Page 39 of The Facade

“Yeah?” I asked, not really sure what else to say.

“Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “She’s been quieter than usual and sometimes she talks to people who aren’t in the room.”

“Like hallucinations?” I asked, not sure what he meant.

“My dad and the hospice nurse say its normal and that we should just go along with it.” He shrugged. “But I don’t know, maybe someone is there. Maybe my grandpa Jackson is keeping her company.”

His mom’s dad had died a couple of years ago.

“Anyway,” he said. “Enough about that. I’m hoping to have fun tonight, so don’t let me bring you down.”

“Then let’s have fun tonight,” I said. And when Ava turned the conversation to the last time she and Elyse had gone to a haunted house, I leaned my head against Mack’s shoulder because it just seemed like the right thing to do for some reason. When he seemed to relax beside me, I slipped my hand into his, giving it a squeeze. He squeezed my hand back.

A few seconds later, I thought about pulling my hand away because I’d never held Mack’s hand before, but when he didn’t make a move to let go, I decided to just let it be.

And it was kind of nice. His hand was so much bigger than mine, his fingers long with calluses from the work he’d done in his mom’s flower gardens this summer and fall.

They were the hands of a boy who was going through something most people my age wouldn’t have to face until they were grown and had families of their own.

The streets passed by in a blur, and I didn’t realize we’d made it to the haunted house until Carter turned off his truck. Our eyes caught in the mirror.

His blue-eyed gaze seemed to tighten when he saw my head on his best friend’s shoulder, and for a moment, I thought he might be upset.

But instead of saying anything to us, he turned to Ava and said, “Ready to hold me while I scream?”

“Ready,” she replied before climbing out.

“I guess we better go find Ben now, shouldn’t we?” Mack asked in his deep voice when we were the only people left in the truck.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” I sat up straighter and let go of his hand, remembering why we were here in the first place.

Mack opened the door and I climbed out after him. After shutting the truck door and gazing around the parking lot for a moment, I saw one of Ben’s friends walking toward a group of guys just leaving the ticket counter and getting in the long line that led into the entrance of the 150-year-old Victorian mansion that had always creeped me out even when it wasn’t Halloween.

The home was three stories tall, with a big turret on the north corner where it had been rumored that Mr. Richardson and his wife had been murdered shortly after it was built. Neighbors had allegedly reported to have seen their ghosts through the windows whenever there was a full moon.

My dad had told me all those stories were made up and that Mr. Richardson’s wife had actually died during childbirth. That Mr. Richardson had simply moved away from the house afterward because he believed the house to be cursed. But the house had given me the creeps ever since I heard the story in first grade, and I was pretty sure I had seen something through the windows when I’d driven down this street with my mom and Ian a few years ago.

The full moon wasn’t expected until next week though, so hopefully, the only ghosts I’d be seeing inside tonight would be wearing costumes.

I scanned the crowd for Ben and soon found his tall frame among a group of familiar senior guys from school.

“We should hurry and get our tickets, so we can get in line.” I pointed to the small circle of guys from school, my stomach fluttering at the thought of approaching Ben. We’d said hi in the halls at school the past couple of days, so the four-wheeler ride had helped him acknowledge my existence at least. But I wasn’t exactly sure how to let him know I was here.

Should I go stand by him, so he’d see that I’d come? Or just get in line with my friends and hope he’d notice me?

We hadn’t exactly touched base after the initial invitation, so it was completely possible that he’d forgotten even mentioning it to me.

And suddenly, I wasn’t completely sure I hadn’t imagined our entire conversation.

“Go get in line by Ben.” Mack nudged me with his elbow, as if reading my thoughts. “I’ll get your ticket.”

“Get in line by myself?” My eyes widened and my heart jumped to my throat. “With all his friends?”

“Take Elyse or Scarlett.” Mack shrugged.

A woman in her mid-thirties with two elementary-aged kids got in line behind Ben’s group. He’d never see me if the line behind him kept getting bigger.

So, deciding to use Mack’s idea, I slipped between Elyse and Scarlett and said, “Come get in line with me. Ben will never see us if we wait.”

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