The Children on the Hill(65)

“I don’t know,” I said. “I—” I felt the weight of the backpack, thought of what I had hidden there. I needed to pull myself together, act normal, get him to stop looking at me in that worried, suspicious way. I smiled. “Actually, sure, pie sounds great.”



* * *



THE HAPPY OWL Diner was one of those old-school aluminum trailer diners, complete with long counter and spinning stools covered with sparkling red vinyl.

We were the only two people in the place. The jukebox looked like it had been there since the fifties. And judging from the music coming from it—Bill Haley and His Comets—it had.

Pete and I settled in at one of the booths. I did my best to hold still, refrain from fidgeting even though my skin prickled and my mind raced. I tried not to think about the monster book and the doll and what finding them in the tower might mean; I tried to put them in a little box in the back of my mind, locked away for now.

Focus on the present, I told myself. There would be time later to think about what I’d discovered.

The waitress came over and said hi to Pete, asked him how things were on the island.

“Busy as ever,” he said. “But it’ll settle down after Labor Day.”

“But then we’ve got the peepers,” she said.

“Peepers?” I asked.

“Leaf peepers,” Pete explained. “Tourists here to see the foliage.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Not a Vermonter, huh?” the waitress said.

I shook my head. “It’s my first time in Vermont.”

Pete frowned at me. “Really?” he asked.

I nodded, looked at Pete steadily. “Really.”

I thought of the monster book: proof of a long-ago childhood in Vermont. And I thought of the doll.

If he knew the doll was there, stitched together from Lauren’s clothes, bits of Lauren’s hair… My palms grew sweaty. I reminded myself to breathe. He had no way of knowing any of this.

Yet he’d given me that odd look when I said I’d never been to Vermont before, like he knew I was lying somehow.

He doesn’t know. You’re being paranoid.

We each ordered a slice of blueberry pie and coffee.

Act normal, I told myself. Don’t give him any reason to be suspicious.

The waitress came back with our order. The pie was homemade—the crust buttery and flaky and perfect, the berry filling just the right blend of sweet and tart.

“This is amazing,” I said.

“Best pie ever,” he agreed, taking a bite himself, then washing it down with a sip of coffee. “So. Do you want to tell me what you were really doing out at the tower tonight?”

I took a bite of pie, thinking. “Like I told you, I went for a walk in the sanctuary.”

“At night? In the dark?”

I nodded. “Ghosts and monsters don’t usually make themselves seen in the light of day,” I said.

“So you went to the tower to hunt for Rattling Jane?”

“I was in the sanctuary, saw the tower, and thought I’d check it out,” I repeated. Didn’t this guy listen? I looked at him over the edge of the heavy white diner mug. “You know, in all the commotion, I haven’t had a chance to ask—what were you doing out at the tower tonight?”

“We’ve had a bit of trouble there lately, so I’ve been trying to keep an eye on the place.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Kids partying, mostly. Last week, someone was shooting off fireworks and started a fire in there—it’s a wonder the whole place didn’t go up in flames.”

“Did you catch them? The kids who started the fire?”

He shook his head. “Nah. They were long gone by the time the volunteer fire department and I got out there.”

We were quiet a minute, both of us sipping our coffee and munching on pie.

“You know, I went to your website, listened to a couple of your podcasts. I watched more of Monsters Among Us. I even read some of your interviews and watched your TED talk. It was interesting—the idea that monsters mirror the anxieties of society.”

I smiled. “You’ve been stalking me.”

“Just Googling. You’ve got quite a following. You’re kind of a big deal.”

I laughed. “In certain circles.”

My eyes burned and my head felt foggy. Now that the ramped-up adrenaline surge I’d felt in the tower had subsided, the lack of sleep was catching up with me.

Pete was quiet as he concentrated on his pie.

“It’s amazing to me, really,” he went on after a minute, “that so many people believe in that kind of stuff.”

“And it’s amazing to me that so many people don’t.”

“And you?” he asked. “Do you really believe in all of it? Or is it just for show? You truly think there are monsters and cryptids and ghosts and ghouls out there in the world?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “I do.”

“Have you always believed?”

I nodded. “Since I was a kid. My brother and sister and I, we had a monster club. We were obsessed: watching monster movies, going on monster hunts, reading everything we could.”

He smiled. “Sounds a lot like my son. He was into all that. Still is, I guess.”