Haunting of Lily Frost Read online

  ‘No. He hasn’t been in my room.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah. Pretty sure. Anyway,’ I say, ‘he can’t spell.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘I think the house is haunted.’ As I say it, I know it sounds ridiculous, but something has to explain all the bizarre stuff that’s been going on.

  ‘You’re just bored.’

  ‘But does boredom cause strange things to happen?’

  ‘Maybe. Remember when you were sure that your parents were getting a divorce?’

  I smile at the memory.

  ‘And actually your dad was organising a surprise party for your mum’s fortieth?’

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘It wasn’t. You and I spent hours listening against the doors with glasses pressed up to our ears, or trying to read his scribbly notes, or listening in to his phone conversations on the other line. And you would’ve told your mum about it except then you found a list of invited guests and you realised you were wrong.’

  ‘In my defence, I was only ten.’

  ‘Well, you’re only fifteen now. And you don’t want to be in Gideon, so you’ll invent anything you can to get out of there.’

  I hate it when Ruby outmanoeuvres me. I want her to just agree with me, let me go on a crazy rant about ghosts and haunted houses if that’s what’s going to make it bearable to live here, but she likes nailing the truth and she’s not interested in my mad fantasies.

  ‘Okay, Rubes, well how else would my name come to be written on the floor?’

  ‘I don’t know, but a ghost isn’t going to do that. Don’t ghosts just make houses cold and move things so you can’t find them. They don’t carve letters into the floor. They can’t hold anything.’

  ‘Well, explain the watery grip on my ankle.’

  ‘Lil—’

  ‘Come on! If you think it’s all in my head—’

  ‘I don’t. I think it’s an old house and old houses can seem spooky, especially when you can’t wait to leave,’ she says.

  ‘So you explain it then.’

  ‘I don’t know, Lil. Maybe it’s that guy from the other day.’

  ‘In my house?’

  ‘Maybe. The door did swing open, so anybody could have been in there.’

  ‘That’s true. I didn’t think of that.’

  ‘Does that make you feel better?’

  ‘I like that it’s haunted, but I don’t like that it seems to be after me.’

  Ruby groans. ‘Lil, don’t go looking for drama. You always do that.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  ‘You do. You don’t want to be there, so you’re inventing reasons to make it psycho.’

  ‘You know what’s psycho, don’t you? Talking to you on the phone.’

  ‘Works for me. I’ve been painting my toenails while we’re talking.’

  In all the ten years that Ruby and I have been friends, we’ve probably only spoken on the phone twice. Once when she had chicken pox and wasn’t allowed to come over. And once when we were on holidays and I wanted to wish her happy birthday. Usually we just jump the fence, or text each other. I know Mum isn’t going to let me keep ringing her either. She’ll say I have to get a job if I want to use my phone that much.

  ‘Great, so I’m a distraction.’

  ‘Get over it.’

  ‘What colour anyway?’ I wish I was there right now, watching her.

  ‘Red and orange. Alternating. Except I mucked up and did both big toes orange, so now it doesn’t look right.’

  ‘I am a distraction! Yay.’

  ‘Night, Lil.’

  ‘Are you getting off the phone because you’d rather fix your toenails?’

  ‘No. I’m hanging up because your mum will go crazy if you spend heaps of money talking to me,’ she says. ‘Text me a pic of the letters on the floor.’

  ‘Okay. Night then.’

  I take a photo of all the letters with my phone and send it to her. They look tiny and strange, all squashed into a little phone screen. Still, at least she’ll see that I didn’t invent them.

  I lie in my new room, on my old bed, and try to look out the window. I hope this house is haunted because Ruby’s right: I’m going to die of boredom without her.

  I’m lying as still as I can because it sounds like someone is breathing right next to me. I touch the other side of the bed, just to make sure, but of course there’s nothing there and now I’m so terrified I can’t even get up. The switch for my light is too far away to reach, so I’m lying here frozen.

  I want to call out for Dad, but I can’t even do that.

  The house is so quiet, except for the rasp of someone’s breath.

  Then something scurries across the floor and leaps onto my bed. There’s a hiss and I realise that it’s Jasper. I reach for him in the dark, but he’s still hissing. He can hear the breathing too.

  ‘Jasper – it’s okay.’

  He bounds onto my pillow, crashing into my face, and I’m so glad of the company, I grab him and hold him tight. As I do, whatever it is stops breathing and all I can hear is him miaowing on my chest. My whole body is so tense, I’m going to be sick. Maybe as long as I hold Jasper, whatever it is will leave me alone.

  7

  the new school

  At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up to Mum rubbing my shoulders. My face is all crusty and I feel awful. But at least it’s morning.

  ‘Lil, you’ll be late.’

  ‘Not going.’ I try to pull the doona over my head, but of course she won’t let me.

  ‘Come on. It’s a big day.’

  I groan at her, remembering what today is. Day two in Gideon and my parents have decided we’ve settled in enough, so it’s time we started school.

  ‘I’m still not sure about you sleeping up here.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  ‘Did you sleep okay?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ Nothing like a lie to get the day going.

  ‘Wouldn’t you rather that room under the stairs?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Lying under the doona, waiting for Mum to clear out, I start thinking about last night. There was definitely someone breathing next to me and Jasper felt it too.

  ‘Right, Lil, you need to get up.’

  ‘Yeah, okay. I will.’

  Mum sighs and I wait for her to go. She has nothing else to say so she won’t just sit here, waiting for me. Finally her weight moves off the bed and she stands up. ‘Five minutes!’

  ‘Yep.’

  I don’t know what to wear. I’ve never been the new girl, so I don’t know what the rules are. I’m hoping jeans and an old t-shirt will just blend in and no one will notice me. Because it’s much colder than it is at home, I grab a hoodie from the pile of clothes near my door that Mum must have left. She’s trying to be nice and not make me do all my own washing just yet.

  Downstairs, Max is onto his fourth breakfast already. Clearly he hasn’t worried at all about what to wear. He looks exactly the same as he always does: black jeans, some surf t-shirt and hair that he’s never brushed.

  ‘So you’re still a pig, then.’

  ‘And you’re still a—’

  Before he can swear at me, Mum hands me a bowl. ‘Breakfast, young lady.’

  ‘Yeah yeah, most important meal—’

  ‘I thought it would be nice for us all to walk together this morning.’

  I almost drop the bowl, but give Mum the death stare. She’s smiling at me.

  ‘Why?’ I sound more horrified than I mean to.

  ‘It’s your first day of school.’

  ‘No. That was ten years ago. And actually you missed it.’

  ‘I didn’t miss it, Lil. I was at work.’

  ‘Well, don’t you have somew
here to be today too?’

  She shakes her head. ‘Retrenchment – remember? I haven’t got a new job yet.’

  ‘Whatever, Mum. I don’t need you to walk me there this morning.’

  ‘Well I’ll walk Max then.’

  ‘Fine with me.’

  ‘Not fine with me. You haven’t walked me to school for a year.’ Max pipes up through a mouthful of cornflakes.

  ‘But you might get lost.’

  Max and I both laugh at this. I can’t believe we actually agree about something.

  ‘I think you’d be struggling to get lost in a town like this, Mum,’ he says.

  ‘Yes, I know, but—’

  ‘You head out the door, turn right and you’re there. Too easy,’ he says.

  ‘I’d like to meet the teacher.’

  ‘Fine. Why don’t you go to school and we’ll stay here,’ I say.

  Max laughs and sprays cornflakes across the table. For once, I don’t yell at him, because this morning, he’s actually on my side. Mum looks disappointed or sad or something. She drops the box of cereal on the table and walks out of the kitchen.

  ‘Was it something I said?’ I say to Max.

  ‘Want to walk together?’ he says.

  ‘No. Not today. Or tomorrow. Not ever.’

  ‘Yeah. Me neither.’

  I pour a much bigger bowl of cornflakes than I feel like eating, but I’m quite happy to stall the two-second trek to school for as long as I can.

  Dad bowls in with two umbrellas. ‘It’s still pouring outside, so you two can use these if you like.’

  Max grabs the plain black one before I can and I get stuck with the oversize blue golf umbrella covered in giant bank logos. The only good thing is that it’s so big no one’ll see me.

  ‘Thanks, Dad,’ I say.

  ‘Want me to walk with you?’

  ‘Got that covered. Thanks.’

  Of course there’s only one school in Gideon and we both have to go to it even though Max is still in primary and I’m not. So he tags along behind me, whether I like it or not. At least this umbrella’s so big he has to walk a fair way back or we’d crash.

  Water sprays up onto my legs as a bike splashes through the puddles on the road.

  ‘Hey!’

  A hand goes up, waving at me as he passes. I’m not sure if it’s a screw-you or an apology, but my jeans are starting to stick to my ankles and my left shoe is soaked, so it doesn’t really matter what the wave means. I don’t want to be here with all these new faces. Right now Ruby’s probably walking to school with some other kids from our street. They’ll be talking about their weekends that didn’t include me, and pretty soon no one will mention me, or ask about me, or even remember I existed. I’ll be a ghost to them.

  The rain’s so heavy even my golf umbrella is being knocked around. Kids run past me. My brother’s disappeared inside and I’m dawdling. Girls laugh behind me and I guess they’re laughing at me, so I’m just going to stay here, hope everyone will pass me and then maybe I can walk up the steps and sneak in unnoticed.

  ‘Lilian?’

  That’s clearly not going to happen. A tall, thin woman is staring at me.

  ‘Yes, but I’d rather Lily or Lil.’

  ‘Of course. I’m Mrs Jarvis. The principal.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Welcome to Gideon High School.’

  ‘High school? I thought it was the only school.’

  ‘Yes it is. But the high school students are in the back part of the building and the primary school students are in the front part of the building.’ She says all this with one of those smiles that look like she’s deranged, but putting on a good show. And then the rain suddenly stops and the air is quiet again. I fiddle with my umbrella, but it’s stuck. She reaches in, unsnaps the button and the umbrella just folds down, like it’s surrendering. She shakes it gently and all the drops fall downwards, not like when I do it, shaking water everywhere like a dog after a bath. She hands it to me.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Where’s your brother? It’s Max, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. Yes. He’s inside already.’

  ‘Well, then, come and meet your class, Lil.’

  ‘Great. I can’t wait.’

  She’s a fast walker, Mrs Jarvis. Her feet snip along at a pace that even I’m struggling to keep up with. Inside, kids whip out of her way, not through fear, but because she’s someone with a purpose. Eyes watch me as I follow her down the hall. Mouths move, words being said, whispers shared. I’m glad I have her in front of me. She’s a human shield, setting a pace I’ve got no choice but to follow. I concentrate on her tiny-boned ankles instead of on the inside of my new school.

  The building is tall. It seems larger inside than it looked from the outside. The walls stretch up for ages to a dark ceiling. There’s a series of little rooms off the hallway. As we pass each one, pockets of noise burst out, and then quieten down again until we reach the next. It’s not like my old school. There everyone yelled until the bell rang and if you didn’t get out of the way, you were pushed.

  Finally we reach the end of the hall. She turns a sharp left and walks into a room with maybe ten kids already seated. They stop speaking as we enter and they all stare at me. I try to smile, but I can’t.

  ‘Class, this is Lily Frost. She’s just moved here from the city.’

  Something in the way she says ‘city’ makes me think she doesn’t like it much. My face feels hot, so I’m probably blushing. I wish I wouldn’t. I wish I could be bold and brave and socially cool like Ruby, but even with only ten new faces staring at me, it’s hard. I manage a sort of smile and then I look down, hiding under my thick fringe, hoping my cheeks aren’t as red as I suspect they might be.

  ‘Hi, Lily. I’m Danny. Sorry about splashing you before.’ It’s him. The boy on the bike.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I whisper.

  ‘And I’m Julia. Class captain.’ It’s her, the girl who was at the river with him. She’s one of those: the standard long hair, fringe, big eyes, neat girls who I’ve never been friendly with for various reasons. She smiles at me, but it’s an odd smile. She’s summing me up. A glance at what I’m wearing. What I look like. How my hair’s cut. How my bag sits on my shoulder. I wonder what she sees and how she’s evaluating me. I wonder if I’ll pass.

  The bell goes then, like it’s interrupting us before I can blurt out something they don’t want said. Mrs Jarvis points to a desk off to the side of the class. It’s like she’s keeping me away from the rest of them, but at least I have a desk, somewhere to hide. And it’s clean. There’s no writing on it or chewing gum stuck to it like at my old school. I lay the umbrella underneath it with my bag that suddenly looks gross. No one else has anything under their desks except feet.

  ‘So, Lily, would you care to tell us about your last school?’

  I sit up fast, my chair scraping across the floor as I do. Care to tell us? Could I say no? Probably not. ‘Well it was big. Bigger than this –’

  I try to smile at this point to show I’m joking. Obviously it was bigger than here. A toilet block’s almost bigger than here. But no one smiles back, so there’s no choice but to plough on.

  ‘There were over 1,500 kids and lots of classrooms. We didn’t have any grounds, so we could wander around at lunchtime and go to a park or whatever. There were almost thirty kids in my class and we had our own computers. It was cool.’

  ‘Right. Well we only use computers during ICT time. Not in the classroom,’ says Mrs Jarvis.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘I’m just saying you might find it quite different from the way you were taught before. But I’m sure you’ll find you manage to learn just the same.’

  Her tone suggests the description of my old school wasn’t quite what she was after, but I’m not sure what to add. Does she want me
to discuss learning practices or my hidden grammar talents? And anyway, where’s the teacher in this class?

  ‘I should tell you, Lily, that because we’re a small school, I teach as well as being the principal.’

  ‘Great.’ This is weird. She can read my mind. Danny’s looking at me with a funny sort of grin. He’s really cute. Julia’s looking at Danny and I turn away to look at Mrs Jarvis, because I feel like everyone’s assessing me and I’m failing. Fast.

  ‘Well let’s get started. You’ll catch up, Lily.’

  I like that. I’ll catch up. Maybe I’m ahead. Maybe my grubby old city school was smarter than Gideon High. Whatever we’re about to start on, I hope it’ll be something I want to listen to. Something about books. And words. And sentence construction. Because, although I’m embarrassed to admit it, I love all that.

  But of course it’s not. It’s maths, and my pen scratches a sad little line along the page and I sigh. I don’t need maths, and maths doesn’t need me. We came to a mutual decision some time ago that we would respect each other from a distance, but never try to connect. I wonder how I’m going to text Ruby from my phone for the answers. I suspect Mrs Jarvis won’t be quite so forgiving if she catches me. It might mean I actually have to try to do it myself and that’s a frightening thought.

  8

  an outsider

  There’s no roomy cafeteria at this school. No smelly canteen. Not even a vending machine. Clearly they all bring their lunches and eat outside under the pine trees. I don’t trust pine trees. They’re far too secretive for my liking. They hide things and people and although I like secrets, I like it when I have them and keep them – not other people.

  No one else seems aware of this as they sit at their little wooden tables and laugh. I’m not sure where to sit. There’s no sign for newbies, so I’m loitering with my plastic lunchbox that makes me feel about nine. My brother’s vanished, meaning he’s already found some friends – so I can’t even use him as someone to talk to.

  At my old school, Ruby and I always ate – or more often didn’t eat – our lunches at the park. Sometimes there was a group, but mostly it was just the two of us. I knew it was going to be hard to leave Ruby, but I didn’t realise that without her, I’d feel like I had no centre. Like the whole inside part of me had gone. I hope Ruby feels that too.