Diary of the Gone Read online

  I appreciated my sister’s sense of humor, only I wished she’d never have to exercise it on me.

  “Stop it, Bev,” a defensive voice—a lower pitch but still almost the same—said with disapproval.

  Mom was the only one who could make Bev shut up, and that was what I needed right now. Both came to meet me. Bev propped her shoulder against the doorframe, her pouted lips and folded arms very much the usual form of greeting me. This time she added rolling her eyes to her ‘I-Hate-Callum’ etiquette.

  “What’s with your clothes?” Bev asked right away.

  Only then did Mom notice.

  “Nothing,” I said. Thanks, Bev, I’ll pay you back some day!

  “Is it that Crosby boy again?” Mom asked. “I promise I’ll give that ill-bred boy a dressing-down when I see him next time.”

  “It’s not him, Mom. Please let it go,” I said, rushing past them towards the stairs. “I just fell off Nate’s bike, and by the way, it doesn’t hurt, thanks for asking.”

  Mom’s eyes bored into me, and I did my best to stare back without blinking. As if she’d fallen for it, she said, “Okay then. Change and go wash your hands. We’re having pork roast, green beans, and creamed corn.”

  Mom went back to the kitchen, leaving me and my sister alone. Bev stared at me, her lips pressed in a thin line. “And a pinch of rat poison for you, sissy-pants!” she hissed. “I know that Nathan doesn’t have a bike.”

  “Bite me!” I said in a hushed tone, and sprinted up the stairs.

  *

  For the rest of the evening I managed to act as if nothing had happened. No carcass, no Shadow, no Mrs. Palmer.

  Mom chattered excitedly about their drive to the city while I did my best to show that I was listening by inserting ‘I see’ and ‘Great’ once in a while. As soon as I finished dinner, I went back to my room and locked the door.

  The clock ticked on the desk.

  Moonlight flooded through the dusty windowpanes so I could see everything without switching on the lamps. Posters of Breaking Benjamin and Linkin Park hung on the walls; clothes, school books and CDs were strewn all over the place along with crumpled papers and my bag.

  I limped across the room and collapsed onto my bed. My leg still hurt from the fall. I massaged my ankle, only causing it to hurt more.

  In all my life, I’d never been so scared of falling asleep. I’d seen Shadows since I hit nine, but today’s Shadow sent shivers all over me.

  I tried not to think about it, but the harder I tried, the easier dark thoughts crept into my head. I turned, pulling the soft blanket over myself. Doubtful protection from nightmares. How naïve I’d been to think that my life would get better if we moved to a place where nothing ever happened.

  Seemed like the right place for me. Until today. I clenched my jaw tight.

  Lying full-length, I stretched my hand behind the headboard where I kept my secret. My fingers scrabbled through dust and cobwebs before I finally got it. I crouched, then took a flashlight from under my bed and shone it onto the thing in my lap, whisking the dust off it. An old diary.

  I had found it a few years ago among the piles of books and magazines that cluttered our basement back in Phoenix. Even though it had a few pages torn out, it pulled me to itself as if by some mysterious force. Or maybe it was because of my father’s name—Aiden Blackwell—that was written on the back page. I’d never known Dad, and every time I asked Mom about him, she usually stared at me with coldness, offering non-committal replies that had me drop the subject. Dad must have hurt her in some way ’cause she even took her maiden name back and was Melanie Ford, not Melanie Blackwell.

  If I don’t write about the Shadow, he’ll come. The diary is the only thing that can stop the dead, I thought, and opened it to the back page. Handwritten scrawl beneath my father’s name went: Callum Blackwell. A bit lower the legend ran in smaller letters, in the hope that anyone who might come across the diary wouldn’t see it: Diary of the Gone.

  Back in Phoenix I’d needed to do something—anything—to stop the Shadows, and surprisingly writing about it had worked for me. With time I’d realized writing gave me the calm I couldn’t get out of anything else.

  I took a ballpoint pen, well chewed at the top, and turned several dog-eared pages filled with the same illegible handwriting where I used to put down all the horror I’d seen.

  When I was about to jot my first word, a blast of wind rattled the windowpanes, startling me out of my wits.

  Damn, what was that?

  With a trembling hand, I scribbled: Entry #153, October 27.

  Someone knocked on the door, and I knew they had come for me. It wasn’t Mom or Beverly as there was no shadow under the door. A soft, hardly audible tap-tap-tap came, then the door knob turned a bit.

  Why have they come so early?

  Freaked out, I focused on the diary, trying to shut off my senses.

  They are here again, behind the door, trying to get in. It’s not like them. Why are they breaking the rules?

  The wind whistled outside, the rattling of the windowpanes even more persistent. I bent closer to the page, scribbling frantically.

  Nathan found a corpse of a deer in the forest. He showed it to me today. When we were standing there everything turned to monochrome gray, and I saw a boy not far from me. He had strange symbols appearing over his hands. I have no idea what they meant. The Shadow was different this time. So much different.

  They didn’t go away. Writing about it didn’t work. Why? Whoever was behind the door started scraping its surface with nails that were definitely larger than Bev’s. I clenched my teeth and pressed my hands to my ears, but the scraping didn’t stop.

  Go on writing, Callum, I told myself. Only the words didn’t come easily tonight.

  The boy was looking at me. He wanted to tell me something. What does it mean? Does it mean that Greg Thornby is dead?

  As if answering the question, the scraping and the wind stopped. A chill slithered over my body, my heart thumping in total silence.

  “Callum,” a voice I’d never heard called, coming from inside my head. “Callum, let me in.”

  I pressed myself into the corner of the bed, awaiting my doom.

  Please, leave me alone, was my next line. Then the door burst open, and consciousness dimmed. Just as my mind slowly drifted into welcoming blackness, I saw a silhouette advancing on me. It wasn’t Greg. It was a girl, only I couldn’t see her face, her features blurry in the dark, her long hair streaming down to her waist.

  She came close to me and laid her bony hand on my shoulder, whispering, “Thank you for setting me free.”

  Chapter 3

  Entry #28

  May 26

  I don’t know why Shadows haunt me. Why me of all people? If it’s a gift, then it’s a lousy one.

  When I woke up, the first thing I did was check my ankle. It was giving me more and more trouble. The flesh was bruised to a purple color, with skin sore to the touch. The memory of yesterday’s experience combined with the deep, purple traces creeped the hell out of me.

  “Callie, breakfast’s ready!” Mom screeched from below. Whatever horrors I’d gone through yesterday night, ‘Callie’ sent me into motion—I loathed when people called me that, mostly because Stan Crosby loved taunting me with it.

  “Coming!” I yelled, grabbing the diary from the bed. Should I take it to school today? What if I see another Shadow on the way?

  I opened it where I’d put my last entry, took a pen and started scribbling hastily.

  Entry #154

  October 28

  The dead started talking to me. This time it was a girl. I have no idea what’s going on here.

  “Callie! Hurry up!” Mom shouted from the kitchen.

  “Coming!” I yelled, even louder that time, then bent my head to the page to jot down a few more sentences.

  Mom’s calling me. I’m off to school. Hope I’m not going to see more of the dead today.

  Bev entered my
room, and I barely had enough time to shut the diary and hide it behind my back. “We’re not going to wait on you forever, Callie,” she said with a sly smile.

  Damn, she saw it! I cursed, not really sure what to do next.

  Bev flashed a wider grin at me, her eyes screaming, “Gotcha!”

  “You should knock before you enter. D’you know it’s polite?” I glared at her.

  “Oh, I just wanted to make sure you’re not dead.” Bev’s lips curved down, as if she was annoyed to find me still breathing. “You know Mom’s been calling you?”

  “Yeah, I’m not deaf, thank you. Will you leave me alone now?”

  She lifted her neatly plucked eyebrows, giving me her usual you’re-totally-mental look, then turned on her heel and left, her hair streaming in her wake.

  To call us cat and dog would be such an understatement. Not only were we different in appearance—I had blue eyes and fair hair while she had Mom’s dark-brown eyes and black hair—but we also could hardly bear each other’s presence for five minutes.

  Back in Phoenix I’d had a hard time tormented by Shadows at least once a week. Bev didn’t try to make me feel better. With each year my ‘nightmares’ got worse, and doctors suggested that we move to a less stressful environment. That was the time I’d found the old diary. Whereas it helped me not to see Shadows for some time, Bev did her best to make my existence a living hell.

  Well, I was the reason she had to be away from her friends. Unlike her, I didn’t have any, so I was all for moving from Phoenix, no longer paying attention to her sulking and sending silent curses my way whenever she saw me.

  Putting my diary into the bag, I went downstairs and took my usual seat, opposite Bev. “What’s for breakfast, Mom?” I asked, ignoring my sister’s scathing look.

  “Bacon and eggs, sweetheart.” Mom was fussing in the kitchen while we were sitting in the adjacent room. The divine smell of bacon reached my nostrils, and I took a long breath.

  “Any plans for today?” Bev asked me.

  “Since when do you care?” I said as Mom entered with two steaming platefuls that she put in front of us.

  “Thank you,” Bev and I chanted in unison.

  After Mom left the room, Bev said, “I just want to make sure you’re not going to use my make-up … again.” She tilted her head and drummed on the table with her long well-manicured nails.

  “You’ll never let it go, will you? An’one’s ’llowed one m’ssake,” I said, chewing.

  “One mistake? What about my shampoos and lotions?” she nearly screeched but kept her voice low for Mom not to hear.

  All right, I always wanted to know what it felt like to be a girl. Curiosity got the better of me. Now I knew it was no good: no good could come from borrowing my sister’s make-up and using her lipstick when she came in and found it smeared all over my face.

  “You know, I’m not even sure if I should use my bath sponges anymore,” she said. “Have you tested those too?”

  I nearly choked on the bacon and had to gulp it without chewing. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Hmm, let me think. Have I ever even seen you with a girl?” She hit me below the belt.

  “Nope. That’s ’cause you’re hanging out with that jerkface Terry Haubert all the time!” I knew her weak spot and it was high time to sting her.

  “No, I’m not!” she hissed. “And if you ever call him jerkface again …” Her eyes narrowed and glinted with hatred.

  “Then what? What will you do?”

  She leaned in to me. “I’ll tell Mom you go outside at night,” she said very quietly, venom seeping through her voice.

  She got up, went to the kitchen and returned with a plate of pancakes. She didn’t sit down at the table, but went upstairs instead.

  “Leaving already?” I chanted.

  Bev answered by banging the door real hard. I did get under her skin this time.

  My good mood was tainted when I spotted today’s paper on the kitchen counter.

  I came to take it, then leafed through and found what I thought I would find. The picture of the missing boy. Greg Thornby.

  It was the same boy that I’d seen in the Shadow.

  *

  Though I hated school, I knew I’d better go today, otherwise Mom would ground me. No friends, no Facebook, no movies. She probably thought that was the best way for me to become a normal person.

  Everything was close to home in Olden Cross. The school was just a five-minute walk, but I had to walk part of the way past Mrs. Palmer’s old cottage, so I made a detour around Montague Street.

  “Hey, Callum! Wait!” a familiar voice behind me called.

  It was Nathan. Dressed in khaki trousers and a black sweatshirt, he walked with a confidence I always lacked. He raised his hand for a high five, and I smacked it with mine.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked. “You never go to school this way.”

  “Um, nothing. Just taking a walk.” How lame! “What’s up with you?”

  “Nothing much. It’s a shame you didn’t go with us last night. I told the guys about yesterday, and everyone asked if you are okay.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “Well, I mentioned that Mrs. Palmer stared at you without blinking. Still have goosebumps all over me.”

  Great, now they’ll think I’m as crazy as Mrs. Palmer, I thought.

  “I wish I’d come with you. I didn’t feel well, sorry,” I said.

  Nathan turned to me, his eyebrows knotted. “I thought you promised Mom to come home early.”

  “Oh, yeah. That as well.” You have to remember your lies better, I scolded myself.

  Nathan snorted. “You’re being weird, man. By the way, here’s an idea. How about you and I skip double Chemistry today and go back to the Swamps?”

  “What?” I asked, recoiling. “Seems like you don’t remember yesterday.”

  “We’ve got to take another look at it,” he pressed.

  The hair on the back of my neck bristled. “Thanks, but no, thanks.” I squirmed. “Besides, remember what Mrs. Wharton said? ‘I’ll make you clean all the phials and test tubes in my laboratory, Blackwell, if you miss another class’.”

  “The old hag says that to everyone. She’ll survive if you skip it.”

  He was always like this—too hard to say no to. I did want to know what the hell was going on there. On the other hand, the idea of seeing Greg Thornby made me shake with nerves.

  “Next time maybe,” I said, seeing Nathan knot his brows.

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.” I slapped him on the shoulder. “See you later.”

  Nathan grumbled, “Blow the old hag a kiss, okay?”

  “I will.” I winked at him and entered the school gate, feeling sorry that I didn’t go with Nathan.

  Chapter 4

  Entry #26

  May 3

  He’s sitting right next to me as I write about him. He’s never blinked yet, his eyes on me all the time. His skull is fractured where the windshield had hit it, blood seeping down the side of his head.

  A couple days ago I came across a Shadow with a boy my age being knocked over by a car. His body was thrown a few yards away from the vehicle, as if feather-light. By the unnatural position of his arms and legs I knew he died on impact. The driver was so wasted he barely managed to get out of his car. People shouted around me, pushing their way to the immovable body lying face-down. Women cried, crouching over him.

  And now he’s here, sitting next to me. Why do I see him? Like the others, he never talks. Just stares unblinking and that’s it.

  I know that when I finish writing this sentence he’ll be gone. They are all gone once I’ve mentioned them in the diary.

  P.S. Yep. I was right. He’s gone.

  Good night, Callum. Sweet dreams.

  I didn’t know why I remembered that boy today during Chemistry. Maybe because Mrs. Wharton did a great job ignoring me, and once in a lifetime she didn’t pester me. r />
  I kept asking myself why I was the one seeing them. Maybe the dead had come to me to say I could have saved them? With that boy everything had happened at the end of the school day, just when I was in detention.

  I’d got used to them being around. But even after they were gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. How could I? They’d become part of my life. Part of me.

  The bell rang, and I scooped my books and left the classroom. The rest of the day was as gray as the skies.

  The storm clouds formed a purple, menacing line that unhurriedly advanced on Olden Cross.

  It’s going to rain soon, I thought grimly. It rained for the most part in this sodden place, as if sunlight and color were taboo. No wonder animals left the nearby forest long ago.

  I zipped up my parka. The wind picked up and ruffled my hair.

  “Look who’s here!” I heard a voice that haunted me as much as the Shadows these days. For once in a lifetime I wished I’d crossed a Shadow rather than come across Stan and his friends again.

  Just ignore them, I told myself. Walk and don’t listen. They just want to make you feel scared.

  The gang caught up with me in a matter of seconds, their bursts of laughter making me jump a bit.

  “Callie, where’s your boyfriend?” Stan sniggered, much to the delight of the other guys.

  I sped up my pace, trying to break away from them when Stan tripped me, and I toppled head-first.

  The group erupted in jubilation, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You’re gonna regret this, you scumbag,” I managed through gritted teeth as I got up. I’d never known I could say this to Stan, but here the words escaped my lips, and part of me knew I’d be eating sand any minute soon.