Candye Jordan
Paranormal Mystery & Sci-Fi
​FULL MOON FESTIVAL
I stopped cold in my tracks and looked up at the dark house that used to be mine. Now it belonged to a spirit.
“Do you think she’s still there?” I whispered to Mom, and a gust of wind blew the dead leaves across the street.
“I —” she shook her head, “I don’t know. We should go. You’re almost late to school.” She tugged my hand, but I stood still, staring at the second-story window where she usually stood. There were only the closed blinds of my old bedroom.
“I just want it back.”
“I know,” Mom ran her hand through my hair, “me too.” Wisps of her wavy brown hair floated in the breeze.
I slipped my hand out of hers and walked toward the small red wooden gate.
“Emily, don’t!” Mom reached for my arm.
The stone cabin looked gray and abandoned. She couldn’t still be there.
“I’m just looking.” We had packed the night of the seance. Didn’t have time to pack much and left early the next morning before she could track us.
Mom crept up to me at the gate. Her face was a blank stare, the corners of her lips turned down. This was the first house she was ever able to save up for.
I flung the gate open. “I have to get it,” I called, barreling to the front door.
“Emily!” Mom ran toward me, but it was too late. I was already in the house. The air was chilly and still. My eyes darted all over the shadows in the living room and up the dark staircase when Mom peeked in the doorway.
“Emily?” her voice shook. “Get. Out.” When I didn’t move, her face went stern, and she came in to get me.
“It’s okay.” I lifted my hands. “I think she’s gone.”
Mom squinted up the staircase.
“I need to know,” I pleaded.
She took a deep breath. “Let me go first.”
Mom squeezed my hand as we made our way upstairs, with her in front. I slid my other hand up the wooden banister like I used to, and dust and grit built up underneath.
My stomach dropped when we reached my bedroom door. Mom reached for the knob, twisted slowly, and pressed the door open. The spirit wasn’t there.
My room was small with pale wood furniture and a scattering of plants. Some of them had died and wilted over the edge of their pots. The window above my desk let in rays of sunlight. Then something caught my eye.
I smiled and ran to my dresser with the wide mirror above it. There it was—my favorite pen. Mom joined me. I never noticed how much I looked like her—the same wavy brown hair and green eyes.
Then I stared at my Montblanc pen—a gift from my grandma with my birthstone on it: ruby.
“You know you can’t take that,” Mom whispered.
“Why? She’s gone.”
Mom shook her head and frowned. “You can’t know for sure.”
I reached for my pen, and there were flashes in my head of us taking it to a new home, and there she was—following us. A dark shadow flashed across the mirror. My face smiled at me in the reflection, and my blood froze.
Mom grabbed my arm and pulled me to the door, but the shadow chased us, like a heavy weight on our backs. We raced down the stairs with loud thumps and tried not to fall.
“Take it. Take it. Take it.” her whispers bounced in my head.
“You gave that to me, remember? Why would you take it back?” her voice hissed.
We screamed as our furniture lifted and slammed into the front door, and blocked windows.
I felt a strange pull—one I only felt around the spirit. Like dread and lost hope.
“Hide!” Mom threw us in the coat closet. “Shh.” She squeezed her eyes shut as we pressed into the leather and fleece.
“Emily, where’d you go?” Morrigan’s voice changed, sounding like a child—like her old self. “Don’t you wanna play?”
She knew where we were, but hiding made it feel like she didn’t. There was the pull again, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Her voice changed back as she sighed. “You don’t have to hide.” She tapped on the closet door. “I got what I needed.” She whooshed past. What did she mean?
When all was quiet, Mom cracked the door open. “Come on.” We ran around the mess of furniture and Mom slid the couch away from the door. We ran out, pushed through the gate, and onto the street, where we caught our breaths.
There she was, looming in my window again. Her pale-purple dress and blonde hair billowed as she floated, and her ethereal form flitted like static. We jumped when the front door slammed shut. Then Morrigan shot us a sly smile before fading into the darkness of my old room.
We shuffled a couple of steps toward school.
“Emily,” Mom’s voice was soft, but firm. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Sorry. I really thought she was gone.” I stared at the road.
We walked to school in silence for a while.
“When do we lose it?” I mumbled.
“Around November,” she sighed.
“Is there anyone who can help?”
“No.” She turned and stared into my eyes. “There is no one who will believe us. I don’t even want to think about what would happen if the cops thought I was crazy.” Mom whispered as some people walked around the bend in the street.
After they passed, she dropped to one knee and held my hands. “I could lose you, Emily. Don’t tell anyone about her.”
Some people already knew about it, like the girls who came over and performed a seance that banished Morrigan for a while. It created a disconnection between us, so I couldn’t feel her presence anymore. But she’d found us again through my favorite pen. She’d tricked me into giving her something to… connect with? I wasn’t sure how it worked, but she’d found me through the mirror at my cousin Sarah’s.
“Emily?” Mom shook my hands slightly and frowned.
“I miss our house… and the car.” I stared at my brown boots, remembering our rust-red beetle. I hated walking to school. Mom had put the car up for auction for extra money.
Mom hugged me and stood, bumping into a wide man with gray hair as he passed.
“Oh, sorry.” She said over her shoulder.
He grunted and walked at a brisk pace.
“Huh.” Mom stared as his windbreaker blew in the wind.
“Must be having a bad day?” I forced a grin.
“I guess so.” We walked on.
“Can we still get the car back?”
She frowned, “Kind of. We’d have to sell one of the houses.”
My stomach sank. Mom had taken on more work, and we had bought nothing besides necessities since we moved almost a year before. She couldn’t even read her thrillers anymore since she had less time. Or maybe it was because she was worried about me. My blood boiled when I thought about how it was all my fault and Mom had to pay the price for it.
“Don’t worry about it,” Mom patted my shoulder. “I’ll figure something out.”
She’d said that a year ago. I was afraid to face Morrigan, so I was happy to let Mom take over. Until we got the notice in the mail that we were about to lose the house.
I’d gotten a book from the local library on spirits. If I could figure out how to get rid of Morrigan, we could have our house back. We could have everything back. Maybe even Desi.
***
During recess, I went to my usual Sugar Maple tree and sat underneath. Dead leaves covered the ground. They always reminded me of Halloween, which was strange because our city never celebrated it. But that didn’t bother me. I never felt like getting scared or eating enough candy to make me sick.
I pulled the spirit book from my blue-jean bag, Dealing with Spirits. There had to be something useful.
Branches loomed over me, and a pale light shone through, leaving a scattering of bright light and shadows on the pages. I shivered, pulling my jacket closer. My cheeks froze and my nose burned when I wiped my red sweater sleeve across it.
Leaves rustled behind me and I whipped my head around. Austin and his friends leaped toward me with their hands up and yelled. I jumped, screamed, and threw my book.
They burst into laughter, bent over, holding their stomachs.
“She scares so easily.” Marco wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
I balled my fists and stood, swiping my nose again on my sleeve.
“Don’t cry.” Marco laughed.
Austin chuckled, “Sorry Emily, I had to.” He was way taller than me, and he looked older, too. He had spiky blond hair and wore a blue sweater with the collar of another shirt sticking out.
“Forget it.” I started packing my bag, but I couldn’t find the book.
“What’s this?” Austin had it, and my face burned. What if he found out about Morrigan?
“Spirits?” He asked with a half-smile and flipped it over, reading the back. I reached out, but he pulled it away as the boys looked over each other to see it. “Are you sure you should be reading this? It sounds a little too scary for you.”
His friends laughed and Marco pulled the collar of his shirt over his face and raised his hands in a horrible impersonation of a sheet ghost, making wobbly, woo-ing sounds—of course the other idiots followed, except Austin. He shoved the book into Marco’s gut. “Shut up! That’s annoying,” then handed the book back to me.
“I thought you were done with scary stuff when you scared that girl Desirae to move to a whole other school.”
I threw it in my bag—which I would usually never do with a library book—and slung my bag over my shoulder.
I hadn’t scared my best friend away. Morrigan did. I didn’t know where I was going, just away from them. Maybe I could read it at the library. That was where Desi and I used to read Detective Penny books together.
As I stomped to the doors, everything kept replaying in my mind, how it could have been different. I could have cried like I really wanted to. Maybe that would make them feel bad—doubtful, though. If I hadn’t used that Ouija board, Morrigan wouldn’t be here, and Desirae would. But Morrigan was the one who brought us together.
Everyone knew I was afraid of everything. How could I ever become a detective? I forgot about making friends after everyone heard I scared Desi away.
A wave of warmth hit me when I pulled open the faded blue door, melting the freeze off my face. It felt weird walking around school when everyone was outside. Would I get in trouble? Should I go back? I turned and a small group of kids talking to each other came around the corner. Then, it should be okay?
I crept down the hallway and voices came from the teachers’ break room. My mood lifted, eavesdropping was always fun. I slowed to listen, but I also wanted it to look like I was just passing by if anyone came out.
I recognized some teachers’ voices.
“I can’t believe they want us to condone this.” A lady said.
“Exactly!” Another lady spoke, “Why would we want to send our children by themselves to this? It just glorifies that rotten family.”
“Mh-hm. I’m not handing them out to my class.” That was Mr. Weston.
“Well…” Ms. Bailey, my homeroom teacher, murmured. “I think it would be nice for the kids to do something new and exciting for once. Town’s so boring—especially around Halloween. Everyone takes on an unfriendly attitude.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Weston said, “but you might be too young to remember what happened. That family brought a bad reputation to our city.”
There was silence for a moment, then a woman said, “Are you still trying for that counselor opening?”
“Yeah, it’s been a process for sure.” Ms. Bailey said.
The counselor thing was new, our school didn’t have one before.
The woman spoke quieter now. “To be honest, I don’t know why we even need one. These kids won’t change unless their parents work with them. There’s really not anything we can do. They’re shaped by their environment.”
“That’s somewhat true.” Ms. Bailey said, “But they still need someone to talk to. Just because they can’t talk to anyone at home doesn’t mean they don’t get to talk to anyone.” It was silent for a moment, then she added softly, “I grew up in it. I know what it’s like to be pushed away.”
“Hm.” The other woman said, and I imagined her sipping coffee.
Papers ruffled.
“Well—” Ms. Bailey said as the door opened, shooting pain into my shoulder.
“Whoops! I’m so sorry, Emily. Are you okay?” She leaned to check my shoulder and let the door close. Her rose perfume tingled my nose. I crushed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, feeling like I could taste it.
She clutched orange pamphlets in her elbow. I could only see the backs and an envelope with a name on it. Her arm covered some of it, but it looked like it said, Jacob.
“Yes.” I smiled and slipped past her.
“Where are you going?” Her shoes clicked twice behind me.
“To uh…” I turned around, “to the library.” I pointed a thumb over my shoulder.
Her face soured. “They…” she glanced at the doors. “Those kids weren’t being mean… to you, were they?”
I took a deep breath and looked away.
She nodded, looking at the ground, and tucked a strand of her dirty blonde hair behind her ear.
“I’m fine, I’m just gonna go read.” I picked at my thumb.
“Okay…”
I turned toward the library. What were they arguing about? Sending kids away somewhere? And Ms. Bailey as the counselor? She was my favorite teacher. What if she had to leave?
***
Mrs. Willows looked up from her desk, smiled, and went back to work.
I sat at a table and made sure no one could see the cover, but after the teachers’ conversation, I couldn’t focus. I read the introduction, but the writer’s personal experience with spirits wasn’t helpful.
I jumped when the bell rang, and left for class, waving to Mrs. Willows.
When I got to my homeroom, I walked through rows of kids chattering and throwing things across the room. I sat down right as Ms. Bailey came in, and the door clicked behind her.
She cleared her throat. “How was recess?” she asked with a forced smile. Was that because of the conversation in the break room?
Kids talked over each other about games they played, then right when it quieted, Marco said, “Except Emily was crying again.”
“Shut up!” Austin whispered and thumped Marco in the back of his curly black hair. “Wanna get us in trouble?”
My stomach flipped. Why did he have to bring that up? Ms. Bailey glanced between us. “Are you alright, Emily?” She looked like she was about to come over, and everybody was watching me. I hated that.
“Yes, I was fine, just cold is all.” Everyone turned back to Ms. Bailey. She still looked unsure. “Alright…” She watched me for a second as if to make sure I was really okay. “Well… I have some exciting news.” She took the same orange papers off her desk and ruffled them, but her smile didn’t look right. Like when you can tell the adults are just pretending to be happy.
She went on, “The Full Moon Festival is this year on Halloween weekend.”
Some kids looked at each other in excitement while others, like me, were confused.
“For those who don’t know…” she started handing out fliers, “the Full Moon Festival only happens when there’s a full moon on Halloween night. This is only about every nineteen years. It’s a very special occasion.”
She placed a flier on my desk. The scrawly font covered the orange and black paper decorated with pictures, pumpkins, and food.
Grayson leaned over to Brady’s desk in front of mine. “They say strange things happen there every time it comes around. They’ve never been able to figure out who or what was doing it. And some people think it’s haunted because of the accident.”
Brady scoffed and shook his head. “It’s not haunted.”
I couldn’t help but grin. A skeptic. If he only knew.
“Where did you hear about this?” Ms. Bailey’s eyebrows pulled together.
“I have family in other schools and they already got these papers.” Grayson held up the flier. “I just heard it from them.” He shrugged and flopped his arm back on his desk.
She turned to Brady.
“Yeah.” He glanced at Grayson, then back at Ms. Bailey. “I heard about it from other kids.”
She leaned against her desk and stared out the window.
The pamphlet said it was in Belmon, which was about two hours away. It would go on all that week for ages eight to twelve.
I was eleven. Most kids in my class were.
“Aren’t we a little old for Halloween?” I asked, then regretted it because those jerks snickered at me.
“It’s all in good fun.” Ms. Bailey smiled.
“Don’t you wanna get the grand prize?” Thomas asked, pointing at something on the paper.
“What is it?” Leah asked.
“No one knows. It’s always unique to the festival, though. Everyone’s gonna try to win.” He smiled.
“We know who’s not going,” Austin mumbled to Marco while grinning at me.
“Hey.” Ms. Bailey wrinkled her forehead.
Austin grinned.
“See me after class. I will not allow bullying.”
He sighed and looked at the ceiling.
“And I want you to apologize to Emily.”
He grinned. “How’d you know who I was talking about?”
Her head dropped, and she blushed. Everyone knew he was talking about me.
“Sorry, Emily.” His smug grin still plastered on his face.
Ms. Bailey finished class, and I was glad for things to calm down for a bit, but I kept thinking about Morrigan.
“So,” she said before the bell, “I have some bad news about the festival. The only way to get in is if you have tickets.”
At least half of the class groaned.
“Well, they can’t be bought or there’d be too many people there. You have to enter your name and a raffle will be called for the winners. And even then, the winners have to buy tickets. But first, I need everyone to get this form signed by their parents.”
If I didn’t get mine signed, they’d never let me forget it. Mom would understand. I hoped.
Drawing Names
I gathered my bag when the last bell rang and left to meet Mom outside. She waited for me on the metal bench out the side doors. She smiled when she saw me and stood.
“How was school?” She put her arm around me as we walked across the sidewalk into the street.
“Eh. It was okay.” I picked at my thumbnail.
Her eyebrows drew together. “You alright?”
“Yeah… um…” I walked a little faster than her. “Ms. Bailey gave us these pamphlet things for a Halloween festival…”
She jerked her head back. “Here?”
“No, it’s in Belmon.” I took a deep breath and talked fast. “Ms. Bailey said we had to get a permission slip signed just to enter the raffle, and I was hoping you’d sign mine. Just for show,” I added quickly.
Mom was quiet, so I waited, but I was losing hope. The road was deserted, and it would take us a while to get home. Fog blurred the distant trees. Finally, Mom said, “We’ll see.” Then she moved on to talk about what we should eat for dinner and other things.
We got to our place, and I still wasn’t used to calling it home. The new house was nothing like our old one—stiff and boxy, bright white with black shutters and a green door. I missed my window, my reading nook, my books, and plants.
I followed Mom through the front door, and when we passed the kitchen, she asked if I wanted cocoa. As I agreed, our voices echoed through the cold and empty living room. I walked the stairs up to my room shivering, climbed on my white twin bed, and wrapped my blanket around me. I pulled Dealing with Spirits from my bag. Homework could wait.
There were so many things in common. The book mentioned strange happenings around the house, seeing things out of the corners of your eyes, then finally seeing a spirit. That’s when Morrigan and I became friends, so I thought. Then the attacks started.
But no mention of attachment to an item. Not yet anyway. I rubbed my face, and Mom knocked on the door. I slammed the book shut and slid it into my bag. “Come in,” I called. Mom tiptoed in with two mugs of cocoa on a tray. She sat at the end of my bed and handed me a mug.
“Careful!” she held out her hand as if to catch it. “Don’t spill it.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I said monotone, but with a smile. I smelled the sweet chocolate, and the steam warmed my face. It might have been too hot to sip, so I waited.
“Seriously, could you just sign that slip for me?” I said with a sheepish smile. She deflated. “It’s not that I wanna go, it’s…”
“The boys?” she said with her face pinched.
I concentrated on my plain-white bed sheets and nodded. It was dead silent for a minute and she took a deep breath. “Well, I had an idea for this year.” She re-adjusted herself.
“I was thinking,” she smiled, “we could cook popcorn, make a cozy fort, and watch movies together on Halloween.”
“Really?” I said with a chuckle. “Why?”
“Why not? It’ll be fun! We could maybe get things back on track.”
I pinned my arm against my stomach. We used to do those things before Morrigan came. I faked a smile and nodded, but it had been almost a year now. If it hadn’t gone back to normal by now, I didn’t think it ever would.
“Alright, well, tomorrow we can get some stuff.” She smiled for a moment, then said, “You okay?”
“Yeah, but if I show up at school tomorrow without the signed slip, they’re gonna laugh at me.” I knew she didn’t want me to go anywhere, but it was only for show. I thought she’d understand.
She wrapped her arms around me in my blanket burrito and put her head on mine. “Don’t worry about them. They’ll go on their trip, get scared, have nightmares, eat too much candy and get sick, then they’ll come home and wish they never went. They’ll be too worried about themselves to think about whether you got yours signed.”
I nodded, but I knew it wasn’t true. I couldn’t go to school without a signed slip, and I didn’t have anyone else to sign it for me. Signing it myself was an option, but I’d never done that before, and I could get in so much trouble. What if Mom banned me from reading or something, and then I couldn’t read this spirit book for a month?
But it had to be signed. How hard could it be? Adults just scribbled their names, right? I’d sign it in the morning.
***
My alarm went off and my stomach soured. I wiped the blur from my eyes, got dressed before pulling the slip from my bag, and took it to the beat-up dresser that came with the house. I pushed away my journals and pulled a pen from the spiral.
I stared at the line. What did Mom’s signature even look like? I opened a journal and practiced scribbling her name a few times. Three knocks on my door made me jump.
“Emily, you awake?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, gimme a minute,” I called out and checked the time on my pocket-watch. I’d usually be ready by now.
I pressed the pen to the line and made a messy scribble—it looked horrible. I squeezed the pen. This was just… an illusion. It would pass as a signed slip, and that was all I needed. I slid it into my folder and back into my bag.
Everyone had their forms on their desk when I got to class. The room was livelier than usual, and they were talking about Halloween. Full Moon Festival was written in cursive on the whiteboard. Ms. Bailey picked up a black top hat from her desk.
“Alright, give me your signed permission slips, and I’ll hand you an entry.” She was quieter than usual. Maybe the teachers still disagreed with her about passing these out.
“I can call out a few extra in my class because some of the other teachers aren’t handing these out.”
“Why not?” Leah asked from the front left desk.
“They just don’t agree with Halloween. You know how they can be about that.”
“Yeah, lame.” Leah grinned. “Just because there was this major accident caused by someone who lived here doesn’t mean they did it on purpose. Like, way to hold a grudge and ruin everyone’s fun.”
Ms. Bailey smiled. She never forced her opinions on us.
“Dude,” Jackson said, “a lot of people died. You can’t just brush that off and call it a grudge when people are upset about it.”
Leah pursed her lips.
“Great arguments, you two. Got your slips?” Mrs. Bailey asked when she reached them.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my folder, but no one was looking. I shifted in my seat and cleared my throat, lifting the slip up as if I were reading it.
“What?! Emily got hers signed?” Marco said, and out of the corner of my eye, but Austin… smiled? I hadn’t expected that.
I grinned, too satisfied to hold it in, and chatter picked up around the room. Ms. Bailey handed out small strips of paper. They wrote their names, folded the paper, and tossed them into the hat.
She got to me and smiled when she saw my slip. “Good for you, Emily.” She whispered and handed me a piece of paper. I stared at it for a second. If I put my name in there, I could be called. Could I toss it in blank? If she drew a blank one, they’d know it was me. This was so stupid. I wrote my name, folded it, and held it for a second. It crumpled in my hand—Please don’t call on me—I threw it in the hat. She smiled and walked up to the front of the class.
“Okay, where’s the blindfold?” She looked around her desk, then picked it up. “Does someone wanna swish the names around?”
Hands shot up and kids called out. She looked right past Austin and his friends and called on Jason, one of the more trustworthy kids, and he joined her.
“Okay, go ahead.” She put her blindfold on, and he reached into the hat. His whole arm fit and he swished them around. The papers rustled and toppled over when he pulled his arm out. He smiled and went back to his seat.
“Thank you.” Ms. Bailey said, then cleared her throat. “Ready?”
“Yeah!” They cheered.
I stared outside, wishing I could read my spirit book instead.
“The first winner is…” she unfolded the paper. “Leah!”
The class clapped for her, and the papers swished again. “The next one is…” she chuckled, “Austin.” She said, rolling her eyes and smiling. Some kids clapped again. “Did you put multiple entries in here?” She squinted at him with her arms crossed.
He lifted his arms and looked around the class, like “Why me?” and everyone laughed.
“I’m joking.” Ms. Bailey smiled and put the blindfold back on. “Last one…”
The papers swished, then silence. Her face fell, and she mumbled, “Emily.”
No. My heart dropped.
Austin burst out laughing, and his friends followed.
She wasn’t supposed to call me. I had to be sick that day. What should I say? My skin burned and everyone stared at me.
Ms. Bailey cleared her throat. “Congratulations to everyone who got called. I know you’ll have a wonderful time. Be good, I’m gonna go get your tickets printed.” She glanced at me, and the corners of her lips turned down.
My hands shook. Everybody wanted this, right? I could just give mine to someone else.
After about fifteen minutes, Ms. Bailey came back and handed out the tickets. When she reached me, she gave me a suspicious look. Did she know? She handed me the ticket and my heart dropped. It was printed on thick, orange and black paper like a formal invitation—with my full name printed on it.
***
I trudged down the hallway, staring at my ticket as everybody bustled by for lunch break. What would Mom say? What if I “lost” it? I’d need to make sure no one could find it and give it back to me.
When I looked up, I almost ran into the trash can that led down the ramp to the cafeteria. I stepped back and realized I couldn’t easily see in there because of the lid shape. I clutched my ticket and hovered over the opening. But it was such a waste to throw it away.
“Hey!” someone called.
I jerked back and turned. Some kid with a cast on his arm laughed and pointed at my ticket. “You were about to throw that away!” He turned to his friends. “We knew she wasn’t gonna go. She’s a scaredy-cat.”
My heart pounded in my ears. “I wasn’t gonna throw it away, I was just… walking by.” If they thought I was still too scared to go, there was no point in even entering my name.
They kept laughing as they passed me down the ramp.
At least scaredy-cats didn’t do stupid things and wind up with their arm in a cast, I thought before looking back at the ticket. The library printed everything, so Mrs. Willows could probably help. I peeked in the trash again, wanting so badly to throw it away, but something else caught my eye—a bunch of ripped-up sheets of paper, one with the word, spirits.
No one was looking, so I plucked out all the ripped pieces and slid them into my journal folder. After a quick lunch alone, I rushed to the library.
Mrs. Willows sat at the front desk, ruffling papers and licking her thumb.
“Mrs. Willows?”
She looked up and smiled. She had frizzy gray hair and a white streak at the front. “Hey, Emily! Looking for the new…” she licked her lips, pointed up, and spun her finger near her head, “Oh! Detective Penny book?”
The library was pretty empty, but I whispered anyway. “No ma’am, I—there’s a new Detective Penny book out?”
She nodded, “I think so.” Her fingers flew across her keyboard as she squinted and leaned close to her screen.
“Actually,” I said, “the reason I’m here is that I got picked for the festival, but I really don’t wanna go. And it feels like such a waste to throw the ticket away.”
“Aww,” she shook her head, “I’m sorry, dear, but we’re not pulling tickets or printing new ones anymore.” She got up from her seat and walked to an aisle.
“W-why not?” I asked. “Ms. Bailey just finished printing ours.”
She shook her head again and scanned the shelf. “Everyone’s name has already been entered into the system. Any changes would allow for others to make changes or ask for more tickets, make exceptions,” she waved her hand in the air, “all those things are just too much to deal with.” She tapped a couple of book spines.
I sighed.
“May I ask,” she craned her neck at a higher shelf, “if you didn’t want to go, why’d you enter your name?” She pulled a book from the shelf and adjusted her glasses to look at it.
“I—” I shrugged as she glanced over her glasses at me.
“Well…” she cocked her head, “just don’t go.” She smiled. “It’s not a waste.” And she handed me the book.
I got chills. There was a new Detective Penny book! I usually kept up with that. “Thank you so much!” I smiled, staring at the cover. Penny had her usual trench coat and pocket-watch as she stood in front of a mansion.
Just then, Ms. Bailey walked into the library. “I thought I’d find you here.” She joined us at the shelf, then pulled out my permission slip. “Did you sign this yourself?”
My stomach sank, and I couldn’t look her in the eye.
“Emily,” she said softly, “I can’t let you go unless your mom says it’s okay. I’m gonna have to call her for permission.”
My shoulders slumped. “Please don’t call her, I’ll tell her myself later. I don’t even know what to do with this ticket.” I slapped it with the back of my hand. “The only reason I signed the form was because—”
“I know.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s sit.” She led us to a table.
It was silent for a minute before I said, “I don’t like monsters and spirits and stuff like that. I don’t like being scared like they do.” I crossed my arms.
She smiled. “I understand that. No one really likes to be scared. I think it’s more that they’re happy to be alive. Does that make sense?” Her face scrunched up.
I shook my head.
“Well,” she talked with her hands, “they get scared initially, and then they’re relieved because they’re alive and not actually in danger like they thought they were.”
“But what about that makes it fun?”
She chuckled, and it made me smile. “Don’t feel like you have to go just because the other kids don’t understand you.”
I nodded. “If I do have to go, I just want some food and candy and maybe just a tiny bit of the less scary atmosphere.” I pinched my fingers close and closed one eye.
She smiled. “That does sound like fun, and I’ve heard their pumpkin pie is amazing.”
“Have you ever been?”
“No.” She answered right away, then she laughed to herself. “Just like you, I’m not into scary things either.”
But she was old. Didn’t older people get used to those things? “Does that mean I’ll never stop being scared?”
Her face got serious. “I think… it’s important to realize that they’re just fears. You don’t have to let them control whether you do something.”
That didn’t make sense. We were afraid of things for a reason. For survival. And maybe if I had more fear, we wouldn’t have had to deal with Morrigan. But she was trying to make me feel better, so I smiled and nodded. But the conversation from the break room was still bothering me.
“I couldn’t help but overhear earlier…”
She gave a tight smile.
“You’re trying to get the counselor job?”
“I am.”
“Would you still be our teacher?”
“Of course! I would be available after school.” She glanced at the table and lost her smile.
“But you’re not happy about it?”
She looked surprised for a second, then said, “I am. I just…” she shook her head. “We all have our own issues, you know? I sometimes wonder if I’m even the right person to counsel someone else.” She scrunched her nose.
My jaw dropped. “If anyone should be the counselor, it should be you! You know us best and you’re the only one who listens to us.”
Her smile returned. “That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s true.” I had talked to her about Morrigan before. That’s when Mom freaked out and said not to tell anyone else. She thought I’d get taken away from her.
She stared out the window, lost in thought for a minute, then glanced at my ticket on the table. “I’ll help you with your mom any way I can. But Emily, you have to realize you did this yourself and now you need to take responsibility.”
I sighed and just kinda nodded. Just because she’d be the counselor didn’t mean she would sugar-coat things.
“Good luck, okay?” She winked and left our table.
I sat there for a while wondering how to tell Mom, and how she was gonna punish me. I wrote some ideas in my journal. Sometimes it helped to write it out, but when I went to put it away, a small piece of ripped paper dropped to the table.
A Strange Note
I dumped the rest of the pieces on the table, and there were about twenty of them. I borrowed the tape from Mrs. Willows’ desk.
I didn’t know where to start—some were turned over the wrong way, but others looked just like in a Detective Penny book I read. They used magazine cutouts to write it.
I pieced it together just like I would do a puzzle—starting with corner pieces, then onto the edges and middle. My stomach turned. I hadn’t done a puzzle since Morrigan attacked me and Desirae. The first few words appeared as I reached the middle: You know. As I worked, a scuffle on the carpet came near me.
“What’s that?” I jumped, and a girl stood over my shoulder. She had chin-length auburn hair and freckles, and she carried a few library books. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her before.
“Just a ripped note I found. I wanna know what it says.” I looked back at the table, rolling my eyes. Why did she have to sneak up on me?
“Can I help? I wanna know what it says now.” She chuckled.
“Um, sure.” I wasn’t used to people helping me with things like this.
She sat next to me and looked it over. “You know,” she read aloud.
I found the word “spirits” again. My smiling face in the mirror at home flashed in my head, and I winced. She picked up a piece. “Oh! This one says, ‘Signed, the.’ It probably goes at the bottom.” She slid it there.
My stomach felt like it was in my throat. “Spirits” would fit perfectly. I placed it, and the letter came together: “to do,” “secret,” “share.”
We whispered it together.
“You know what you have to do.
We’ll get what we need, or
We’ll share your secret.
Signed, The Spirits.”
We looked at each other, and I was sure my eyes were as wide as hers.
The girl pointed at it, “W-Where’d you get that?”
“In the trash,” I mumbled.
She laughed. “For a good reason, too. That’s too creepy. Do you think it’s an actual threat?” She leaned her elbow on the table and put her chin on her fist.
I shook my head. “It’s not just a threat. It’s blackmail,” I whispered, taping the pieces together.
“What’s blackmail?” she whispered back.
“It’s when someone knows a secret about someone else and makes them do whatever they want or they share that secret. And it’s a huge crime. I read about it in a Detective Penny book.”
She gasped, “Is that any good? I just started the series since the new book came out.” She showed me the first Detective Penny book in her library stack.
But I couldn’t answer. My hand trembled as I picked up the now floppy letter. The spirits would “get what they needed,” just like Morrigan said. It had to be related to the festival—and Morrigan. But who was it written for?
“Um…” she said, “maybe someone was playing a Halloween prank?”
I stared blankly at a bookshelf. “Yeah. It could be a prank. Maybe I was just reading too much into it.”
It was silent for a moment before I said, “I’ve heard about an accident on the Festival grounds. I have a feeling this is related.”
She nodded, but her eyes were blank. “This is fun!” Her face scrunched up. “But I gotta go now. Good luck figuring this out.” She half smiled and left.
I was alone again, holding a possible blackmail letter. If I turned it in, they might think it was a prank too. But if I kept it and found the actual blackmailer (if there was one), then I’d have proof. I put it in my journal folder and dropped it in my bag.
I needed to know more about this place. I paced the bookshelves for all the historical books. Was that where it would be? Sliding my finger across the books made that bumpy paper sound. But I couldn’t find anything. I went back to Mrs. Willows’ desk and asked, “Do you have any books on the festival?”
She smiled, “Changed your mind? Well, let me see.” She picked up her multi-colored glasses that hung on a chain around her neck and put them halfway down her nose. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “We seem to have one. The Full Moon Festival by E.S. Arthur.”
She told me where to find it and I rushed to get it. There wasn’t much time before lunch was over. It was one of those wide, heavy books with black and white photos. I flipped through the pages and saw pictures of the owner through the years and people in silly costumes. I kept my journal open and wrote anything that seemed important. But I stopped on a photo that didn’t seem to fit with the others. A strange twisting, pointy symbol, so I drew that in my journal too. The author only said that he had seen it around the park. Then I found a passage on spirits. It read:
“Ever since the Full Moon Festival in 1963, children have claimed they’ve seen actual spirits, but it’s impossible to know if they’re real or if it’s all an act put on by the employees. There’s a rumor that someone they call ‘The Opener’ returned to the next festival in 1982 to open gateways and release the spirits who have been trapped due to a horrible accident. It might sound easy enough, but after the accident, only staff and children were allowed in, claiming lack of space and high demand. Therefore, it would now be highly unlikely that the same person got back in unless they were working for the owner, Oscar Venks.
“Mr. Venks has kept things quiet, and authorities have remained baffled. The truth about the accident that occurred during the first festival is muddy, but we do know that the one thought to be behind the accident, and their family, have vanished, likely under a new name.
“There’s no telling whether the spirits are truly trapped there because you can only be on the property on those rare nights, every nineteen years.”
I felt hope like I hadn’t in a long time. If this person knew how to open these portals and release the trapped spirits, maybe I could do the same for Morrigan.
I blinked when a shadow covered the page, and I looked up. Mrs. Willows was standing nearby, pretending to mess with a book on the shelf.
“So, did you decide to go?” She tilted her head.
I took a deep breath and looked back at the page, nodding. “I think I have to.”
“Why’s that?” she lifted her glasses.
My blood froze for a second. Mom said not to tell anyone about Morrigan. “Um. It’s just really rare, and I’d hate to regret missing something like that.” I scratched my cheek.
She nodded. “Welll, I hope you have a great tiiime,” she sang and started back toward her desk.
There didn’t seem to be anything else I could use, so I closed the heavy book with a thump and slid it back on the shelf. Then I scribbled down some notes in my notebook:
If everything about this place is true,
-Who wrote the blackmail letter, for whom, and what secrets were kept?
-What happened at the festival?
-How did the spirits get trapped?
-Who was the Opener, and how could I get their help with Morrigan?
If the spirits were real, I didn’t know how I could handle it. I couldn’t even handle Morrigan. But this could be the only way to get rid of her.
Telling Mom
I closed my eyes as the last bell rang and pushed through the hallway to meet Mom outside. She was sitting on her usual bench, and my eyes filled.
“Hey!” She waved and stood as I got closer, then touched my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
I hugged her. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. “I shouldn’t have, but I was —”
“What happened?” She leaned back to see my face, and there was so much worry in her eyes. I squeezed mine shut and started walking home before anyone saw me. I talked through the tears. “I was still scared about the other kids, so I signed your name on the slip just to show them that I could go too, but then Ms. Bailey called my name and now I really need to go.” I hiccuped and wiped my face with my sleeve.
She clicked her tongue, “Aw, Emily,” she squeezed my shoulder and looked into my eyes. “I get it. But that doesn’t mean you have to go.”
“It’s not about that, Mom. I do have to go. It’s the only way to get rid of Mor—” I looked around but never finished.
For the rest of the way home, Mom wouldn’t listen to anything about leaving, the festival, or even the possibility of getting rid of Morrigan.
I stomped straight to my room when we got home. Mom and I basically made a non-verbal agreement not to talk to each other for the rest of the night, so I read Dealing with Spirits again. It mostly talked about some of the things we’d already tried—the smoke and the seance, but none of it had worked.
I leaned back on my pillow, letting the book sprawl over my lap. I miss Morrigan. I breathed a laugh at the thought. It was silly, but we were friends once. She kept me company and made my room feel more… lively somehow. I missed Desi and even Mom. After she dropped me off at home, she’d gone to show another house. It seemed like she was working all the time now.
The phone rang around seven o’clock. I always hoped it would be Desi. We’d stayed in contact for a while after she moved, but she could only call me in secret. Then she got in trouble for it. It had been a few months since I’d heard from her.
Mom answered and talked for a while before I realized she was talking about me.
“I can’t let her go to this thing. She’s never left before… I know Sarah and James are going but what if they don’t stick together?… How could I regret it? I’ll regret it if I send her…” Mom sighed. “I guess. I don’t know what to do…” She scoffed. “It’ll be all your fault.” Her voice wavered as she attempted the joke. “Alright. Bye.”
I hid the book under my pillow as Mom’s footsteps thumped up to my room. She knocked twice.
“Emily?” her voice was muffled behind the door.
“Yeah.”
She pressed it open and sat on the edge of my bed. Glancing around my room, her eyes stuck on my dresser mirror that I’d covered with a blanket. “Are… you getting used to this place yet?”
I shrugged.
She looked at her hands folded on her lap.
“Well, it’s okay. I just really miss my stuff—my books, my old nook, you know.”
Mom nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have listened to you, but I followed her anyway.”
Mom hesitated before asking, “Why?”
“I don’t know. I thought she was my friend. And she helped me make friends with Desirae. She was actually fun before she…” I left it hanging. I didn’t want to bring everything back up.
Mom nodded, then said, “I knew something was wrong when your grades went down. They’ve shot up since we moved here.” She smiled and rubbed my arm with her thumb. “I hope you can come to love it here.”
“I can’t.” I pulled my arm away. I didn’t want to fight with her again, but she needed to know that. “I’m not going to just let Morrigan have our house.”
“I don’t want to either. But I don’t know what to do.” Her voice cracked as she stared at her hands again.
This time, I reached over and patted her arm. “I’m doing some research, okay? I can figure something out.”
We sat in silence for a moment, and Mom wiped her eyes with her thumb. She gestured her head toward the door, “That was Uncle Cliff,” she sniffed. “He said Sarah and James are going to the festival.”
I looked at my sheets and nodded.
“I guess,” she sighed and closed her eyes, “you could go with them.”
I nodded, “Thank you.” I leaned over to give her a hug.
“She hugged me back and said, “But don’t go trying to get rid of Morrigan. I don’t want you getting hurt. And you better stick with your cousins, no matter what.”
“I will.”
“Good.” She rubbed her temples.
“Mom? I need a costume.” I gave her a sheepish grin.
Her lips made a thin line. “We’ll go to the party store tomorrow.” She pushed a hair behind my ear and left.
***
Friday, we had the day off to get ready for the festival. I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. I’d never been to a party store before.
Mom asked me all the way there if I was sure this was what I wanted. We pulled into the parking lot and the building was huge but plain on the outside. It didn’t look scary or fun like I thought.
There was a mummy set up in the window with fake webs. I’d never seen any real webs that were so long and thick. Mom opened the door and let me in first. I was hit with a blast of cold air and the smell of…rubber? I couldn’t tell exactly, but it was a strange powdery-rubbery smell.
There were masks and outfits everywhere, and animated characters that screamed or talked when you walked past. I jumped every time.
“Let’s see if we can find the costumes.” Mom craned her neck to look around the store.
“What are Sarah and James gonna be?” I asked.
“Uh, James is a lumberjack—”
“No surprise,” I muttered. James was always something country.
“And Sarah is—I believe she called it ‘Soul Taker.’” Her robe is covered in souls or something.” Mom raised an eyebrow.
Again, no surprise, Sarah was always the creepiest thing she could think of. I snickered. “Where does she get these ideas?”
“You know how she is.” Mom grinned. “It doesn’t help that Uncle Cliff is always watching those scary movies.”
We finally reached the costumes and there were so many hanging on the racks and the wall—cats, fairies, birds, vampires, and all kinds of animals and monsters.
But my favorite one stood out. “This one’s perfect.” I grabbed a bag on a hanger and turned it toward Mom. It was a trench coat with black pants, a deerstalker hat, black gloves, and a magnifying glass. “Doesn’t it look like Detective Penny?”
“It does. That’s a cute one.” Mom smiled.
Detective Penny never used a magnifying glass, only her pocket watch to keep track of alibis and timelines.
After waiting in line for like thirty minutes, we reached the counter, and all the workers were dressed in costumes—candies, skeletons, dolls, clowns—you name it. Mom put my costume on the counter and her cell phone rang. She put the small orange phone to her ear and chuckled. “Sarah has a message for you.” She handed me the phone.
“Hey!” Sarah said, a little too loud. “See you tomorrow at the bus stop! Don’t forget to bring extra pants!”
***
Saturday morning, I turned off my alarm, and butterflies flew in my stomach. Mom helped me with my costume, but her hands shook and she kept dropping things.
“I think it’s done.” Her voice shook as she continued to pick at my costume. She half smiled. “What do you think?”
I looked in the mirror that Mom uncovered and smiled, but it quickly faded. I never got used to seeing my smile after Morrigan used it against me.
“Hm. I think something’s missing.” She reached over to my desk, grabbed my pocket watch, and hooked it onto my pants.
I gasped, “It’s just like Penny’s! I love it!”
She smiled. “Well, let’s get on the road.”
I looked down, thinking about how much Desirae would have loved to go to this festival. She liked spooky things, but when Mom called Desi’s dad to have her picked up after Morrigan attacked, her mom got scared and made her move schools.
“What’s wrong?” Mom asked.
“I want to try to call Desirae again. It’s been a while.”
Mom smiled and nodded.
The phone rang and rang until Desi’s mom’s voicemail came on. I never left a message before, but I needed to let her know when I’d be back.
“Hey, Desi, it’s Emily. I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about what happened at my house. I miss reading with you, and I hope I can just talk to you again soon.
“I’m going to this festival thing and I’ll be back at the beginning of November. I really hope to hear from you. Bye.”
I didn’t expect to hear from her. Her parents were so angry that Desirae was in danger. I wished Desi had never come over that day.
I didn’t blame her parents. Morrigan was dangerous. Half my body was possessed. And later, she took complete control at Sarah’s Hallows Eve party. Thankfully, no one knew what happened. That was why I was so afraid to face Morrigan. But if I didn’t, I’d never get my house back—my cozy reading nook in the window. Houses were for living people, not dead.
***
We drove to the bus station and Mom found my uncle Cliff—her brother and Sarah’s dad—and my aunt Kelly—my dad’s sister and James’ mom. His brothers were there, too. I didn’t know them very well because they were way older than us. They didn’t even acknowledge that I was there as they pointed and laughed at the costumes.
Kids bursting with energy ran by while the adults talked and drank from their travel mugs.
I spotted Sarah and James sitting on the sidewalk further away. It was always a little weird visiting them after so long. James was a lumberjack with a foam ax, a plaid shirt, and blue jeans. Sarah’s black dress was covered in misty, white skulls… or souls?
Laughing at something James said, she glanced up. When she saw me, she pulled her hood up and stared with a shadow across half her face. I hated it.
James, catching her stare, turned, “Hey, Em!” He shouted and waved his ax at me as if it were his hand.
I glanced at Mom to let her know I was leaving, and as I walked toward the curb, Sarah yanked off her hood and laughed.
“Was I scary?” she asked, smiling.
I said yeah, while James said no. She squinted at him with tight lips.
“I’m kidding!” He laughed.
“You better be! You’re a lumberjack. No one’s scared of them.”
“Oh yeah? What if I slashed someone up with my ax?” He slashed it through the air. “Then they’d be scared.”
“No, then they’d be dead. So why didn’t you put blood on your ax?”
“Blood?” He scrunched up his face.
“Here.” Sarah opened her mini lime-green backpack and pulled out a bottle of red liquid, “It’s fake blood.”
“Oh, cool!” He grabbed the bottle. “Can we use it?” He’d already opened it and stared at her wide-eyed.
“Sure!” She laughed, and they sat on the curb to work. I joined next to James. He poured the red liquid onto the ax and it ran everywhere. It really did look like blood, and my stomach felt sick.
“Oh.” He stared at the messy liquid. “I don’t have anything to wipe it with.” His eyes darted around like he would find something nearby, then he held out his hand. He rubbed the fake blood into the ax’s foam blade, then checked his palm. “Eh, it feels gross.”
My jaw dropped when he wiped it on his plaid shirt, leaving a creepy hand mark behind. Checking his hand again, it was stained red.
Sarah’s face brightened at his new and “improved” costume. “Now we’re talkin’,” She said with a half smile and one eye squinted. She leaned forward to see me. “Your turn! You can be a bloody detective serial killer!” Her eye twitched as she came towards me with the bottle of blood.
“No, thanks.” I strained a laugh. “I just wanna be Detective Penny. I don’t need to be scary.”
She sighed, “Fine,” and tossed the blood back in her backpack. Wasn’t she worried that would spill all over her stuff?
I was starting to feel more comfortable, seeing everyone’s costumes and the fake blood. All of it was fake. Nothing to worry about. Just find the Opener and get their help with Morrigan. The rest of the buses pulled in, and one stopped right in front of us.
I went back to find Mom. I hugged her side and told her bye.
She bent to hug me back and said with a serious face, “Stay with your cousins. Do not go anywhere alone. Alright?”
I nodded.
She hugged me tight and for way too long. Then James and Sarah showed up to say goodbye. Uncle Cliff and Sarah did this secret handshake thing that was super cool. And then he tried to teach it to me and James while the grown-ups talked.
James hugged Aunt Kelly, who patted his back and kept talking to Uncle Cliff and Mom.
She gestured her head toward James’ brothers. “The boys’ team just won the state championship.” She gleamed.
“I heard about that!” Mom said. “That’s great!”
The boys acted like they didn’t hear, staring at the ground.
Aunt Kelly picked it up again. “And Nathan won the Player of the Year award.”
“Mom,” Nathan said with a straight face.
She put her hand on his arm. “Oh, they’re so humble.”
“What about you, James?” Mom asked.
He was staring at the ground. “I don’t play sports.”
Ethan, his other brother, spoke up. “Only sports he plays are video games.” They laughed.
“So? It’s way more fun.”
“Be nice.” His mom said, giving them a warning look.
James bit the inside of his cheek, and we said our last goodbyes.
Lines formed outside each bus from all the different schools. The line started moving and my heart raced. I glanced over my shoulder to see Mom. She smiled, but I knew she was about to cry.
“I can’t wait to start getting tickets,” James said.
“I know!” Sarah bounced on her toes. “The grand prize is usually really good. We could probably all pitch in our tickets and be sure to get it!”
The line moved, and I watched each step as I got on. A tall, wide man by the driver’s seat took our names as we boarded, checking them off on a clipboard.
The bus was filled with noisy kids in costumes. A vampire hissed and held up his curled fingers at his laughing friends. A black cat sat next to a scarecrow. They were on the younger side.
A bat messed with his wings and couldn’t get them to fit in the seat. I smiled.
I took the next seat by the window, then James and Sarah squeezed in. When the bus was full, the driver called out from the front.
“Quiet everybody! Quiet!” He waved his hands up and down like he wanted everyone to sit. He had a big belly and a scraggly black beard. “I’m Bus Driver Benny,” his voice was rough and southern. “This is gonna be about a two-hour drive, so I need everyone to sit down and be good. Can you do that?” His eyebrows raised.
Some kids shouted, “Yeah!” but there was so much chatter around the bus.
“Alright,” he shouted. “We’re leavin’. If any o’ you decide you don’t wanna go, now’s the time to get off, because once we leave this station,” he pointed down, “there’s no coming back until Thursday mornin’.”
A girl about eight years old in a mouse costume started crying.
“Aw, c’mon now,” Benny said.
Kids laughed and made fun as he walked towards her.
“Shush!” his voice boomed, and the bus went quiet. He took her hand and walked her off the bus where she ran and hugged who I assumed to be her mom.
Benny came back in and stared at us. “Anyone else?”
There was silence as we waited. The last thing I would do is leave now, no matter how much I wanted to.
I looked out the window and didn’t see Mom anymore. Then I caught Leah peeking at me from a couple of rows ahead. I sat taller.
“Alright!” Benny took the driver's seat and glanced at us from his giant rearview mirror.
“Everybody ready?” His smile didn’t look quite right. I got goosebumps. What if he was some kind of psycho taking all of us who-knows-where?
“Yeah!” Kids shouted all over the bus with whoops and laughs.
“Let’s go!”
The bus hissed, and we were off.
Trees zoomed by and they were colored so beautifully. Then droplets of rain prickled the window. Some girls let out a quick scream as they fought to get their windows closed. The bus grew quieter now that the sound of the road was gone, but there was still excitement echoing from the kids. I could only make out pieces of their conversations when some grew louder.
Everyone was talking about rides and tickets, but what about the Opener? Maybe some of the kids were right and there really was no mystery. But could it really—
Someone threw something across the bus. They were so loud I could hardly think. I sighed and shifted toward the window.
My cousins droned on about rides they hoped would be there, and Sarah gushed about how good their pumpkin pie was supposed to be.
“What about the mystery no one’s talking about anymore?” I asked, then a boy in front of us peeked over the seat. He was dressed as a skeleton with black and white face paint. Some of the paint stuck in the blond spikes of his hair.
James shrugged. “It’s not much of a mystery. It’s just that strange things happen. People see things that shouldn’t be there and stuff. But it’s all part of the festival to make people feel scared.”
It was strange, but I’d hoped he was wrong. I was counting on the Opener being there.
“I don’t know anything about it,” Sarah said, “but the more scares, the better. Bring it on!” Sarah scrunched up her face and showed her teeth.
James laughed, but I just smiled and shook my head.
The kid in front of us popped over the seat. “That’s not true. It’s real.” James’ face soured. “How do you know?”
“Because.” His eyes widened. “The accident caused a lot of souls to get trapped. Well, they say it’s an accident. I think someone did it on purpose. And on the full moon of Halloween, the spirits are…” he thought, “more alive?”
I went cold. “What wasn’t an accident? What do you know about it?”
“Not much. The adults don’t really talk about it, but I know something bad happened there and to cause that much damage, it doesn’t seem like an accident.”
James’ face fell flat, then he shook his head. “I still think it’s all part of the fun.”
Sarah smiled darkly and put her hood on again.
“Spirits aren’t real,” James said.
“Yes, they are.” The boy and I said at the same time. They looked at me.
“I’ve…seen one before.” My eyes drifted down and my face was hot.
“Is that why you guys moved?” Sarah asked with a curious look.
“No,” I said too fast. “That was…I don’t really know, actually.”
Sarah made a face but stayed quiet. We didn’t say anything for a while. The boy’s chin rested on his arm on the top of the seat, his head bobbing on the bumpy road. His eyes wandered, deep in thought.
“Are you scared?” I asked quietly.
He hesitated. “Yeah. But I won’t let it get in the way of my fun.” He smiled and turned back to his seat.
“Nice!” Sarah said, nodding. “Hey kid, what’s your name?” She leaned forward and peeked around the seat.
“Dax.”
The rain pounded on the bus, and the kids were getting quieter. The rain and clouds made us all sleepy. The trees were blurry and foggy. I dozed off.
“There it is!” Some kids shouted as I blinked my eyes open. My stomach was sick.
“Sit down!” Benny shouted as he peeked at us through the rearview.
The world looked dead around there. It was in the middle of nowhere. We inched up to the arched iron gates with a black and orange banner on the front.
WELCOME TO THE FULL MOON FESTIVAL