Lost No More (Ghost No More Series Book 2) Read online

  He jumped on my best piece still not captured. “What is it?” He had a twinkle in his eye. He knew what my piece was.

  “A three,” I muttered, and gave him the piece. I moved up next to his bomb. His bomb jumped me. It was a two. I scratched my head. What the heck?

  In three more turns he captured all but two of my players.

  “Argh!” I yelled, frustrated. I was having a hard time focusing on a new line of attack.

  He looked at me and laughed. “Want to quit?”

  “No!” I crossed my arms over my chest.

  Dad did another move. I had one piece left on the board, and my flag.

  “Fine. Whatever. I quit.” I said, and leaned back from the table. “Is that your flag?” I pointed. He twirled the piece towards me. It wasn’t the flag, but a bomb. He’d been moving his flag around like a regular piece. “Dad! You make me so mad!”

  He laughed. I could tell he had played the whole game just for this moment when I figured out he was cheating. I had to laugh because he got me good.

  “Alright, maybe next time you’ll win.” He stood up and stretched his arms overhead. “C’mon, boys! Get in the truck.”

  David and I stared at each other for a second, then our chairs screeched on the concrete as we scrambled from the table. We tore through our garage-house looking for jackets and boots.

  My baby brother called out from the blanket on the floor. “I come too.”

  “Next time, mugwump,” Dad said. “Hurry up, boys!”

  We ran out of the house and into the frosty air. Snow was sifting off the trees in a light icy dust. My cheek stung as it blew against my face. David and I jumped into the yellow truck and tussled on the bench for a little extra room before I snapped the seatbelt around the both of us.

  I was nine. I thought I should have the extra room.

  The Dodge rumbled down the long driveway in deep ruts packed into the snow. Dad let go of the wheel and leaned back with his fingers laced behind his head like he was relaxing at the beach. He had a big grin on his face, this was his favorite part of the day. The steering wheel bobbled as the tires followed the quarter mile frozen channels like a train on rails.

  A mushy brown slush puddle lay at the bottom.

  Dad returned his hands to the wheel, pumped the gas and took the corner sharp. A spray of brown goop flew across the street splattering the mailboxes buried in the white snow bank. In the back of the truck bed, his red tool box thumped and clanged.

  “I’ve got some work downtown. I want you boys to behave while you’re there. No filly-fally.” Dad talked around the cigarette gripped in the corner of his mouth.

  I nodded up at Dad. David blew on his hands then jammed them into his coat pocket, elbowing me in the ribs in the process.

  “Ow! You dork!”

  “Ow yourself!”

  Dad grinned and shook his head. “You little creeps better behave!”

  We drove through town to the lake front where the water looked black under the cloudy sky.

  Dad jumped out of the truck and walked around to the bed to get his tools. He nearly lost his balance when his boot found a patch of ice, and he threw his arm up to catch himself.

  David and I scrambled out the other side of the truck. Dad gave a piercing whistle to catch my attention.

  “Hey! You boys stay off that pier, got it? You get on it, I’ll have your ass!”

  We both nodded and raced towards an enormous pile of snow left by the plow. I kicked steps into the snow and climbed up. David tried to follow me.

  “This is my hill!”

  “Shut up! I just want to see!”

  Grudgingly I scooted to one side. David climbed up and looked out at the water. A roaring growl alerted us that Dad had started his chain saw. He was getting the wood ready to build a new dock. I looked at his denim Carhartt jacket bent over the pylons.

  “Dad didn’t say we couldn’t check out the beginning of the pier.” David said. I shrugged.

  We shuffled off the bank and stomped through slushy snow making giant wet sprays on our way to the lake. The water lapped gently under the pier, which floated right on top of the water.

  I stood on the first board and bounced, seemed pretty safe to me.

  “Hey! What’s that?” David pointed to a dark mass under the water. I leaned over to look. The blob waved just under the surface, hiding beneath drifting chunks of ice. David and I got down on our hands and knees to examine it closer. It skirted beneath the pylons just out of sight. I watched for it to reappear. The mass curled out a tendril. With a ripple, it slowly made its way down the dock. Like crabs, we crept along the pier following it.

  “What the heck is it?” I whispered.

  “A dead body?”

  “Shut up! Didn’t you see the green?”

  I stared hard into the water until my eyeballs hurt, the dark shadow teasing me by swaying in and out from under the pier.

  David let out a frustrated sigh. He stood up, his hand on the icy railing. The edge of the landing was black with mildew, with slime leaching over the side.

  “Be careful, David.”

  His eyes flew open. “Look!” He pointed.

  I snapped my head forward to scan for the shadow. In that instant, I heard a huge splash. David had fallen in, and his panicked face bobbed among the floating ice above the shadow.

  “Ahhh!” he screamed. “It’s got me!” His head jerked back and disappeared underwater. I looked to Dad, but he was still working the chain saw. There was no time. I flung myself on my belly and plunged my arms into the water. I thrashed all over, smacking the cursed ice away that obscured the water’s surface. Where was he? Skin touched my hand. I grasped it and yanked up with all my might.

  With a suction sound, David’s head broke the surface. He coughed as ice batted against his face. I grabbed the soggy shoulders of his jacket, and slowly heaved him up onto the pier. Every tendon in my arm and back flexed at the strain, feeling close to snapping. He flopped on the wood next to me.

  We sat side-by-side for a few moments, both of us deep breathing. David turned to the left and vomited water.

  “You okay buddy? You all right?”

  He shook his head. His brown eyes rimmed with droplets looked huge on his pale face.

  “It had me,” he whispered.

  “What did you see down there? What was it?”

  He wrapped his arms around himself.

  “What had you, David?”

  Slowly, he stood up, like an aching old man. His teeth chattered.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. With dragging steps he stumbled down the pier and went to the truck. I examined the water one more time.

  The shadow was gone.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I made my way back down the dock to the truck. David’s face was stone-white behind the windshield, and I could practically hear his teeth clacking away from where I was. Sighing, I glanced at Dad, who had the chainsaw deep into a log, sending a spray of sawdust against his leg and the ground.

  There was no way out of it. I had to tell him.

  Dad looked towards the truck after I explained how David had fallen in the lake. “You’re supposed to watch out for your brother.” He felt through his coat for his keys. “Go start the truck and warm him up.” He tossed them at me. “Couldn’t listen to me for one cursed minute.” Dad patted his front pocket for a cigarette. He lit it with a flick of the match and squinted at me as he exhaled the smoke. “Don’t tell your mom!”

  I nodded and walked back to the truck. David watched me through the window. Wrenching the truck door open, I climbed into the driver’s seat. “David, take off your jacket.” I said, trying to jam the key into the ignition. The key didn’t fit in, so I flipped it around and wiggled it in, before twisting it with a “snick.” The engine roared to life. I jerked my hands off the steering wheel and watched the instrument panel for a moment, looking for something out of normal. We weren’t moving, everything was okay.

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nbsp; David looked at me with tired eyes and blue lips, still clad in his wet jacket. Huffing a deep breath, I leaned across the gear shift, grabbed his sleeve and tugged on the jacket. It finally peeled away, and I chucked it with a wet smack to the floor. Quickly, I shrugged out of my own wool-lined jacket and wrapped it around David’s shoulders. It wasn’t perfect because my sleeves were wet, but it still seemed to warm him up. I spun the heater dial to high and rubbed his arms. The heat blasted against us, lifting our hair.

  “There, you’ll be alright.”

  David shivered less as he warmed up. Soon we were back to pushing each other for hogging up the seat.

  I never did learn what he saw under that pier.

  *****

  When we got home David was all back to being pink and warm. Dad never said a word, and neither did my brother and I. Mom asked Dad if we’d been good. He looked over at us and his lip curled a bit under his moustache. “Oh you know. Boys’ll be boys.”

  “Well, they must have been busy, they both look worn out!” Mom said as she set plates of chili and cornbread in front of us.

  Man, was I ever, and David too, judging from the dark circles under his eyes. It wasn’t long after a dinner that we both crawled up the ladder into the loft and went to our beds.

  Still, all it took was a good night’s sleep and we were raring to go the next day. The pier was forgotten.

  Dad was whistling when we came down the ladder the next morning. Mom stirred a pot on the stove.

  “Eat your oatmeal boys.” Dad said. “I’ve got a surprise for you when you’re done.”

  I drizzled maple syrup on my oatmeal, then took a big bite. David skipped the syrup. He gulped his down with giant spoonfuls just to try to beat me. It made me kind of cross to see him try, so I picked my bowl up and finished it in two massive swallows. I smiled when I set the bowl down, but it was soon wiped away when I saw his spoon spinning around an empty bowl too, and him smiling back at me.

  Dad pulled our jackets off from the hooks where they’d been hanging by the wood stove to dry all night. David’s had a weird green film on the white stripes. He threw them at us like a horseshoe toss and told us to hurry up; we were going down to Elias and Ruby’s house.

  “Elias has a great sledding spot, boys! Let’s go!” David and I scrambled into our snow gear and headed out the door.

  Mom wouldn’t let Willie go. “You’re still too little.” He cried, but she soothed him with a cookie.

  When we got outside Dad showed us his surprise. He’d built us a sled out of a pair of skis screwed into the legs of an old coffee table. I eyeballed it, feeling skeptical. That thing looked a tad sketchy.

  Dad hooted when he saw my face, “What! Haven’t you ever seen a bobsled before? I guess not one like this! This one here has a name, Dynamo!”

  I snorted at the name. Dad arched an eyebrow in my direction and said, “You just wait and see. I’ll betcha you’ll be yelling ‘Dynamo’ going down the hill on this sucker!”

  “I’ll bet I’ll be yelling something!” I flipped back. He chuckled.

  Half the neighborhood was already there when we arrived. Elias had the steepest driveway around. He and his brother had been up late at night pouring water to turn it into the slickest hill ever, and the ice glistened in the sun. Dad dragged the coffee table with a rope, struggling with his footing to get to the top, with us two following behind. Once there, he pushed the sled into position and gave it a few shakes to instill some confidence in us with its sturdiness. “Hop on boys!”

  I looked at David and we both shrugged. There was nothing to do but to get on. We had a little scuffle over who’d ride in the front before we settled down. Dad handed me the rope. “Ready?” he asked.

  I’d hardly nodded before he gave the sled a huge push. To say that we flew down the hill on that old coffee table balanced on skis, would be an understatement. All I saw was a white blur, with a dark blur at the bottom that I knew must be avoided at all costs.

  As we hurtled towards the trees the bobsled started to rattle and jerk. I pulled on the rope hoping it would slow us down, and it came off in my hands.

  “Mmm Mmmm Mmmake iiiiiiit Sto stop!” David vibrated in my ear. I was a bit confounded just how to do that. Two of the coffee table legs began to bend forward, while the other two bent backwards. I clenched my jaw to keep my teeth from snapping together.

  The bottom of the driveway took a bit of a turn, so the decision of where to stop was real easy. One set of legs continued on without us as the rest of the coffee table imbedded like a torpedo into the bank. I cartwheeled through the air, landing first on my shoulder, then my head, and finally on my back. Once I quit moving, I thought it might be a good idea just to rest there a while. Somewhere nearby David crowed, “Look at me! I’m making a snow angel!”

  From up the top of the hill Dad’s voice echoed down, filled with glee. “Dyyynamo!”

  Chapter 6

  I never was really good at reading out loud. Unfortunately, for Mr. Bentley, my fifth grade teacher, being able to read out loud was his proof that you actually learned the work. So we did it, a lot. He always seemed to pick on the most nervous kid. Right at this moment, that was me.

  “Any day now would be nice.” Mr. Bently stared at me with dark eyes that seemed to want to rip my soul right out of my throat.

  He’d asked me to read the first five paragraphs of the Constitution and I was frantically flipping through my history book.

  “Where were you when I told the rest of the class to turn to the Constitution? How come you’re the only one who can’t follow along?”

  I could feel my throat start to swell. The pages in the textbook stuck together and the numbers blurred as I tried to find where it was.

  Not here, no, not here either.

  Around me desks squeaked as kids turned in their chairs to look.

  “Well, Jim? I don’t think you’re even trying.” Mr. Bently said through clenched teeth. He picked up the chalkboard eraser and rolled it back and forth in his hands.

  Sweat trickled down the back of my neck.

  “Ww We the people…”

  Smack! Mr. Bently flung the eraser at me. I grabbed my forehead after it bounced off my scalp. My chest tightened until I started to shake. I didn’t dare look up.

  The silence in the classroom was electrified with fear.

  “What are you? Stupid? I said Article I. Turn to page twenty-eight.” He walked over and stood in front of me.

  I turned to the page. “All Legislative Powers…”

  “Jim!” He slammed his hands on the desk, and I jumped. “I won’t have any of your mumbling. Begin again.”

  I wanted to puke as I started over.

  I don’t remember how I got through the rest of that class.

  After the bell rang I ran down the hallway. Standing in front of the trophy case, I gave a quick look around. When the coast was clear, I slipped out the front door to the school parking lot and sprinted left down the sidewalk to ShopRite, afraid to look back in case I’d be caught.

  Mom worked in the ShopRite grocery store deli. Her eyes widened as I tore down the aisle headed for the back where the deli was.

  “What on earth?” She started to say as I whipped behind the counter and grabbed her waist in a big bear hug. She smelled like laundry soap and fried chicken. I breathed in deeply.

  Her hand automatically patted my back, “What’s going on, Jim?”

  I didn’t want to talk for a minute. I just wanted to hide away. She rotated the both of us to shield me from anyone watching and whispered in my ear, “Tell me what’s the matter.”

  I told her what’d happened.

  “Again?” Her arms stiffened around me, and she gave my back a firmer pat then she meant in her anger. “How dare he! That’s it!” She spun away from me with her hands in the air and puffed her cheeks. After taking a few steps in a tight circle, she said, “You go sit over there for a minute, Jim,” and pointed to the break room. “I’m calling the
principal.”

  She stomped the length of the counter to the phone, my heart smiling with each step. Yeah! Go get him!!

  The two lines between her eyebrows formed a deep frown as she seized the receiver off the wall and dialed. She tapped her foot as it rang, then, “Mr. Newton. Do you know what one of your teachers just did?” Her hand clenched the front of her apron. “He threw an eraser at my son and called him stupid. I’m done, that teacher’s been a bully one too many times. Jim’s not going back to class.” She paused, listening. “No, I don’t care to transfer him to another room.” She whirled around and her voice got deep with anger. “I’ll find him another school that’s half-way decently run. This is bull crap.” Slamming the phone down, she looked at me.

  I stared back, unsure of what just happened.

  “All right, we’ll figure this out.” She took a few easy breaths, and patted her hair. “You just sit tight for now. Want a piece of chicken?”

  I waited in the break room until her shift ended, feeling a bit like a celebrity as the other workers came in and talked with me. Words flew over my head as they drank their cups of coffee; “Threw an eraser at him.” “What is this world coming too?” “Called him stupid!” “You know, last week my daughter’s teacher up and walked out of the classroom. They still don’t have a new one!”

  Mom ended up pulling David from school too. She brought home a catalogue of curriculum that her missionary friend had used when they were in Africa. Every night, she poured through it with a spiral notebook, making a list of the books she wanted. I was a mite scared at how long that list was getting, and wondered if she’d notice if I erased a few. She seemed to read my mind because the next time I looked, the notebook was gone.

  A box arrived about a week later carried to the door by a red-faced UPS man who looked fit to be tied at the thought of having to back his truck down our rutted driveway.

  Mom thanked him and then, groaning, she pushed the big box across our concrete floor. “Boys! Hurry! Come see what just came!” She clapped her hands like it was a Christmas present to open, and told David to bring her a knife. My stomach felt kind of heavy. That box was a lot bigger than I’d expected.