After school, Mom had to run to the mall, so I made her drop me off at home first. As I opened the front door, I heard a low rumbling sound. I didn’t think anything of it — for a second at least. There was always construction going on in the neighborhood, people pulling down old houses to build new ones, or replacing parts of their houses so they wouldn’t slide down the hillside in an earthquake.
But this particular rumbling was coming from inside the house.
I set my backpack on the entry table and turned around.
The rumbling became a roar, and I looked up the stairs just as a wall of water came rushing down toward me. It was like someone had taken the contents of the pool and dumped them from the second floor.
Everything went into slow motion.
I had just enough time to scream before the wave smashed into me, knocking me down. For a second, I had that feeling you get at the beach when a big wave unexpectedly pulls you under, and you can’t tell which way is up.
Reed came racing out of Jonathan’s office and down the stairs.
“Willa!” he cried. “What happened? Did you fall? Why are you wet?”
I couldn’t speak. I looked around and saw that, aside from me — as wet as a drowned rat — and the wet patch of rug I had landed on, the foyer looked completely ordinary.
“Um,” I said, as he reached down to help me up, “it’s kind of hard to explain.”
He watched me patiently, and I realized that the way I’d phrased that implied I was still going to try to explain. Which I wasn’t.
Time to retreat.
“I have some stuff going on right now,” I said, looking up at him, trying to make my face apologetic. “My life has a lot of different … aspects. I don’t quite know how to say it, actually. It’s probably better if I don’t.”
“Yeah,” he said. His shoulders drooped slightly. “I know what you’re trying to say.”
“You do?” I asked.
He nodded, then reached out and took my hand. “What happened between us … now’s not the right time. Maybe in a year or two. But there are too many factors in play at the moment.”
He thought I was breaking things off between us? Or was he breaking things off with me? I expected to feel a pang of heartache, but I felt strangely okay. Maybe the fact that a ghost had just sent a tidal wave of water over me distracted me from the memory of Reed’s kiss.
Reed frowned. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re wet. Or why you screamed.”
Well, now that I didn’t have to worry about impressing him, I was free to come up with an explanation that made me sound like a lunatic.
“I fell in the fountain,” I said.
His eyebrows went up.
“And then I screamed because … sometimes it feels good to scream, you know? I didn’t know you were here. Sorry if I alarmed you.”
My words probably confused him even more, rather than clearing things up, but he nodded slowly.
“Do you need a towel?” he asked.
“Nah,” I said. “I’ll go change.”
I gave him the world’s awkwardest smile, took my bag from the table, and sailed up the stairs with my head held high, like this was all part of a typical Monday afternoon.
As I stood in my bathroom, combing out my wet hair, I ran back through what had just happened. I was surprised to realize that I felt not the least bit sad. In fact, I felt strangely relieved.
Was it possible that I didn’t like Reed as much as I assumed I should? Getting the attention of a guy who could easily be cast as the dashing romantic hero in a movie wasn’t the kind of thing you could throw off lightly.
And yet, here I was, throwing it off pretty lightly.
There was no explanation for my reaction.
Well, I thought, maybe there’s someone else you like more than Reed.
I spent the rest of the afternoon following obscure leads online, trying to figure out why the ghost of Diana Del Mar would feel the need to soak me (yet again), and how she could be connected to the murders – if that’s even what the visions were supposed to be telling me. But something major was missing, just like Wyatt had said. By dinnertime, I built up so much frustrated, nervous energy that I knew I had to burn some off or I’d be up all night. So after we finished eating, I changed into my swimsuit and went down to the den, where Mom was sitting on the couch reading.
“Can I go swimming?” The words were a question, but I knew the tone of my voice implied an or else situation.
“Of course,” she said. “Do you want me to sit outside with you?”
“No,” I said. “I’m good. You can spy on me through the windows if you feel the urge.”
The brilliant underwater light sharply defined the tiled floor of the pool, each tiny square casting its own little shadow. I took a good look around for dead bodies and then started to swim.
I pulled myself toward the deep end with long, powerful strokes. I thought it might feel different to be in the water, after talking to Dr. Tilliman. But it was pretty much the same as always. I suppose a rational person would consider my father’s death reason enough to stay out of pools for the rest of her life. Not to mention the last terrifying thing that had happened to me in this very pool. Further evidence of how twisted I was, I guess. I couldn’t stay away. I was drawn to the water.
Maybe it’s human nature to be drawn to the things that have hurt us the most.
I swam until I was hot and panting, so tired that I could have curled up on the tile and fallen asleep.
At least the whole thing had gone off without incident.
Until.
Until I climbed the steps and wrapped myself in a striped towel. And noticed something — no, two somethings — a pair of small puddles on the tile closest to the pool. When I angled my head, I saw them for what they really were …
Footprints.
Whoever had left them had been standing at the edge, looking out over the pool … looking at me.
The prints led away. I followed their trail and found myself standing in front of the guest cottage, where they went up the steps and across the small porch. Then they stopped.
I put my hand on the knob.
“Willa?”
I spun around to see Jonathan walking out of the house, at a pace that was a hair too fast to be casual.
“Hey, sorry,” he said, coming closer. “We never talked about the guesthouse, I guess. We don’t go in there, um … ever. The wiring’s very old and I haven’t had a chance to have somebody come and look at it yet.”
“Okay,” I said. Not like I’d really wanted to go in.
“Great. Thanks for understanding.” Then he stood with his hands on his hips for a moment, looking around.
It dawned on me after a few seconds that he wasn’t going back inside until I did, so I stepped down off the porch and walked toward the main house, with Jonathan following a couple of feet behind me.
“Sorry if I startled you,” he said. “I was doing dishes, and I saw you out the window.”
“You didn’t startle me,” I said. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw that — as some part of me had totally expected — the footprints had vanished.
“All right, well … the dishwasher calls.” He made a left into the kitchen, seeming highly relieved to get away from me.
Mom glanced up from her book as I passed the den. “What was that about?”
“Jonathan came outside because he thought I was going into the guesthouse,” I said.
“Oh.” She frowned. “Nobody goes in there.”
I nodded and started for the stairs, thinking, Somebody does.
What’s going on with you?” Marnie asked the next morning. We were sitting on the floor in front of my locker, finishing up some homework before the first bell.
“Huh?” I tore my attention from the Trig assignment and glanced over at her.