Hiding Under a Sheet

 

 

My post-ghost encounter plan was to hide from my mom, the Mortons, my new life, and whoever that horrifying thing was that floated across the kitchen.

But I couldn’t even do that.

Turns out, my room was a fire hazard. The electrician Howard had hired to replace the old wiring in my new bedroom wouldn’t be finished for another week. So until then, I’d be bunking with Tabitha in her room. This was another disaster waiting to happen. I would be venturing into enemy territory.

Tabitha hadn’t complained or made funny faces or anything like that, but we were the same age, and we both knew I was invading her space. “You can take the bed,” she said when I stood in her doorway. She was lying on the floor on a pink sleeping bag, reading a graphic novel. “In a few days, we’ll switch. Cool?”

I went to the bed. I didn’t want to talk or explain myself. I just wanted to hide under the enemy’s sheets and dream I was anywhere but here.

Tabitha had other plans. She spoke quietly, but firmly.

“Yesterday, I promised my dad that I’d make the best of this new … of our new situation. And I’m going to keep my promise. Because he’s happy. Happier than I’ve seen him in like so long. Like forever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Howard is happy?” I said, doubtful.

It wasn’t the response Tabitha was looking for.

“Look, Bertie, I get that this is hard for you, I really do. It isn’t easy for Mac and me, either.” Tabitha looked away, trying to find the perfect words floating in the air. “What happened tonight, I can’t tell if you were acting that way on purpose because you’re mad or if you’re just trying to be funny.”

She was starting to tick me off.

“Hey, that wasn’t acting! I saw something funky in the kitchen!”

Tabitha nodded. She was much calmer than me, which ticked me off even more.

“Then why didn’t anyone else see it?” she asked. “My dad and Mac and I were in the kitchen. Shouldn’t we have seen it, too? And why would a ghost just happen to show up on the night you arrive?”

“Hey, enough with the questions,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on, okay? It’s not like I see weird things all the time.”

“Okay, fine. What did the ghost look like?”

She wasn’t going to let me off easy. And now I was fully ticked.

“I already told everybody, I couldn’t see an actual face,” I said. “It’s hard to explain. It was like a white shadow or something … Know what? Let’s forget the whole thing happened. I just want to sleep now.”

Tabitha rolled her eyes. It seemed like she was judging me, which I always hated. “Do you pray before you go to sleep?” she asked.

“Pray?” I said. “No, not normally. But tonight I’m going to pray I wake up in my own bed in North Carolina, and all this Pennsylvania nonsense was a bad dream.”

To my surprise, Tabitha laughed. “Hope that comes true for you.”

To my surprise, I also laughed. It was a nice moment, actually. Then Tabitha asked, “So do you believe in God and heaven and stuff?”

Not a question I thought I’d be answering tonight. But I could tell Tabitha was trying to understand me. And since I felt so misunderstood, I appreciated the effort.

“I believe in God, but I don’t think He has time to hear our prayers every day,” I said. “He’s busy making billions of stars and planets, after all.”

“Hmmm. Never thought about it like that,” Tabitha said. “Well, I hope you don’t mind if I pray before I conk out.”

I figured she would pray silently, but I was wrong.

“Dear Lord,” she said, after weaving her hands together and closing her eyes. “Thank you for this beautiful day, and for Bernice and her mom coming to live with us in our house, which has no ghost witches, ghost ship captains, or ghost burned orphans, but it does have plenty of old electrical wiring. Please protect all of us from harm as we go forth in your world. Please watch over my mother in heaven, and let her know that Dad and Mac and I miss her every day. Amen.” She opened her eyes and said, “Goodnight, Bertie.”

“Goodnight,” I said, feeling bad for being mean to a girl who had lost her mother. I couldn’t even imagine how painful that must be. Mom had told me that Howard’s wife had died from some kind of awful disease, but I was so upset about the news bomb that we were moving to Altoona, it didn’t stick or feel real. I did not know the Mortons. I certainly didn’t care much about them.

But that night in Tabitha’s bedroom, so far away from Carver City and almost everyone I knew and loved, it stuck. I was ten feet from a girl whose mom had died, and it was the same story with the boy down the hall, Mac. Even though my situation was awful, their situation was much worse.

Instead of telling Tabitha I was sorry, I buried myself under the sheet and tried to fall asleep. Part of me knew I should say something to Tabitha, but it would have to wait. I was far too busy worrying about escaping this dangerous place with my dog and my mother to worry about other people and their problems.