I grabbed my penny from the dresser, feeling a little weird about it today, and flipped to the journal spread.
I cleared my throat. “So… I saw someone reading The Westing Game today.” The spirits would know I was talking to them, right? “Was that a sign?”
A tinkling giggle echoed through the room. I pressed off the floor and pulled back my beige curtain. I squinted as a golden-orange light pierced my eyes. Kids played ball and rode bikes outside, so that must have been the sound. But it was late last night when I’d heard it. I doubted anyone was playing outside then.
I padded back to my journal and pressed my finger to the penny. A jolt of cold ran through me and I pulled back. Reaching for it again, I rubbed it between my finger and thumb. It felt like ice melting.
I let it fall to the page. “Can you help me?”
The penny slid across, straight to “Yes.” Maybe it had to do with the icy feel, or maybe it was tilted. I set the journal on the floor, eying the edges to make sure it was flat.
“What should I do?”
The penny slid from letter to letter and I could barely remember what the last one was as it moved.
W-A-I-T
Another giggle echoed from my closet.
I leaned back on my hands. “Hello —”
Before I could finish, the penny flung to YES.
A chill ran up my spine, and a white mist seeped through the cracks beneath my closet and floated over my bed.
“W-What’s your name?”
The penny flew across the pages.
M-O-R-R-I-G-A-N
I squashed myself into a ball against my bed.
“How old are you?”
1-0
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“You’re my age,” I said, light in my stomach. Maybe I couldn’t make real friends, but I could make friends with a ghost.
My window creaked and a chill wind rustled the Sugar Maple leaves across the street. One bright red leaf fluttered and twisted, gliding straight through my window and landing on my bed. I reached up and grabbed the stem. Spinning it in my hand, I smiled. Did she give this to me?
I glanced around the room, not knowing what else to say. Then, a girl with fuzzy blonde hair flickered as she sat across from me. I gasped and jumped back slightly.
She stared at me, unblinking, as the penny shook, then moved to spell F-R-I-E-N-D.
If I had a friend, Mom wouldn’t have to worry about me and put me in some after-school thing. I sighed in relief.
H-E-L-P
“You want to help me?”
M-E
“You need help?” With what, I wondered. “Sure. We can help each other.”
A smile crept across the face of the spirit. Her pale purple dress billowed with her hair.
“What do you need?” I asked.
The girl winked out, and Mom’s footsteps clomped upstairs.
I slammed my journal shut and shoved it under my pillow as I plopped onto my bed. As Mom knocked on the door, I grabbed one of my Detective Penny books from my shelf and opened it to a random page.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and Mom leaned on the frame. “Hey.” She looked around the room suspiciously. “Want fettuccine Alfredo for dinner?”
“Yeah, sounds good!” I closed my book and put it back on the shelf.
Mom’s brows pulled together. “I thought you read that one already.”
“Uh. I did. It’s a good one.” I smiled.
I could make dinner with Mom tonight, let her know everything was A-OK. Then later, I could see what the spirit needed.
Maybe closure? I’d heard that before, that they may have something they need to do before they could move on. A rush ran through me. I was going to help a spirit!
***
After dinner, I clomped back up to my room. She must have been waiting on me. How long was she waiting for someone to contact her?
I sat next to the bed, slid my journal out from under the pillow, then used my nail to flick the penny into my hand.
“I’m back!” I whispered. “How can I help?”
The girl materialized across from me again, and my blood ran cold. There was a shift in the air, sending goosebumps up my arms.
The penny slid but kept getting caught in the journal crease. It flung from my hand and clanked across the wood floor. I cringed at the clacking sounds, then turned back to her.
She cocked her head and made choppy movements toward me, then bent to whisper. My skin and muscles tightened as I waited, but nothing came. An icy breeze froze half my face, then I heard a faint whisper, “Memory.”
I tried to speak, but nothing came out, so I cleared my throat. “You… lost your memory?” I stammered and leaned back to face her as she loomed over me.
Her ethereal form fuzzed and flickered like a corrupt VHS. She nodded.
“How can I help?” I shuddered as a chill ran up my spine and I looked away.
She slowly bent back to my ear, and I tensed up again, anticipating the icy whisper.
“Find… me.”