You know, as your parents’ assistant? She started last week.”

Shane had mentioned that Trisha might be “joining the team,” but neither one of my parents had talked with me about it. They had never before hired someone without our whole family discussing it first. Annalise and I even helped them pore over résumés anytime we needed a temporary cameraman for a project. Hiring someone to work with us without giving me a heads-up was another depressing example of my not knowing what was going on in my own little world, and I hated that.

“Hey.” Noah leaned forward. “What’d I do? You seem upset.”

“It’s not you.” I touched the amethyst dangling from my neck. “I used to know what was going on in my life. Now, I have no clue what’s happening in my own house.”

Noah was one of the few people who knew that my parents were not living under the same roof. He’d been to Shane’s several times, always at the insistence of his mom, and he’d seen—and spoken to—my dad.

“Is there anything I can do?”

I shook my head. “No. Thanks, though.” I tried to smile. “I really like your mom. I’m sure she’ll do great.”

Now it was Noah’s turn to look upset. He rubbed one hand behind his neck. “I’m not exactly happy about the situation,” he said. “Shane’s nice, but what if things don’t work out with them? Her new dream job will become a nightmare. I think she’s putting too much into it.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like she’s rearranging her entire life for her boyfriend, and honestly, she’s too old for that. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“It’s sweet that you’re looking out for her,” I said. “But, Noah, did you ever think that this might be it? That she and Shane might, you know, go all the way?”

His eyes widened. “All the way? You mean, sex?”

I punched his arm. “Marriage! I’m talking about marriage!” I laughed at him, then realized how naïve he was being. Trisha had slept over at Shane’s several times. What did Noah think they were doing? But if he wanted to pretend that nothing was really happening, I would play along.

“Well, once again class time turns into playtime for Charlotte and Noah.” Bliss was standing in front of us, her eyes narrowed in a familiar glare. “Must be nice to not have to do any real work around here.”

“Hey, Bliss.” Noah straightened up. “We finished your spring break piece.”

“Well, thank you, Noah, for actually doing your job. Would you like a medal? A trophy, perhaps?”

“What’s your problem, Bliss?” I was used to her short temper, but she was being especially harsh today. “We finished our work. If you want to complain about us to Morley, go ahead. Otherwise, take your disc and leave us alone.”

Bliss glared at me. “Right. I’ll complain to Morley about his star student. That’ll earn me bonus points.” She snatched the disc from Noah’s hand. “It must be driving you crazy that everyone thinks the school is haunted. For once, no one is listening to Charlotte Silver and her theories about energy. Try not to let it bother you too much, okay?” She flashed a saccharine-sweet smile and stomped away.

“I think she’s reached a new level in attitude,” Noah said.

“A new stratosphere,” I agreed. “Seriously, what’s wrong with her?”

“I overheard her tell Morley that her grandfather is really sick.” Noah reached for another disc. “Bliss and her mom live with him and take care of him, so maybe she’s stressed about that. She shouldn’t take it out on you, though.”

“On us,” I corrected him. “She doesn’t like you because you hang out with me.”

“We don’t hang out,” Noah murmured. “You have Harris.”

Every time Harris was mentioned in conversation, Noah seemed to shut down. I usually ignored it, but now I wanted to know what, exactly, the problem was. “Why don’t you like Harris?” I asked. “Did he do something to you?”

“No.”

“Noah, please. What is it?”

He wouldn’t look at me. “Forget it, okay? It’s none of my business what you two do together.”

“You’re right. It isn’t your business.”

We worked in silence for the rest of the class period. When the bell rang, Noah put his hand on my arm. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t have anything against your boyfriend. I promise. I just don’t like talking about him. Still friends?”

I was relieved. “Of course we’re still friends. And I’ll try not to bring him up a lot, okay?” I wasn’t sure why Noah was so bothered by Harris and me, especially since Noah was the one who had pulled away at homecoming. There was something about Harris he didn’t like, but I had no idea what that could be.

After the final bell rang we left class together. Harris was waiting for me outside the door. He was driving me home because Avery had to stay after school for a prom committee meeting. She tried to get me to join, but I told her I was too disorganized and had no sense of color schemes. I promised her I’d go to the dance in May, though. I was hoping things would continue to go well with Harris, and he’d ask me to go. I’d never been to a prom, and it was one of my “normal life” goals.

Noah nodded at Harris and walked off in the opposite direction.

“What’s with him?” Harris asked.

“Nothing.” We headed toward my locker. “Actually, he’s concerned about his mom,” I said. “She just started a new job and she has a new boyfriend. Noah’s afraid she might get burned.”

“Why does he care?”

We weaved around the clusters of students filling the hallway. “He cares because she’s his mom.”

“Yeah, but, so what? If she gets burned, she gets burned. She’s an adult. She can handle it.”

We reached my locker. “I guess.”

Harris didn’t understand the situation fully. I didn’t talk much about my family life, and so far, only Avery and Noah knew about my parents’ separation. I didn’t think it was something Harris would be interested in. Avery had been her usual supportive self when I told her, though. We were driving to school when I blurted it out.

“My dad moved out.”

“I’m sorry. That’s tough.” Avery’s parents had divorced when she was little. She lived with her mom and didn’t have much of a relationship with her dad, who lived across the country with his new wife.

“They say it’s only a temporary separation,” I explained. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

Avery had nodded. “If you need anything, I’m here, okay?”

And I knew she was. And maybe Harris would be, too, if I gave him the chance. But somehow, it felt better knowing only two of my friends were aware of what was going on, like maybe the situation was still totally reversible, a crazy mistake that would be solved soon.

Harris and I reached the back doors when his phone buzzed. “My dad,” he said after he checked the screen. He moved away from the noise of the hallway while I waited for him.

The hallways echoed with the sound of people slamming their lockers shut as they left for the day. I thought about the homework I had to get done, mentally organizing which papers I would tackle first.

Harris came up behind me. “Sorry about that,” he said. “My dad needs me. I can drop you off at home, but I can’t stay.”

“No problem.” I hadn’t realized he was planning on staying at my house.

“You’re the best.” He planted a kiss on my cheek. “We’ll go to the basketball game on Thursday night, okay?”

“Sure.” He draped an arm over my shoulder and we walked to the parking lot.

“What are your plans for spring break?” he asked.

It was only two weeks away, but I’d barely thought about it. “No idea. You?”

We approached his car. “I’m going with my parents to the Isle of Palms. We have a condo there.”

“Nice.”

I heard my name and turned around, my hand still on the door handle. Noah was jogging toward us. “Missed my bus,” he said. “Can I get a ride?”

I looked over at Harris, who nodded. “Sure. Hop in.”

Noah got in the back of Harris’s sleek black sports car. As soon as he started the car, heavy music blared from the speakers. Harris turned it down, but only slightly. “Where do you live?” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Just drop me off at Charlotte’s house,” Noah yelled back. “I’m meeting my mom there.”

I saw Harris chuckle. He must have thought Noah was a mama’s boy or something. It was a quick trip to my house. Noah got out first, but before I could open the car door, Harris pulled me in and kissed me. I felt myself sink into him, enjoying the sensation, but the kiss lasted a little too long for me, especially since Noah was standing right outside.

“I’ll talk to you later,” he whispered.

“Okay.” I gathered up my things and got out. Noah didn’t say anything, and I was embarrassed knowing that he had witnessed the most intense kiss Harris and I had shared in a while.

Inside my house, Mom and Trisha were at one of the computers in the living room.

“Tell Lisa I’ll try to stop by next week,” Mom said as Trisha typed.

“She says there’s more activity at night. Do you want to visit her in the evening?”

Mom shook her head. “No. If there’s activity at night, then it’s also present during the day. It doesn’t matter what time I go.” She looked up as Noah and I entered the room. “Hi, guys! How was school?”

“Fine,” I said.

Trisha beamed at Noah. “How’d the history test go?”