The Haunting Between Us, page 8
As I angle the mirrored doors, the medicine cabinet shifts forward. I struggle to grab it as it begins to topple toward me. Dammit—add this to the ever-growing list of crap that’s falling apart in this house. This place is a dump.
The medicine cabinet housing hangs halfway out of the wall, so I yank it off and set it on the ground next to the sink. I’ll have to secure it with stainless steel screws.
But when I straighten back up, I’m met with quite a surprise. Where I expect a solid wall, there’s only darkness—a hole leading to who knows where. I peer in and see nothing but blackness. What the heck?
In the hallway, I pace off the distance between the bathroom and the next bedroom door, going heel to toe. Fifteen feet. I do the same thing in the bedroom. Five feet. That’s ten feet unaccounted for.
A hidden room.
No sign of an entrance is visible on the hallway wall, but when I inspect the baseboard trim, I find the slightest imperfection marring the wood—a nearly imperceptible line patched over and painted. Impossible to spot unless you know where to look for it. There’s a similar line three feet to the right: traces of an old covered-up doorway. Why would someone seal up an entire room?
Back in the bathroom, I peer into the hole, straining my eyes. A void. Inky blackness. An unsettled feeling forms in my gut as I stare into the dark abyss.
I shine my phone flashlight through the hole, moving it from side to side. An ancient, dust-covered bed and a bookcase sit along one wall. Someone boarded up this room without even bothering to clear out the furniture. What would possess someone to do that?
Climbing halfway up on the sink, I lean through the hole, shining my flashlight around the room. The beam of light crosses a shadowy figure, and I let out a shout.
An old woman with flowing gray hair is standing in the corner, facing away from me, casting a shadow against the wall. Her head jerks to the side in a jarring, inhuman movement. Ice flows through my veins.
She turns and stares in my direction with foggy eyes, smiling with crooked yellow teeth. I’m frozen. My body stops taking signals from my brain. I open my mouth to scream, but only a choked gasp comes out.
The woman continues to stare as her lips curve into an even wider smile. Unnaturally wide. Her hands lift as she lurches toward the hole, a harsh and jarring noise escaping from her mouth—a laugh like shards of glass scraping together, making my skin crawl.
That horrible noise snaps me out of my paralysis, and my silent scream becomes a real one—loud and from the depths of my lungs. I race out of the bathroom, hands over my ears, trying to escape that hideous noise.
But now she’s at the end of the hallway, right by Pa’s bedroom door. How the hell did she get there? A tattered white dress yellowed with age flows down her skeletal form, and her wicked laugh and crooked smile continue.
With my heart pounding against my rib cage, I sprint down the stairs three steps at a time, tripping halfway. I fumble to catch the railing, my fingertips keeping me from tumbling down the rest of the way. Steadied, I continue my rapid descent.
I’m out of the house in a flash, slamming the front door behind me, not stopping until I reach the sidewalk, where I peer back at the house, expecting the woman to chase me. But the door stays shut, and the house looks like it always has—run down, odd, uninviting.
I swear the house settles like it’s sighing with relief, glad to be rid of me. Feeling’s fucking mutual.
As I stand outside, waiting for my heart rate to slow, my head spins, and the chilly night air seeps through my thin cotton T-shirt, making me shiver. No way I’m going back into that house tonight. Screw that.
But what are my options? I could call Pa, but what would I say? “Pa, please come home because I saw an old lady in a hidden room behind our medicine cabinet who teleported into the hallway?” He’d think I was crazy. Heck, I think I’m crazy. How can I accept what I witnessed as something that actually happened?
Carla is off the table. My sister is more than a thousand miles away in California. She’d also think I’ve lost my mind.
What, then? Sleep under a bush?
Cameron’s words echo in my head. I did see an old lady. She asked if I wanted cookies.
It hits me like a brick wall. Cameron wasn’t teasing. He truly did see an old lady. The cookie smell is too much of a coincidence not to be related. But all he said was that she offered him cookies on my back porch. He didn’t say there was some ghoul in a hidden room in my house. Would he even believe me? Plus, I haven’t exactly been friendly to him. He’d be perfectly justified if he turned me away.
With no other options, I head across the street to Cameron’s house, eyes fixed on the window where I saw him and Abby laughing. I swipe a pine cone from under a tree, draw back my arm, and aim.
11
Second Chances: Cameron
I’m on stage wearing a top hat and a jacket three sizes too big, tails hanging just above the floor. An old man with ragged clothing and a wispy beard stands next to me, holding several handkerchiefs and pocket watches, singing about reviewing the situation. It’s my verse, but I can’t remember the lyrics. Oh god—I forgot my pants. I’m in my underwear, and everyone around me is pointing and laughing.
I blink my eyes open, and the relief is instant. Stupid acting nightmares, preying on my stress. This always happens when my mind is cluttered with anxiety and uncertainty, and lately I’ve got enough of both to fill it several times over.
The bedroom is dark, and all is quiet. I swear a sound woke me, but now there’s absolute silence, so I roll over and cover my head with my pillow.
There it is again—a slight rustling outside my window. Perhaps a nocturnal squirrel? Is there such a thing? That’s dumb. Maybe an owl? I sit up and stare at the window, waiting, watching, and listening, but nothing happens.
I snuggle back into the warmth of my bed. Must be nothing.
A pine cone hits the window squarely in the center. Okay, that is no squirrel, unless it’s an exceptionally strong squirrel with a grudge. Unlikely.
I slip out of bed, and the cold sends a shiver down my back, covering my bare skin in goose bumps. I bundle into my robe and head to the window.
When I peer into the darkness, the front yard is empty, but the light is on in Hugo’s bedroom. He must be a night owl.
Another pine cone strikes the window, and I follow its trajectory to the source. Shrouded in gentle moonlight, a dark figure stands by a tree in my side yard with pine cones in hand.
It’s Hugo.
A bittersweet mixture of emotions hits me hard in the gut. He was nice for half of lunch on Monday before he stormed off, but the way he reacted to what I said in the woods still sits wrong in the pit of my stomach. Life is too short to deal with people who don’t accept me for exactly who I am.
It’s not like I haven’t reached out. Okay, maybe I had Taylor do my dirty work, but they were also unable to crack through Hugo’s prickly exterior. And everybody likes Taylor.
But Chloe’s words echo in my head. She thinks the two of us and the house are tied together for some reason, and part of me is excited that he’s outside. A cute guy is throwing pine cones at my window. Countless teen movies start like this, followed by people kissing. Warmth spreads across my face.
I crack open the window and call out in a loud whisper, “Hugo? Is that you?”
Hugo steps out of the shadows and approaches, shaking, his arms wrapped around his body. “Hey, Cameron,” he says, his voice quivering. “I know this is a lot to ask, but can you come down here? I need to talk.”
“It’s, like, two in the morning. Can’t this wait?”
“No, it can’t.” He glances back at his house with an expression I know well.
Fear.
Fear of that goddamn house.
He truly does need my help. Chloe’s right again. “I’ll be right down.”
I throw on the jeans and T-shirt sitting on my floor, slip on my sneakers, and then tiptoe down the hallway. Jack’s door is closed, and Dad’s snoring echoes out to the hallway. Mom’s next to him, face slack, dead to the world. I make my way downstairs and slip out the front door.
Hugo stands in the side yard wearing a long frown. He’s got that whole brooding teenager look nailed. Annoyance still seethes at the corners of my mind, but those dark puppy dog eyes are hard to resist. In fact, here in the moonlight, he’s gorgeous. The pang in my chest is impossible to ignore.
“Hey,” Hugo says, staring at the ground.
“Hey,” I say back, fighting a smile. He’s even cuter when he’s bashful. He looks up, and we watch each other until the silence becomes unbearable. “So…”
“So…um…I don’t quite know what to say.” Hugo kicks at a pine cone. “Sorry for how I acted?”
“That sounds like a question.”
“No! I really am sorry,” Hugo blurts. “Monday was a shit day. I overreacted at lunch and in the woods after…” He trails off and can’t make eye contact.
He’s still uncomfortable about my whole coming out thing, so much so that he can’t even say it, and it’s starting to make me uncomfortable. “What’s this all about? Why are we outside in the cold at two in the morning?”
“Um. This is going to be hard to believe—”
I finish for him. “You think your house is haunted, and you saw an old lady.”
His jaw drops. “How—why—um—you believe me?”
“See this?” I lift my pant leg and show off my scar. “Your house did this to me. I hate that place.”
Hugo puffs out a quick laugh. “I’m starting to agree with you.”
“What happened?” I put my hands in my pockets, fighting the chill.
Hugo shivers. A thin T-shirt and shorts are the only things protecting him from the bitter cold.
Hugo stares at the ground again. “This is asking a lot, but any chance we can talk about it inside? I…um…” He glances back at his house. “I don’t think I can go back in there right now.”
He wants to go inside my house. Emotions swirl through me again. It’s hard to believe that this adorable guy who ignored me all week suddenly wants to sneak into my house, but the fear in his eyes is real. I relate to that fear.
“Yeah. Come on in. But be quiet.” I wave him inside. It doesn’t hurt that sneaking a guy into my house is one of my top five fantasies.
I listen for sounds inside the house. Silence. We tiptoe up the stairs to my bedroom, and I lock the door behind us. Hugo and I are together in my bedroom. Is this happening, or is this another dream?
“Um… it’s a little messy. Sorry.” I kick my dirty laundry toward the closet. “Have a seat.” I point to my desk chair and then sit on the end of my bed.
Hugo sits in the chair and blows out a long breath. “So. On Monday, when you said you saw my grandma, you weren’t messing around, were you?”
“No. I really saw her. She offered me cookies and invited me into your house. But I was so creeped out, I just left.”
“Was that Saturday morning?”
“Yeah. How did you know?” I ask.
“I was upstairs in my room, and I saw you cutting through the yard. You did seem super creeped out.”
“Something felt off,” I say. “I take it that wasn’t your grandma?”
“Nope.” Hugo shakes his head. “Both my abuelitas died years ago. What did she look like?”
“Very old. Long gray hair and a ratty old dress.”
“Crooked yellow teeth?” Hugo asks.
“Yeah, exactly!”
Hugo’s face goes pale. “I saw her too. Exactly like that.” He pauses for a beat, then whispers, “I—um—I found a hidden room behind the medicine cabinet in my bathroom. She was in there.”
“Holy shit, really?” I blurt, then cover my mouth and whisper through my fingers. “Is she still in there?”
“You won’t believe me. I can barely believe it myself.”
“Try me,” I say. “You’d be surprised what I’ll believe when it comes to that house.”
“I ran out of the bathroom, but when I got to the hallway, she was already there. The only entrance to that room is boarded up. There’s no way to explain how she got out there before me. That’s when I ran out of the house.” Hugo’s hands are shaking, and he fidgets with them. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Is your dad home? Has he seen her too?”
“No, he’s out of town. I’m by myself. If he knew about any of this, he’d freak out.” Hugo’s shoulders slump. “We’d move out tomorrow. He’d sell it immediately.”
“You shouldn’t go back tonight. You shouldn’t be alone in that house.”
“I don’t want to, but I don’t have a choice. I don’t know anybody in this town. I have nowhere else to go.”
I feel for him, but my mind returns to his reaction in the woods. Still, I believe in second chances. Let’s see how this goes.
“Look, Hugo. I know firsthand how bad that house is, but here’s the deal.” I sigh. “In the woods, the way you reacted when I said I liked guys…I don’t have space in my life for people who are uncomfortable with who I am.”
Hugo’s eyes go wide. “Oh. No. I—um—I think you got the wrong idea.”
“Did I?” I stare right at him. “I saw the look in your eyes. I’ve seen it a hundred times, and I know what it means.” Homophobe, but I don’t say it out loud.
“I’m totally fine with you liking guys. It’s cool, even. It just threw me off,” Hugo says. “You have to understand, my life is complicated. Pa moves us every six months, and I have to make new friends every time. Lots of places we’ve lived aren’t as accepting as here, and when you told me you liked guys…well, I kinda freaked out.”
I knew it. Homophobe. “You freaked out because I like guys.”
“No!” Hugo blurts, then whispers, “I freaked out because you caught me off guard. I wasn’t ready to come out to you at that instant.”
My jaw drops. “Come out?”
“Yeah.” Hugo’s cheeks go pink, and he shrugs. “What can I say? I like kissing guys too.”
My head spins as my whole mental image of Hugo rearranges itself in a matter of seconds. “You’re not messing with me, right?”
“I wouldn’t kid about something like that.” Hugo shakes his head with vulnerable eyes.
I could get lost in those eyes.
As we’ve been talking, we’ve leaned in toward each other more and more, and I’m suddenly aware of our proximity. In a fit of self-consciousness, I jerk away. “I—um.” I need to defuse this sudden awkwardness, but my mind is blank. Hugo stares at me with a startled expression. Even getting close to him freaks me out. I must seem like such a loser to him. Sure, he likes guys, but it’s stupid to think he’d be interested in me.
Hugo stands up. “Sorry. I should go. I’ll figure something out.”
“No! You can stay here,” I blurt. God, play it cool, Cameron. Don’t freak him out. I have to show him we can be friends. Now that he’s talking to me again, I don’t want to push him away.
“Really?” Hugo sits back down. “Are you sure? Will your parents be okay with that?”
“They don’t have to know.”
He hesitates as if weighing the idea.
I add, “I mean, you don’t have to stay.”
“No. I want to. Thank you.” He smiles. “As long as you’re sure it’s cool. I can sleep on the floor.”
“It’s totally cool. Abby sleeps over all the time. I have a sleeping bag and a camping pad you can sleep on.” I pull them out of my closet and lay them on the ground at the foot of my bed. “Tomorrow I’ll text Abby about what you saw. She’s super smart and totally into paranormal stuff. She’ll know what to do. If you’re okay with that.”
“Yeah, that sounds great.” He looks relieved and smiles again. What a beautiful smile. And he’s smiling at me. It’s hard to believe.
Hugo settles into the sleeping bag, and I nestle into bed. If anybody had told me a few hours ago that this super-cute guy who blew me off this entire week would soon be sleeping in my bedroom, I’d have laughed at them, and yet here he is.
The room goes silent except for Hugo’s soft breathing. It’s soothing.
“Thanks, Cameron,” Hugo says, breaking the silence. “For letting me stay and for being nice even after I was a dick.”
I pause for a moment and think. He is adorable, and that’s hard to resist, but it’s more than that. Something about our mutual connection to that house makes this feel important. I whisper, “Everybody deserves a second chance.”
***
Sharp knocking on my door jerks me out of a deep sleep. Hugo lies on the ground, wrapped in the sleeping bag, and panic hits me. Disorientation clouds my mind for a moment, and then the details of last night come back, but still with a dreamlike quality.
“Cameron, it’s nearly ten o’clock,” Mom calls from outside my room. “There are pancakes down here, but they’re getting cold. Come grab some before I throw them out.”
Hugo stirs in his sleeping bag, his hair standing on end and his face squished from his pillow. My breath catches, and my cheeks warm. He’s so adorable I can barely stand it.
I put my finger to my mouth and mime a shushing sound. Hugo nods.
“Okay, Mom,” I call back, trying hard to sound normal. “I’ll be down in a bit.”
Mom’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. I whisper to Hugo, “We need to sneak you out. I’ll see if Abby can come over. Will you be okay by yourself until then?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He scratches his head. “In daylight, this whole thing seems kind of silly.”
“There’s nothing silly about that house.”
Hugo nods.
“Let me text Abby now,” I say, thumbing a message on my phone.
Cameron: You’ll never guess who spent the night
Abby: Umm, you’re right. No idea. Matty?
