Moonlight Mile (8 page)

“No, he's fine, thank goodness. One of the grooms put some goop on it and that stopped the bleeding.” Nina shook her head. “But I was still kind of worried about him this morning and ended up spacing out during social studies and totally blowing my oral report.”

“Yikes!” Jordan said. “That's not like you. You're usually, like, a superstar at stuff like that.”

“I know.” Nina shook her head, wondering if her social studies teacher would let her redo the report. “It's starting to feel like I'm cursed this week or something.”

“Cursed?” Jordan said quickly. “Wait, does that mean you're ready to admit you might have messed with the wrong ghost?”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Nina said, though her words came out sounding limp and unconvincing even to her.

Jordan put her hands on her hips. “Come on. You can't tell me it's not weird timing. First the stuff at the show, then the rest right after that . . . What if Serena's punishing you for dressing up as her? Or just for being, you know, happy and awesome and stuff, like you said she's done to people in your family before?”

“Some people think she's done that,” Nina mumbled. “Not me.” But once again her words didn't sound very certain.

She heard someone calling her name and Jordan's. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized it was Brett. He was jogging toward them across the grass.

Oh no,
Nina thought.
This is so not what I need right now.

By the time the thought finished crossing her mind, Brett had reached them. “Hey,” he said breathlessly,
grinning at Nina. “I've been looking all over for you! Uh, not you, Nina—I mean, why would I be looking for you, right?” He laughed. “I was looking for my sister.”

“Huh? Why, what do you want?” Jordan didn't seem very interested in her brother's arrival. She was still watching Nina with a troubled look on her face.

“I figured you probably forgot Mom wants you home early for dinner tonight because of her meeting. So I'm reminding you.” Brett took a step closer to Nina and Breezy. “Hey, runt pony, how's it going?”

Breezy finally lifted his head from the grass as Brett approached. At the same moment, Nina took a quick step back out of Brett's way. As she did, she felt her elbow connect—hard—with the pony's injured nose.

“Oh, Breezy, I'm sorry!” she blurted out as the pony jerked his head back, yanking the lead rope out of her hand.

“Whoa, loose horse!” Brett exclaimed, leaping forward. “I'll get him.”

Breezy had already stopped. But at Brett's sudden movement, the pony jumped back again.

“Stop right there, horse!” Brett yelled, grabbing for the dangling lead line.

“Wait!” Nina cried. “If you just let me—”

It was too late. Startled by Brett's sudden move, Breezy let out a snort of alarm and wheeled around, taking off across the grass at a canter.

“Breezy, stop! Whoa, boy!” Nina called, running after him.

Brett caught up to her quickly. “Should I try to head him off?” he asked breathlessly.

“No!” Nina snapped. “You've done enough.”

Brett didn't seem to hear her. He was already veering to the side, clearly trying to angle across in front of the pony.

Meanwhile Breezy had slowed to a brisk trot and was heading toward a group of young men hanging out around a boom box. They saw him coming and jumped to their feet, hollering and whooping. Breezy skidded to a stop, then spun and cantered off toward the river.

“Breezy! Easy, boy!” Nina called.

She winced as she saw that the pony was now heading
toward two women, one young and solidly built, the other a frail older lady with a walker. The younger woman saw the pony and let out a shout, jumping forward and waving her arms over her head to shoo Breezy away. The pony turned, now trotting off in the direction of a family having a picnic. The father leaped to his feet.

“Hey, your horse is loose!” he cried. “Here—I'll get him.”

He lunged forward, but Breezy was faster, spinning away before the man could grab the rope. Soon the pony was cantering off along the path in the opposite direction.

The next few minutes were like a nightmare for Nina. More people saw what was happening and rushed over to try to help, which only got Breezy even more riled up. The normally lazy pony dodged and wheeled, ducking every well-meaning person who tried to grab him. It was only when Jordan finally caught up, Freckles trailing along behind her, that Nina was able to grab her pony when he trotted toward his stablemate.

“Got him!” Nina gasped out, clutching the lead rope. She was shaking so hard she was afraid she'd drop it.

“Show's over,” Brett called to the people gathering around. “Thanks for the help, everyone.”

Nina gritted her teeth. The bystanders hadn't been much help at all—and neither had Brett, for that matter. But she knew it wasn't their fault. Most people didn't know how to act around horses. How many times had Miss Adaline reminded her students of that before they set off for a ride through Audubon Park?

“Is Breezy okay?” Jordan asked. “He looks pretty hot.”

Nina nodded. Her pony's flanks were heaving, and his head was hanging low. Every inch of his pinto coat seemed to be coated with sweat.

“Yeah.” Nina tried not to look at Brett, who was watching her—probably thinking what a huge dork she was, Nina figured. “I'd better get him back to the stable and hose him off.”

CHAPTER

8

[MADDIE]
Happy Wednesday, everyone!

[HALEY]
Hey, M—I'm here too.

[MADDIE]
Cool! Hey, did u see Nina's post from yesterday? Nina, sounds terrifying! I don't know what I'd do if Cloudy got loose from me in the middle of a big city!!! I'm totally picturing her galloping thru San Fran as I type this, ugh!

[HALEY]
I know what I'd do if it happened to me & Wings—prolly faint on the spot, lol!
Srsly, tho, Nina, I'm sorry too! Glad B was OK, tho.

[MADDIE]
Yah, me too. But listen, u don't rly think Serena has anything to do w/all the bad stuff that's been happening, do you?

[HALEY]
No way, Nina was just kidding about that. She doesn't believe in that stuff.

[MADDIE]
Well, neither do I, but my dad and I watched this old spy movie last night on TV—part of it was set in New Orleans, and there was a bunch of voodoo stuff. It reminded me of what your fam told u about Serena and voodoo and all that.

[HALEY]
What r u saying? That Nina's under some voodoo curse? Ya, right!!

[MADDIE]
LOL, I'm just saying u never know. Oops, Mom's calling me—gtg. Will check in later. Hang in there, Nina!

[BROOKE]
Hello? Anyone still here?

[BROOKE]
Oh well, guess not. Hi Nina—sounds like a scary time yesterday! Glad Breezy cooled out OK after all that running around.

[BROOKE]
Btw, meant to tell u—I found this cool genealogy site online over the w/e. If u want, I could research Serena and see if she and her story are even real. Maybe that would make u feel better?

[BROOKE]
Anyway, let me know!

Nina smiled as she read over her friends' comments on her cell phone. It was late Wednesday evening, and she was
sitting on the wooden floorboards of her cousin Kim's dance studio. Kim was busy with some paperwork in her office, and none of the other dancers had turned up yet. Nina knew she should spend the extra time stretching and practicing, but she hadn't been able to resist checking in on the Pony Post first. She'd been so busy all day she hadn't had a chance to log on since updating her friends the evening before. But typing on the phone's tiny keyboard was a hassle, so after scanning their messages a second time, she signed off with a mental note to respond when she got home.

Glad I filled them in last night,
she thought as she tucked her phone into her bag and started her pre-dance stretches.
They always make me feel better about everything. And hey, maybe I'll tell Brooke to go for it with the genealogy stuff. It would be fun to learn more about the real Serena—even if I know she's got nothing to do with my bad luck lately.

As she bent her left elbow toward her right knee to stretch out her back, the door swung open, and two of the other dancers in her class hurried in. Both were a year older than Nina. One of them, a tall, willowy blonde named Ivy, lived just a block away from Nina's house.

“Hey, Nina,” Ivy said, dropping her bag beside Nina's. “I hear you've been having a bad week.”

Nina's head snapped up. “Where'd you hear that?”

“You know Brett, right?” Ivy kicked off her shoes, then peeled off her jeans, revealing tights and a leotard beneath.

“Yeah.” Nina tried to keep her voice sounding normal. “I know him.”

Ivy nodded. “He told me your horse freaked out at some show over the weekend, and again the other day at the park,” she said. “He said something about you bombing some school project, too.”

“Sounds like the worst week ever,” the other girl put in, not looking up as she dug through her bag. “Bummer, Nina.”

Nina didn't respond. She couldn't believe Brett was telling everyone about all her problems! How did he even know about that oral report, anyway?

Jordan,
she realized. She told her mother about everything that worried her or made her nervous, and Nina supposed her problems qualified—especially since Jordan still seemed convinced that Serena's vengeful ghost was behind all the trouble. Of course, Jordan was always
saying that Brett never listened to anything she said, but he seemed to have made an exception for embarrassing stories about Nina.

Ivy dropped to the floor and stretched to touch her toes. “I had a week like that once,” she said, her voice slightly muffled by her own legs. “First I got a bad haircut when my stylist spaced out while she was working, then I flunked a big test, and I was so freaked out about it that I ended up getting in a huge fight with my sister, and . . .”

While she was talking, several other dancers wandered in and took their places. Most of them listened curiously to what Ivy was saying, and before Nina could say a word, Ivy was filling them in on Nina's problems.

“Wow, that's crazy, Nina,” one of the girls said as she stretched. “You usually have super good luck, but maybe that's changing.”

“What do you mean?” Nina asked.

The girl shrugged. “I mean you have a really cool life, right? Cool parents, a cool cousin who teaches dance—”

“Your own pony,” another girl put in with a laugh. “I mean, how many people in New Orleans can say that?”

Nina supposed they had a point. Had she led a charmed life until now? Could that have attracted Serena's attention—and had she decided to make Nina pay?

Don't be ridiculous,
she told herself.
There's no such thing as ghosts. Especially not envious ghosts who don't want people to be happy. I mean, how ridiculous is it that I'm even thinking about this?

“Okay, people!” Her cousin Kim strode into the studio and clapped her hands. “Everyone here? Good—let's get started. At the barre, please, girls.”

Nina hopped to her feet with everyone else and took her place between Ivy and a petite younger girl named Beth at the long wooden barre in front of the mirror. She took a few deep breaths, hoping she'd stretched enough.

Kim didn't waste any time getting started, running the dancers through a few warm-up exercises at the barre. Normally, dance class, like riding, was a place where Nina forgot everything else in her life, good or bad. Tonight, however, she felt distracted. The moon was rising, gleaming in through the plate glass window at one end of the studio. The big mirror covering the opposite wall reflected
its pale light, making everything look a little spooky and unreal. Every time she caught a glimpse of the moon, Nina got the feeling it was a huge eye watching her.

Snap out of it, girl,
Nina told herself the first time she missed a step.
You're freaking yourself out for no reason.

But a few minutes later her gaze slipped to the moon again. A little hint of last night's dreams floated through her mind, making her wonder . . .

At that moment the rest of the class took a sideways step, startling Nina out of her thoughts. She quickly jumped sideways, trying to catch up, but she moved too fast and stumbled. Before she could catch her balance, she crashed into the dancer beside her.

“Ow!” Beth cried, hopping on one foot. “That was my toe!”

“Sorry,” Nina blurted out. “Um, I lost my balance for a sec. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Beth shot her a disgruntled look as she shook out her foot and got back in position—a little farther away from Nina than before.

Cousin Kim was watching. “You okay, Nina?”

Nina nodded, taking a deep breath and adjusting herself back into position. “It won't happen again.”

It didn't. Nina managed to keep her focus enough not to mess up for the rest of the class, though her gaze still slipped to the watchful moon once in a while. The class seemed to drag on forever, but finally Kim called for a stop.

“That's enough for tonight, girls,” she said. “See you all next week.”

Ten minutes later, the last of the other dancers finished packing up and headed out, leaving Nina alone with her cousin. Kim always drove Nina home after class, since it ended late and the studio wasn't in the best neighborhood. She liked to joke that it was mostly because she liked having Nina stick around to help her tidy up the place after a long day of classes. But Nina was pretty sure it also had something to do with the fact that her cousin had a standing invitation to stay for ­dinner at her place. Kim was single, and her tiny apartment at the edge of the French Quarter had a cramped, outdated kitchen with a half-size refrigerator and virtually no counter space, which made it hard to do much
more than heat frozen dinners in the microwave.

“Can you run the broom over the floor, Nina?” Kim said. “I've got to check on something in the office—back in a sec.”

“Sure.” Nina grabbed the broom and got to work.

As she swept, she found herself drifting toward the window. When she reached it, she stopped, staring up at the moon, which was high in the sky by now. She was still standing there when Kim returned a few minutes later.

“Something going on outside?” Kim asked.

Nina jumped, startled. “Oh! Sorry, just got distracted,” she said, quickly resuming her sweeping. “The moon's really bright tonight.”

Kim glanced at the moon, then at Nina. “I suppose so. Are you okay today, Nina? You seemed kind of out of it during class.”

Nina should have guessed her cousin would notice. Kim was like that—not only could she pinpoint exactly which limb was slightly off in a dancer's position, but she could always tell when someone was in a funky mood or feeling not quite right.

“Actually, it's been a bizarre week,” Nina said. “All sorts of things have been going wrong or weird or just, you know, not quite normal. Starting with the horse show last weekend.” She shot her cousin a sidelong look. “I'm starting to think Great-Aunt Serena is after me.”

She'd meant the comment to sound like a joke, but it hadn't quite come out that way. Kim raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, Gramma Rose,” she quipped. Then she peered at Nina. “You're not serious, are you?”

“No,” Nina said quickly. Then she shrugged. “Not really. I mean, I don't know. It just seems like everything started going wacko when I dressed up as Serena. And Jordan—”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Jordan, I know. That girl's scared of her own shadow—you probably never should've told her about Serena if you didn't want to hear about it ever after.” She smiled. “But listen, Nina, you can't let Jittery Jordan rub off on you. Uncle Oscar or Gramma, either. Serena was just a sad, lonely woman who never got over the tragedy in her life. That doesn't mean she's still hanging around, haunting our family.”

“I know, I know,” Nina said. “I don't believe in ghosts, okay? You know that. It's just . . .” Her voice trailed off into a sigh. “I don't know. It's a little weird, you know?”

Kim looked dubious. “Okay. But I think you know as well as I do that Serena hasn't budged from her grave in St. Louis Cemetery since the day she was buried there in the year eighteen-whatever.”

“St. Louis Cemetery? Really, that's where she's buried? You mean the famous one?” Nina knew there were actually three cemeteries by that name in New Orleans. But most people thought first of the one known as St. Louis No. 1, near the French Quarter. Lots of tourists went there to see the graves of famous New Orleanians, like the first African-American mayor and Marie Laveau, the famous voodoo priestess.

“That's the one. I've never seen Serena's grave myself, but I remember your dad and Johnny talking about trying to find it and spending the night there on a dare when we were kids.”

“Did they ever do it?” Nina had trouble imagining her responsible attorney father sneaking into the fenced
cemetery after hours. Then again, based on the tales the family told over their weekly dinners, Gabe Peralt and his nephew and best friend John had gotten into all sorts of mischief as teens.