Uninvited. But You Keep Showing Up Anyway.
October 18
Trixie glanced around the quiet library as she pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Professor Lee. “Thanks for meeting me,” she said with a weak smile. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” He studied her in concern, his brow furrowing as he took in her wan appearance. “Are you all right?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Something really bizarro happened last night.”
“So I gathered. You may not have seen it yet, but there’s actually an article on the Sleepyside Sun’s website about the, uh… disturbance at your dance. I thought perhaps something had happened, based on the oddities of the witness accounts. Your phone call this morning confirmed it. Poltergeist?”
“Yes. At least we think so. But that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. And, um, without Dan and Mart,” she added hesitantly. “For now anyway. I want your opinion on something.”
“You can trust that I will honor your confidences.”
Trixie found herself smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to talk like a-“
“Character in a Dickens novel?” he suggested ruefully.
“I was gonna say old, British dude. But I guess that’s the same thing.”
“I read a lot as a child. I… didn’t make friends very easily and I was teased at school by the other students. Books were my escape to different worlds.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I believe I’ve found my place. And besides, we’re here to discuss whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
She drew in a breath, then bit down on her lower lip. “Yeah. Okay. So last night, there was a ghost. A poltergeist. She showed up right as the Homecoming court was about to be announced and things went bat-crap crazy after that. We’re talking flying punch bowls, popping balloons, little tornadoes of paper goods. The works. At first, we didn’t see her. She was hiding under a table.”
“Was she? Hmmm. Interesting.”
“Yeah. Mart did some weird thing with some herbs and a spell and then he told me to concentrate and make her go away.”
Professor Lee’s brows rose in a show of mild surprise, but he remained quiet, allowing her to continue.
“Dan said the same thing. To concentrate. I was holding their hands and I closed my eyes and just kept thinking over and over, ‘go away.’”
“And it worked?”
“Not… immediately. I know I actually shouted it. ‘Go away,’ I mean. A few times. This ghost. This poltergeist. She was just a little girl, but it was like she was nothing but rage. Mindless, boiling rage. I, uh, could…” she trailed off, her gaze pinned firmly to her hands folded in front of her, and shook her head slightly.
“You could?” Professor Lee prompted gently.
“This is going to sound, I dunno. More crazy than everything else? Not to go all Luke Skywalker, but I could feel it. I could feel her fury.” She paused to look up at the professor uncertainly, as if gauging his reaction to her confession.
“Did you feel like you were angry yourself, or just that you could feel her anger?”
“Well, that’s just it. The moment I really recognized that I could feel her anger? Feel all that… burning rage? Everything suddenly seemed calm and clear to me. I knew right then that I could make her go away. She was all out-of-control and I… I had all the control. Is this remotely making any sense?”
He smiled faintly at that. “As much as it can, given our so-far limited understanding of it all.”
“So, I looked at her. Told her to go away, and she kinda just burst apart.” Trixie swallowed hard before continuing. “Did I… do you think I killed her? I killed a little girl?”
Her words finished on barely a whisper and the professor had to strain to hear her. “Trixie, no. You can’t… you mustn’t think like that. First of all, there’s the obvious. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.”
“But maybe I… maybe I sent her to Hell or something? Something worse than killing her?”
“No. I very much doubt that. I admit my knowledge has huge gaps, but I doubt you could send someone to Hell without actively meaning to do so, and even then, I’m not entirely sure it would be possible.”
“Then why did she go out the way she did? Every other ghost? They sorta… poof. Like a puff of cloud that disappears almost instantly. She… exploded.”
“I can’t answer that with any surety at the moment, but this situation does bring to mind something. In some cultures, particularly Native American such as the Navajo, there’s a belief that after one dies, what is good about him goes on and what is left behind is all the bad. This bad manifests itself in an evil spirit that can cause what they call the Ghost Sickness in anyone who touches the body. Perhaps… perhaps that does happen, at least sometimes? If this little girl died a particularly violent death, for instance, perhaps that violence was so great… so evil, that it became this poltergeist while what was good of the child found her peace?”
“And I just banished or destroyed the evil, because that’s all that was left? That’s why she didn’t even seem human?”
“It certainly seems possible, yes. Plausible, I would say.”
She thought about this for a long moment, then nodded. “Thank you,” she said finally. “You… I know you might only be saying that to make me feel better, but-“
“No. I really do mean it. Listen, let me do some more research into poltergeists and the uh… concept of evil spirits, and I’ll let you know what I discover, all right?”
“Yeah. Okay. Um, there’s one other thing…”
“Yes?”
“That… that moment? When I knew I had all the control? The power? It wasn’t just ‘cause of me. It was like I could somehow feel this… energy coming from Mart and Dan, too. Do you think that has something to do with The Three?”
“I think that’s very likely the case. It would seem to make great sense that you three are connected and more powerful as a trio than on your own individually.”
“It’s sorta funny, but I think there’s like, different things we can do now. You know? Mart’s able to cast spells. And Dan… I think Dan may be accidentally making certain things happen.”
“Oh?”
“Well, Mart’s telling him he keeps tempting fate, but I’m not sure. I’m wondering if it has to do with the amulet somehow?”
“Do you think he could predict the future?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know how to put this exactly. There’s just something there. So like, if Dan were to maybe say, ‘We could really use some rain today.’ it would start raining. I guess he could say, ‘It’s going to rain tonight.’ And it would be like a prediction and a – a wish at the same time? And then it would happen, just like he said.”
“I suppose we could actually test that,” the professor mused, “though we’d need to be exceedingly careful how we go about it. Have you even brought this up with him?”
“No. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you first. To see what you thought.”
He offered her an encouraging smile. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, and new avenues to research. When we meet up tomorrow afternoon at Lisgard House, perhaps I’ll have more information for you. Ah, but don’t worry. I won’t divulge our conversation.”
“Thank you. I know that could maybe put you in a bit of a tight spot, if something comes up.”
“So Mart is your spell caster and Dan may be able to somehow control or predict future events. What about you, Trixie? What do you feel is your role in The Three?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes trailed around the library, taking in the few morning patrons and the lone spirit that seemed to be arguing with an uncooperative and unresponsive copy machine. When she returned her gaze to the professor’s he was a little taken aback by the sudden sense he got that she was much older than her sixteen years of age would indicate.
“I think I’m a channel. A conduit. I can take what they can do and magnify it into… making anything we want to happen… happen.”
Despite himself, for the first time since meeting Trixie and the boys, Professor Lee felt a small frisson of fear. He did not think they were a threat to him, personally, but he wondered if it was possible that the power they had unleashed could take over. Damage them. Consume them. Silently vowing he would do whatever he could to prevent such a happening, he schooled his features into another smile and asked her what her plans were for the rest of the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan shifted an old cloth covering the sideboard in the dining room and then wiped his hands across his jeans. “I dunno, dude. I think someone’s been here again. Only this time, whoever it was, he was more careful.”
“But we still don’t actually know what he… or she was looking for.” Mart frowned as he ran one finger through the dust on the tabletop.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess it coulda just been some thrill seeker. All this talk of ghosts and dead people is bound to make folks think about Lisgard House.”
“There was a young man here. Yesterday afternoon.”
Dan jumped and whirled around. “Vernon! I’m really beginning to think we should let Trixie make good on her threat! What’s the big idea, always sneaking up on us like this?”
“What do you expect me to do, kid? Moan and rattle a chain so you know I’m coming?”
“Office hours aren’t until this afternoon,” Dan said darkly. “Come back then.”
“No, wait.” Mart stepped forward, one hand up. “Don’t go anywhere yet. What do you mean there was a young man here yesterday? You saw someone prowling around?”
“Hmmm. Don’t know if I’d use the word ‘prowling.’ He came in, went into the library, spent some time reading those journal pages, poked around in Sarah’s workshop… and left.”
“Did he take anything?” Mart wanted to know.
“What did he look like?” Dan asked at the same time.
“I didn’t see him take anything. And he looked a lot like you. Only taller. Dark hair. Skinny.” Vernon shrugged and caught his head just as it began to slip off his shoulders.
Mart and Dan traded a look. “Lester Mundy,” they said together.
Vernon’s expression changed instantly from amusement to concern. “Mundy? Huh.”
Mart’s eyes narrowed as he studied the portly ghost. “That name means something to you?” he demanded.
“Well, of course. Geeze, boy. You’re a Belden. He’s a Mundy.” He said this as if it were all the explanation needed, but on seeing Mart and Dan’s blank looks, he pursed his lips in a heavy frown. “What? How is it you don’t even know your own history? The bad blood between the Beldens and the Mundys goes all the way back to the very founding of this town. All the way to Horace Mundy and Joseph Belden.”
“There’s not necessarily any bad blood now,” Mart said slowly, uncertainly. “We hardly know one another and to the best of my knowledge, our parents don’t either.”
“Hmmm. Well, take my advice. If there’s a Mundy involved, you want to watch out.”
Dan huffed out a breath. “Duly noted. Is there anything else, Vern? Or did you actually just come to tell us about Lester?”
“Ah, well, yes. I was hoping… seeing as how I’ve been so helpful to you in your… efforts, that you could maybe do me another small, tiny little favor? It has to do with an old lady friend of mine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The setting sun brought decidedly cooler temperatures to the Hudson valley. By eight o’clock it was cold enough for Trixie to see her breath hanging in the air as she exhaled. She crammed her hands into her coat pockets, wondering if they could be expecting an early snow. She winced as that thought crossed her mind. No! If anyone is listening right now, I do not want it to snow!
A heavy cloud cover blocked out the moon and stars above and they had to resort to intermittent use of a flashlight to illuminate their way, with the hope that no late evening jogger or passerby spotted them as they crossed the open soccer field behind Sleepyside High. They reached the fence that surrounded the school campus and Dan set down his backpack. “Okay, Freckles,” he said softly. “I’m gonna give you a boost over.”
He bent down and cupped his hands to make a step for her. With his help, Trixie was able to reach the top rail and pull herself up. She swung around awkwardly and dropped down to the other side. Dan tossed his bag over and she caught it as he easily scaled the fence and joined her. They waited for Mart to make his climb, then turned toward the front of the school building. Vernon passed silently through the metal bars and stopped at their side. “Show off,” Mart muttered, rubbing his sore elbow and knowing he was going to be sporting a particularly nasty looking bruise by morning. “Are we sure there’s not another way out of here? One that keeps our feet on the ground?”
Dan only grinned at him as he led the way toward the main courtyard. They stopped in front of the rearing stallion statue that greeted students each morning as they gathered before class.
“I don’t suppose your ‘lady friend’ actually knows which side of the statue this time capsule is buried on?” Trixie asked with a sigh. “Because I’d like to not have to dig all around looking for the darn thing.”
“I’m afraid she didn’t say.”
“Of course she didn’t. Your shy lady friend ghost who won’t come see us herself.”
“She’s not fond of meeting new people.”
“Dead ones or the living?” Trixie asked archly, not particularly expecting a response.
“Both. She really keeps to herself.” Vernon grinned and nodded, causing his head to fall forward and drop face-first to the ground. “Dang. Little help?” His voice was muffled and indistinct, but they had no trouble understanding what he wanted.
Rolling his eyes, Mart leaned over and scooped it up. “Dude. Really?”
“You know I can’t help it, young man. I’d like to see how well you’d manage with a severed head.”
They decided to start at the back of the statue, digging down for several feet into the flower bed behind it. “There’s no chance in the world we’re gonna be able to undo the damage we’re doing here,” Mart murmured worriedly. “Stratton’s gonna birth a kitten when he sees this on Monday.”
“Eh. We’ll do the good Bob-White thing and volunteer to replant,” Dan said. “That’ll calm him down and make him happy. In any case, I can’t imagine they’d bury a capsule any deeper than this. Let’s try the front.”
About twenty minutes later, after they’d dug several holes in various spots on all sides around the statue, Dan’s shovel hit metal, clanking loudly in the relative still and quiet of the night.
“Finally,” Trixie groaned. “Holy crap. Let’s finish this.”
The time capsule from the Class of 1966 held several items that Mart supposed at any other time he would have found interesting and worth further study. At the moment, he couldn’t drum up any enthusiasm at all.
“Is it there?” Vernon asked. “Have you found it?”
Trixie held up a framed photo of the prom queen. “This is it?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s my lovely lady. Good. Burn it.”
“What?” Mart shot him an incredulous look. “Did you just say ‘burn it’?”
“Margaret really found herself in the 70’s,” Vernon explained. “She turned her back on the old stereotypes. Became a real firebrand of a feminist.”
“And?”
“Eh. The class 50th reunion is this year. In November. They’re gonna be digging up the capsule. Apparently one of Margaret’s sons plans to be in attendance to represent her. She doesn’t want anyone in her family to see this and find out she was ever something so… uh, girly.”
“Oh. Of course. Gosh, I’m really glad we came out in the freezing weather for something as important as that.” Trixie gritted her teeth to keep from saying anything more, knowing it would be singularly rude and accomplish nothing. She flipped the frame over and slid the small tabs sideways to remove the back. Taking out the photo and dropping the frame, she held it up and tore it into tiny pieces. “You didn’t tell us to bring a match,” she pointed out somewhat sharply. “Think this’ll do?”
“As long as you get rid of it somewhere it could never be found.”
“Right.” She shoved the pieces into her pocket and looked down at the open capsule. “Now what? I guess we have to rebury this thing just so they can dig it up again next month?”
Dan rubbed the back of his neck and fought off a yawn. “Yeah. I guess so. Vern? I think this puts you squarely back in the category of owing us one.”
Trixie glanced around the quiet library as she pulled out a chair and took a seat across from Professor Lee. “Thanks for meeting me,” she said with a weak smile. “I appreciate it.”
“Of course.” He studied her in concern, his brow furrowing as he took in her wan appearance. “Are you all right?”
“Uh… I don’t know. Something really bizarro happened last night.”
“So I gathered. You may not have seen it yet, but there’s actually an article on the Sleepyside Sun’s website about the, uh… disturbance at your dance. I thought perhaps something had happened, based on the oddities of the witness accounts. Your phone call this morning confirmed it. Poltergeist?”
“Yes. At least we think so. But that’s part of what I wanted to talk to you about. And, um, without Dan and Mart,” she added hesitantly. “For now anyway. I want your opinion on something.”
“You can trust that I will honor your confidences.”
Trixie found herself smiling. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a tendency to talk like a-“
“Character in a Dickens novel?” he suggested ruefully.
“I was gonna say old, British dude. But I guess that’s the same thing.”
“I read a lot as a child. I… didn’t make friends very easily and I was teased at school by the other students. Books were my escape to different worlds.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I believe I’ve found my place. And besides, we’re here to discuss whatever it is that’s bothering you.”
She drew in a breath, then bit down on her lower lip. “Yeah. Okay. So last night, there was a ghost. A poltergeist. She showed up right as the Homecoming court was about to be announced and things went bat-crap crazy after that. We’re talking flying punch bowls, popping balloons, little tornadoes of paper goods. The works. At first, we didn’t see her. She was hiding under a table.”
“Was she? Hmmm. Interesting.”
“Yeah. Mart did some weird thing with some herbs and a spell and then he told me to concentrate and make her go away.”
Professor Lee’s brows rose in a show of mild surprise, but he remained quiet, allowing her to continue.
“Dan said the same thing. To concentrate. I was holding their hands and I closed my eyes and just kept thinking over and over, ‘go away.’”
“And it worked?”
“Not… immediately. I know I actually shouted it. ‘Go away,’ I mean. A few times. This ghost. This poltergeist. She was just a little girl, but it was like she was nothing but rage. Mindless, boiling rage. I, uh, could…” she trailed off, her gaze pinned firmly to her hands folded in front of her, and shook her head slightly.
“You could?” Professor Lee prompted gently.
“This is going to sound, I dunno. More crazy than everything else? Not to go all Luke Skywalker, but I could feel it. I could feel her fury.” She paused to look up at the professor uncertainly, as if gauging his reaction to her confession.
“Did you feel like you were angry yourself, or just that you could feel her anger?”
“Well, that’s just it. The moment I really recognized that I could feel her anger? Feel all that… burning rage? Everything suddenly seemed calm and clear to me. I knew right then that I could make her go away. She was all out-of-control and I… I had all the control. Is this remotely making any sense?”
He smiled faintly at that. “As much as it can, given our so-far limited understanding of it all.”
“So, I looked at her. Told her to go away, and she kinda just burst apart.” Trixie swallowed hard before continuing. “Did I… do you think I killed her? I killed a little girl?”
Her words finished on barely a whisper and the professor had to strain to hear her. “Trixie, no. You can’t… you mustn’t think like that. First of all, there’s the obvious. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.”
“But maybe I… maybe I sent her to Hell or something? Something worse than killing her?”
“No. I very much doubt that. I admit my knowledge has huge gaps, but I doubt you could send someone to Hell without actively meaning to do so, and even then, I’m not entirely sure it would be possible.”
“Then why did she go out the way she did? Every other ghost? They sorta… poof. Like a puff of cloud that disappears almost instantly. She… exploded.”
“I can’t answer that with any surety at the moment, but this situation does bring to mind something. In some cultures, particularly Native American such as the Navajo, there’s a belief that after one dies, what is good about him goes on and what is left behind is all the bad. This bad manifests itself in an evil spirit that can cause what they call the Ghost Sickness in anyone who touches the body. Perhaps… perhaps that does happen, at least sometimes? If this little girl died a particularly violent death, for instance, perhaps that violence was so great… so evil, that it became this poltergeist while what was good of the child found her peace?”
“And I just banished or destroyed the evil, because that’s all that was left? That’s why she didn’t even seem human?”
“It certainly seems possible, yes. Plausible, I would say.”
She thought about this for a long moment, then nodded. “Thank you,” she said finally. “You… I know you might only be saying that to make me feel better, but-“
“No. I really do mean it. Listen, let me do some more research into poltergeists and the uh… concept of evil spirits, and I’ll let you know what I discover, all right?”
“Yeah. Okay. Um, there’s one other thing…”
“Yes?”
“That… that moment? When I knew I had all the control? The power? It wasn’t just ‘cause of me. It was like I could somehow feel this… energy coming from Mart and Dan, too. Do you think that has something to do with The Three?”
“I think that’s very likely the case. It would seem to make great sense that you three are connected and more powerful as a trio than on your own individually.”
“It’s sorta funny, but I think there’s like, different things we can do now. You know? Mart’s able to cast spells. And Dan… I think Dan may be accidentally making certain things happen.”
“Oh?”
“Well, Mart’s telling him he keeps tempting fate, but I’m not sure. I’m wondering if it has to do with the amulet somehow?”
“Do you think he could predict the future?”
“Yes? No? I don’t know how to put this exactly. There’s just something there. So like, if Dan were to maybe say, ‘We could really use some rain today.’ it would start raining. I guess he could say, ‘It’s going to rain tonight.’ And it would be like a prediction and a – a wish at the same time? And then it would happen, just like he said.”
“I suppose we could actually test that,” the professor mused, “though we’d need to be exceedingly careful how we go about it. Have you even brought this up with him?”
“No. Like I said, I wanted to talk to you first. To see what you thought.”
He offered her an encouraging smile. “You’ve given me a great deal to think about, and new avenues to research. When we meet up tomorrow afternoon at Lisgard House, perhaps I’ll have more information for you. Ah, but don’t worry. I won’t divulge our conversation.”
“Thank you. I know that could maybe put you in a bit of a tight spot, if something comes up.”
“So Mart is your spell caster and Dan may be able to somehow control or predict future events. What about you, Trixie? What do you feel is your role in The Three?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes trailed around the library, taking in the few morning patrons and the lone spirit that seemed to be arguing with an uncooperative and unresponsive copy machine. When she returned her gaze to the professor’s he was a little taken aback by the sudden sense he got that she was much older than her sixteen years of age would indicate.
“I think I’m a channel. A conduit. I can take what they can do and magnify it into… making anything we want to happen… happen.”
Despite himself, for the first time since meeting Trixie and the boys, Professor Lee felt a small frisson of fear. He did not think they were a threat to him, personally, but he wondered if it was possible that the power they had unleashed could take over. Damage them. Consume them. Silently vowing he would do whatever he could to prevent such a happening, he schooled his features into another smile and asked her what her plans were for the rest of the day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dan shifted an old cloth covering the sideboard in the dining room and then wiped his hands across his jeans. “I dunno, dude. I think someone’s been here again. Only this time, whoever it was, he was more careful.”
“But we still don’t actually know what he… or she was looking for.” Mart frowned as he ran one finger through the dust on the tabletop.
“Yeah. I mean, I guess it coulda just been some thrill seeker. All this talk of ghosts and dead people is bound to make folks think about Lisgard House.”
“There was a young man here. Yesterday afternoon.”
Dan jumped and whirled around. “Vernon! I’m really beginning to think we should let Trixie make good on her threat! What’s the big idea, always sneaking up on us like this?”
“What do you expect me to do, kid? Moan and rattle a chain so you know I’m coming?”
“Office hours aren’t until this afternoon,” Dan said darkly. “Come back then.”
“No, wait.” Mart stepped forward, one hand up. “Don’t go anywhere yet. What do you mean there was a young man here yesterday? You saw someone prowling around?”
“Hmmm. Don’t know if I’d use the word ‘prowling.’ He came in, went into the library, spent some time reading those journal pages, poked around in Sarah’s workshop… and left.”
“Did he take anything?” Mart wanted to know.
“What did he look like?” Dan asked at the same time.
“I didn’t see him take anything. And he looked a lot like you. Only taller. Dark hair. Skinny.” Vernon shrugged and caught his head just as it began to slip off his shoulders.
Mart and Dan traded a look. “Lester Mundy,” they said together.
Vernon’s expression changed instantly from amusement to concern. “Mundy? Huh.”
Mart’s eyes narrowed as he studied the portly ghost. “That name means something to you?” he demanded.
“Well, of course. Geeze, boy. You’re a Belden. He’s a Mundy.” He said this as if it were all the explanation needed, but on seeing Mart and Dan’s blank looks, he pursed his lips in a heavy frown. “What? How is it you don’t even know your own history? The bad blood between the Beldens and the Mundys goes all the way back to the very founding of this town. All the way to Horace Mundy and Joseph Belden.”
“There’s not necessarily any bad blood now,” Mart said slowly, uncertainly. “We hardly know one another and to the best of my knowledge, our parents don’t either.”
“Hmmm. Well, take my advice. If there’s a Mundy involved, you want to watch out.”
Dan huffed out a breath. “Duly noted. Is there anything else, Vern? Or did you actually just come to tell us about Lester?”
“Ah, well, yes. I was hoping… seeing as how I’ve been so helpful to you in your… efforts, that you could maybe do me another small, tiny little favor? It has to do with an old lady friend of mine.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The setting sun brought decidedly cooler temperatures to the Hudson valley. By eight o’clock it was cold enough for Trixie to see her breath hanging in the air as she exhaled. She crammed her hands into her coat pockets, wondering if they could be expecting an early snow. She winced as that thought crossed her mind. No! If anyone is listening right now, I do not want it to snow!
A heavy cloud cover blocked out the moon and stars above and they had to resort to intermittent use of a flashlight to illuminate their way, with the hope that no late evening jogger or passerby spotted them as they crossed the open soccer field behind Sleepyside High. They reached the fence that surrounded the school campus and Dan set down his backpack. “Okay, Freckles,” he said softly. “I’m gonna give you a boost over.”
He bent down and cupped his hands to make a step for her. With his help, Trixie was able to reach the top rail and pull herself up. She swung around awkwardly and dropped down to the other side. Dan tossed his bag over and she caught it as he easily scaled the fence and joined her. They waited for Mart to make his climb, then turned toward the front of the school building. Vernon passed silently through the metal bars and stopped at their side. “Show off,” Mart muttered, rubbing his sore elbow and knowing he was going to be sporting a particularly nasty looking bruise by morning. “Are we sure there’s not another way out of here? One that keeps our feet on the ground?”
Dan only grinned at him as he led the way toward the main courtyard. They stopped in front of the rearing stallion statue that greeted students each morning as they gathered before class.
“I don’t suppose your ‘lady friend’ actually knows which side of the statue this time capsule is buried on?” Trixie asked with a sigh. “Because I’d like to not have to dig all around looking for the darn thing.”
“I’m afraid she didn’t say.”
“Of course she didn’t. Your shy lady friend ghost who won’t come see us herself.”
“She’s not fond of meeting new people.”
“Dead ones or the living?” Trixie asked archly, not particularly expecting a response.
“Both. She really keeps to herself.” Vernon grinned and nodded, causing his head to fall forward and drop face-first to the ground. “Dang. Little help?” His voice was muffled and indistinct, but they had no trouble understanding what he wanted.
Rolling his eyes, Mart leaned over and scooped it up. “Dude. Really?”
“You know I can’t help it, young man. I’d like to see how well you’d manage with a severed head.”
They decided to start at the back of the statue, digging down for several feet into the flower bed behind it. “There’s no chance in the world we’re gonna be able to undo the damage we’re doing here,” Mart murmured worriedly. “Stratton’s gonna birth a kitten when he sees this on Monday.”
“Eh. We’ll do the good Bob-White thing and volunteer to replant,” Dan said. “That’ll calm him down and make him happy. In any case, I can’t imagine they’d bury a capsule any deeper than this. Let’s try the front.”
About twenty minutes later, after they’d dug several holes in various spots on all sides around the statue, Dan’s shovel hit metal, clanking loudly in the relative still and quiet of the night.
“Finally,” Trixie groaned. “Holy crap. Let’s finish this.”
The time capsule from the Class of 1966 held several items that Mart supposed at any other time he would have found interesting and worth further study. At the moment, he couldn’t drum up any enthusiasm at all.
“Is it there?” Vernon asked. “Have you found it?”
Trixie held up a framed photo of the prom queen. “This is it?”
“Oh, yeah. There’s my lovely lady. Good. Burn it.”
“What?” Mart shot him an incredulous look. “Did you just say ‘burn it’?”
“Margaret really found herself in the 70’s,” Vernon explained. “She turned her back on the old stereotypes. Became a real firebrand of a feminist.”
“And?”
“Eh. The class 50th reunion is this year. In November. They’re gonna be digging up the capsule. Apparently one of Margaret’s sons plans to be in attendance to represent her. She doesn’t want anyone in her family to see this and find out she was ever something so… uh, girly.”
“Oh. Of course. Gosh, I’m really glad we came out in the freezing weather for something as important as that.” Trixie gritted her teeth to keep from saying anything more, knowing it would be singularly rude and accomplish nothing. She flipped the frame over and slid the small tabs sideways to remove the back. Taking out the photo and dropping the frame, she held it up and tore it into tiny pieces. “You didn’t tell us to bring a match,” she pointed out somewhat sharply. “Think this’ll do?”
“As long as you get rid of it somewhere it could never be found.”
“Right.” She shoved the pieces into her pocket and looked down at the open capsule. “Now what? I guess we have to rebury this thing just so they can dig it up again next month?”
Dan rubbed the back of his neck and fought off a yawn. “Yeah. I guess so. Vern? I think this puts you squarely back in the category of owing us one.”
