Read The Spirit House Online

Authors: William Sleator

The Spirit House (12 page)

BOOK: The Spirit House
13.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

But those streets were dark, and empty of people. They would be the perfect place for Bia to get me. I couldn't risk it. I turned right at the next corner.

There was the junior high, three blocks straight ahead, at the top of the hill. If I didn't do something he'd see me go inside. I turned right at the next corner. By going one block out of the way, and then turning back at the corner just before the school, I might be out of his sight long enough to get into the building without being seen.

I was really hurting now, going much slower than when I had started. My clammy dress clung to my skin, my shoes squelched with every step. Rain poured down. I hugged my arms to my sides, pushing up the hill, teeth chattering uncontrollably. My lips were salty from my runny nose.

At the last intersection I looked back. Bia was almost a block behind me. I turned left and dashed for the school, sobbing for breath. If
only
I could get inside before Bia reached the corner and saw me!

The spirit sent branches skittering along the sidewalk to slow me down. I kicked them away, my eyes fixed on the steps and the double doors. Two large trees bent and swayed on either side of the school entrance, limbs creaking. I knew the spirit was going to fling a heavy branch down on my head when I ran underneath those trees. But I had to risk it; there was no other way to get in.

I bent over, my arms covering my head, and ran for the doors. I was sure I heard the crack of a limb tearing loose. But I was at the doors. I couldn't look behind to find out if Bia had rounded the corner and could see where I was going, I didn't have one second to spare. I pulled open the door and staggered inside.

Into darkness.

The door slammed, echoed, faded to silence. I had been too busy to notice from outside that there were no lights in the windows. But now it was clear that the power at the school was out.

I sank back against a wall, my throat catching, tears rolling down my wet face. No wonder the spirit had allowed me to get all the way to the school! Dominic wouldn't be here to help me if the power was out. The building would be almost empty. And it was so dark. How perfect for Bia! He must have seen me going in. He was probably running up the steps right this minute. With his knife.

I lurched away from the wall, through the entrance hallway, and into the main corridor. All I could see were the vague gray patches of the classroom doors on either side. I had to get help before Bia found me. But was anybody even here to help me? Maybe the custodian. And the custodian would be in the basement, where his office must be, and all the electrical stuff. It would be even darker down there.

But I didn't have any choice. There was probably a stairway at the end of the hall. I moved slowly to the right, feeling my way with one hand against the wall. My footsteps on the linoleum reverberated along the length of the corridor.

Behind me the front door slammed shut with clanging finality. When its echoes died, I heard footsteps quickly approaching.

15

Maybe I could hide from him in a classroom. After he went past it, I could sneak back through the corridor and get out the front doors. I groped my way forward. I grasped a doorknob and turned and pushed, hoping it wouldn't make much noise. The door opened silently. I stepped quietly through.

And fell, crying out, my arms stretched in front of me. My shin hit the edge of something, my ankle twisted, my arms and upper body slammed into a sharp metal object that crashed resoundingly to the floor. I lay there whimpering, holding on to my ankle, which throbbed with hot pain.

The spirit had really done it now, sending me blindly into what must be the orchestra room, a series of tiers. I had stumbled over the first step, wrenching my ankle, knocking over a music stand. My ankle hurt too much for me even to stand up, let alone run. I dragged myself forward.

The door clicked open. Bia didn't know about the orchestra room. But he had heard me fall, he was prepared for obstacles. He stepped carefully down. “Julie?” he whispered. And then he was crouching on the floor beside me.

I started to scream for help. But before even the first syllable came out Bia's hand was clamped over my mouth. I struggled, grunting. His hand tightened.

“Listen to me!” he whispered, panting harshly.

Maybe he wasn't going to kill me instantly. He wanted to tell me something. If I kept trying to scream he'd have to shut me up. But if I was quiet, he might talk for a while. Maybe long enough for the custodian to come and investigate the noise. Maybe long enough for me to convince Bia not to hurt me.

The pressure of his hand relaxed. “No screaming?” he asked me.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head on the floor.

He lifted his hand, but kept it an inch from my mouth just to make sure. “Good.”

I pushed myself up into a sitting position, trying not to move my ankle. “What … what did you want to tell me?”

“How you find out I'm not Thamrongsak?”

If only I hadn't told him that! But maybe I could still make him believe I didn't know enough to be dangerous to him. “I don't know why I said that. It just … popped into my head. But I don't have any
proof
or anything. Nobody else would believe me.”

“You don't tell anybody?”

“No. I didn't. I promise.”

“Good.” He sighed and shifted on his knees beside me. “I think spirit not so angry now—so okay for me to tell you. And maybe you can help me. Can't tell you before, ask you for help, because not safe.”

I wasn't sure what he meant. Had the spirit prevented him from telling me the truth before? Why would she do that? But I didn't want to doubt or question him. I had to humor him. “I'll help you, I promise,” I said. “Go on. Tell me.”

“Not easy …”

Was this going to be the truth, or just more lies to make him look good? In either case, it might clarify some things—and put off whatever he was going to do to me. “Tell me, Bia. I won't tell anybody, believe me.”

“Then why you run away?”

What could I say? He had reason to be suspicious. Maybe a little bit of truth from me might convince him to trust me. “I was looking for Dominic. This is his school. I just wanted to ask him … if you told him anything.”

“For sure? That all?”

Scared as I was, I was getting a little impatient. He had dangled some tempting revelation in front of me, and now he was pulling it back. “Why else would I come here? I didn't run to Mom and Dad. I didn't call the high school, or any of my friends. Trust me, Bia. Who is Thamrongsak? How do you know him?”

“Well …” He cleared his throat, and then coughed. “Sak—Thamrongsak nickname—his mother cousin of my mother. Good boy, work all the time. His family neighbor of my parent in Chon Buri. Very poor family, like my parent.” He stopped.

“Go on, Bia,” I said.

“Well … Don't visit parent for long, long time. Then, go to see them, my mother tell me Sak, he going to America. In three day he going! Rich American family pay for him, change his future forever. And I think about my future.”

Was
this the truth? It might be. It made sense that Thamrongsak was a relative of Bia's; that explained the similarity in their appearance. I heard the rustle of Bia's hand in his shirt pocket.

“Go ahead and smoke,” I told him.

“Is okay? Smoke in school?”

He chased me here with a knife and then worries about smoking? “No. But it doesn't matter now.” I wanted Bia to relax, lower his guard, open up. And the odor of smoke, it occurred to me, might help the custodian find us.

He lit up and inhaled deeply, with obvious relief. “You were saying about your future,” I prompted him.

“Have very bad job in Bangkok, no future.” His voice was dull. “I am very much hopeless. Then, I hear about Sak going to America. And I think maybe something like that can happen to me, make me not so hopeless for future. So, I go home from parent, and stop at Erewan Shrine. Very holy place. Everybody know spirit there very powerful. Always many flower at shrine, from people who spirit help them, many people praying, and they put leaf gold on elephant statue, to thank spirit. So I ask spirit …” His voice faded. He inhaled deeply again.

“What did you ask the spirit?”

My eyes were adjusting to the darkness. In the dim light from the windows I could see that he was looking directly at me now, the burning cigarette forgotten in his hand. “I ask spirit—please make me going to America, like Sak.”

Sure
, I felt like saying. It was easy enough for him to tell me his wish had been innocent. But I kept my mouth shut. If I doubted him, he might stop. And even now, there was a part of me that wanted to believe him.

“I ask that, and I promise to give spirit Buddha pendant before I am go to America. Pendant very holy, very, very valuable.”

“The friend who gave it to you must have a lot of money then.”

“Chai, old friend from childhood. Many time he do thing to make money, not very good thing, maybe illegal. Then he like to spend money. Give me gift, pendant, lighter. So, I make promise to give pendant to spirit if help me go to America. And then …”

He bent his head. Suddenly I was afraid of what was coming.

“… after three day, go again to Chon Buri, to party for Sak on morning of day he leave to America. But is no people, no party. And my father tell me …” He paused again, and then went on quickly. “Very bad accident. Big truck, hit Sak. Happen only few hour after I pray to spirit. Sak in hospital, like dead, except only breathing. Doctor say Sak, he never get better. My father say I must go to hospital. And in hospital, Sak father ask me to help him.”

He swallowed. “Sak father want to stay at hospital. He ask me to mail airline ticket back to family in America, special way with insurance. He give me ticket, immigration paper, I-20 form, ask me to write note in English explaining for American family about accident. Then I know. I know for sure what make accident happen. I am very unhappy, very afraid.”

His face seemed as impassive as ever, but his voice had become hoarse, unsteady. I wanted so much to believe that he hadn't wished the accident on Thamrongsak!

But Bia had chased me with a knife; Bia was an actor and a liar. And what was to stop him from lying about this? There was no way I could ever find out what he had really wished.

“On bus I read ticket. Plane is leaving only few hour. What am I do? Spirit put ticket
in my hand
. Will not make Sak well again if I do not use ticket. Will be only … only waste of ticket.

“So, I am in big hurry, only few hour. I find my friend Chai. Tell him everything. He help me. I can send letter and money from America to Chai, for my parent. He mail to them from Bangkok, so nobody know I am in America. Many time I do not visit parent for many month, only send letter and money. Chai lend me clothes for America, lend me money, lend me bag, pay taxi to airport. I get on plane.”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You were using Sak's ticket, with his name on it. But your passport has
your
name on it. Didn't they notice?”

“I am lucky; many tourist in airport, crowded, late, hurrying. Man at check-in very busy, look only at ticket, tell me to hurry to passport control. Man at passport control look at passport quick, do not check name in English on ticket. Think maybe I'm safe, no more problem. Get on plane. Very excited now—America! Plane take off. And lady in next seat say to me, ‘Oh, what beautiful jade Buddha pendant!'”

“So
that's
it,” I said, putting my hand to my mouth.

“Am so hurry, forget to pay spirit!” Bia said, shaking his head, as though he himself were still shocked by it. “First, very scared! Afraid plane fall down! But then I think: in America, do not have Thai spirit, do not have spirit house. In America, I am safe from spirit.” He pulled out another cigarette.

“And in America,” I murmured, “Dominic builds you a Thai spirit house.”

“Yes.” Bia nodded, blowing out smoke. “Thank you very much, Dominic.”

“What happened next?” I said. “The phone call. What was—”

“Wait. Not yet. First, before Dominic make spirit house, I give you Buddha pendant,” he said. “I give because you help me, you such a good friend. And because I like you very much.”

I wished he hadn't said that. Lying to me now only detracted from his credibility. How could he expect me to believe he liked me after the way he had treated me—ignoring me, going out with Gloria and Lynette?

“I give you Buddha pendant because I like you, and because I think I am safe from spirit now. And then Dominic give me spirit house—spirit house he start to make on Saturday. And in next minute is phone call—from my friend Chai.”

“I was right! It was a friend of yours. That's why he asked for Thamrongsak, not Bia,” I burst out.

“Sure. He want you to think I'm Thamrongsak,” Bia said. “And he tell me—Sak get well. Is miracle! I don't have phone, so my mother sometime phone to Chai to give big news to me. She say, Sak right away write letter to family in America, saying he want to come now, please send back ticket. Happen because I do not pay spirit, give Buddha pendant to you. Spirit my enemy, punish me now, make bad for me, good for Sak.”

He paused, and then said lightly, “Bad for me, and bad also for my friend—especially bad for girl friend. That how spirit work.” He carefully put his cigarette out on the floor.

I went cold, then hot again. Was it possible? All along Bia had been going out with Gloria and Lynette to protect
me?

It had worked, hadn't it? Just telling me I was boring hadn't convinced the spirit, so Bia went further. As soon as he told the spirit I was his enemy, Mark called and everything started going well for me—and bad for Gloria and Lynette. The logic was flawless. And if that meant he really
did
like me, then maybe I could relax now. Maybe I didn't have to worry that he would hurt me. It all made sense.

BOOK: The Spirit House
13.11Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

A Reason To Stay by Julieann Dove
Let It Snow: Three Holiday Romances by John Green, Maureen Johnson, Lauren Myracle
Saving Gracie by Kristen Ethridge
Island of Saints by Andy Andrews
Illeanna by Dixie Lynn Dwyer
Impossible by Laurel Curtis
We'll Be Home for Christmas by Helenkay Dimon
Yelmos de hierro by Douglas Niles
Pantaleón y las visitadoras by Mario Vargas Llosa