Cross Trail Middle School Chapter 13
Mr. Lopez was a small man with close-cropped black hair and a neat mustache. He was probably about fifty years old and wore a suit despite the heat as he met James and Bradley outside the school, which seemed to be open as normal today.
“I’m stunned,” Mr. Lopez said after introductions were over. “Those three are some of my top students. Both in the musical last year and in this program. If I had to guess who would break into the school at night, it wouldn’t have been them.”
He peered at them. “Which of you is Penny’s uncle?”
James raised his hand quickly and Mr. Lopez looked at him. “Is this out of character? It feels out of character?”
Before he could answer, Mr. Lopez shook his head. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Kids do stupid shit all the time. Is it safe if I go in with you? I need to see the damage, they haven’t let me in yet.”
“Yes, but don’t go anywhere near the stage,” James said. “Let me make sure everything’s contained first.”
“You guys are lucky it’s me and not Mrs. Palace,” Mr. Lopez said as he let them in the door that had been propped open last night when James had arrived. “I know these things are real, I’ve dealt with them my whole life. And it’s not like this place wasn’t haunted before they did this.”
Penny had mentioned a ghost too. “What do you mean?” James asked.
“There’s a ghost that haunts the place,” Mr. Lopez said. “A volunteer that committed suicide in the auditorium back in the eighties. And the district obviously says it’s just a legend springing from tragedy, but I’ve been alone in there plenty of times. I know what I’ve heard late at night.”
“Do you know any specific details about it?”
“What, the ghost?” Mr. Lopez asked as they walked down the hall, now brightly colored and flooded with sunlight. “I don’t, sorry. The story is that he was a volunteer with the school in the eighties and committed suicide on the premises. I don’t know if it’s true, but I could look into it if you’d like. Or I bet Mrs. Ross would have some information. She likes these kinds of things.”
“Who’s she?” Bradley asked, taking notes on his phone as they walked.
“She teaches drama here too,” Mr. Lopez said. “We both work with the middle and high school students around the city.”
“Oh, Gabriella might know her if she’s been at the high school,” James said. “Or maybe she knows the story.”
“Gabriella?” Mr. Lopez asked.
“My cousin who works with us,” James said. “She went to Leominster High about ten years ago.”
“Wait,” Mr. Lopez said, pausing before they got to the auditorium door. “Are you talking about Gabriella McManus?”
“Yes,” James said. “Wait, you know her?”
“She was in my homeroom. How is she doing these days?”
“She’s great,” James said, ignoring the impatience on Bradley’s face. “Yeah, she works with us now as the team researcher.”
“That’s fantastic,” Mr. Lopez said, pulling open the heavy auditorium door. “Tell her I said hi, will you?”
The mood darkened immediately as they walked into the auditorium. The lights were still on from the night before and James could see the damage clearly from up here. “Be careful,” he said softly to Mr. Lopez. “It should be contained to the stage, but if I left even the tiniest gap in the salt line or something shifted it, it might have gotten out. Stay up here and I’ll check it.”
Mr. Lopez nodded a little shakily. James and Bradley went down to the stage. Bradley started taking pictures while James checked the salt circle. It was still intact and the energy sensor readings changed so abruptly as he got close to it that there was no way the spirit was gone. But at least it was contained this time.
It was a quick banishment once they cleaned up the remnants of the kids’ ritual, Bradley reciting the familiar stanzas as James cleansed the circle with holy water. It was the kind of work he could do in his sleep. And he was so tired he just might.
Finally, everything was quiet and the sensor readings showed there was nothing there. “It’s gone,” James called to Mr. Lopez, motioning for him to come down the aisle. “I can’t say it’s gone forever, but the summoning ritual is broken.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Mr. Lopez admitted, slightly breathless as he got to them. “You’re saying Gabriella does this for work now? I’m trying to picture it and I just can’t. Don’t tell her I said that,” he said hurriedly. “She was an excellent student. But this…”
“Is hard to believe,” James said. “I get it.”
Mr. Lopez looked around the space, his face falling. “That piano alone is going to be a nightmare,” he said softly, looking at the piano still pinned to the cement wall. “And the props back there? Those are for the high school musical this year.”
He walked around, inspecting damaged tools, furniture, and curtains. As they went backstage, he let out a pained little gasp.
“It’s ruined,” he said, pointing to a painted background that was now broken in half and smeared with paint and James didn’t want to know what else. “The kids worked so hard on this for the showcase and it’s destroyed.”
He walked over and ran a hand over pieces of the wooden cityscape. Around it were all kinds of random things that James assumed were from the prop closet. Most of those looked like they were unharmed, which was good. But the damage around them was breathtaking.
“I’m furious,” Mr. Lopez said, though his voice remained light. “If this had just been a ghost getting angry on its own, that would be enough. But they broke in, summoned it, and then it did this?”
James nodded, feeling slightly guilty and also ridiculous for feeling that way. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Mr. Lopez sighed. “Maybe if I rope my husband into it, we can get this replaced for the drama camp showcase,” he said. “The kids worked so hard this summer and there’s only a couple weeks left. And, ugh, I feel like I should have them come in and clean this up. But I’m worried I’ll say things I’ll regret. They’re kids, I need to remind myself that they’re only twelve.”
James thought back to those slight pushes of defiance from all three of the kids. They were just kids. But they’d really fucked up here and even if he could fix what they’d done, he couldn’t prevent them from having to deal with the non-lethal consequences of it.
“I’ll talk to their parents,” Mr. Lopez said. “I just don’t get it. They’re three of my best students, what the hell were they thinking?”
“They weren’t,” Bradley said.
James looked at him, but Bradley shrugged. “Thank you for doing what you did,” Mr. Lopez said. “And for helping them last night. If you don’t have anything left to do, I’ll take it from here.”
