Saturday, July 16, 1994

Saturday, July 16, 1994

12:48 a.m.

It took all the strength Billy possessed not to cry himself to sleep. Even though he managed it, he wept on the inside. A waterfall of tears pouring from his broken heart and trickling down his ribs.

All because of what Ethan had said.

It didn't matter that his best friend had apologized immediately. Or that Billy accepted it with a casual "Hakuna matata, dude." They both knew a horrible thing had been uttered in the tent that night, and that no amount of apologies could reverse it. It didn't mean that he and Ethan weren't still best friends. But something had irrevocably changed, a fact that made Billy feel as sad and lonely as he's ever felt in his life.

Still, he slept. For a little bit at least. During the night, he'd wake every so often and look across the tent to Ethan's sleeping form, consumed by a desperate urge to shake him awake and make him again swear that he hadn't meant the things he'd said. Just like the tears, Billy fought the urge and went back to sleep, only to wake again a few minutes later, burning with the same pleading desire.

The last time he woke, his eyes remained closed. In the sleeping bag next to him, Ethan stirred, making Billy think he was also awake. He considered saying his name, the two syllables forming on his lips, on the verge of being made real.

Then he heard something.

A rustling in the grass right outside the tent.

It was followed by a sound Billy didn't recognize. Something so strange that it kept him frozen in terror, his eyes clenched tight.

Scriiiiiiiitch.

Beside him, Ethan stirred again. Had he heard it, too? Billy wanted to check to see if Ethan was awake, but he remained too scared to open his eyes.

Minutes later, they're still closed, even though Billy now feels air on his face. A sliver of freshness cutting through the stuffiness of the tent. The sensation overrides his fear, making him curious enough to finally open his eyes.

That's when he sees it: a long gash in the side of the tent.

Billy stares at it, feeling astounded and confused and about a thousand other emotions. The one that stands out the most, though, is awe.

In his mind, only one thing could have caused it.

A ghost.

One previously unknown to him. One not mentioned in his giant book. It's no surprise to Billy that a mysterious and rare spirit is roaming these woods. Of course there would be. He remembers what Mr. Hawthorne told him.

There are ghosts everywhere, if you just know where to look.

Billy knows. They're right here.

As he peers through the slash in the tent, searching for signs of the spirit that created it, it dawns on him that he's not afraid. Nor should he be. If the ghost—whatever it is—intended to hurt him, surely it would have done so by now. Instead, Billy suspects there's another purpose to the visit, and it makes him curious to learn more.

He slides out of the sleeping bag and just as quickly pushes through the slice in the tent. Moving through it feels special somehow. Monumental. Like he's being reborn.

Billy takes a few steps toward the forest before pausing. He feels no sadness. Already he's forgotten most of what Ethan said to him. He only remembers a few key words.

Weirdo. Freak.

He doesn't blame Ethan for calling him those things. They're the truth, after all. He is a weirdo. He is a freak. Which is why he thinks the ghost came for him. It sensed that Billy is a kindred spirit and came all this way to announce that he isn't alone. That there are others just like him.

And Billy knows exactly where to look for them.

The Hawthorne Institute.

A place he can return to anytime he wants.

Which is why Billy quietly continues to the forest's edge. He didn't think to put on shoes when he left the tent. Now it's too late to go back and fetch them. It might wake Ethan, and then Billy will have to explain what's happened and where he's going. Not a good idea. Although it's not a short walk to the falls and the Hawthorne Institute, it's manageable, even in bare feet.

Before entering the woods farther, Billy allows himself a brief backward glance toward Ethan's tent and then his own house. He's not sure when he'll return to either, or if he'll be back at all. He has no idea what the ghosts have in store for him.

When Billy finally turns away from his house and his best friend, it's not with fear, sadness, or regret but with fondness. He's grateful for every moment he's spent with his family and friends because it's led him to this.

Billy starts to push through the woods, eager to find out what awaits him on the other side. He's so eager that when he reaches the road bisecting the forest, he's unaware of the headlights popping over the horizon in the distance.

Or the car careening through the darkness.

Or the teenager behind the wheel, nervous because it's late and she shouldn't be driving at all. Not without a license. Not with several drinks making her brain fuzzy.

As the car gets closer, Billy steps into the road, his eyes focused only on his destination, and how when he reaches it, he'll be accepted at last.