The Hollow (30 page)

"It's time for another round of Guess When Mr. Ives's Toupee Will Fall Off," I murmured to myself. "You were really good at that game, Kristen."

Poor Mr. Ives had been the brunt of a lot of jokes that year. Every time he'd cross the room too fast, his poorly attached hairpiece would go flopping off his head. Now he'd moved on from bad toupees to even worse hair plugs. The man obviously had no idea how cruel high schoolers could be.

I shook my head, smiling at the flying toupee memory. God, that had been a fun year.

I kept flipping, and finally came to the last couple of pages. Sitting up straighter, I squinted my eyes as I stared at the group of seniors that heralded the end of their school years. It was a grainy black-and-white shot of the gymnasium right before graduation, and the faces were hard to make out, but I scanned over them, looking for Caspian. He should have been there. This was hisgraduating class.

I searched the lines of names to the far left of the picture, cursing the tiny size-four font that they had chosen, and looked for the Cs. He'd be listed there.

But in between Carlotta and Cruz, there was no Crane.

I looked through all the C names again, thinking that I must have missed it, or it might have been mis-alphabetized, but I couldn't find it anywhere. Then I went line by line, skimming until I came across Caspian's name listed with the
Vs.
They had his name down as Caspian Vander.

The mistake puzzled me. Sure, he had been a new student and all, but hadn't anyone checked the school records to make sure they didn't mess up last names before they labeled the pictures? I checked the yearbook again more carefully, but I didn't see any other pictures that he was in.

Then I flipped over to the senior portraits section, figuring that at least
they
had to be labeled correctly. But the C names listed there yielded the same results as before. They had a listing under the
Vs
once again, for a Caspian Vander, but in the little box where there should have been a picture were the words "Sorry, no picture available." I had no way of knowing if it was really him or not.

Gently closing the yearbook, I set it on my knee and rested my chin in my hand. This was weird. I didn't seriously think that there were two guys named Caspian, who just
happened
to goto the same high school. It was a fairly uncommon name. Yet I distinctly recalled the Caspian that / had met telling me he'd gone to White Plains High, and his last name was Crane.

There was no Caspian Crane in this yearbook.

Footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway interrupted my thoughts, and I looked over to see the man that I'd talked to earlier. He had obviously just come from his office and was walking my way. I said "Hi" automatically as he passed, but my thoughts weren't on him at all. My brain was too busy trying to sort out the pieces of this puzzle I'd stumbled upon.

He gave me some type of return greeting that didn't even register with me, and took two more steps before stopping to turn around. I looked up at him in a daze, with the yearbook still resting on my knee.

"Was that yearbook in the box?" He looked confused. "I didn't mean for it to get put in there."

I looked down at the yearbook, and then back at him before even realizing he was talking to me. My brain was acting fuzzy. "Oh, yeah," I blurted out, looking over at the box. "It was." Ahhh, my brain was back. "Do you know whose it is?"

A small, sad smile played across his face. "Yes, I do. It was
my
son's."

For the third time in my life time froze. I could see his name tag clearly now, and it said Bill Vander. When my words came out,they slow and distorted, like I was speaking underwater. It sounded funny even to my own ears.

"Your… son's…?"

He nodded, and suddenly things sped up again. Time whooshed around me, and I knew it was moving too fast. I had to slow this down… to stop it from coming… but I couldn't.

"He used to go to White Plains High School," the man said. "He graduated almost three years ago."

Don't ask him, Abbey. Just don't ask him.

"What was his name?" I asked him.

"Caspian Vander. Why? Did you know him? Did you go there too?"

I couldn't stop myself.

"No. But I think I saw him around once or twice. Blondish hair, with a black streak in it… and green eyes?"

The man laughed, but it was a sad laugh. "Yep, that's him all right." He shook his head and spoke softly, almost to himself, "That damn black streak…"

Don't do it, Abbey. Just don't do it.

My brain was absolutely freaking out now, spazzing with little tiny aftershocks of thought. I didn't want to do it, but I had to know.

I stuck out my hand, or rather stuck my hand up, since I was still sitting on the floor. "I'm Abigail Browning-Abbey."

He grasped my hand and shook it. "Bill."

"So, did Caspian leave this behind when he went off to college or something?"

"No."

Don't say it. Please don't say it.

"He died a little more than two years ago in a car accident. Right after Halloween."

Something exploded in the back of my head, and my ears actually rang from the force of it. I dropped the yearbook. "I have to g-go now," I stuttered, stumbling to my feet. "I'm sorry for your- My mom… I have to go." Blindly, I turned and felt my way back to the waiting room, holding on to the wall for support.

"Are you okay?" he called out after me. But I ignored him. The edges of my vision were blurry, and tiny white spots danced behind my eyelids when I closed them, but I held on to the wall and desperately tried not to cry.

Mom was standing over by the coffeemaker, doing something with the lid when I entered. "Oh good, you're back," she said. "They just let me know that it will only be another twenty minutes or so."

I sat down numbly on the plastic chairs and pulled my knees up to my chest. I didn't say anything out loud… but my mind was screaming.

When they finally came to aet Mom twenty-five minutes later,and she had paid the bill, I settled into the passenger seat of the car and stared out the window. Mom started it up and turned the radio on low before heading in the direction of home.

"Let's not say anything about this to your father just yet. Okay, Abbey? I want to tell him about it myself, when he's in a good mood."

I shrugged, still facing the window, and kept silent. That was fine by me. Dad and the new tires were the farthest things from my mind right now, considering the mechanic just told me that my boyfriend was dead.

The rain started pounding again right as we pulled into the driveway, and Mom made a mad dash for the front door. I stayed where I was. The rain was falling hard and fast, and I watched the big drops splatter and then roll across the windshield.

I tried to collect my thoughts, but failed. It felt like all the wires in my head had been fried, like a fuse had gone haywire. But I knew there was one thing I could do that would make it all better. Climbing from the car, I walked slowly to the house, heedless of the rain. I didn't step inside, but only opened the door far enough to catch Mom's attention. She was pulling something out of the freezer that looked like a bag of frozen meatballs.

"I have to go do something, Mom," I said. My tone of voice was normal, which kind of surprised me. "I don't know how long it's going to take, but it's important."

She looked up from the bag in her hand. Something in my tone, or face, must have let her know how serious it was, because she didn't say anything. She just looked outside at the falling rain. "You'll get sick if you stay outside too long. Try to hurry."

I nodded and turned away, but she called my name. I glanced back. "I hope one day you can tell me what's going on, Abbey. I'm worried,
really
worried for you."

Tears filled my eyes and I looked at her, trying to show her what I couldn't say at the moment. She took a step toward me, her eyes wide, but I turned away and let the door slam shut behind me. Mom couldn't help me right now. Only one person could.

The rain pounded down, and I lifted my head to let it wash over me. I didn't care if I was soaking wet. My jacket would cover my body, but as far as my face and hair… I just didn't care.

I kept my pace slow and steady, with my chosen destination in mind. I tried to work everything out in my head, but I still couldn't think clearly. It was like trying to read a book written with numbers instead of letters. I couldn't make sense out of anything.

In time I came to that large iron fence marking the entryway, and I took the familiar path, running now as I went farther and farther along. Every pounding footstep echoed the sound of my heart against my chest, a pattern that went round and round inside my head.
Please be here, please be here,
it chanted.

I didn't stop running when living's plot came into view, butkept right on going toward the river. My feet slid on the wet muddy trail, but I kept pushing forward. I
had
to find him. I had to know
now.

Before I even realized it, my mouth started sounding out the words echoing inside my brain. "Please be here. Please be here," I panted, trying to pace myself. Rounding the downward slope that led to the Old Dutch Church and Crane River, I stayed my course.

The river came into sight. I slowed to a walk when I finally reached its rocky bank. Skidding my way down it, I looked the entire area over. But he wasn't there. I threw my head back and howled out my frustration to the wind.
Where am I going to find him?

Something quiet inside caught hold and told me to shut up and pay attention. I pushed heavy hunks of wet hair away from my eyes and immediately calmed my breathing. Then I stood very still. After exhaling once, I breathed in deeply and turned to look toward the bridge again.

A dark figure was leaning up against the concrete pillar, almost blending in completely. I knew without a doubt that my search was over. I took off running, and came to a halt under the safety of the bridge. Only a foot away from him. He looked surprised to see me.

"Abbey, what-"

"Why haven't you kissed me again?" I interrupted. "Since thatday in the library? It was real, right? I didn't make it up, did I?"

He didn't say anything, and I took a step closer. Now I was only six inches away from him. "Is it because you don't want to?" Silence again. "Or because you
can't
?"

He took a step away, and I matched it, suddenly wanting the confrontation. "I talked to Nikolas and Katy. They had some interesting things to say. Like how they think they're really characters from 'The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.'" I gave an exaggerated laugh at the absurdity. "Nikolas thinks he's supposed to be the Headless Horseman, who fell in love with Katy-which is short for Katrina, as in Van Tassel-while he was a ghost. Pretty crazy stuff. How much did you know about it?"

I stared him down, waiting for a reaction.

"That would explain a couple of things about them," he said quietly. Then louder, "I didn't know any more than you. I swear, Abbey."

"What about you, then, Caspian?" I asked. "What's your last name? Your
real
last name?"

He looked at me, but didn't answer. I felt like stepping up to him and poking him while I enunciated every single word.

"My mom and I stopped at an auto body shop today," I began. "Met a man who's name was Bill. I also found a White Plains year-book there from two and a half years ago. Funny thing, though, there's no one named Caspian
Crane
in there. Only aCaspian
Vander.

His look told me everything, and I stumbled back, almost falling.

"It's true, then?" I whispered. "But how-why…?"

He ran his hands through his hair. A gesture that I'd once found endearing was now heartbreaking. "I don't know why, Abbey. I don't even really know how. All I know is that I'm here, and you're here, and somehow…" He didn't finish.

"But your dad. He said you were… in a car crash-" I put one hand up to my mouth to stifle a sob, but it was a pointless act. No use trying to hold back a tidal wave with a single bag of sand.

He nodded, and pain filled his eyes.

"I don't believe you," I said fiercely. "Everyone in this whole entire town has gone crazy, and I'm the only sane person left. I don't know why that man said that today, but I don't believe him. And I don't believe
yon\"
I pointed an accusing finger at him.

He held out one hand. "Abbey, I'm sorry.1 didn't want you to find out this way. I had hoped that we could find a way to… I don't know. And then I thought it might be better if I tried to make you stay away from me, but that just…"

I tried not to look into his eyes. That was too overwhelming right now. "Is your last name Vander?" I asked him.

He nodded once.

"Then why did you tell me it was Crane?"

He looked out over the water next to us, rolling and swirling under the relentless onslaught of rain. "For some reason I was drawn to this river. One day, early last year, I saw you and Kristen here at the cemetery, and ever since then… It's become kind of my refuge, has brought me some sense of peace. So when you asked me my name, it just sort of came out that way."

I couldn't look at him. "And the rest? If that was your father… was that all true?" I addressed my questions to the river; I didn't want to see his face.

"I don't know," he whispered. "I've seen the newspaper articles, but I can't remember anything. It's all black. All I know is that I'm drawn to this place, and to you. You're so beautiful… Everywhere you go, I see these colors. You're the only one…"

I turned to face him now. "Maybe it's not really true, then," I said eagerly. "I mean, maybe you just had a concussion or something, and that's why you have the no memory part. Or maybe they got the ID wrong."

He shook his head. "Abbey, no."

"But you don't know!" I screamed at him. "You just don't know!"

He stepped closer, until he was right next to me. "Take my hand," he commanded softly.