Mayhem Read Free Page A

see her at least a couple times a week. I actually look forward to it.
    Her hair looks soft. But I never touch it, because, well, I don’t know. I just don’t.
    â€œHi.” Finally, words—or should I say a word—tumbles out of my mouth. I swear she must think I’m the biggest loser ever. “What’s up?”
    There, now I’ve said three words. Let the celebration begin.
    â€œI want you to see what I found,” she says, and stands up slowly.
    Krystal’s about three or four inches shorter than me. She has on shorts that seem really short. Or maybe her legs are just really long. God, could I be a bigger geek?
    â€œWhat’d you find?” Clearing my throat so it doesn’t crack and I end up sounding like one of the Chipmunks. I shift from one foot to the other. Maybe she won’t notice how nervous I get around her. Well, why wouldn’t she? After all, I’m stumbling over words and dancing around like I’ve gotta pee. Please, get a grip.
    All right, take a deep breath and stop it. Silently admonishing myself usually helps me get my act together. I mean, since my dad isn’t around a lot, I usually don’t have anyone telling me what to do. So I sort of just tell myself what to do. And that little tidbit I’ll keep to myself.
    Now, okay, she’s a girl and I’m a boy. It’s cool. Everything’s cool.
    â€œIt’s a grave,” she says.
    Well, I guess I could have figured that out, since we’re in a cemetery. “Whose grave?”
    She doesn’t answer, just steps to the side so I can see for myself.
    William Beaumont Kramer
    Beloved Son
    August 1933–
    â€œMy great-uncle’s grave.”
    â€œI had this feeling, like right here in the pit of my stomach,” she says, wrapping an arm around her midsection.
    She’s wearing a charm bracelet, silver with a couple of charms hanging from it. I wonder what they are. Again, wanting to touch her.
    â€œNobody’s there, but somebody is. They want something. I’m getting kind of used to it now, their calling.”
    â€œThe ghosts?”
    â€œThe spirits. I like to think of them as wayward spirits now. Ghost sounds scary and I’m not afraid anymore—not of them anyway. So, it started out like a nagging feeling when I woke up this morning. I ran some errands with my mom, you know she’s helping out with that church bazaar.”
    I nod because I remember her telling us about this a few weeks ago. Krystal’s mom is really active in the local church now. I think it’s Baptist but I’m not sure because we never go. Still, I think it’s helping Krystal and her mom get closer and it’s probably what helps Krystal deal with the ghosts—or rather, spirits. I don’t know how exactly, but it seems to make sense.
    â€œAnyway, the whole time I’m at church the feeling gets stronger, more persistent. I went and just sat in a corner, thinking about the feeling, opening myself up to whatever was trying to get in contact with me.”
    Krystal sounds like a real medium now—whatever that is. I’ve never heard a medium talk before. But what I mean is that she sounds like she knows what she’s doing, how to handle her power and all that.
    â€œI kept waiting for a voice or an image to appear but there was nothing. Just this sensation and this urge to go someplace. The urge led me here. When I looked down at the stone and saw the name, I called you.”
    â€œBecause he was my great-uncle.”
    â€œBut I thought your grandfather said he just disappeared. Not that he died.”
    I shrug because I don’t know the right thing to say. “I guess he would have died sooner or later.”
    â€œBut did he die here in Lincoln? Is his body really buried here?” She looks back down at the tombstone. “There’s no date of death.”
    I nod. She’s right. That was the first thing I noticed