The Haunted Read Online Free Page B

sat down for dinner. I kept my replies to Mom’s never-ending conversation light and happy, all the while silently longing for the safe haven of my room. Nothing even remotely close to the topic of my recent “away time” came up, and it was just like any other boring family dinner.
    So then why did I want to
scream
?
    Luckily, dinner ended quickly, and I only had to make it through one bowl of cookie-dough ice cream—“because I knowit’s your favorite,” Mom said—before I begged off and told them good night.
    As I climbed the stairs to my room, I was struck with that out-of-place feeling again. When I went to bed, I was afraid to go to sleep. Afraid that the feeling of not quite belonging would never go away. Afraid that everyone in town would find out where I’d been and what was wrong with me. Afraid of what I’d see and who I’d talk to. But mostly… afraid of what I’d dream.
    Hard snow crunched under my feet, packed and icy, and I stepped carefully. The sensation of walking on frozen water struck me as absurdly funny, but I stifled my laughter. Something told me this wasn’t the time or place for giggles.
    A single grave was in front of me. My destination. And it felt familiar, yet I knew I’d never seen it before. The perfectly carved stone angel resting on top of it had delicate features and arching wings. One side of her face was cast in shadows, and there was a red cloak draped over her shoulders.
    My lips made the sound before my voice caught up to it. “Kristen.”
    Reaching out a hand, I touched her face. Her hair. Her wings. The likeness was stunning. She was caught forever in stone and dust. Etched out of hard lines and impossible granite. “Are youwaiting for me?” I whispered. “You said you’d always be here.”
    Suddenly the statue turned cold. Freezing. As harsh as any winter wind, and I feared my fingers would be stuck in place. “No!” I cried out. “Please…”
    Her wings cracked. The stone sighed. And from her eyes a tear fell.
    I rolled over and punched my pillow, knowing that I’d have a hard time getting back to sleep again after that dream. I hadn’t dreamt about Kristen at all at Aunt Marjorie’s. Now I knew I was
really
home.
    After bringing me a snack (ten minutes after lunch) and finding half a dozen other reasons to come check on me, Mom interrupted me yet again the next afternoon.
    I sighed and pushed my chair away from the computer screen, trying to hide my irritation as she knocked on the door frame. “Abbey, there’s a call for you.”
    Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting
that
. “Who is it?”
    She had one hand on the phone receiver and held it out to me. “It’s Ben. He called here while you were” —she lowered her voice—“
away
, and I told him that you’d call him back as soon as you had a chance. I think you should talk to him now.”
    My stomach dropped to my toes, and I shook my head vehemently.He’d called the house,
too
? “I’m really not up to it, Mom.” I forced my tone to stay calm and even.
    She thrust the phone at me again. “Just talk to the poor boy, Abbey. He won’t bite.”
    “No, I—”
    “Ben?” Mom took the phone back and spoke into it. “Here she is, just one second.” She placed it forcefully into my hand, then turned to leave the room and shut the door behind her.
    Partly to soothe my nerves and partly to give Mom enough time to move away so she wouldn’t hear me, I counted to five before I answered. “Hello?” I closed my eyes and waited in horrified suspense for his voice.
    “Hey, Abbey? It’s, uh, it’s Ben. Ben Bennett.”
    “Hi, Ben… Um, how are you?” My fist unclenched, and I flexed my aching fingers. I’d been holding them closed so tightly that all the color had leached out of my digits.
    “I’m good. It sounds like you’re doing a lot better too.”
    That put me instantly back on alert.
What does he know?
    “Yeah, I guess I am…” I let that statement trail off, and an awkward silence