The Tracks, Sally Royer-Derr [most read book in the world txt] 📗

As the bus hummed along, I thought about how I had no clue where I was going. Somerset wasn’t a big town, bigger than ours, which wasn’t saying much. But how was I going to find Maureen Grumbine? I guessed I could go to the library and do an internet search. But I still had no idea of what I was going to say to her if I did find her.

I was glad for the cool air-conditioning in the bus. I leaned back and let my thoughts drift. I wondered if he was here. Since connecting with me, now he could go anywhere I went. Sometimes appearing to me, sometimes not. I was certain he was there and hoped he could help guide me in the right direction when I reached Somerset.

I still had a hard time wrapping my mind around this whole ghost thing. I didn’t understand it, but it was happening to me, so I knew it was true. I had a recollection of a few episodes of The Ghost Whisperer. The ghosts were stuck on Earth because of some unfinished business before they could walk into the light. I guessed I was Tommy’s ghost whisperer. I made a mental note to do some research on ghosts when I had time. How much would research help me, though?

All of this ghost stuff reminded me of an unsettling experience I had at my father’s funeral. The funeral was over. Most of the people had left, and we were saying our final goodbyes. My head hurt, and my eyes were swollen with tears; I just wanted to go home. I stood to the side while Sam was still with Mom. Large maple trees were scattered throughout the cemetery, providing shade and beauty to the final resting place. A little girl, about five or six years old, was standing by one of the trees, not far from me.

She was alone. No adults with her that I’d seen, but that wasn’t the unusual part. Her attire, a pink snowsuit, warm hat, gloves, and snow boots, out of place for the day. It was the middle of July.

I’d stared at her, and she’d stared back. She’d waved and moved toward me.

Sam had called my name, and I turned away from the girl, when he said we were leaving. I’d looked back to the girl, but she was gone. One pink glove had lain by the headstone near me. I’d read the stone. Madison Ayres. Age 6. Born August 14, 2001. Died December 31, 2007.

Had she been a ghost, too?

I’d asked Sam if he’d seen the little girl in a snowsuit in the cemetery. Of course, he hadn’t.

Why was I able to see them but nobody else could?

***

The bus rumbled into the station. I quickly stood, banging my head on the seat in front of me in the process since the bus hadn’t come to a complete stop. Rubbing my slightly sore head, I waited for the driver to open the doors to release us.

The doors creaked closed behind me. I turned to the right to walk into town. A hand pressed down on my arm. Tommy stood next to me.

“I knew you were here with me,” I said. “Why are you invisible sometimes? Like outside Mrs. Gilbert’s house?”

“I don’t know. My visibility fades in and out. I’m strongest at the tracks. Probably because that’s where I died,” he said, walking. “Mom’s address is three-twelve Oak Street. When I first died, I could still go to our trailer. I wasn’t so limited to the tracks. I saw the address written down on a piece of paper when she was in the process of moving.”

“Okay,” I replied. “This will save me some time. I had no clue where I was going. Now, what am I going to say to her?”

“Well, don’t tell her you see me. And don’t show her the pocket watch. Both of those things will freak her out. She’s not the smartest woman in the world and is very high strung. Don’t say anything that will make her nervous.”

“Then what am I going to say? What in the world could be my reason for coming here?”

Tommy pressed his lips together. “I’ve been thinking about this. I think you should say you’re my cousin. Maybe your father, my father’s brother, has some kind of illness and you need to get in touch with my father. Maybe he needs a kidney or something. My father might be a match.”

I looked at him and rolled my eyes. “Seriously? She’s going to buy that?”

“She’s into soap operas and shit like that. I think she will. It’s better than saying that you’ve been talking to her dead son and he needs your help.”

“I guess. But that story seems a little farfetched,” I said. “Why did I come here on my own? My father is too sick to travel?”

“Yes. And your mother is dead. Car accident. It’s just you and your father. You can’t bear to lose him.” He glanced at me. “I’m sorry, I know it’s kind of weird, considering how your father is gone and how much you miss him.”

“Everything about this is weird. But this is a fake father, so I can handle it. How did I find her?”

“Just tell her you did an internet search. Her father knew he had a nephew in Maidenford. You don’t know how he knew. And you saw the newspaper article about me dying. That’s how you got her name.”

“Okay. This is going to be a mess because I am not a good liar. But I’ll try.”

“I’ll be there, too. I’m going to try to snoop around while you’re talking to her. But I can’t move very far from you. I’m connected to you, and it limits where I can go. But at least I can finally get away from the tracks.”

“Okay.