The Second Jackson- Piper McLean book 1

Haunting Memories

Hazel

When we got into town, I followed the same route I'd used seventy years ago—the last night of my life, when I'd come home from the hills and found my mother missing.

I led my friends along Third Avenue. The railroad station was still there. The big white two-story Seward Hotel was still in business, though it had expanded to twice its old size. We thought about stopping there, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to traipse the lobby covered in mud, nor was I sure the hotel would give a room to four minors.

Instead we turned toward the shoreline. I couldn't believe it, but my old home was still there, leaning over the water on barnacle-encrusted piers. The roof sagged. The walls were perforated with holes like buckshot. The door was boarded-up, and a hand painted sign read: ROOMS STORAGE—AVAILABLE.

"Come on" I said.

"Uh, are you sure it's safe?" Frank asked.

I found an open window and climbed inside. My friends followed. The room hadn't been used in a long time. Our feet kicked up dust that swirled in the buckshot beams of sunlight. Moldering cardboard boxes were stacked along the walls. Their faded labels read: Greeting Cards, Assorted Seasonal. Why several hundred boxes of season's greetings had wound up crumbling to dust in a warehouse in Alaska, I had no idea, but it felt like a cruel joke: as if the cards were for all the holidays I'd never gotten to celebrate- decades of Christmases, Easters, birthdays, Valentine's Days.

"It's warmer in here, at least" Frank said. "Guess no running water? Maybe I can go shopping. I'm not as muddy as you guys. I could find us some clothes"

"I'll go with you, there's no way I'm letting us split up and not go in pairs" Lani said.

I only half heard them.

I climbed over a sack of boxes in the corner that used to be my sleeping area. An old sign was propped against the wall: GOLD PROSPECTING SUPPLIES. I thought I'd find a bare wall behind it, but when I moved the sign, most of my photos and drawings were still pinned there. The sign must have protected them from sunlight and the elements. They seemed not to have aged. My crayon drawings of New Orleans looked so childish. Had I really made them? My mother stared out at me from one photograph, smiling in front of her business sign: QUEEN MARIE'S GRIS-GRIS-CHARMS SOLD, FORTUNES TOLD.

Next to that was a photo of Sammy at the carnival. He was frozen in time with his crazy grin, his curly black hair, and those beautiful eyes. If Gaea was telling the truth, Sammy had been dead for over forty years. Had he really remembered me all that time? Or had he forgotten the peculiar girl he used to go riding with- the girl who shared one his and a birthday cupcake with him before disappearing forever?

Frank's fingers hovered over the photo. "Who...?" He saw that I was crying and clamped back his question. "Sorry, Hazel. This must be really hard. Do you want some time—"

"No" I croaked. "No, it's fine"

"Is that your mother?" Percy pointed to the photo of Queen Marie. "She looks like you. She's beautiful"

Lani studied the picture of Sammy. "Who is that?"

I didn't understand why she looked so spooked. "That's... that's Sammy. He was my-uh-friend from New Orleans" I forced myself not to look at Frank.

"I've seen him before" Lani said.

"You couldn't have" I said. "That was in 1941. He's... he's probably dead now"

Lani frowned. "I guess. Still..." She shook her head, like the thought was too uncomfortable.

Frank cleared his throat. "Look, we passed a store on the last block. We've got a little money left. Maybe I should go get you guys some food and clothes and- I don't know- a hundred boxes of wet wipes or something?"