Forcing those thoughts away, I clutched my skirt harder. A bead of sweat ran down my back, and I shifted uncomfortably. Several people stood by their cars, most of them smoking and talking with one another, while a local TV van idled nearby. A reporter was clipping some sort of wire pack under her suit jacket.
Mom said something to me, but I didn’t hear her. I was focused on just making it through this and getting it over with. All I could think about was how much I didn’t want to be here.
We crossed the street and passed by a police officer who was directing traffic and holding up a SLOW sign. When we walked closer to the huge wooden beams that made up the main arch of the new bridge, I glanced up. There weren’t any windows cut into the sides of the bridge, and it seemed oddly cumbersome and wrong. All sharp angles and rough seams. Not at all what I’d imagined from the Sleepy Hollow legend.
It was out of place.… Like me.
A podium had been set up on the sidewalk off to the side of the bridge entrance, and the man standing behind it waved us over. We had to push our way through several groups of people clustered tightly together. There wasn’t much room for anyone else to stand on the small patch of concrete.
The man introduced himself as Robert, the master of ceremonies, and then he and Mom started talking. As far as I could tell, he wasn’t going to actually be doing anything during the ceremony, but he seemed to like his title. I turned away and went to stand closer to the water.
Bracing myself with one hand on the edge of a beam, I stared down into the Crane River. It was calm and clear. Tiny pockets of current swirled and danced as they rushed farther and farther downstream.
My fingers found each crack and split that made up the wood grain and followed the scattered, random squiggles and lines that blended into one another. As I traced across the wood, my pinkie snagged on a piece of cold metal.
Wood and metal. Tough and strong. Things that could stand the test of time. Things that hadn’t been here a couple of months ago. What if they had? Would things be different? Would Kristen not have fallen into the river? Would those thick beams have caught her? Stopped her… ?
I pondered that over and over again, running my pinkie round and round the screw head, until I felt something catch. Quickly pulling my hand away from the beam, I looked down. The skin had split, right down the middle of the finger pad.
Holding my breath in anticipation, I waited for that dark red drop to well up. For some sign of life to come pulsing out of me.
It didn’t.
Surely I would bleed. I was cut. But the blood didn’t come. Instead my pinkie just began to throb.
I held it up and watched as my finger pulsed, each movement in sync with my heartbeat, like there was a gossamer string attached from my heart to my hand. The noise of the traffic and reverberation of people began to fade. Only white static filled my ears, and I couldn’t turn away.
“Abigail!”
The sound of my name shook my concentration, and I blinked once. Mom was standing to my right, one hand gesturing for me to come over to her, and I realized what a freak I must look like, standing there with one finger raised in the air.
I blinked again. Noises started returning, and I came back to where I was and what I was supposed to be doing. The low buzz of people resumed, and I lowered my hand. Wiping my palms hastily on the sides of my skirt, I found myself repeating Mom’s earlier actions and smoothing out a nonexistent wrinkle.
Get it together, Abbey. You’re in public.
I made my way over to Mom. She was nodding and smiling, talking to a reporter, while also casting discreet Is everything okay? glances my way.
I grabbed Mom’s hand and squeezed it tight, trying to send her my best I’m fine vibe. Her grip tightened and then relaxed, and I could tell she got the message. I tried to stay out of the reporter’s way, but then she must have realized I was another person to talk to. Her body language changed, and she started to inch the microphone away from Mom’s face.
Mom just compensated by smiling wider and moving her head forward each time the mike moved backward. Mom hated to give up the spotlight. By the time she was done answering a question about how the town council had arranged the ceremony, her neck was craned at such an angle that she looked like a giraffe. It would have been comical if I hadn’t been concentrating so hard on trying to keep up my smile and decide what I would say if the reporter asked me about Kristen.
I didn’t have much time to rehearse.
“And I understand that you were a friend of Kristen Maxwell’s?” A big, round foam piece was stuck in my face, and the reporter turned my way simply by shifting her padded shoulders. It was seriously impressive. “You two went to school together, correct?”
Picturing the little caption with my name spelled wrong that might appear on the TV screen if this piece ran on the news, I leaned forward to speak directly into the foam covering. “Yes,” I said a bit too loudly.
The woman’s face got kind of pinched around the eyes, and she tilted the microphone down and away from me.
Mom quickly slid into the picture and put one arm around me in a gesture of sympathy. “Abbey and Kristen were best friends since they were seven years old. I think it’s wonderful that Kristen will be remembered this way.” Her arm tightened, and I tried to keep my smile on.
“And how do you feel about the fact that this tragedy occurred? Do you think the town of Sleepy Hollow could have done more to prevent it?” She didn’t pause for me to answer. “Do you think that construction-site safety needs to become a higher priority for our city?”
I froze. She redirected the foam at me, and I just stood there with a blank smile. What was I supposed to say here? Did she want me to answer all of those questions? Or just the last one? Mom’s grip turned into an anaconda death squeeze, and I got the hint that she wanted me to stay quiet.
“I’m sure all of us wonder, Could we have done more? when tragedy strikes,” Mom said. “As concerned citizens, we always want to learn how we can prevent something like this from ever happening again. We just have to do our best to make sure safety rules are followed to the fullest extent and push for better laws to protect our communities.”
Mom was a real pro.
The cameraman made some sort of Wrap it up gesture with his hand, and the reporter stepped back in. “Truer words have never been spoken. I’m Cara Macklyn with Channel Eight News, reporting from the dedication ceremony at the Washington Irving Bridge.”
We stood with frozen smiles on our faces until the camera guy called, “Aaaaand we’re out.” Then Mom complimented the reporter on her lovely outfit, the reporter complimented Mom on her lovely daughter, and I stood in the middle of it all, not knowing when would be the right time to stop smiling.
Finally we all shook hands, and then Mom shuffled me toward the podium. Mayor Archer was there now, studying several note cards, but he looked up as we approached. I said hello and went through another round of handshakes.
Mom stood by my side, looking so proud of me. But all I could think was, Why did I agree to do this? What if I mess up?
More perspiration trickled down my back, and immediately, I wanted a shower. It was hot and sticky out, and the growing crowd was adding to my overwhelming feeling of clamminess and unease.
Then it hit me.
I can’t do this! This is a lot of people. I can’t speak in front of crowds!
Taking deep breaths, I tried not to hyperventilate. But I could hear little gusts of air being sucked in and out as I started breathing faster and faster. Mom turned to me, and I saw the color leave her face.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“Crowds… can’t do it… feeling sick…”
“Yes, you can, Abbey,” she said. “It will be over before you know it. Just say a couple of words about Kristen, and then you’re through.”
I shook my head at her. “Can’t… do… it.” I looked around me. I needed to leave. I had to g
et out of here.
Mom must have realized my intentions to bolt, because she latched on to my arm and squeezed gently. The pressure actually managed to distract me from hyperventilating… a bit.
“You wrote down what you’re going to say, right?”
I nodded.
“Then you’re going to be fine. As soon as the mayor calls you, just read what you wrote. I’ll be standing right here next to you to give you my support. Okay?”
I nodded again, and then Mayor Archer started talking. He greeted the crowd and thanked everyone for coming. Naming all the members of the town council and the building committee, who had “worked tirelessly on this project and shown true community service and pride,” he encouraged a round of applause and then announced that I would be coming up to give the dedication.
Mom had to propel me toward the podium, but true to her word she stood up next to me. Mayor Archer introduced me as Kristen’s best friend, and then everything fell silent.
I glanced down at the paper I held clenched in one fist, then placed it on the podium and flattened out a folded edge. Everything I wanted to say was there. In front of me. All I had to do was open my mouth and read the words. They were waiting for me.
“Kristen Maxwell was…” I broke off, and then tried again. “She was a…”
Someone near the front shifted and distracted me, and I felt the urge to clench my fists. I tried to spot Ben but couldn’t. So instead I decided to try his trick. I looked out at the crowd, picturing everyone in ridiculous underwear.
It kind of helped.
“I could tell you… all the good things that Kristen Maxwell was,” I read hesitantly. “A good daughter. A good friend. A good student. A good person. But that’s what you’d expect to hear. Who ever talks about all the bad qualities someone had after they’ve died?” My voice wavered, but I continued on. “But what was really important about Kristen was that she loved life. She loved living, and smiling, and just enjoying everything that came her way. That was her best trait.”
I looked over at the bridge. “We used to come here before the construction started. We’d hang out underneath the bridge and look at the water. Just talking and laughing. Spending time together. She really liked it here.” I started to get choked up, and I fought to hold it back. “Even though she’ll never get to enjoy the simple things in life again, I’ve decided to enjoy them for her. To live each day to its fullest, and to always try to find the happiness in small things. Like Kristen did.”
Several people were dabbing at the corners of their eyes, and then thunderous applause broke out. They kept clapping and clapping, and I looked up into the cloud-covered sky. These people are clapping for you, Kris.
Mayor Archer returned to the podium and the applause died down. “I’d like to thank Abigail Browning for her touching words,” he said, “and all of you for coming out. This bridge is hereby declared the Washington Irving Bridge, and is dedicated to the memory of Kristen Maxwell.”
The mayor smiled out at the crowd, but already people were starting to shift. Ready to move on. They separated into two distinct groups: Those who were moving toward us, no doubt looking for conversation, and those who were moving toward the parking lot in a polite stampede. They worked against each other, and it looked like everyone was gridlocked.
Mom and I just stood there, waiting for the incoming tidal wave until finally Dad reached us. I was in a sort of haze, blindly shaking proffered hands and saying “Thank you” as people told me what a great job I did, or how I had their sympathies. As soon as I could, I latched on to Dad and put my arm around him.
It felt nice to have something solid to hold on to and just that small gesture helped me immediately feel more grounded.
Dad shook hands too, and he was able to reach more of them faster than I could. Eventually people stopped coming, and I took a moment to scan who was left. I didn’t see the Maxwells or Ben, but I managed to catch Mom’s attention for a second. “Did the Maxwells come?”
She shook her head. “They must have decided they just couldn’t do it.” She put a hand on my arm. “You did a great job, Abbey.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, Mom. And thanks for standing up there with me.”
We were the last ones by the bridge now, except for Mayor Archer, and I figured that Mom and Dad would want to talk to him before we left. “I’m going to wait by the car,” I told her. “Don’t be long, okay?”
“Of course, of course,” she said, but I knew her thoughts were already elsewhere.
The traffic cop was gone, and I had to wait for several cars to pass before I could cross the street to the Old Dutch Church. Entering the parking lot, I noticed that there were only a handful of cars left, and no one seemed to be around. I moved to the side of the church that was hidden from the main road and hopped up onto a low masonry rock wall that jutted out from the stone foundation.
It was quiet back here, and I had a full view of the older gravestones that made up this part of the cemetery. They were ornately carved and beautifully decorated with flowing cursive script that stood out in sharp relief against the granite. Many of the stones were doubles—final resting places for a husband and wife—and those always made my heart ache just a little bit.
I leaned back. The sun was peeking out from the clouds, and the rocks were pleasantly warm. I stretched my hands out behind me, feeling the contrasting smooth stone and rough mortar edges. Tipping my face upward, I closed my eyes. I was finally alone and comfortable.
A mosquito buzzed near my ear, and I swatted it away. I turned my head, thinking that it was just that. Nothing more than a bug.
But then I saw them.
A weird, shivery feeling passed through me, as goose bumps suddenly covered my whole body. My fingers tightened reflexively on the rocks, and I forced myself to relax. It’s just a couple of people. No big deal.
They were walking among the graves on the far side of the cemetery. Weaving in and out around them. As they came closer, I could see what they were wearing. It was… odd. Even in a town that has its fair share of Goths and vampire wannabes, they definitely stuck out.
The guy wore baggy black skater shorts with a wallet chain attached, several layered long-sleeved red and black shirts that looked way too hot for summer, and carefully smudged Johnny Depp guyliner. A black Mohawk was the crowning touch.
The girl had on a black-and-purple plaid miniskirt, torn fishnets, and biker boots laced with teal shoelaces that matched her mini tee. Her hair was shoulder length, neon purple, with the bottom a pale blond about six inches up.
I didn’t know either of them, so I stayed sitting, hoping that they would keep moving on.
But my gut told me they wouldn’t.
Pasting on the fake smile that had served me so well at the bridge ceremony, I waited for them. They got within arm’s length and then stopped.
Both of them were extremely pale. Their skin was almost translucent. And it had the strangest sheen to it. Like vellum paper. And I thought I was sun deficient. Their eyes were strange too. Very wide, and clear. If they had any hint of color to them, it was only the faintest shade of gray. They had to be brother and sister.
“Do you know where the nearest gas station is?” the girl asked. “I’m dying for a Coke.”
Her voice was incredible. Absolutely crystalline. I had the strangest notion that she’d just sung her question to me, and I felt all shivery again. Then my head cleared, and I tried to hide my simultaneously awed and weirded-out feelings.
“It’s um… well, there’s um…” It was like all my sense of direction was gone. My brain felt hazy. I tried again. “There’s, um, a gas station a couple blocks up here on your right. Just keep following the sidewalk… I think.…”
The guy smiled at me, and the girl chirped her thanks. They both stared until I dropped my gaze.
“Do you live around here?” the songstress asked me.
“Yeah, I’m Abbey Browning.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could s
top them.
She smiled, revealing a perfect row of dainty white teeth. “I’m Cacey, and this is Uri.”
I nodded, wondering if I should, like, shake their hands or something. They both watched me with their pale eyes, and it was incredibly unnerving.
“You don’t really want a Coke, do you?” I said, not even realizing why I was saying it.
Uri shot a glance over at Cacey, then said, “Maybe. Maybe not.” His voice was low pitched, with a beautiful timbre to it. Like warm chocolate sliding over rich velvet.
My entire scalp broke out in creepy crawlies. It felt like dozens of baby spiders were suddenly swarming across my head and tap dancing down my spine.
It was not a pleasant feeling.
“Well, it was nice to meet you guys.” I stood up. “But I have to go. My parents are waiting for me.”
“Okay,” Cacey said. It didn’t look like she was blinking at all. “We just have one more question for you.”
I should have walked away. I should have left them behind and gone to Mom and Dad and told them to drive me away from there as fast as they could.
But I didn’t. I stayed.
“Were you friends with Kristen Maxwell?” Uri asked. “The girl who drowned in the river here?”
I froze. This was beyond creepy now. Even though I’d just given a speech about Kristen’s death, this just felt wrong. Very, very wrong. Like they shouldn’t have known that. “Why do you want to know?” My voice was almost a whisper.
“We heard about what happened. That’s all,” he said.
Suddenly, a completely carefree, everything’s-fine-now feeling washed over me. I had the most insane urge to laugh everything off. But it almost felt… forced. I knew I shouldn’t be feeling all fine and dandy. What was going on here? All I could think to say was, “Okay. Well, I really do have to get going. See ya.”
My mouth felt funny, and I swallowed hard. Someone must have been burning leaves or something, because I could taste it on my tongue.
“Bye, Abbey,” Cacey trilled. “Catch you later.”