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

CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE OTHER DAUGHTER . . . NOW IN 3-D!

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Thread: The Kat Sinclair Files

Kbold04 [new member]

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Maytrix [admin]

Strike three, buddy. You’re out.

SHE stuck to the side of the church, creeping against the stained glass–covered wall like a shadow. I followed her at a crouch. Guzmán’s student, the one who had walked out in anger moments before I did, was talking to Abril and Thiago—describing all the drama downstairs, I assumed. Abril was translating everything he said for Jamie and Hailey, who must have been waiting in the church for us to finish filming. None of them saw us, two girls slipping behind the columns, around the last pew, and out the doors.

It was harder to see her outside now that the sun had set. But that didn’t matter, because I knew where she was going. My camera continued whirring on and off as I hurried into the park and down the dirt path, occasionally tripping over a root in my haste. I’d lost sight of her completely—until the willow tree came into view.

She stood across the clearing, and I slowed to a halt. Slowly lifting her arm, she waved at me, just as she had back at the waterfall. Then she vanished.

I broke into a run, camera thumping against my chest. The thin, delicate hanging leaves grazed the top of my head as I circled the willow, slipping over the smooth gray rocks piled around the roots. I had to see her face. I had to know who she was.

Finally, I stopped, hands on my knees as I struggled to catch my breath. Something on the bark caught my eye. A message, crudely carved into the trunk.

I GOT OUT

My camera was still turning on and off, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket and snapped a picture. Stepping closer, I touched the letters one at a time, tracing them, feeling each deep, angry scratch. A sliver of wood slit the tip of my finger, and I winced. The Elapse fell silent as the lens retracted and the power light turned off. The world tilted. I leaned my head against the tree and closed my eyes briefly.

“What are you doing?”

Gasping, I spun around to find Oscar standing a few feet away. His gaze moved from my bleeding finger to the trunk, and his eyes widened.

“Is that . . .” He stepped closer. “Did you do that?”

“You can see it?” My voice broke with relief. This wasn’t like in the bathroom or the cave. This wasn’t a hallucination.

Oscar was giving me a weird look. “Why wouldn’t I be able to see it?”

“Because, I . . .” I shook my head, touching the trunk again. “I thought maybe I was seeing things. And no, I didn’t do it.”

“It looked like you were.”

“No, I was just touching it.” I glanced around the clearing, wiping the blood from my finger on the hem of my shirt. “Did you come by yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“You left while they were still filming? Aren’t you worried about letting down all your fans?”

It was mean, and I felt rotten as soon as I said it. But the ghost was still there; I just knew it. And I had a feeling she wasn’t going to reveal her identity in front of Oscar. I needed him to leave.

He was silent for a few seconds. “Just because being on TV freaks you out doesn’t mean it’s wrong that I like it,” he said, and I rolled my eyes.

“You love it.”

Oscar’s eyes flashed with anger. “You know, I followed you because you looked like you were about to have some sort of meltdown back there and I wanted to make sure you were okay. Sorry I bothered. So what if I like doing interviews? And reading about myself on the forums?” His voice was getting all high and shaky. “Because you’re right, Kat. I do like that they like me. It feels really good after everything else that’s happened, between my best friend deciding he hates me and making every single day at school completely miserable, and me getting expelled thanks to those stupid notes in my locker, and then my dad . . .” Oscar stared at the tree behind me, his eyes suddenly red and shiny. “He knew, Kat. He already knew that I liked Mark because it turns out my aunt told him months ago. He never brought it up, and he blew me off when I tried to talk to him about it over Thanksgiving. He told me I’m just going through a phase and I’d get over it, and then he shut down and wouldn’t listen to anything else I said because apparently just talking about it weirds him out so much he can’t even look at me, and . . .”

Then I couldn’t understand any more because Oscar was crying, really crying, and before I could say anything he sat down on one of the roots and buried his face in his hands.

“Oscar?” My voice cracked a little, and I tentatively sat down next to him. My stomach churned with guilt. “I didn’t know . . . I shouldn’t have . . . I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that stuff I said before.”

He let out a little laugh. “Yeah, you did. It’s fine. You’re right; I’ve been obsessed with all this TV stuff. I didn’t ask Aunt Lidia about that interview because I thought she might say no and I really wanted to do it. Same thing with the web series. I knew you wouldn’t want to do it, so . . .” Wiping his face with his sleeve, Oscar shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I suddenly realized my cheeks were wet, too. We sat quietly for a minute, carefully looking anywhere but at each other. “What did you mean about getting expelled because of some notes in your locker?” I said at last, just to break the silence. “I thought it was because you got into a fight with Mark.”

Oscar sighed. “Yeah, and the fight was because of the notes. He and some other kids printed out, like, hundreds