Noel drew his bottom lip into his mouth, eyeing the barn. “It’s like the House of Usher.”
Aria gawked at him, amazed. Noel shrugged. “You know. The Poe story where the crazy guy buries his sister in that old, ruined, scary house? And for a while he feels really unsettled and even crazier, and it’s because it turns out she’s not really dead?”
“I can’t believe you know that story,” Aria said, pleased.
Noel looked hurt. “I’m in AP English, same as you. I do read from time to time.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Aria said quickly, although she wondered if she kind of did.
They parked in front of the DiLaurentises’ house and got out. The new owners, the St. Germains, had moved back in after the Ali media circus had died down, but they didn’t look to be home, which was a relief. Even better, there wasn’t a single news van parked at the curb. Then Aria spied Spencer at her mailbox, a stack of envelopes in her hand. Spencer saw Aria at the exact same time. Her eyes shifted from Aria to Noel, looking a little confused. “what are you guys doing here?” she blurted.
“Hey.” Aria walked over, skirting around a large, round hedge. Her nerves jumped and crackled. “Did you hear that people think we killed Ali?”
Spencer made a sour face. “Yeah.”
“We need some real answers.” Aria gestured toward Ali’s old backyard, which was still haphazardly surrounded by yellow police tape. “I know you think the Ali ghost thing is crazy, but a medium is going to perform a seance where she died. Do you want to watch?”
Spencer took a step away. “No!”
“But what if she actually contacts Ali? Don’t you want to know what really happened?”
Spencer straightened the envelopes in her hands until they all faced the same direction. “That stuff isn’t real, Aria. And you shouldn’t be hanging around that hole. The press will have a field day!”
A gust of wind whipped across Aria’s face, and she drew her coat tighter around her. “We’re not doing anything wrong. We’ll just be standing there.”
Spencer slammed the door to the mailbox hard and turned away. “Well, count me out.”
“Fine,” Aria said indignantly, whirling around. As she stormed back to Noel, she peeked over her shoulder. Spencer was still standing by her mailbox, looking conflicted and sad. Aria wished Spencer would let her guard down and believe in what couldn’t be explained. This was Ali they were talking about. But after a moment, Spencer threw her shoulders back and headed for the front door.
Noel was waiting by the Ali shrine on the curb. As usual, it was crowded with flowers and candles and impersonal notes that said things like We’ll Miss You and Rest in Peace. “Should we go back there?” he asked.
Aria nodded numbly, pressing her wool scarf to her nose—the burnt smell from the fire was making her eyes water. Silently, they walked across the stiff, frosty yard to the back of Ali’s property. Even though it was only a little past 4 P.M., the sky was already growing dark. It was strangely foggy, and thick mist swirled around Ali’s old back deck. A crow cawed from deep inside the woods.
Crack. Aria jumped in fright. When she turned, a woman was suddenly right behind her, breathing down her neck. She had flyaway salt-and-pepper hair, bulging eyes, and sallow, papery skin. Her teeth were yellowish and rotting, and her fingernails were at least an inch long. She looked like a corpse who’d just climbed out of a coffin.
“I’m Esmeralda,” the woman said in a thin, low voice.
Aria was too terrified to speak. Noel stepped forward. “This is Aria.” The woman touched Aria’s hand. Her fingers were ice-cold and nothing but bones.
Esmeralda glanced toward the taped-off hole. “Come. She’s been waiting to talk to you.”
The lump in Aria’s throat tripled in size. They shuffled closer to the hole. The air felt cooler there. The wind had died down to an eerie standstill, and the mist was even thicker. It was like the hole was in the eye of a storm, a portal to a different dimension. This can’t be happening, she thought, trying to stay calm. Ali isn’t here. It isn’t possible. I’m just getting caught up in the moment.
“Now . . .” Esmeralda took Aria’s hand and led her to the edge of the hole. “Look down. We need to reach her together.”
Aria began to tremble. She’d never looked into the half-dug hole before. When she glanced helplessly at Noel, who was a few paces behind them, he nodded faintly, nudging his chin toward the hole. Taking a deep breath, she craned her neck and looked down. Her heart hammered. Her skin felt cold. The inside of the hole was dark and filled with clumps of dirt and cracked pieces of cement. A couple of pieces of police tape had fallen to the bottom, about nine feet down. Though Ali’s body had long since been removed, Aria could see a matted-down indentation where something heavy had lain for a long, long time.
She shut her eyes. Ali had been down there for years, covered up by cement, slowly deteriorating into the soil. Her skin had fallen off her bones. Her beautiful face had rotted. In life, Ali was captivating, someone you couldn’t help but stare at, but in death, she’d been silent, invisible. For years, she’d hid in her own backyard. She’d taken with her the secret of what had really happened.
Aria reached for Noel’s hand. He quickly curled his fingers around hers and squeezed.
Esmeralda remained at the edge of the hole for a long time, inhaling deep, guttural breaths, rolling her neck around, rocking back and forth on her heels. Then she started to writhe. It seemed like something was infiltrating her body, slipping in through her skin and getting comfortable. Aria’s breath caught in her throat. Noel didn’t move, awestruck. when Aria’s gaze broke from Esmeralda for a moment, she noticed a light on in Spencer’s bedroom window next door. Spencer was standing at the window, staring at them.