The house seemed eerier from inside the yard. Vines grew up along the lintels, hiding many of the windows, and those that weren’t hidden were covered in a layer of dust so thick that light couldn’t possibly make it through. Still, most of the curtains were drawn and there weren’t any lights on in the house.

“Well, here goes nothing,” he said. He darted for an old bath lying on its side. Grass grew up into it. The enamel had cracked like a dry riverbed, and rust ringed the base. From there, he crawled to a fountain that couldn’t have worked in years from the grit and leaves spilling out the massive bowl, and he then broke for a rather tall lamp post that hardly hid him at all. He only stopped to catch his breath once he had reached the greenhouse at the far end of the property.

Now that he was here, it all seemed kind of exciting. He would have a story to tell the guys when he got back to school in the new term. This may even give him a few points with the ladies.

He was about to set out again when he caught movement inside the greenhouse. Most of the glass had yellowed or was missing in its rusted frame, and the door hung open on bent hinges. Rows of pot plants, all brown and dead, sat on tables of warped chipboard, and a girl, no older than him, moved slowly between them.

She stroked the leaves tenderly, and now and again would use a small pair of scissors to clip a leaf and add the pieces to her pouch.

One look at her and Charlie’s throat went dry. She was beautiful with her long black hair as dark as a raven’s and her deathly pale skin. Well, maybe not beautiful in the traditional sense; she was too unusual for that, but she still took his breath away. She hummed lost in her work and he watched her for a long time.

He had never had a girlfriend; he was kinda shy around them and never knew what to say. He’d spend hours dreaming up adventures in his mind that would make him the hero in someone else’s story, but those stories hadn’t yet played out for him.

A shadow moved through the trees, and Charlie’s eyes snapped to the house, and when he looked back, she was gone.

The greenhouse stood empty and the pathway clear. Dark was creeping in, and he decided it was time to get moving.

At home, he lay on his bed thinking about the old place and the girl, and he wondered if he would ever date someone that incredible.

If he arrived somewhere with her on his arm, they would never call him Drain Pipe Charlie again! His classmates gave him that name after he got his head stuck down a street drain while trying to find a marble. They had to call the fire brigade to jack him out again.

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He sighed and drew out the letter, wondering if he could use it somehow as an excuse to see her again. The thought sent his heart racing.

It was addressed to Dalia Addair and was written in neat hand lettering.

Dalia. Was that her? He itched to open it and learn something about her—like where she went to school or what stuff she was into or what kind of guys she was into, but if he opened her letter there was no way he could return it; even if he knew deep down that he wouldn’t have the guts to return it anyway. He wouldn’t know what to say and would probably end up stammering something embarrassing.

He sighed and slid the letter back into his suitcase. He would go past the old place some time and drop the letter back into the postbox and forget that he ever saw her.

He was digging out his school books to stash them far away for the holidays when it came to him: a voice whispering through the walls from everywhere at once.

“Chaaaaarlieeee.”

He scrambled to his feet, feeling things like beetles scurrying up his spine.

Something tapped at his window and Allie dropped through. She was kitted out in her baggy camo and had two dark lines painted under her eyes. “Hey DP,” she said. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a night sprack.”

“I uh.” Had he really heard that? He must have just been exhausted after such a long day. Yes, that was it. Still, he continued staring at the wall wondering if a hobo had found his way in there or something. He’d better not smell chillies cooking or so help him...

“Charlie?”

“Nothing. I just thought I heard... It’s nothing.”

“So where were you? I’ve been waiting all afternoon for you to get home. I thought you may have been locked in the storeroom again, and then I wondered if aliens abducted you on the way home. This town needs a good abduction story.”

Charlie forced the letter out of his mind and fell back on his bed, remembering his run-in with Bertha. “You don’t want to know.”

Her eyes brightened and she hopped up alongside him. “Okay, now you have to tell me everything.”

“It was nothing, really. Bertha kind of thought I was spying on her.” He told her the story and tried to make it seem like there was nothing unusual about being on a school roof, and of course, Allie, who never took his side, laughed her head off.

“So what’s happening? You look dressed up,” he said.

She slapped his head. “Don’t you remember? I told you about it a month ago already.”

“Ah yes. Of course; how could I forget.” If only he could. “Stalk the lantern...” It was the last thing he felt like doing.”

“Exactly.”

“And Biff is going to be there?”

“Don’t call him that. His name’s Mark, and he may just run into me.”

“What are you going to do? Drag him into the bushes? Make out with him?” Charlie began kissing his pillow and she forced it down over his head. “Shut up.” It was her turn to blush. “Maybe,” she said and blushed even more.

Stalk the lantern was an annual fundraiser put together by the chess club to pay for their inter-club tour, but for most of the school, it was an excuse to get out and party for a few hours.

“Come on.” Allie grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the bed.