Judith
September 1971
The shell was gone.
Judith searched her room, thinking she’d knocked it under her nightstand or behind the dresser in the night. The rest of her bed was a shambles, her bedspread and pillow all cockeyed from tossing and turning. Nightmares, none of which she could really remember, lingered in the corners of her eyes like dust as shadows crept from beneath the bed and under the closet. She rubbed them until everything was a haze and blur.
When she didn’t find the shell in her room, she went to the bathroom, thinking maybe she’d brought it with her in the middle of the night, but it wasn’t there either. Not in the kitchen or in the living room or in Mom’s white room where no one ever went for any reason unless they lost something.
If it was gone, that meant someone had taken it.
Shell gone and grounded from the cove, any chance she had of discovering whether the girl had even heard her wish, let alone agreed to grant it, got smaller and smaller.
While Judith tore through the kitchen, digging behind boxes of cereal and dented cans of green beans in search of the shell, Mom and Dad barreled in through the back door. Mom clutched a piece of paper to her chest.
“Open it, damn you,” Dad said, but he laughed so Judith knew he wasn’t mad.
“I will, I will.” Mom shot a glance at Judith, frozen, wondering if she was in trouble again. “It’s a letter. Your brother…I think he’s okay.”
“Come upstairs,” Dad said. “We’ll read it together.”
Her brother was okay. Relief flooded her chest as she realized this had to be a sign that the ghost girl had heard her wish. Her brother was alive and would be home soon. She felt it in her bones.
As much as she wanted to read the letter, Judith saw an opportunity. They’d be in the room for at least an hour reading between the lines, dissecting each detail, until his words had been shredded by their gaze. Torn by her desire to listen at the door—she missed her brother too—and sneaking down to the cove, she made a promise to herself that she would find a way to read the letter. After all, it wasn’t going anywhere. Mom kept them all.
“I’ll read it after. It’s okay,” she said.
Dad called her a good girl before following Mom upstairs.
That was Judith. Good girl.
She didn’t bother with shoes and ran as fast as she could along the lane, through the break in the trees, and down the sloping hill to the cove.
She would thank the ghost girl for granting her wish. She would try to learn more about her, to keep her company, like in her brother’s story. A thrill trickled through her as, for the first time in what felt like forever, she began to believe the future held only good things.
As she reached the end of the trail and the cove came into full view, she saw them, but they didn’t see her. How could they, with their faces pressed together like that? Inexplicable rage built up inside her as she watched Art kissing Carol, the crab claw necklace draped around Carol’s neck. All the crap about being worried about her and saving her life…Art just wanted Judith out of the cove so he could use it as his own personal make-out spot.
Disgusted but unable to look away, Judith’s body thrummed with anger and thoughts of revenge. She wished she’d bitten him harder, clear through to the bone. It was his fault she was banished from the cove, maybe even his fault the shell was gone. She imagined him sneaking into her room and snatching it out of her hand, throwing it back in the sea and laughing with Carol as it sank.
Bullshit. She colored just thinking the word, but she thought it again anyway. It felt good. Grown-up.
She couldn’t go to the cove, not without Art ratting on her, but she didn’t want to go home either. She started back toward the downslope that would bring her to the road when a plane passed overhead. One of those banner draggers. She couldn’t read what was written on the tail but followed the path over a far hill, mostly overgrown with trees and brush. But there was something else there too.
There weren’t many places Judith hadn’t explored on the cape. Every summer, banished from the house because she was too loud, too rowdy, too much, she found dozens of places to hide and play, little, out-of-the-way spots where tourists didn’t wander and just far enough from the edges of where adults were looking. There were places that were out-of-bounds, though—the highest cliffs surrounding the cove and the woods at the top of the hill behind it.
Though she’d been curious about the woods before, it was the ocean, the tide pools, that she loved. Whatever time she had to herself she spent there, the shadowy trees and whatever they hid put out of her mind.
Now, though, with the cove taken over, old curiosity won out.
It was a long hike up the hill. She should have turned around—there was no way she’d be back before her parents came out of their room—but once she got a look at what the trees hid, she couldn’t turn back.
It was a house. Or what was left of a house. The roof had partially caved in, and the front door hung by a single hinge. The grass was patchy in places, overgrown and yellow in others. A hive dangled precariously from the porch ceiling, a mummified head, wasps darting in and out. Judith had seen enough horror movies to know the worst thing she could do was investigate what was clearly a witch’s house.
So she only took one step closer.
Two steps because she was still far enough from the door that even the longest arm couldn’t reach her.
A third and fourth… Her toe nudged the edge of the first step, daring the rest of her to keep moving. The house reminded her of the shell; if she leaned in—a little, not too close—she could hear the ocean echoing inside. And if it was like the shell, if she could hear the ocean, would she find the girl inside too?
Judith was going to be in so much trouble when she got home.
If, a small voice warned.
There was enough sunlight that she could see pretty far into the house without actually going inside. There was no furniture, only a couple of cushions stuffed in the corner. Wallpaper curled from the walls, dust covered everything, and the smell—like wet dog and vomit. Birds settled on the opening in the ceiling, raining leaves and twigs from what was left of the roof. They watched her. Dared her.
It was the scent of salt water on the air that finally pulled her inside.
Behind the curling wallpaper were drawings, most of which made her uncomfortable, but some that made her stop and stare. Shadowy, blurred drawings of a face or part of a face—no mouth or nose, but eyes dramatically turned down, black scribbled so hard Judith found shards of pencil lead in the wall.
“That’s Lizzie.”
Judith nearly tripped as she turned toward the voice.
The girl was tall, with dark hair chopped at her ears and a sweatshirt swallowing her thin frame. There were dark circles under her eyes, made worse by the gobs of mascara weighing down her lashes. She held a cigarette between two fingers, pinched, like she’d only just started smoking and wanted to make sure she looked the part. She looked like one of Carol’s friends, all smirk and sass.
“You know her?” Judith asked.
“What’s to know?” The girl took a drag off her cigarette. “She’s dead.”
“Then how do you know her name’s Lizzie?”
“Because they’re always named Lizzie.”
“Who are?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Ghosts, stupid. What are you, nine?”
A ghost? Her ghost? Judith glanced back at the drawing. Whoever had drawn it had done it quickly and angrily. “Where did she come from?”
“Same place all girl ghosts come from.” The girl moved next to Judith, crossed her arms, and studied the drawing with her head tilted. “Somebody killed her.”
“Who?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“And you don’t answer any of them.”
The girl grinned, a sincere one this time. “I like you.” Then, “I’m Cassie.”
“Judith.”
“Your mom know you’re up here, Judith?”
Judith ignored her question. “Do you…live here?”
“Do I look like I live here? No, wait. Don’t answer that.” Cassie rubbed her arms. “It used to belong to my family. My great-gran’s cousin or something. She was a witch.” She bounced her eyebrows.
“Is she Lizzie?”
Cassie shook her head.
“Then why isn’t she haunting this house?”
“Who says the ghost is haunting the house?”
Cold brushed Judith’s arms. “No one, I guess.” Then, “Did your great-grandma or whoever know her?”
Cassie looked at her, properly for once. “Why are you so interested?”
Judith shrugged, unable to meet her eye.
“You live in that big house down by the light, don’t you?”
Judith didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to.
“Listen.” Cassie moved between Judith and the drawing, blocking it. Her features softened, part of the bad-girl persona cracking. “Free advice? Forget about it. Last thing a girl like you needs is to invite more weirdness into your life.”
“A girl like me?”
“Sweet. Young. Pure of heart and soul and blah, blah. You know what I mean.” Then, “Go on. Out you go. I’ve got business to attend to and you’ll only get in the way.”
“And you’re not?”
“Not what?”
“Pure of heart.”
Another smile, all teeth. “No. I’m not.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t have to. Still.” She sighed. “Bunch of masochists, all of you. If you were smart, you’d move away.”
Leave the cape? Never. “If I come back another day, will you tell me about Lizzie?”
“Like hell.” Then, as she shepherded Judith to the door. “Do what I say, okay? Convince your parents to move.”
Judith paused at the door and flashed a grin to match hers. “Like hell.”
***
The house was quiet when Judith got back. She had no idea how much time had passed, but she stupidly hoped her parents were still in their bedroom. Maybe they’d decided to take a nap or something.
But she found her mom in the kitchen, hunched over the sink and scrubbing a plate to within an inch of its life.
Judith started toward the stairs, thinking she could maybe convince her mom she’d been in her room this whole time and if she couldn’t find Judith earlier, it was because she hadn’t looked hard enough. Then she saw the shell on the counter.
She took a step closer, shoe squeaking on the tile.
Had Mom taken it from her room? Why?
Mom leaned against the sink, water splashing up and soaking her shirt as she scrubbed viciously at a bowl. She muttered to herself, but Judith couldn’t hear what she was saying. Probably cursing Judith for disobeying.
As worried as Judith was about being punished, she needed the shell back. Now that she had a clue as to who the ghost girl was, she desperately wanted to try to contact her again.
“Mom? I can explain. Listen—”
Mom dropped the bowl, and it hit the side of the sink with a hard crack. Hand still soapy, she snatched the shell off the counter and stepped away. Her back was ramrod straight, the muscles in the backs of her legs jumping.
“Where did you find this?” she asked.
Judith flinched. She thought about lying; something about the way Mom asked scared her. “I can’t remember.”
Finally, she turned and Judith realized her mother had been crying. Her eyes were red and the skin beneath them puffy. Mascara bruises colored her temples.
Judith’s stomach dropped. Her first thought: David. “I thought you said he was okay. I thought—”
Mom shushed her. As she turned the shell over in her hand, it was like she couldn’t bear to look at it, eyes straining to look at Judith while her head tilted slightly down toward the shell. “David.” She breathed his name. “I was happy they called him up for service. Happy. Because it meant he would get away before it could happen again. It meant maybe he had a chance to escape this.” She held the shell out, accusing. “You brought this into my house. You brought her back into my house.”
“You know Lizzie?”
Mom’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth to say something, but she caught herself, clamping it shut. Her teeth made a cracking noise. She shook her head, a hint of determined calm falling over her. “There’s no Lizzie.”
Judith almost didn’t believe it. Her mother knew. More than that, she was scared. Judith didn’t understand—why pretend otherwise? “There is, though.” Judith chanced a step forward, eyes darting between the shell and her mother. “She’s the reason David is coming home. I made a wish—”
“A wish?” Mom laughed, mocking, the calm breaking again. “She doesn’t grant wishes. How could you even think that? How could you think she could bring anything but death and suffering?”
Before Judith could say anything, Mom turned quickly away and all but ran for the door. Judith slipped on the water on the floor as she started after her, giving Mom a head start. She’d never seen Mom run so fast. Judith chased her down the path to the beach; Mom shoved a couple of tourists who’d jumped the fence to get a better look at the lighthouse out of the way. Judith had to catch her before—
But she was too late. By the time she reached the beach, panting, Mom had already thrown the shell.
Judith tried to run into the water, but Mom grabbed her arms, digging nails into her skin.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“You don’t understand,” Judith pushed. “She’s good.”
A light seemed to click on behind Mom’s eyes. She straightened but didn’t loosen her grip. “You’re grounded. Don’t you dare leave the house without permission again.” Then, looking hard at Judith, “There is no she. Understand?”
Judith frowned. How could Mom say that? She knew about the girl. She’d said so.
She thought of the weeks leading up to David being called for service, how Mom baked and cleaned and planned, like their whole world wasn’t about to change, was changing, forever. She thought about the time Uncle Thomas got sick—so sick he couldn’t get out of bed most days—and while Dad urged Mom to visit, she refused, saying he was being stubborn, that he’d get out of bed when he wanted to.
For Mom, the sky was only blue because she’d decided to accept it.
The longer she stood there, silent, the harder Mom dug her nails in. There was nothing Judith could say that would change her mother’s mind. And anyway, what did it matter? The shell was gone. She’d won.
Finally, Judith relented. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mom softened, but only a little. “Good girl.”