Phantom [h.s]

Eighteen

I sit on the floor of the upstairs hallway, narrowing my eyes at the mysterious hollow wall between the two doors.

There's something so odd about it. Why would there be a random hollow wall in the middle of the hallway? There must be something behind it, but what?

A gentle breeze blows through the open window at the end of the hallway.

I pull a hair elastic from my wrist and pull my hair out of my face, twisting it into a bun.

I stare back at the wall.

I feel like if I stare hard enough at it, the answer will come to me. I will eventually notice an uneven line of wallpaper or the faint outline of a hidden door. However, I've been sitting here for nearly a half hour, and the wall has remained seamless.

But there's got to be something behind it.

Harry said himself that it seems familiar to him.

I widen my eyes.

Harry.

I scramble to my feet and bound down the stairs, almost tripping over myself at the bottom. I grab onto the banister for support before sprinting through the house, towards the back door.

Of course, with my luck, my father is in the kitchen, hanging more pictures.

"Whoa, either you've desperately got to pee and forgot where the bathroom is, or you're running from a wild ostrich." He sets the hammer down on the counter, giving me a joking smile.

"Neither," I say, struggling to come up with a lie. My hand rests on the back doorknob. "I, uh...saw a bunny in the grass out the window."

My dad's eyebrows shoot up. "Ooh, what species? Cottontail? Hare?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm going to find out." I nod quickly, knowing I'm playing right into my father's love for figuring out what species animals are.

"I'll come along." My father begins to step toward the door.

"No!"

He looks surprised at my outburst.

"I mean," I say, softening my tone. "You should stay and finish with the pictures. Lots of noise could scare it, you know."

He nods, walking back to the step ladder. "Of course. See, all those Discovery Channel shows don't go to waste!"

I offer him a quick smile before ducking out the back door and taking off across the backyard.

I hurriedly open the gate and stop for a split second to catch my breath before breaking into a run down the path again, not stopping until I burst into the clearing, thoroughly winded.

Harry raises his eyebrows at me from one of the swings.

I put my hands on my knees, catching my breath.

"Did you just run a marathon?"

I point at him, struggling to breathe normally. "Shut up," I huff. "This is the most exercise I've gotten in about eight months."

I almost lose my breath all over again when his lips shift into a teasing smirk.

"So," he says, leaning back on the swing slightly. "Came to see me, did you?"

I straighten up, trying to remember the reason I exerted energy to get here in the first place. "Oh, right," I say, nodding. I reach out and grab his wrist, tugging him to a standing position from the swing. "The wall," I say.

He furrows his brow. "What about it?"

"Come on."

I pull him by the wrist back down the path, laughing when he almost trips over a twig on the forest floor. I enter the house through the back door, telling my father I lost track of the rabbit. Harry enters through the wall of the living room on the other side of the house.

Finally, we're standing back in front of the wall.

"Walk through it," I say to Harry, making sure to keep my voice low.

He raises an eyebrow at me.

"What are you waiting for?"

He shakes his head, shrugging. "Alright."

He steps toward the wall, first reaching out to it with his hand.

But his hand does not go through.

He furrows his brow, reaching out again, but his hand stops at the wall.

"What's happening?" I ask.

"I don't know," he says. "It's not letting me through." He tries sticking his foot through next, but without luck.

I know he walked through the living room wall just minutes ago, so what is it about this wall that isn't letting him through?

"This is getting weird," I whisper.

"Jane," Harry says, an odd look crossing his face. "What do you think is behind there?"

I lift a shoulder. "I don't know. It could be anything."

"Anything," he repeats, the same expression on his face. He looks at me. "What if it's my body?"

I widen my eyes. The thought hadn't occurred to me until now. Is it possible? Why would the killer dump the body in a room of Harry's old house, then seal the wall? How would Harry's parents not have known?

The sickening feeling that Harry's family may have had something to do with his death stirs within me.

"We need to get into that wall," Harry says, his voice hushed.

"How?" I reply. "We can't just tear it down, my parents would go crazy."

"I don't know," he says, shaking his head. He looks back at the wall. "But we need to find out what's behind there eventually."



-



Sleep refuses to engulf me that night.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to clear my mind, but I don't feel tired at all. I keep thinking about the wall and all the possibilities of what's behind there. Harry's body? A murder weapon? A note from the killer explaining everything?

The mere thought that Harry's lifeless body could be behind that wall almost causes bile to rise in my throat.

Suddenly, my room feels too small. And hot. Way too hot.

I get out of bed, checking the time on my bedside clock. It's just past one in the morning, and I have school tomorrow. Well, today, really. It's already Monday. Gross.

I grab a pair of flip flops from my closet and open the window. The night air is cool on my warm skin as I step onto the ledge, taking a breath before sliding down the vine to the ground.

My feet take me across the backyard, the grass tickling my ankles. I wear my pajama pants and a t-shirt, my hair probably messy from lying in bed. The trees look menacing in the dark when I arrive at the gate, stretching toward the sky as if their roots are restraining them from reaching any higher.

I travel down the path with only the moon to light the way.

I stop once I get to the clearing. I walk over to one of the swings and then decide to sit on the ground instead. The grass is cool and smooth, and I pull it between my fingers as I always do.

Harry isn't here. He must be at the cemetery.

Just as I think this, he emerges from the trees on the other side of the clearing, his expression shifting to confused when he sees me.

"Hey," he says, walking over and sitting beside me in the grass. "Can't sleep?"

I shake my head.

"Join the club." He half smiles.

I muster a smile back.

"So," he says, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What's bothering you?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Why do you assume that something's bothering me?"

He gives me a look.

I look down into my lap. "I can't stop thinking about the wall."

He nods, chewing on his lip as his eyes move over my face. "Neither can I."

I look away from him to stare at some fireflies that buzz around in the other corner of the clearing. There's a whole cluser of them, dancing through the air.

"They're here every night, you know," Harry says.

"The fireflies?"

"Yeah. Who knows where they go during the day, but at night, they're always here."

We watch the specks of light fly around each other, almost in a graceful dance. I wonder how many times Harry has had nothing better to do than watch them buzz erratically. The days must seem long when you don't sleep a wink.

"Where's the necklace?"

I snap into reality and move my hand to my neck. "Oh," I say. "My mother doesn't let me sleep in necklaces. She thinks I'll toss and turn in my sleep and choke."

Harry fights a smile. "How old does she think you are, four?"

"And a half."

We laugh lightly. It does feel odd not to be wearing the necklace when I have become so accustomed to having it around my neck.

"I've been meaning to ask you," I say, toying with a strand of hair. "Why did you give me the necklace in the first place?"

He half smiles. "Well, I wanted to freak you out a little," he admits.

I laugh, shaking my head. "Really?"

"Yes, but that's not the real reason," he says. He shifts. "The necklace was very important to me. It was my grandmother's, as I've told you. She died of lung cancer when I was sixteen-she was a smoker. A few days before she passed, she called me into her room and gave me the necklace. I didn't know why she had it-I mean, it's a skull and crossbones. You don't usually see that symbol on jewelry. I had never seen her wear it, and she never talked about it. She gave it to me so I would remember her, telling me that it meant a great deal to her.

"I kept it in that box in my room-the black one that you have now. I was close to my grandmother, mostly because she always gave me great advice. I never knew why this necklace was so special to her, but just knowing that it was special to her made it special to me.

"After my parents moved out, I managed to get into the house to see what they left behind. I found the box with a photograph of me and the necklace on the kitchen island. It was the only things of mine that they didn't sell or get rid of."

He looks at me. "I don't exactly know why I decided to give you the necklace. I just wanted you to have it, I suppose. What could I have done with it, anyway? I'm dead." He shrugs. "I'm glad I gave it to you. It looks nice on you."

I give him a small smile, the breeze blowing my hair over my shoulder. The air is colder now, with him sitting so close to me.

"What would have happened to you if I hadn't moved into the house?" I ask.

"I would probably end up like Em," he says. "Stuck."

"Poor Em."

"Poor Em," he agrees.

"Harry?"

"Hmm."

"What if it is your body behind that wall?"

He looks over at me. I know my eyes are filled with worry-I am worried.

"Then..." He shrugs. He doesn't seem to have an answer, and I know it worries him a bit too.

I look down.

He reaches out and touches my cheek lightly, turning my face to look at him. My breath is caught in my throat and I feel my heart rate pick up. My skin ices over as it always does when he touches me, feeling his frigid aura down to my roots; down to the bone.

"Can I try something?"

I stare at him, not knowing how to respond other than to nod. A small smile graces his lips, his dimples appearing.

He moves closer to me, resting his forehead against mine gently. His other hand pushes my hair out of my face lightly. A thousand chills rush down my spine.

And then he leans in and kisses me.