October woke on the cold stone of Mrs. Johnson’s grave and began shivering immediately. She stood and caught herself on a stone too weathered to be legible.
“Oh Mrs. Johnson, why didn’t you wake me?” She wrapped her jacket around herself more tightly and began to stride, a bit wobbly, toward the paved road. It was also apparent that she was not the only one who had spent All Hallow’s Eve in the cemetery. She was the only one to sleep over with the dead. Silly string and shaving cream were hard to navigate, but preventative measures had apparently kept the eggs from desecrating too many graves. It was a gray morning, but October was not able to tell how late in the morning it was. Whether she had just beat the sun up, or was late for third period was completely unknown to her.
“Hey, October!” The gatehouse was occupied, at any rate. “October! Toby!” The teenage boy ran up to her. “Did you sleep here?”
“It sure seems like it,” she said, turned away and continued walking.
“Hey, hang on.” He jogged a few steps after her. She stopped and waited. “Do you want a ride?”
She looked at him incredulously. “You drive?” She asked.
“It’s only a permit.” He admitted. October turned away again.
“Get lost, Jonah.”
“I have to go to BOCES anyway.”
“Fine.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Where’s your car?”
“Just this way.” He bounded back toward the gate house and she rolled her eyes.
The car warmed up quickly and October began thawing out, or rather, her shivering stopped.
“What were you doing in the cemetery?” He asked.
“Communing with the dearly departed. You?”
“You know what.” He shifted gears and pulled out of the tiny parking space.
October watched the fog part before them, drab brown leaves flying up as cars passed them, roadkill separating itself from its ghost and looking around at the world in a whole new way. She couldn’t imagine what that must be like for the poor raccoon.
“So BOCES.” She looked at Jonah. “That sounds fun.”
“It beats Pre-Calc with Mr. Meyers.”
“I love Mr. Meyers.”
“You’ve never had him for math.”
“But he’s cool.”
He raised his eyebrows instead of answering.
“How do you know where I live?” She asked after a few more moments.
“I don’t know exactly, I just remember seeing you walk along Canry Farm Lane one time.”
“What if I was just walking there.”
“Well, where do you live?”
She sighed, “on Canry Farm Lane.”
He smiled, “just a few more seconds.”
“Thanks. Jonah.”
“Yeah, don’t mention it.” He turned into the dirt road and slowed down. “You’ll tell me where?”
“Just a little further, on your left,” she said. She pointed, “here.”
They rolled up to the neat little cottage, dirt driveway littered with red and yellow sycamore leaves.
“I really appreciate it, Jonah.” October leaned back in the open passenger door.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around, October.” He looked away.
“Have a fun day!” She shut his door when he didn’t answer.
He pulled out without another glance her way.
October pulled the spare key out of the withered flower pot and let herself into the dark house. The clock above the oven read seven fifteen and she groaned. If she hurried, she would barely be late for school. She stripped her clothes off and decided passing on a shower would be unforgivable, letting the chance of a cold scare her enough into being a little late for Dr. Howard’s class. The tights had been ripped into oblivion and went into the trash, the shirt was damp with shaving cream and her skirt was grass stained. Only her jacket would survive the coming day if she hung it over the heater. She pulled fresh things off the hangers while the water heated up and stepped into the hot jet only a moment later.
The thing is, you never hear a ghost until they speak to you. She reasoned it was perfectly natural for her to scream as she turned from her robed reflection in the mirror and found a recent acquaintance, Claude, moping back at her.
“October, what are you still doing here?”
They never apologized for scaring her. Claude also seemed to additionally lack modesty.
“I’m late. I slept in the cemetery last night.”
“Dr. Howard won’t like it.” He frowned even more, as if to make up for her blank face.
“I’ll hurry.” She pushed through him and pulled on her clothes as fast as she could. “Where’s my backpack?”
“Under your bed.” He sighed and laid himself on her bed, on top of her black jeans. “Will you come home and tell me about it soon?”
“After school, maybe.” She tugged the jeans out from under - through him?
“Time passes so slowly when you’re not here.”
“Claude,” she stopped.
“What is it?”
“I’m not going to say it.” She pulled the dust bunny off her backpack and checked its contents.
“I’d make friends if I could, but the others…”
“The other ghosts?”
He turned his long sad face toward her again, “they’re not like you.”
“I have to go.” She dashed out the house, but he floated with her to the end of the driveway.
“No breakfast?”
“No time.” She waited for him to follow for a split second, but he never did.
In the end, she was fifteen minutes late for first period. Considering how far the walk was, and how quickly she had gotten everything done this morning, it had to have set some sort of record.
“Toby! Thank you for joining us.”
October had not succeeded in sneaking in undetected. She became the immediate focal point of the entire first period history class. How anyone could divert themselves from Benedict Arnold at this hour…
“I’m sorry Dr. Howard. I wasn’t able to get up early like I usually do—”
“Your excuses don’t interest me, Toby.” Dr Howard glanced at her notes, “can you tell me who was carrying the paper’s that exposed Benedict Arnold as a traitor?”
“Major John Andrews.” October bluffed.
“Major John André,” she said. “Sit down.”
October took the seat she was pointed to, near Mr. Rivera’s desk in the back. He smiled at her sympathetically, cracker crumbs stuck in his beard. “Have a good birthday, October?” He whispered.
“I can’t complain.” She smiled back, pointedly ignoring any looks she was getting from her classmates. “How was your Hallowe’en?”
“I’ll tell you in class,” he pointed back to the front.
“Does anyone remember from that middle-school field trip where Benedict Arnold crossed the Hudson?”
Felicity’s hand rose cautiously.
“Felicity?”
“King’s Ferry?” She laughed nervously when Dr. Howard paused.
“How on earth did you remember that?”
Her nervous giggle turned into that stoner’s hiccuping laugh that made October want to hurl. She slid judgmental eyes across the carelessly thrown together plaid shirt and worn jeans, almost perfect beach wave blond hair. Her frown deepened and she rose her hand.
“Didn’t Washington cross at King’s Ferry?” She asked when Dr. Howard called on her.
“Yes, that is true. They met.” She glanced between Felicity and October. “But it counts.” She hesitated before adding, “I’ll disregard your tardiness for today on account of you remembering that, Toby.”
“Kay,” October replied and leaned back in her chair.
“Whatever,” Felicity breathed. “Lucky this time, goth girl.”
October rolled her eyes and whispered behind George’s back. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just a color scheme.”
George lifted a hand to his mouth and whispered toward her, “So you didn’t sleep in the cemetery last night, bleak October?”
“Better than passing out in a gutter,” October mumbled. George chuckled.
“George, unless it’s something you want to share with the class, I suggest you keep it to yourself.” Dr Howard fixed George with an intense stare.
“Sorry Mrs. Howard.”
“It’s Dr. Howard. Tell me about André’s connection to Arnold.” She perched on the edge of an unoccupied desk. George groaned.
“Sweetie, where were you last night?”
October’s mom was straining to keep calm. She could tell through the dull connection that she was probably covering a nervous tick, or maybe squeezing a water bottle.
“I fell asleep in the cemetery.”
“On purpose? Did you sleep alone?”
“Mom, no one comes near me on a good day.”
“But it’s - not even on hallowe’en? I thought you’d be a hit. And, just because no body would sleep with you doesn’t mean you slept alone.”
“Mom, I’m not a necrophiliac!”
A freshman girl turned mute from her locker to stare at October.
“It’s a color scheme, easy to accessorize, you get it.”
“October, I would not put a morbid this like this past you.”
“Thanks for your concern.”
“But honey, I am concerned!”
“I did my homework, I’m not failing classes, I’m safe and sound, and not sick, despite the below freezing temperatures last night - why didn’t you call me if you were worried?”
“It was not below freezing last night.”
October sneezed.
“Honey, go to the nurse to have her check you. I’ll see you this evening, dad’s cooking! Love you!”
“Bye-” but the line was dead.
The freshman girl was still staring at her.
“What?” October asked.
“If your not a goth, why do you were all black?”
“Because it matches the color of my soul.” October could not remember ever seeing this girl before. “Who are you anyway?”
“I’m new.” She slammed her locker shut and stalked off.
The bell rang and the hallway was empty in a few seconds. October sneezed again.
“Seriously?” She groaned.
“Looks like the early symptoms of a cold.” The nurse dropped the disposable cap of the thermometer in the trash. “I’m surprised more kids didn’t catch some last night.” She directed October toward the bed. “You lie down, I’ll send a note to Mr. Rivera.”
“Thanks.” October hesitated, “how do you know my schedule?”
“Mrs. Goldstein told me.” Nurse Harwood said before she shut the door and left October in the dark. She closed her eyes for exactly one second before a familiar chill fell over her and her eyes flew open.
“Oh no - who’s there?”
“Heh,” came the short chuckle. “Just me.”
“Ugh, not you.”
“C’est moi!” It was Benedict Arnold.
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