Love, Your Secret Admirer. Those were the last words on the page. They were classic words. They were museum words. Words everyone knew about but never actually said or heard. That's why I was so surprised to find them at the bottom of that page, especially because the rest of it did not remotely resemble a love letter. Puzzled, I read it over again, although I had already done so at least five times, and the contents had not become any less baffling.
Dear Kerry Martin,
How to put this? I think, for [not sure what word to put here- time or something]’s sake, I will put it bluntly. I and my associates would like it very much if you could steer clear of room 238 for the next few days. I especially would like to request your cooperation. Your sacrifice will not go unappreciated.
Love,
Your Secret Admirer
I was just stuffing the letter into my backpack when I felt arms creep around my waist and meet in front of my stomach.
“Heeey, Kerry,” I deep and very familiar voice intoned.
“Hi, Josh!” I said, turning around and giving my boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.
“What’s that you got there?” Josh asked, removing one of his hands from around my waist to gesture at the letter.
“Oh, nothing,” I said, quickly stashing it away in my bag. “Just a note from Teresa about Roger’s party next week.”
“Oh, yeah. You going?”
“I don’t know… might be a drag, knowing Roger and all.” I said. I wasn’t quite sure why I had lied to Josh about the letter. It just seemed a little weird.
“It’s not really about Roger’s party, is it, Kerry?” Josh asked. I shouldn’t have bothered lying, either. Josh could always tell.
“…No…” I admitted. Josh withdrew his arms from around my waist and turned to face me.
“What’s it about then, that you can’t tell me?”
“Nothing that I can’t tell you. It’s just… a little weird.” For lack of a better word.
“I can deal with weird,” Josh reminded me. Of course. Of course Josh could deal with weird. He did want to be a [scientist that studies the paranormal], after all. So, with slight dubiousness, I dug the letter out of my bag, smoothed out its crumpled surface on my knee, and handed it over to Josh.
Josh read it in silence. In fact, it was so long before he looked up that I suspected he had read it as many times as I had.
“It’s just I have English in room 238. I can’t just skip English for a few days…” I mused to myself as he read.
“Kerry,” Josh said blissfully. I looked over at him and found that he was beaming, the letter still clutched in his hand. “This isn’t just some prank. It’s a ghost mystery!”
I rolled my eyes, at the same time feeling my stomach fluttering. He was just so cute. “Please, Josh. A ghost mystery? First of all, that sounds like something a seven-year-old would talk about.”
“Oh, Kerry, come on! Don’t be so closed-minded all the time. At least come back to my house so we can try to figure it out.” He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “I just want an excuse to spend more time with you.”
I knew this wasn’t entirely true—Josh loved this kind of stuff—but I found I couldn’t resist those eyes. “Okay, fine,” I said.
Josh grinned at me, and, taking my hand, led me out the school doors. Fortunately, the bell had already rung, or Josh probably would have insisted on cutting class to get started on his research.
“You want a ride home?” I asked, when we got into the parking lot. It was pretty backwards that I had a car and Josh didn’t. I was always the one picking him up whenever we went on a date. We got in and I revved up the engine. Josh was practically bouncing up and down in his seat.
“Hang on!” he said, as we pulled out of the parking lot. “I think I once read something about something like this. This lady in
I nodded, smiling fondly.
At that point, Josh got very serious. “Kerry, please don’t fall in love with a ghost like that lady, even if he is your secret admirer. I don’t want you to fall in love with someone else, Kerry. I love you.” He looked over at me with big, sincere eyes, and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes on the road.
Fortunately, we pulled into Josh’s driveway then, and I stopped the car. “Josh,” I said. Smiling at him with my heart beating hard, threatening to crack one of my ribs, I leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. Josh pulled me closer and fell deeper into the kiss. When we finally pulled apart, I said, “I won’t fall in love with a ghost, Josh. Don’t worry.” Then I added teasingly, “A ghost couldn’t kiss like that.” Josh looked convinced, and we got out of the car and into his house.
As soon as the door opened, a strong, feminine voice called out, “Josh, is that you?!”
“Yeah, Mom!” Josh shouted, at the same time as I bellowed, “Hi, Mrs. Van Della!”
“Oh, hi, Kerry!”
“I see your mom’s busy again,” I commented. Josh’s mom was an assemblage artist. She made sculptures out of things she found, and whenever she was working on a project, she holed up in her second-floor studio for days on end working. Otherwise, she was out morning till night dredging through dumpsters looking for inspiring junk.
“Yep. An old glass doorknob” Josh said, answering my unasked question with a sigh. I think he was just tired of having to fend for himself most of the time.
“Hey, how about you come to my house for dinner?” I asked. My older brother, who had raised me, was studying to become a chef, and dinner at my house was always a big deal.
“Yeah. Thanks, Kerry,” Josh said appreciatively, giving my hand a squeeze. When we got to his room, however, he was all business. He instructed me to sit on the bed, booted up his computer, and grabbed a couple of books from his bookshelf almost all in one motion. A few minutes later, Josh let out a triumphant, “Aha!”
“What, Josh? What could you possibly have discovered in three minutes?” I asked, impressed but slightly exasperated.
“Google is a useful thing, you know, Kerry. Quick, too. Anyway, come see what I’ve found.” I got up from Josh’s bed, and went over to stand behind his chair and stare and the harshly glowing computer screen. The first few links were to online dating services, but about halfway through the page we began to get some useful hits. There were things like “The Minnesota Historical Society” and “London Association for Studies of the Supernatural” and even a blog called, “Compilations: Findings of Ghost Love Stories, Experiences and Sightings.” I tried to stop imagining Josh’s head exploding at this, but it was hard. Really hard.
“So… what are we supposed to do with these links, Josh?”
“See what they lead to, of course. We might find something out,” Josh said.
“Wait, Josh, I don’t understand. What, exactly, are we looking for?”
“[Person who studies the supernatural] always research their case thoroughly so that they know what they’re dealing with,” Josh informed me. “Then we can start doing field work.”
I was really hoping I had misunderstood him. “Field work?!” Maybe I had misinterpreted it, and field work didn’t mean what I thought it did. I sincerely hope so.
But then Josh answered my skeptical inquiry, and I knew that wasn’t the case. “Yeah. Field work. You know, going to, in our case, room 238 to check stuff out there.”
“Josh, think about this. I’m hoping I’m wrong, but if I’m right, and I think I am because I’ve seen both Ghostbusters movies, what you intend is break into the school at night, which is illegal, and go to room 238, which we have been warned to stay away from, and wait until we think we see a ghost?” Josh, a typico, nodded as if this had all been obvious. “Josh, we can’t just break into the school.”
“Why not?” Josh looked genuinely baffled. That was the thing about him: he tended to be really clueless. Usually it was cute, but sometimes it got on my nerves.
“Well, to start, it’s illegal.”
Josh shook his head like I was the one suggesting we break into the school at night to stake out the English classroom for a ghost. “Oh, come one, Kerry. No one will actually care. Besides, we won’t get caught. What if it really is a ghost, Kerry? I won’t let you just walk into the room for English the next morning. You could get killed or seriously injured. I can’t let that happen.” As he said these last few words, his voice lowered in pitch and volume, and he looked at me very intensely.
I softened immediately, light a frozen pizza being put in the microwave. “Okay, Josh. When should I be there?”
Instead of answering, Josh turned around and kissed me on the mouth. It wasn’t until the computer started whirring to remind us of our forgotten research that we broke apart. “We probably won’t do the stakeout for a few days,” Josh answered, belatedly.
“’Kay,” I answered, going back to sit on Josh’s bed and digging my trig homework out of my bag.
I'm not quite sure where it's going, but I think it's going to have something to do with vampires, instead of ghosts.
I really hope he's not My Prince. My ex, I mean. Poo.
Hopelessly,
Rosie L.
