I walk out of the gym alone into the blinding sunlight. I raise my arms to shield my face when the red glow of my hand catches my attention. Twisting my palm over, I look up at the sun through my fingers. Funny how your hand looks almost translucent when you hold it up to the brightness of the fiery ball in the sky. Then out of nowhere, someone with dark hair runs up on me. Before I can blink, he jabs me in the stomach. The blow steals my breath and pain fires from every nerve. My attacker’s left hook blinds me, sending me to the ground, wheezing and gasping for air. I grab a handful of dirt and rocks. Balancing myself on my knees, I hope I hit my target. However, a wraith of a woman walks up behind my assailant, glaring at us.

“What’s going on here?” She demands in a firm teacher’s voice.

“Nothing,” the jerk snarls. My heart thumps in my eardrums and I realize that it’s Lucian’s bulky frame hovering over me. The school’s holy terror. He has been expelled several times, but this time I had a hand in his expulsion after recounting what I saw earlier in the day. 

As soon as the first bell rang, Lucian ran up behind Susie Flair, grabbed the handles of her wheelchair, and shoved her down the hill leading to the parking lot. I witnessed the entire scene from the window of the library. The poor girl was thrown from the chair. She had a concussion and a broken rib. 

The troublemaker drags his thumb across his neck at me and speeds off in a cloud of dust. I drop the grainy dirt, dust myself off, and walk over to my savior.

“Oh. You poor thing. Let’s get you cleaned up so you can get home.” She squeezes my shoulder and walks a few steps ahead. 

“He’ll get what’s coming to him,” she says and giggles.

We pass the bulletin board in the hallway, I come to a stop staring into the eyes of the young girl looking back at me. The words below her picture burn their way into my brain. 

MISSING: Mara Andrews
Brown hair
Brown eyes
Age: 10
Height: 4ft 8 inches
Last seen at school on October, Friday 13th. If you have any info, please contact…

A tingle runs down my spine sending goosebumps up my neck and down my arms—the hair on both stands on alert. I stop reading the flyer to examine the familiar shape of the missing girl’s face and the beaming smile with a gap between her teeth. 

Was this stranger hinting that Lucian had something to do with Mara’s disappearance? Rumor ’round school was that they got along as well as two rattlesnakes, but then, not many people cared for the school bully. Yet, I don’t remember ever meeting Mara or this teacher. Maybe she’s a substitute. 

I bite my nails, my mind conjuring one awful thought after another, my anxiety obvious. We breeze through the science lab to a small room at the back. She unlocks the door and walks over to a black chair loaded with books. Removing them, she waves me over to sit. 

Then she disappears into another room and returns with a soapy rag in tow. She wipes away the blood and dirt from my swollen nose and my hands using gentle strokes. Her hair is stringy, and she smells of wet soil.

“Well, that’s much better. It’s getting dark, would you like a ride home?” She asks.

“No ma’am. Thanks for the help. But I could use some fresh air and the chance to clear my mind before getting home.” I explain.

“Okay. Be careful. And Lelah, I’ll be seeing you.” The tall woman cracks a crooked grin, which chills me to the bone. I jog across the large campus and out the gate leading to 33rd Street without looking back.

Brown fall leaves crunch under my feet as I dart down the middle of the road behind Graive Stone Middle School. My eyes sting from the cool wind and my nose pulses with each step, but I’ve got to get home before Mom.  

Night tightens the small town in its shadowy grip. “Only a few more blocks,” I whisper. The cool, crisp air burns my lungs. The dampness of the dark clings to my hair, making it stick to my face.

All at once, I’m on the ground in a tangled mess. My palms scream, blood seeping through my light blue jeans. Scanning the area, I hope no one saw my fall. I brush away dead leaves and pine needles from my clothes and hair. It’s not my day.

When I look up, I realize I’m standing under the streetlight right outside the rusty cemetery gates. They stand wide open like loving arms inviting me in. The stones peek through the spreading fog. The jingling sound of keys comes from behind me. Mom’s on the porch unlocking the door. I dare to glance back at the eerie graveyard before I hobble across the street and into my well-lit trailer.

My mom is singing along with the radio as I sneak in and close the door without making a sound. The sweet smell of pumpkin bread greets me at the front door along with the fall wreath. My mom is dancing in front of the humming microwave. I pop a piece of warm spiced bread in my mouth and tip-toe by the kitchen. Hopefully, she won’t realize I was a few minutes late. 

The warm shower washes away the chills along with the blood. My hands sting as I wash my hair. I stand with my arms across my chest, staring at the red-tinged soap swirling down the drain. I finally step out onto the plush bath mat and wrap my wet hair in a towel. Afterward, I snatch the peroxide and some cotton balls from the medicine cabinet. Startled, I jump, sending the cotton balls in the air. There in the steamy mirror, someone has written, “I see you,” with a smiley face at the end of the mysterious sentence. All of the moisture drains from my eyes and mouth.

I want to move, but I can’t get my legs to cooperate. Then there’s a knock at the door. I drop the bottle and belt out a shriek. Mom appears solid in the thick steam rolling out the door.

“What the…?” She stops short. 

Fear has frozen my vocal cords and refuses to let any sound escape. I point at the mirror. I looked at it again, but this time, there was nothing but Mom’s reflections. She wrinkles her brow, wipes the mirror off with her hand, and leaves without saying a word. Man, she’s the master of the cold shoulder. 

Still shaking from the vague message and Mom’s strange behavior, all I wanted was my bed, so I decided to talk to Mom before I went to my bedroom. She is snoring when I slink into her room. Not wanting to wake her, I kiss her head and smooth her hair back. She snuggles the picture of our once-happy family sitting on the beach, from a few years ago. When I get to my room, I sit down on my soft futon and snuggle under the warm blanket. As soon as I close my eyes, my mind races and loops like a non-stop roller coaster. The shadows shift behind my eyelids. Inky shapes morph into frightening images of Mara’s bloated corpse.

Later in the night, something awakens me. Squinting, I look around my room, my eyes adjusting to the dark, when I see a weird light bounce across the floor and up onto the wall. Summoning courage, I roll out of bed and peer out the window into the neighborhood cast in a soft, muted glow. A quick flash catches my eye, and I press closer to the cool windowpane. The source is clear: the foggy cemetery. Through the haze, a faint figure materializes. She points at me from below, then vanishes. Her eerie whisper lingers: ‘I’ll be seeing you.’

I scramble back into bed, yanking the covers over my head. Huddled in the fetal position, I beg for protection from the looming horrors, without moving my dry lips. The ever-thinning barrier between our world and the spirit realm torments my thoughts.

The beep, beep of the annoying clock wakes me up. I roll over and slap at the buttons. I throw the covers back to be assaulted by the chill of the frosty morning. Stretching and yawning, I shuffle, stiff and sore, to the bathroom and look into the mirror.

Thank goodness, my eyes aren’t black and the swelling of my nose didn’t look too bad. I rush back down the hall towards Mom’s room when I hear a low cry. Peeking in, she sits on her bed with her back to the door. The picture of our family lay cracked on the floor beside her bed. Her body trembling like leaves in a torrent of rain. 

Still mad about being ignored, I back out the door and tip-toe back to mine. I grab my bookbag and head out the door. She has been acting weirder than she did when Dad left. With a slight limp, I head towards school. 

By the time I make it to the rusty gate of the old graveyard, angry butterflies flutter deep in my stomach. A force within me commands me to run, but I can’t pull myself away. Disjointed voices echo through the neighborhood while the smell of diesel and the freshness of the fall morning mingle in the wind. And the car tires echo with a foreboding ‘Mara, Mara’ as they speed by me. 

An unseen entity compels me to enter the overgrown burial ground and down the grassy path between the graves. Once I reach the stone bench, I sit down. The coldness of the dewy seat bites, but reality becomes clear. I’m at the back of the cemetery, where the older headstones are cracked or broken. I can’t make out the names or the dates. 

Scanning the area, I notice a colorful piece of cloth peeking through the reddish-brown pine straw. My entire being quakes when I snatch the fabric, revealing the body of a young girl. There are dark purple marks around the girl’s pale neck, and her nose appears broken. I gag at the putrid smell and choke back the vomit rising in my throat. Tears begin to blur my vision as I recognize the small red birthmark on her neck.  

I crumble to the ground. The dreadful truth washes over me like an icy wave. The girl before me, eerily familiar, is none other than Mara, the missing girl from the poster back at school. It’s as if the puzzle pieces snap together with spine-tingling certainty. A shroud of fear clings to my very skin as the unsettling truth unfolds – I’m Mara. I want to run away and pretend this is all a bad dream, but the spectral image of the teacher from yesterday stands over me with a sad smile. Her voice, soft but full of eerie wisdom, pierces the silence, ‘The ring, dear.’ With trembling fingers, I pick up the glinting object and twist it between my thumb and forefinger. It’s a senior ring, stolen months ago at school. 

In a sudden rush of memories, I’m transported back to that fateful moment when Lucian and I were locked in a heated argument. Lucian’s voice quivers with the weight of his accusation as he points a trembling finger at me, accusing me of conspiring to expose his possession of the stolen ring. I’m snatched back through time to relive that chilling chase through the hazy streets and into the heart of the cemetery.