Spirit’s Key (13 page)

“Can I ask you something?” He tilts his head like he's trying to figure something out.

I nod, wondering how I'll explain why I'm dressed to go outside.

“Gomez says you walked right up to that cave like you were being called into it. Were you?”

“Sort of,” I say because I can't think how else to explain why I would ignore Gomez's warning.

“You should be careful,” Nector says. “A great-grandfather of ours died like that.”

“Like how?”

“A devil spirit led him to his death. Made him want to go swimming in a hurricane.”

For once I'm at a loss for words.

Nector walks back down the hall to his room.

“Good night,” I whisper. Then when he's out of sight and the coast is clear, I pull open the front door as quietly as possible and slip out.

 

18

R
OTTEN
O
YSTER

I hold Sky's tag. He appears, happy, his tail wagging, like he's a computer that's been reset. Like he's forgotten he left me for his baldie friends. “Were you trying to warn them?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.

But he runs away, stopping after a second to make sure I'm following. As usual, he wants to take me somewhere. Maybe he remembers his friends after all, because he leads me across the island to the woods' edge. But just like he can't follow me inside buildings, I can't follow him inside the woods. The other baldie ghosts appear, too, as if Sky knew he'd need help convincing me. Now there are four ghost dogs wanting me to follow.

“I'm not allowed,” I tell them. “It isn't safe.”

Sky looks back and forth from me to the woods, insistent. The others give me their intense
Follow me
eyes.

I hold up my bandaged arm. “You can't save me if I accidentally stumble into the baldies' home. Turns out ghost dogs aren't very useful when it comes to protection.”

The Fishbornes have left their back porch light on. It reflects off my white bandages. Staring at my arm, I get an idea. If I don't get sick from this baldie bite, it's proof the baldies don't make people sick.
I'm
Dad's ticket out of quarantine.

Sky and his friends continue to stand at the woods' edge, firm in their desire for me to follow them into the trees.

I think of Nector's warning. I know Sky wouldn't lead me to my death on purpose, but if I blindly follow him, maybe it could end up that way.

I remember what Mrs. Hatterask said:
Death is a thief who will snatch the day.
In my case, Sky is a thief who snatches the night. It's almost morning, and I haven't slept a wink. I'm exhausted.

“I'm sorry I can't follow you tonight, buddy. But I'm glad to have you back.” I rub the air near the top of Sky's head. It's nice, even if neither of us can feel it. “Sleep tight. I'll see you tomorrow.” I tuck his tag into my pocket, return to the Hatterasks' house, and sneak back into bed.

*   *   *

It can't be much past dawn When I Wake Up, but the bed next to me is empty. I hear Yasmine and the other Hatterasks already up and at 'em. I didn't bring an overnight bag, but one full of clothes that belong to me has appeared next to my raft. I pull on a clean T-shirt and some shorts and join the Hatterasks in the living room. “Did you go by my house?”

Mrs. Hatterask nods. “I thought you could use some fresh clothes when you woke up.”

“Thanks. That's nice.” I'm glad she's forgiven me for going into the woods and taking Yasmine and Gomez with me. “Have you heard from my dad?”

Mr. Hatterask clucks his tongue. “It isn't right. A man's got a right to die in his home with his family, not be cast off the line like some old shoe.”

His kids stare at the floor like they don't think I'll ever hear from my dad again.

“My dad isn't going to die,” I say. I have a bandaged, bitten arm, but I feel fine.

“You'll stay with us,” Mr. Hatterask says. “In the comfort of our home. We'll keep it quiet.”

His wife nods.

“Can we convince them to release my dad? He isn't sick because of the baldies.”

Mr. Hatterask shakes his head. “I've tried, and I'll keep trying, but with everyone so frantic…”

“Maybe it's best he's not here for now. We can talk more about it tonight,” Mrs. Hatterask says. “You kids run by the fish market and get some oysters for me before school. Spirit, if anyone asks about your arm, you should be ready with a story that doesn't involve the baldies. If people find out, they'll lock you up, too.”

“Lock me up?” That familiar sweaty feeling comes over me, like if I don't do something, everything will turn out wrong.

“You kids get moving now, run that errand for me before school so I can have something to make for dinner,” Mrs. Hatterask says, shooing us out the door.

“I'll wear long sleeves.” I run back to my bag and pull out the only long-sleeved clothing I can find, a sweater. It'll be sweltering, but if I lie about my arm, people won't believe me later when I say I was bitten and didn't get sick.

I'm willing to sweat for my cause.

Yasmine and Gomez play paddleball on the way to the fish market. The pink ball makes a rhythmic thwack against the wooden paddles. Yasmine walks backward, and Nector spots her. “Tree to the left,” Nector warns.

Yasmine moves right without turning her head from the ball Gomez sends her.

They're really good. I hold Sky's tag, so he runs with us. His ghost body leaps and twists, trying to catch the ball. But his mouth zooms right through the pink rubber. I don't know where the other ghost dogs are. I haven't figured out what makes them appear or disappear. Maybe Sky decides.

“They can go on for hours,” Nector says. “Their record is five and a quarter.”

“Wowzers.” I have to walk fast to keep up. I'm already starting to see why a sweater is called a sweater. Someone obviously wore one on a hot day.

“We're going to break the world record,” Yasmine says.

To distract myself from the heat, I count the number of
Beware of Baldies
posters we pass along the way. There are fifteen outside the general store, five on the doors to the schoolhouse, two at Mrs. Dialfield's, and three more at Dr. Wade's. I'm surprised Mrs. Dialfield would agree to let them be posted at her house. Has everyone been convinced the baldies are to blame?

I try Dad a few more times on the walkie-talkie, but I don't get any answer. “I want to talk to my dad.”

Nector nods.

I keep counting posters. By the time we get to the fish market, I'm up to thirty-three.

Tomasena greets us at the Fishbornes' oyster stand. “What can I get you?” She and Kelvin wear stained white aprons and frazzled expressions.

“A pound, please.” Nector pulls out some cash.

Tomasena digs up a scoopful of oysters and dumps them on the scale. Kelvin opens the cashbox and holds out his hand for the money.

Nector hesitates. “Where's Mr. Fishborne?” Mr. Fishborne doesn't usually let his kids touch the money or work the stand on a school day.

“Not here at the moment,” Tomasena says with a false cheerfulness in her voice.

“Dr. Wade came last night to take away our mom, and now Dad isn't feeling well,” Kelvin whispers.

“Shhhh!” Tomasena whacks him on the arm with the oyster scooper.

Are they going to lock up everyone? The sweat drips down my back, and I'm sure my T-shirt underneath is soaked. I want to take off my sweater. But unless I want to be quarantined, the Hatterasks are right. I would have to lie about how I hurt my arm.

“Will you tell Mrs. Dialfield we have to work, and we won't make it to class today?” Tomasena asks.

“I'll tell her,” I say.

Hovered over the clams at the next station, some older ladies glare my way and talk behind their hands. My sweater feels thicker than Mrs. Borse's fur coat. I force myself to wave.

They stop talking and hurry away, their plastic clam bags swinging at their sides. I'm relieved when we leave the market to go back to the Hatterasks' house.

“Oh no,” Yasmine cries. She slaps her forehead. “We forgot to do our homework last night.”

Gomez shrugs.

“Can we go ahead to school to get it done before the bell?” Yasmine asks Nector.

But Nector shakes his head no. “The oysters will rot.”

Gomez points at me like I don't have a name. “Send her home with the oysters.”

Nector sighs and asks me, “Do you mind running this home? I'm not supposed to let them out of my sight since they went in the woods without permission.”

I didn't do my homework either, but I've missed so many assignments Mrs. Dialfield probably won't be too upset about one more. I agree, and Nector hands me the oysters and his house key.

As soon as I take his key, I'm hit with the strong fish market stench even though we're far enough away that I shouldn't be able to smell it anymore. The oysters in my hand reek like they're already rotten. I rub my nose and bat at the air, trying to get the smell to go away. But I only succeed in making myself hotter.

Gomez's dark eyes frown. “What's she doing? She's acting weird.”

The sun is sweltering, and I lean over. Sweat pours off my forehead in rivers onto the sandy road.

“Are you okay?” Nector asks.

I shake my head. I shake it and shake it, until the rotten oyster smell is gone, the hot sun is gone, and everything else is gone, too.

 

19

N
O
D
EVIL
H
IDING
H
ERE

I wake up in Mrs. Dialfield's house. She pats my head with a cool cloth. It feels wonderful not to be so hot.

“Look, her eyes are opening,” Nector says. He and his siblings stand over me, watching.

I sit up on the bed. “What happened?”

“You fainted,” Yasmine says.

“And no wonder,” Mrs. Dialfield says. “It's far too warm outside for a sweater. It's already eighty degrees, and the day's just getting started. Why are you dressed for winter?”

I think fast. “I'm staying at the Hatterasks'. It's all I had.”

“Couldn't you borrow a T-shirt?”

I shake my head vehemently, and the Hatterasks' eyes go wide.

“You're sweating, and you need to cool off,” Mrs. Dialfield insists. “Here, you can change into something of mine.”

She can't see my bite. She's got
Beware
posters plastered all over her front door. What if she sends me to quarantine? “No. It's … um. It's because I held Nector's key,” I explain. “It doesn't look like it, but I'm cold.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Dialfield smiles like we're sharing a secret. “Another reading?”

I nod.

Someone bangs on the door. Mrs. Dialfield answers.

“Is Spirit here? I heard she fainted in the street.”

It's Dr. Wade. I don't have time to figure out what to do.

He takes one glance at me and declares, “This is a disaster.” His voice is high, his face is scrunched, his hands are covered in rubber gloves.

Mrs. Dialfield looks taken aback. “I'd hardly call an overheated child a disaster.”

“I'm okay.” I jump out of bed. “See?”

“You could infect the others.” Dr. Wade grabs my arm and pulls me out of the house.

“Hey!” Mrs. Dialfield says in surprise.

I try to wiggle free, but the doctor has a firm grip on my sweater with those rubber gloves.

Mrs. Dialfield runs after us. “Where are you going? Don't hurt her.” Our teacher's face looks worried.

“I'm just trying to get Spirit away from the other children,” Dr. Wade says.

“Is the sickness really that contagious?” Mrs. Dialfield asks.

The Hatterask kids crowd behind her, too curious to back away.

“My phone is ringing off the hook. I've got people who
think
they're sick, people who want to tell me someone they
know
is sick, and people who're scared they're
going
to get sick. Everyone is counting on me to contain this thing.”

“But
I'm
not sick. I promise I'm fine.” And I am. Now that I'm not touching any keys or smelling rotten oysters, I feel good as new.

The doctor gives me a suspicious frown, as if he's expecting me to fall over faint again. He shoos away the Hatterasks. “You kids get away from Spirit. Go on now.”

Yasmine and Gomez take off. Nector lags behind like he doesn't want to go.

“Honest, I'm okay.” I do a few jumping jacks and a kick.

“Well…” The doctor hesitates. “You don't seem weak.” He leans in for a closer look.

I don't want him to examine me too carefully or he'll find my baldie bite. “If you want, I can run to the beach and back to prove I feel great.” I jog in place and ready myself for takeoff.

“What? No! Don't go anywhere.” Dr. Wade's gray eyebrows shoot up in alarm. He turns to Mrs. Dialfield. “I think this child should come with me.”

Dr. Wade takes one arm, and Mrs. Dialfield takes the other.

“Her father is ill, and now she is, too. If I don't take measures—”

I interrupt the doctor. “Where's my dad? I want to see him.”

Mrs. Dialfield doesn't loosen her hold on my arm. “I think you might be overreacting. I don't see any sense making a fuss over a child improperly dressed on a hot day.”

“I have to do what's necessary to prevent the spread of this disease.” Dr. Wade gives Mrs. Dialfield a steady glare. “Not that you've been any help in that regard.”

They lock eyes over my head, and no one says anything for a few seconds.

“Do you really think it's so highly contagious?” Mrs. Dialfield asks again.

Dr. Wade nods.

“There're just a few days left of school,” Mrs. Dialfield says slowly. “Perhaps you were right, and it would be best to discontinue class until this sickness passes. I myself have a weakened immune system, and the last thing I need is to catch this … thing.”