Ray tossed an old baseball up and down, up and down. He’d throw it so high in the air he lost it in the sun and it’d come barreling down, usually closer to my head than I liked. I tried to stay to the other side of the back yard. The last thing I needed was for that ball to bash me in the face.
“Hey, Pearl,” Ray called just before throwing that grimy old ball under-hand at me. “Heads up.”
I tried not to flinch too much when the ball slapped against my bare hand.
“Wanna go for a walk?” he asked, putting out his hand so I’d toss the ball back at him.
“I guess so,” I answered, throwing it hard as I could.
“Let’s go in the woods.” He tossed the ball at me, softer that time. “I wanna see if I can’t find a ghost.”
“I told you, there’s no ghost.”
“Come on, Pearl. I ain’t even been out there yet.” He put out his hand. “Throw the ball if you’re gonna play.”
I did, throwing it harder than I’d meant to and sending it flying off wonky all the way to the far end of the yard. We both ran toward it, seeing who could get to it first. Of course Ray did. Then he lobbed it hard to another corner of the yard and we made chase again. Over and over, we threw and chased. Threw and chased. Until we found ourselves at the tree line.
“Come on,” he said, nudging me toward the trees with his elbow. “Let’s go see that ghost of yours.”
“It’s not my ghost,” I said. “It’s just an old tree and a falling-down cabin.”
“Well, I wanna see it.” He’d gotten taller that summer and had to tilt his head down just a little to look in my face. “I’ll race ya.”
He took off running, leaping over fallen trees and rocks, leaves crunching under his feet. As for me, I went slower, knowing I couldn’t beat him, fast as he was. Besides, I didn’t want to work my way into a coughing fit. My lungs were already sore from playing ball with him. I stuck to the trail, letting myself breathe in the clean air, hoping it could heal me somehow.
I made it to the twisted tree before he did, wondering how I could have beat him. Then I wondered if he hadn’t gone off the wrong way. I called out for him more than a couple times, but he didn’t answer.
“Ray Jones,” I hollered. “Don’t you try and scare me, hear? I’m not going to fall for it if you do.”
All I heard in answer was the snapping and cracking of a branch from really far off. It made me jump and my heart thud. Sitting down at the base of the twisted tree, I tried calming myself and I listened for any sign of Ray.
Nothing.
Rain drip-dropped on my bare legs and arms. Not much of anything, really. Uncle Gus would’ve called it a spitting rain. It did surprise me, the rain. There hadn’t been so much as a gray cloud in the sky when Ray and I stepped into the woods.
But just then the sun was blocked out by full-sky-covering clouds so I couldn’t even guess what time it might’ve been.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered to myself. “Just don’t.”
So I opened my mouth and stuck out my tongue, trying to see how many drops of rain I could catch on it. One, two, three-four-five. I put my hands flat on the grassy ground and leaned back as I continued counting. Six-seven, eight-nine-ten-eleven.
I thought I’d never stop being amazed by rain for as long as I lived.
Then, just as my nerves eased and my shoulders relaxed, my blood turned cold. A rush of fear surged through my body and every inch tensed.
Ray was screaming.
I jumped up, sure my heart was about to drop all the way to my toes.
Ray’s voice came from deeper in the woods and I could just barely hear it. Over and over he screamed.
I ran toward him, not caring if I got scratched all up and down my legs or if I managed to get into a patch of poison ivy. I had to get to Ray. I had to help him. Save him. Ray.
“Help!” he screamed again. “Pearl!”
The fear made everything crisper, clearer. The greens and sounds of birds. The thud of my footfall on a branch here and there. The smell of rotting wood. The way my lungs groaned with every breath. Off to the side of me a good-sized branch, thick as a baseball bat, lay on the ground. Grabbing it, I let out as fierce a holler as I could manage. It came from some untouched part of me where I guessed a warrior lived just waiting to be released.
“You leave him be,” I yelled, my voice more of a roar than it’d ever been.
Swinging the branch in front of me like a club, I realized there wasn’t a weapon on earth that could work against a ghost. I held onto it anyhow, not sure what else to do.
I didn’t see a ghost, or hear one either, for that matter.
All I saw was Ray. He was curled up in a ball on the ground three or four feet from me. He didn’t move and I thought I’d lose my mind right there.
“Ray?” I whimpered, the brave warrior melting away from me.
For as strong as I’d felt just seconds before, I walked with weak footsteps, just seeing Ray. Ray on the ground. Ray broken. Ray unmoving. I held hope that I’d at least see his chest filling and emptying of breath, some sign that he was still alive. Anything. Finger twitching, voice groaning. Anything.
His body started shaking and I wondered if it was some kind of fit. I went to him, still holding that branch in case I needed to fight off the monster should he return for his prey. I just hoped if he did I’d be strong enough, brave enough.
With my free hand I grabbed Ray’s shoulder, rolling him to his back.
I didn’t see a bashed-in head or gashed-open face. And his eyes weren’t rolled back in his head the way I figured they’d be if he’d got a demon in him. I didn’t see a thing wrong with him. What I did see was Ray, laughing his fool head off, not so much as a bruise or scratch on him.
The greatest danger he found himself in just then was that I’d hit him over the head with that old branch in my hand.
“You aren’t funny,” I told him, dropping my weapon and walking away from him, trying hard to keep from wheezing too hard. “I’m never going to talk to you again.”
“Oh, come on, Pearl,” he called after me, still laughing. “It was a joke.”
I kept on walking, not paying any mind to which way I was going. It didn’t matter, anyhow. I’d started crying and couldn’t see what was in front of me. I stopped, leaning against a tree. At least I could keep my sobbing in. I hated for Ray to see me cry as much as he hated for me to see him doing the same.
“I’m sorry,” he said, coming up behind me. “Pearl, I didn’t mean no harm.”
He came around front of me.
“Aw, don’t cry,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I said, wiping at my face.
“I shouldn’t tease you like that.”
“I said it’s all right.”
“Sure?” He took a step closer to me. “You wanna hit me or somethin’?”
“No.” That was a lie.
“You can if you wanna.”
“I don’t.”
“I am sorry.” From the look in his eyes I believed he was.
He turned away so I could dry my face all the way without him seeing. I was glad for that kindness.
Ray and I made it back to the house before the sprinkling rain turned to showers that turned to downpour. He said he wanted to sit on the porch and watch the storm roll in. As for me, I wanted to get out of my wet clothes. Before I went in the house, though, I wrung out my dress as best I could so Mama wouldn’t scold me for dripping all over her kitchen floor.
I didn’t find Mama in the kitchen. And she wasn’t in her bedroom, either. I didn’t think she’d have left the house without at least leaving a note for us to say where she’d gone. She had to be there somewhere.
I went upstairs to change into a fresh dress and to rest a little bit. My whole body felt sore and bruised from chasing through the woods.
That was when I found her.
Mama was on the floor in one of the spare rooms, her eyes closed and arms wrapped around a plain, regular old tan dress. She’d found the box of Beanie’s things and unpacked every single rusty nail and busted plate and such that my sister’d had in her collection of junk.
“Mama?” I said, standing in the doorway. “You need me?”
She shook her head no, but did not open her eyes.
“Should I get Daddy?”
“No, no, no,” she mumbled, rocking slightly on her behind.
“What can I do?” I took a step toward her.
“Nothing,” she said, opening her eyes and looking right at me. “There’s nothing you can do.”
“I can try.”
“Can you bring her back?” she hollered, spit darting from her mouth. “Because that’s all that could make me better. All I want is my child.”
Backing away slowly, like I was trying to get away from a rabid critter, I left Mama there on the floor and inched my way to my room. Even when I closed the door I could hear her wailing and sobbing. I nearly forgot to change out of my wet dress before sitting on my bed with my Oz book. I watched the rain blur my view of the yard through my window.
All I could hear was the rumble of coming thunder.