The Haunted

Megan pressed her friend’s speed-dial number, but Zoe did not answer right away, like she usually did, and after six rings there was a message, Zoe talking in a subdued, dispirited voice: “I cannot use my cell phone right now. If you wish to speak to me, please call my home phone.”

Megan dialed her friend’s home phone, and Zoe’s mom answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, Mrs. Dunbar? This is Megan. May I speak to Zoe?”

“Oh, Megan! How are you? Hold on a sec; I’ll get her.”

Zoe came on the line, and there were a few moments of awkward innocuous chitchat until her mother left the room. “Okay,” she said finally. “What’s up?”

“Did you text me earlier? About an hour ago?”

“No. How could I? My mom took my phone away because my stupid sister caught me talking to Kate when I was supposed to be pulling weeds. I can’t get it back until Monday!”

“Well, someone texted me, but I can’t tell who, and it doesn’t make sense. It’s like those exclamation points and question marks and apostrophes that they use instead of swear words.”

“You always know if it’s from me. I don’t block anything.”

“Yeah.” She almost told Zoe about the other messages she’d received, but her friend started complaining about her sister and her mom, and it didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. Zoe went on to tell her that Kate had seen Jenny Sanchez at Dairy Queen yesterday and she had really short hair and it was blond!

“Why would she do that?” Megan wondered.

“God knows.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Megan said. “I saw Brad at Radicchio.”

“When?”

“Just now. We got back, like, five minutes ago.”

“No one’s seen him since school got out! I heard he moved.”

“Obviously not.”

“Who was he with?”

“His dad.”

“His parents got divorced, you know. At the end of last year.”

“I know. And his dad got custody. Which means that his mom must be really …”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “Did you talk to him?”

“No!”

“I would’ve,” Zoe insisted.

From the hallway outside Megan’s door came the sound of running footsteps as James hurried back downstairs.

She wished he were staying up here.

“Are you still there?” Zoe said. “Hel-lo?”

“I’m here.”

“You should’ve at least waved to him or said hi. This was your chance.”

Megan reddened, glad that her friend couldn’t see her.

From somewhere in the background came the sound of Zoe’s mom’s voice: “Time’s up.”

“I have to go.” Zoe’s tone was formal and subdued. “She times me,” she whispered into the receiver. “I can’t use my phone and I can’t talk for more than five minutes on any phone.”

“Zoe,” her mom said loudly.

“Gotta go. Bye.”

Megan was left holding a silent phone to her ear as the connection was terminated, and she quickly shut the phone off, feeling nervous.

IL C U 2NITE

Even with all of the lights on, the room did not seem as safe as it should have, as it usually did. Looking around, she saw a poorly cleaned section on the drawn front shade, more off-white than the surrounding area, that resembled the shadow of a man’s head. A seeping coolness made her wonder whether the window behind that shade was open. Atop her desk, two books were out that she could not remember leaving there. Had someone moved them to that spot while rifling through her room?

She was being stupid. She was in her own bedroom, in her own house, and it was probably the safest place on earth she could be.

Ordinarily, she would have gone online and browsed for a while, but Megan realized as she looked at her laptop that she was afraid to turn it on. She thought once more of that message she’d received this afternoon—

IL C U 2NITE

—and shivered. Her shades were all closed, but she checked them again anyway, making sure all cracks were sealed and no one could see in. The room seemed quiet, too quiet, and she turned on her iPod.

She knew that other sounds could hide under music, however, and rather than reassuring her, the iPod made her feel even more anxious. She was all alone up here, Megan realized, and immediately she turned off the music, dropped the iPod on her bed and sped downstairs to watch a TV show she didn’t like with her surprised but happy parents. And James.

Two hours of comedies and karaoke contests later, her nerves were calmed, her sense of normalcy restored, and her earlier anxiety seemed like a horrendous overreaction. It was time for bed, and both she and James said good night to their parents and headed upstairs to their bedrooms. For once, she was glad to have her brother with her, and though they didn’t speak as they trod up the steps, she was grateful for his presence and actually bade him good night before entering her bedroom and closing the door.