The Hollow (9 page)

"If you don't want to do it for Kristen, then fine, do it for the school. Think about how this will look on your college applications. Besides, it would set a good example, Abbey. Your father and I have lived our lives always trying to be a good example for those around us. Maybe you need to accept the invitation simply because those girls took the time to think of you."

"They didn't think of me, Mom!" I exploded. "Do you even know how they asked me? Do you? They cornered me in the hallway and practically forced me to say yes. All because of Principal Meeker. He wanted them to 'honor' Kristen's memory by asking me to be an honorary member. It's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of."

"Well, naturally you can't be a regular member of the committee; you have to be voted in. Being an honorary member is a special privilege. And I think it's an extremely nice way for them to honor Kristen. It was very thoughtful of them." Her voice had gotten louder.

"Very thoughtful?!" I was practically screaming. "They didn't do it because they were
thoughtful.
They did it so they could get themselves some stupid school-related privilege. And 'naturally' I can't be a regular member? Do you even hear yourself? I never asked to be on their freakin' committee in the first place. I don't care if it's an honorary position, a voted-in position, or president of the whole damn thing!"

"I just don't think its right for you to turn down an opportunity like this simply because you don't feel like it." Her voice took on a deadly quiet tone. "You can't stop living life, Abbey, just because Kristen had to. Over time it will get better."

"I am living life," I responded wearily. It felt like suddenly every muscle in my body had been stretched to the limit. "I'm still getting up and going to school, aren't I? I'm still doing my homework and eating my vegetables, aren't I? I'm still getting showered, getting dressed, putting on my shoes… If I'm still doing all those things, then I'm still living life. But it will never get better. No matter how many prom committees I join, or college brochures I shuffle through, or…" I looked down at the vials in my hands. "Or how many new perfumes I make. This knot of coldness will always be inside of me. Always."

Mom's voice was quiet but firm. "I'm sorry, Abbey. I'm very sorry you feel that way, and if you need to talk to a professional about it, then we can arrange that for you. But you
will
accept their offer. No other arguments."

"Fine. Whatever, Mom." I jerked away. "But I don't need to talk to a
professional
about anything." One of the vials suddenly dropped from my hands and burst into tiny shards of glass on the ocher tile floor. The instant smell of lavender filled the air.
Sample number four.
I felt a perverse sense of satisfaction fill me, but I tried to squash it down.

"Just go," Mom said. "I'll clean this up. We'll continue this discussion later, Abigail."

Oh, goody, that's exactly what I wanted to hear: "We'll continue this discussion later." What was there to continue? My mind had obviously been made up for me. I stomped up the stairs, wondering just how many bottles of lavender oil I could "accidentally" spill in my room.

I overslept on Saturday morning, and that was a great way to start off a crappy day that I was already not looking forward to. I didn't have time to eat breakfast, so I was in a royally foul mood with a growling stomach as I cut through the cemetery to get to school. On a Saturday.

"Hey, Abbey." His voice startled me.

I spun around. "Caspian, hi." My day instantly went from very bad to very good.

"How are you?" He was standing near the bridge.

"I'm good. How are you?" I gave him a shy half smile, not quite able to look him straight in the eye.

"I'm good. I'm really good. Are you doing anything today? Want to hang out for a while?" He gave me the cutest little smile.

Would it be bad if I called him adorable? Probably. Guys usually don't like those sort of girly terms associated with them.

"Yeah, I-" Then I remembered where I was supposed to be heading. "I mean, I'd really like to stay, but I can't. I have this stupid school thing I have to go to."

"No big deal. Some other time, then."

Was it just my extremely hopeful imagination, or did he actually look disappointed? "What about next week? I can take you on that tour of Washington living's grave. We'll meet here, next Saturday around eleven thirty?" That should give me enough time to get back if I had another stupid prom meeting. The butterflies started swimming in my stomach.
Will he turn me down?

"It's a date," he agreed. "Bye, Abbey. See you next week." He turned to walk away.

"Bye, Caspian!" I called out. He stopped, and threw me a big grin over his shoulder. I grinned back like the Cheshire cat. What was it about him that made me feel so ridiculously happy?

By the time I got to the school auditorium, I was in such a great mood, it was unbelievable. I wasn't even fazed by the death glares I received from Shana and Erika.

"I brought low-fat all-natural blueberry muffins and sparkling water for everyone," Shana begrudgingly told me, pointing to a nearby table. "Just try not to, like, eat everything, okay?" Erika laughed at what she said, but I just ignored them.

Personally, I would have chosen a dozen sugar doughnuts, but since I was starving, I couldn't afford to be picky.

I walked over to the table, grabbed a muffin, and slid an extra one into my pocket for later. Then I snagged a bottle of water. Finding a chair that was close to the others, but not within conversational range, I took a seat.

Scanning the room covertly, I counted a total of twelve, seriously twelve-was that necessary ?-people there for the prom committee meeting. Over in another corner some tables and chessboards were set up. Two guys were bent over the boards, while a third stood off to the side, watching their every move. I noticed his brown curly hair about the same time he noticed me, and Ben glanced over, giving me a huge silly grin and waving like an idiot.

I tried to discreetly give him a brief wave back, and then turned my attention to the muffin in my hand. I should have guessed he would be here.

A minute and a half later I was
seriously
regretting that muffin.

"All-natural" must have meant "made with natural sawdust" or something, because that was what the thing tasted like. I tried to swallow it down with a huge gulp of water, but that only made the dry, crumbly mess in my mouth become a wet, soggy mess.

I fought back an automatic gag reflex and desperately wished I had picked up a napkin. At least then I could have spit out the shameful imitation muffin. Of course that was when Shana decided to announce my name as the special honorary member and everyone turned to stare at me. I prayed that no stray bits of muffin escaped my mouth as I gave a small closed-lip smile.

Most of them looked away when Erika started talking, and I frantically chewed what was left of the muffin mess. I gagged slightly as I swallowed, but I think only one guy heard me. He gave me a knowing look when he saw me set the muffin down on the ground next to me, still largely uneaten.

I looked closely at the other people in the room, wondering how many of them had also made the mistake of the muffin. No one else had any telltale crumbs or stray wrappers hanging around. Maybe they were all smarter than me.

Two agonizingly long hours dragged by
very slowly,
and I started contemplating whether or not I could choke myself to death on the muffin I had left in my pocket. The meeting, so far, had been one never ending conversation about what colors to decorate with and why.

When it seemed like they had made their final decision, I quickly scooped up the muffin remains and the empty bottle of water to throw away. I was
definitely
going to drop a bottle of lavender oil on the kitchen floor today. Mom should have to suffer as much as I had, since she was the reason I was here in the first place.

Passing the garbage can on my way out, I hoped to make my getaway without being stopped by anyone. Two more steps and I would be out the door. I was so close.

"Watch out for those muffins next time. They're killer."

I looked over my shoulder as I pushed through the door. Erika was the only one standing there. I felt my cheeks turn red, and she laughed out loud. But I didn't mind too much, because the last thing she saw was my middle finger aimed in her direction as I stepped outside.

On Monday, Shana informed me that the prom committee would no longer be needing my honorary services. I barely contained my joy-

But the rest of the school week felt like it would never end. It was like we were all stuck in some continuous
Twilight Zone
time loop, destined to repeat the same class over and over again. Every second of the clock ticked by excruciatingly slowly, when all I wanted was for Saturday to hurry up and get here so I could finally see Caspian.

Finally,
finally,
Saturday morning arrived, and I was up and ready to go by nine thirty. Mom and I were still in the only-talking-to-you-when-it's-necessary stage, so I tiptoed around her as I made a cup of tea. A nice dose of warm vanilla chai was just what I needed. I was even happier when I found a package of unopened biscotti in the cupboard.

Then I spent the next hour baking cookies.

I had a strange urge to give Caspian something, and figured he'd probably rather have cookies than perfume. After the third batch had cooled, I slid a dozen of them into an empty fortune cookie box and grabbed one to nibble on as I turned to head out the door.

"Don't forget the Baxleys are coming over for dinner tonight, Abigail," Mom reminded me stiffly as I left. Since I would still have most of the day with Caspian, I just agreed and quietly shut the door behind me. It wasn't worth an argument.

I walked quickly to the river, and he was waiting for me under the bridge again. As I got closer, I shouted to him and waved the fortune cookie box. He smiled at me and the sun reflected off his hair.

My heart stuttered for a moment. I didn't know what stroke of good fortune had caused this, but I felt very, very lucky.

"Hi, beautiful," he said quietly.

I didn't answer him; I was too busy staring at his eyes. Was he wearing contact lenses to make them look even more vivid? If so, then contact lenses that color should be banned. They could make people think dangerous things…

I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Here," I said, thrusting the cookie holder at him suddenly. "These are for you."

An amused look crossed his face. "You brought me fortune cookies? Do I need some luck?"

I laughed. "No, they aren't fortune cookies. It was the only small box I could find. Open it up. They're snickerdoodles. I baked them this morning."

His eyes lit up like a little boy with a new toy. "You made cookies for me?" He opened the box and sniffed inside. The look on his face was sheer bliss. "Ahh. How did you know they were my favorite? Thank you, Abbey. You don't know what this means to me."

I decided right then and there to make a snickerdoodle perfume to wear, so that one day he would sniff me like that.

"You're welcome." I shrugged, trying to hide my extreme giddiness over the fact that the cookies had pleased him so much. "I'm just glad you like them. Ready to go?"

A very fine misting rain had started, and after assuring him that I didn't mind, if he didn't mind, we started on our tour. I took him to the Washington Irving plot first, and then showed him some of the other family plots that were favorites of mine. But I didn't take him to where Kristen was buried, or to the grave where the chair was. Today was about different memories.

We wandered slowly through the cemetery, talking some more about the history of the town, and the legend. When the conversation eventually turned to school, we laughed ourselves hoarse as I tried to imitate some of my teachers.

The last stop we made was to a double tombstone with the family name of Crane on it. It was a fairly recent grave, only a few-years old, but the death dates listed for both John and Maria were the same.

"It's really sad that they died on the same day," I told him as we stood before it. "Must have been some type of accident or something; they weren't even sixty yet. But you know what I love? Every year on the anniversary of their death someone leaves a single rose for them."

Caspian was silent, and I didn't know if I'd just killed the happier mood of the day. I turned away, scanning the hillside to my left to see if there was anything there I could talk about that would change the mood. I wasn't having very much luck, though. You don't exactly get "chipper" and "cheerful" vibes from a cemetery.

A figure on the far side of the hill caught my eye, and I just barely made out the gray hair. Nikolas! Putting one hand up to wave, I twisted my head back toward Caspian. "Look! Over there. It's-"

He interrupted me. "Let's keep walking, Abbey. I don't think we should… be out in this rain."

But he was looking at the figure on the hill as he said it.

O-kay.
"We could go back down to the bridge," I suggested. He agreed, and we headed there, and spent another hour talking about movies, music, and more books.

At two thirty he said he had to go, and I was surprised at how fast time had flown by again. He walked me over to the underside of the bridge, and the rain gently kissed our faces.

"Thanks again for the cookies, Abbey. That was very sweet of you." He held the box in one hand and shoved his other hand into the front pocket of his jeans. "I wish I had something to give you in return, but all I have is my undying gratitude."

Oh. My. God. Was he getting his lines from the How to Be a Perfect Gentleman handbook or something? "You're very welcome for the cookies, and you don't have to give me anything in return," I said, silently telling myself not to swoon. "Try them with some tea; they make great dippers."

"I will," he promised. "Good-bye, Abbey." He stepped out into the rain and started in the opposite direction of where I was going.