Authors: Robin Bridges

The Form of Things Unknown (11 page)

BOOK: The Form of Things Unknown

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Except that Starla is his ex. And I don't want to be some summer rebound girl.

Lucas's eyes stare into mine, and I suddenly forget about the cold wall behind me. My cheeks feel feverishly warm. Why does he have to be so beautiful? Why does he have to be so broken? He deserves someone who isn't broken, like me. Someone who is strong enough to be there for him when he needs her.

“Natalie,” he whispers, moving closer. “You look a little pale.”

“I'm fine,” I whisper back, my throat dry. Tell him we should probably head back to the others, Natalie. Tell him. Move away from the wall before he comes any closer.

He reaches his hand out, touching my cheek. I can't move. I don't want to move. There is no place on this planet where I'd rather be. I hold my breath.

Lucas is holding his breath, too. I'm afraid he's going to kiss me. I'm afraid he won't. Oh God, why can't I walk away? This is bad.

A hysterical giggle bubbles up out of me. “This is totally out of a horror movie plot. You know? The group gets divided and then separated again and people keep disappearing until there's only one person left. One of us is about to disappear.”

Lucas takes half a step back to look at me. But he smiles. “I'm not going anywhere, Nat.” He leans back in and his lips press against mine.

My hands instinctively fly up to his chest. Not to push him away, but to hold on. I feel his heart thumping beneath my fingertips.

His hands curve around my waist, pulling me closer. I tug on his shirt, closing the space between us.

I panic and give him a shove. “I can't. This is too dangerous.”

“What are you afraid of, Natalie?” His hands squeeze my waist affectionately. “There aren't any ghosts interested in us back here.”

“No, it's not that.” I pull away from him, fold my arms across my chest. “You and Starla were a thing.”

His shy smile falters. “I wanted to tell you, but I really didn't know how to bring it up. It just seems awkward. Especially if you aren't interested in me the way I'm interested in you.”

I stare at the design on the front of his shirt, reaching up and tracing my finger over the letters. I'm too shy to keep looking up at his face. “I'm definitely interested,” I whisper.

He gathers me against his chest, his lips pressed against the top of my head. “Good to know,” he whispers back.

I sigh. “I can't date a friend's ex. It's against the Girls' Code.”

“You think she'll mind?” Lucas laughs. But it's not a nice laugh. It's tinged with pain.

Whoa. Now I'm certain he's still hurting from their breakup. He's not over her at all. Get out, Nat. Before he breaks your heart. “Come on, we should go find the others.” I push past him and head down the dark hallway. I pull out my phone for light. I can see the red glow of the E
XIT
sign at the other end of the hall.

“Nat, wait.” I hear him behind me, but he's not following me. Good. Now he's the one left alone in the dark. Ha. Horror movie victim number three. And it's not me.

That's really not funny, I tell myself. It's not like there's an ax murderer running amok here. No one's actually getting hurt. They're all just . . . disappearing. I've got to get out of here.

Except, did I just hurt Lucas? Did I piss him off?

I pass the EXIT sign, which only leads to a right turn. I turn and head down the next hallway, looking for another E
XIT
sign. This place isn't that big. I've walked these hallways several times during the day. With lights. It can't be too hard to navigate in the dark.

Another corner, and no more E
XIT
signs. Why am I lost? I turn around and head back the way I came. A left turn and I should be back in the hallway where I left Lucas.

He's not there. He must have taken the other hallway.

“Lucas?”

There's no answer, of course. I want to scream at my idiocy. I follow the hall around the corner, but it's still empty.

“Lucas!”

Of course, he's probably mad that I left him. I was sort of a bitch after that one amazing, heart-exploding kiss.

“Lucas!” I shout and it echoes against the empty, cold concrete walls. There's no other sound back here. I can hear my own breathing, growing ragged and uneven.

I could just sit down here and wait for someone to come looking for me, or I could keep walking in the dark. My phone is losing its charge, of course, and I know I won't have its light for much longer.

I want to scream. I kick the wall instead, not really hard, but enough to make my toes hurt. Effing Lucas.

I hear laughter somewhere. “David?” I shout. I head down the hallway, toward the sound. Maybe my brother has decided to come looking for me.

Instead of the double doors I'm expecting, I run smack into a wall of curtains. Okay, at least I know I've found the back of the stage. “David!” I shout. “Where are you?”

But I push the curtain back only to reveal another curtain. And another and another. I try not to panic as the heavy canvas tangles around me. I must be imagining things, because it feels as if the curtain is tightening around me.

Don't panic, Nat. Take deep breaths.

Do not panic.

CHAPTER 17

O grim-looked night,
O night with hue so black.

â
A Midsummer Night's Dream
, act 5

No, I can't stop the panic. I can't stop my heart from revving up, the tears from boiling over down my cheeks. I have no idea what's going on or where I am. Or why I can't get out of here.

I hate this theater. I hate Savannah. I hate Lucas Grant. And I really wish I was back in Athens.

Footsteps approach, but no one answers when I call out. “Who's there?”

I can't even tell if the footsteps belong to a male or a female. Maybe a child? Chills dance across my skin. My stomach twists.

I pull at the curtains, but there only seem to be more and more rows. Where is the effing stage? If I could just get to the stage, I could jump down and run up the aisle to the auditorium doors.

Dust from the swirling curtains is starting to make me sneeze and cough. I shouldn't be struggling so much. This shouldn't be so hard.

How many other teenagers get stuck in a curtain? This is embarrassing. LOCAL GIRL VANISHES IN DIRTY THEATER CURTAINS. POLICE BAFFLED AND FAMILY TOO EMBARRASSED TO MOURN.

Ugh.

The footsteps seem to be running in circles around me. Or I'm too confused to notice. I look up toward the top of the curtains and it makes me dizzy. I look down below. Maybe I could drop to the floor and just crawl out under the curtains.

But they drag on the floor and there's no way for me to see what direction I need to go.

I hear the footsteps again, and this time, I hear a faint, high-pitched laugh. Like a little girl's laugh. Or like a creepy doll's laugh.

I clutch the curtain in terror. Maybe there is a ghost named Lily after all. Has anyone ever been killed by a ghost before? In real life? Not just in a horror movie?

The laughter gets closer and then fades away, then grows closer again and backs away. She's toying with me, whoever she is.

I push at the curtains again, but still can't find the opening.

She laughs at me again.

Frustrated, I sink to the floor and scream. As loud as I can. Even if everyone else is gone, maybe some homeless person in the alley behind the theater will hear me and rescue me.

My throat burns, but I keep screaming. It might keep the ghost away.

The footsteps sound heavier now. Not a child's steps, but someone bigger. “Nat?”

“Natalie!” Raine's voice carries over the others.

“Nat!” David's voice sounds exasperated. I hear the curtains being pulled back and forth. “Where are you?”

“I don't know!”

“Hang on, we're coming.”

More curtains get pushed aside, and the footsteps get closer. Human footsteps now. I'm grateful for the sound.

“Dammit, how many curtains are there?” Colton asks.

Someone sneezes.

“Natalie, keep talking to us,” Raine says.

“Boo,” I say. My throat hurts. I couldn't scream anymore even if I wanted to.

“I think we're almost there.”

The metal rings holding the curtains jingle as they tug and pull at the canvas. I just sit still and wait for my rescuers.

“How in the hell did you get these curtains so tangled?” Colton asks.

“I think I had help. From a ghost.”

“What?”

With another tug, the curtain gives way, and I see Raine, Starla, David, Colton, and Peter all staring at me. David helps me up.

“I was trying to find my way back to the front, and my phone died. I tried to push the curtains aside, but there were footsteps, and a little girl laughing. She kept running in circles around me, laughing.”

My legs are trembling. “Where's Lucas?”

“He went to get Caitlyn,” Starla says. “He had a phone call from her, saying she wasn't feeling well. He said he got separated from you back here, so he sent us to find you.” She stares at me. “I don't think he knew you were in trouble, or he wouldn't have left.”

“Don't be silly. I'm fine,” I lie. “Besides, Caitlyn needs him if she's sick.”

David looks at me. They're all looking at me.

“I'm fine. Did anyone find anything on the ghost-hunting equipment?”

Colton glances at Starla. She holds her EMF meter out. “Not really. We didn't get anything. And Raine said the infrared camera wasn't working.”

“By the time I got it fixed, we realized you were missing and started looking for you.”

“Anything popping up now?” But I'm pretty sure there won't be. I can't hear the ghost anymore. She's had her fun and now she's gone to wherever ghosts go when they're not scaring the crap out of people.

“Nope,” Colton says, peeking over Raine's shoulder. “It's clean.”

Starla's shoulders slump. “Maybe this place isn't haunted after all.”

“So you don't think there's a ghost now?” I ask. “No little girl wreaking havoc and terrorizing us?”

“Thomas said we were welcome to use the equipment tonight, but warned me that they'd investigated this place a few years ago and didn't find anything.”

“And the story of Lily is actually attached to the old Howell Theater,” Peter says, reading a Web site about Haunted Savannah on his phone. “Not this building.”

“There's still a chance there's something here,” Starla says. “I mean, all theaters should have at least one ghost. Especially since the ghost light burned out.”

“But I just got tangled up in my own paranoia and clumsiness,” I say. I've never been so embarrassed.

“I think this creepy building makes us all paranoid,” Raine says.

“Are you ready to go home?” David asks.

I nod. I don't want to be here anymore. I'm sick of this place.

“We can take her,” Raine says. “I need to be getting home, too.”

Colton nudges my brother and David frowns. “All right. Will you text me when you get home?”

“I'm fine.” Maybe if I say a lie three times, it will become true. “Please don't worry.”

As Colton locks up, I follow the girls to Raine's car and climb in the backseat. David waves his phone at me. “Text me,” he mouths. I nod.

Raine and Starla both turn around and look at me. “Are you really all right?” Raine asks. “Are you hurt?”

“No, just shaken up a little.”

Starla bites her lip. “Nat, did you and Lucas have a fight? He seemed anxious to leave tonight.”

I shake my head. “What would we fight about? What did he say?”

I see Raine's eyes in the rearview mirror shift from Starla to me. She's wondering if we did something else besides fight. Which is probably what she was hoping when she and Peter left us alone back there.

“Tell me what happened with you and Peter,” I say, leaning forward and grabbing the back of Raine's seat. “Did he try anything?”

Even in the dark car I can see her blushing. I grin. “Raine! Tell us!”

Starla smiles. “Finally! I was beginning to think it was hopeless for you two!”

“Oh. My. God! He's such a good kisser!” Raine squeals as she turns into my neighborhood.

So is Lucas, but I can't say that. For one, Starla already knows. And for another, it's not like I'll get a happily-ever-after like Raine.

Raine pulls up in front of my house. “Don't forget to text your brother. So he doesn't think we kidnapped you.”

“Your brother's really a great guy,” Starla says.

I shrug. “He can be when he wants to be. But dumbass forgot my phone is dead. Will one of you text him for me?”

“Texting now,” Starla says. “With a ransom note. Mwu-ha-ha.”

I roll my eyes. “Thanks for the ride. See you Monday?”

“Dress rehearsal! Woot!” Starla says.

It's almost two in the morning, so I try to be as quiet as possible when I unlock the door. I just want to crawl into bed and not think about Lucas's mind-blowing kiss.

I want to not think about the way his fingers felt curving around my waist in the dark.

I definitely do not want to think about the way he looked when I mentioned Starla. How he's still in love with her, despite what he says.

“You're up late.”

I startle, as the light flips on in the living room and I see Grandma sitting on the sofa, holding a digital photo frame.

“So are you,” I say, once my heart stops pounding. “What are you doing?”

“Couldn't sleep. Just getting home from play practice?”

“We were working on the set. Dress rehearsal is the day after tomorrow, and we were falling behind.”

She's staring at the digital photo frame in her hands. Images fade in and out. Old photos of her, Grandpa, Dad. Me and David. Her and Grandpa. Grandma's wedding dress. A pregnant Grandma. Mom and Dad's wedding. Grandpa and his car.

I sit down on the sofa next to her, gently. She doesn't move or say anything. I don't know what to say to her, so I just sit and keep her company. Until she doesn't want company anymore.

There must be over a hundred photos on this frame. It takes forever before it loops around again. And there's Grandma's wedding dress again. Her long red curls peek out from beneath her veil. She's holding blue hydrangeas and lilies of the valley.

“Blue for madness.” Her voice is soft. Sad.

When the photograph of Grandpa standing next to his Charger appears, she touches the screen.

“He was so handsome,” I say.

She laughs. “That he was.”

Her laugh is comforting. Normal-sounding. So I stand up. “I think I'd better get some sleep. Good night, Grandma.”

“Sleep tight. Don't let the ghosties bite.”

“What?” I spin around to stare at her.

She looks up at me, surprised. “I said sleep tight.”

Maybe I'm just overly exhausted and not paying attention. “Oh. Thanks.”

“All you all right?”

“I'm fine. Just tired.”

“Taking your medication?” she asks.

I glare at her. “Yes. Are you?”

Grandma smiles. And her smile gives me a chill. “Perhaps you should run along to bed, Natalie. Fatigue can be dangerous when you're already emotionally fragile.”

I turn and hurry up the stairs to the attic. I had turned the air conditioner off before I left the house this morning, so now my room feels like an oven. I turn the unit on and crank it up to its coldest setting. I am exhausted, but I turn on my laptop to search for Savannah ghost stories. I can't go to sleep until I know for sure. I search for Lily, the five-year-old theater ghost.

And find her. Lily Marcetti. My stomach clenches. The five-year-old daughter of traveling performers from Italy. Died in 1889. Inside the Howell Theater. Not the Savannah Theater, which was originally known as the Fox Theater. The St. Charles Theater downtown is also supposed to have several resident ghosts. But I can find nothing supernatural online about the Savannah Theater.

No ghosts. It was all in my head.

No ghosts at all.

I plug my phone into its charger. I'll have to text David in the morning to make sure he knows I'm okay.

I crawl into bed, hoping I'll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, but images from this evening tumble over and over in my mind. The curtains that trapped me. Lucas's kiss. Grandma's wicked smile. Lucas's kiss. Lucas's face when I mentioned Starla. I can't get my mind to shut down. To stop thinking.

Just breathe, Natalie. One of the therapy techniques we learned at Winter Oaks. Which makes me think of Lucas again, but I try to focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out. I count my breaths and try not to think about anything else.

One thing I cannot deny anymore. The ghost has been nothing but a hallucination. I'm really sick in the head after all.

In the morning I will ask Mom to take me to the doctor and see about getting stronger medicine.

BOOK: The Form of Things Unknown

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