Graveyard Slot by Michelle Schusterman (classic children's novels .TXT) 📕

a face. “If we’re going to check every tombstone, we should probably split up.”

“I’ll do the last two rows,” I replied. “Meet you at the gate?”

“Okay.”

I hurried down the path to the graves farthest from the church. As I slowed my pace to check each tombstone, I thought about that last exorcism article we’d found. I still had no idea how to actually conduct an exorcism. Half the stuff we found online was either obviously fake or obviously joking, and the rest suggested stuff like holy water and prayers, depending on the religion. The only thing they really had in common was the idea that the exorcist basically convinced the spirit to leave. Sometimes the fight turned physical, but usually words were enough.

But what was I supposed to say? And was it even possible for me to exorcise myself?

Five minutes later, I headed back to the cemetery entrance. Jamie stood waiting at the gate, hands behind his back. “Any luck?” he asked.

“Nope. You didn’t find her, either?” When he shook his head, I frowned. “So the only records of Brunilda Cano even existing are just the stuff Guzmán found in his grandmother’s attic? And in his photo, that’s not even Brunilda . . . This is getting weird.”

“Yeah, very.” Jamie cleared his throat and held out a long brown stem. Several dried-up petals drooped from the end, yellowing and crinkly, like skinny, shriveled fingers. “For you.”

“A dead flower?” I asked, confused. “Did you take that from someone’s grave?”

His eyes widened. “No! I found it on the path—it must’ve fallen out of a bouquet or something. I thought, you know . . . first date. Flowers.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, flustered. “Thanks.” I took the flower, trying not to smile too hard and failing pretty miserably. “Ooh, I think it’s got a few strands of cobweb on it. How romantic.”

“Gah, really?” Jamie wiped his hands on his shirt frantically, and I snickered. “Hey, I draw the line at spiders.”

I inspected the lily, then held it out. “Spider-free, see?”

He leaned away, shaking his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

We left the cemetery and headed inside the church, joking about spiders and other phobias. By the time we entered the courtyard, Jamie was telling me about how Hailey was deathly afraid of squirrels.

“Squirrels?” I repeated in disbelief. “I thought she wasn’t afraid of anything!”

“That’s what she wants everyone to think,” Jamie said. “But yeah. She used to act kind of weird when we’d go to Central Park, but she wouldn’t say why. Then this one time a squirrel ran across our picnic blanket, and Hailey actually tried to kick it. She missed, and the squirrel took off in one direction and Hailey ran the other way, screaming her head off.” He paused, smiling sort of guiltily. “I got her a stuffed squirrel for Christmas last year.”

I grinned. “Mean.”

“Yeah. Especially considering I hid it at the bottom of her stocking so it was the last thing she pulled out.”

“Meaner,” I said, laughing. Up ahead, the door to the catacombs stood slightly ajar. Oscar and Thiago were sitting shoulder to shoulder on the grass along the side, leaning against the crumbling stone. Thiago was talking animatedly, waving his hands in the air. As we got closer, I realized he was speaking English—and pretty well, too. Maybe he was more comfortable talking when his sister wasn’t around. Oscar was listening intently, and both were totally oblivious to our presence.

“Hi,” I said. They looked up, clearly startled. “Where’s Hailey?”

“She asked Abril to take her to some market,” Oscar replied.

Jamie frowned. “Why?”

“She didn’t say. We were down there taking pictures of the catacombs and talking to Guzmán, and as soon as we got up here she said she had to go to . . . ah . . .” He looked at Thiago. “What’s it called?”

“Plaza Dorrego.”

“Oh right—I think that’s where Mi Jin took her yesterday to get souvenirs,” Jamie said. “Is it close?”

“Um . . .” Thiago gestured over his shoulder. “San Telmo is the neighborhood. Not very far. A few bus stops.” His voice was much softer than it had been a minute ago, and he smiled shyly at us.

“She took the bus?” Jamie sounded rather alarmed. “I’m gonna call her. She’s not supposed to go off anywhere without telling me since Dad’s in meetings all day.” He walked a few steps away, pulling out his phone. I settled on the grass on Oscar’s other side. He eyed the crusty dead flower as I laid it in my lap, mouth twitching like he wanted to laugh.

“How was your date?” He said it very, very quietly.

“Good.” I said it very, very quietly, too. “How was yours?”

Oscar’s eyes narrowed slightly, although not exactly in an angry way. More like in a very-funny-but-seriously-shut-up-now kind of way. So I did, arranging my face into an innocent expression as Jamie sat down with us.

“They just got off the bus,” he said. “Should be here any minute. She wouldn’t tell me what they were doing, though. What happened with Guzmán?”

“Nothing interesting, really,” Oscar said. “He brought everything else of Brunilda’s that he found in the trunk: a rosary, shoes, some old books, stuff like that. Here, I took pictures of it all.” He pulled my Elapse out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I couldn’t use it for very long though,” he added. “I started feeling sick after a few minutes, just like at the park yesterday. I think everyone did. Guzmán didn’t say anything, but even he looked kind of pale.”

I gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah . . .” Oscar’s brow creased. “Why are you so surprised? You told her our Ana theory, right?” he added to Jamie, who nodded.

“I know, it’s just . . .” I trailed off, gazing at the Elapse. Nothing made sense anymore. If my camera actually did have an effect on everyone’s anxiety levels, maybe Ana really was possessing it. But then what about the scratches in the bathroom? What about all the panic attacks I had when my camera wasn’t even on?

“You guys, you guys, you guys!” Hailey came sprinting toward the church, cheeks