Mothman's Curse by Christine Hayes

“If we could just figure out what the guy wants. ‘Save them’ isn’t enough to go on.”
    I sat up a little taller. “Eva.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œAunt Barb’s hairdresser. She worked right there in the Goodrich house for years. Maybe she knows something.”
    He fussed with the camera around his neck. “Isn’t that the lady who says she saw Mothman?”
    I nodded. “Is that a problem?”
    â€œIt just sounds so … out there.”
    â€œPeople would probably say that about us if we told them what we’ve seen.”
    He snorted. “That’s true.”
    â€œLet’s just go talk to her, hear her out. What could it hurt?”
    â€œOkay,” Fox said. “I’m in. What time is it?”
    I checked my phone. “Almost five.”
    â€œToo late to go see her today. How about tomorrow after school?”
    â€œOh, wait. Dad might come home tomorrow.”
    â€œWe’ll have to find a good excuse to sneak away.”
    My heart sank. “But I want to see Dad.”
    â€œI do, too, Josie. We’ll do both. Are you in?”
    I thought of Mason’s screams and Dad’s bruised, tired face. I remembered my resolve at the hospital that I wouldn’t let anything else harm my family.
    I stood to face him. “I’m in.”

 
    7
    At school the next day, several kids told me they were sorry about my dad; twice as many asked about the Goodrich house. One kid even wanted to know if a ghost had been responsible for Dad’s accident. I told him off, loudly, right there in the hall, partly because he was an insensitive jerk, and partly because the reason for Dad’s fall was a topic Fox and I had been avoiding.
    On the bus ride home, I bounced in my seat, knowing I would beat the boys by thirty minutes and glad for the extra time with Dad, if he was home. I willed the bus to go faster, smiling when I saw Uncle Bill’s car parked in front of the house.
    I ran inside and flung my book bag and coat on the floor. I found Aunt Barb and Uncle Bill perched on the couch, their faces pinched, hands fidgeting.
    My steps faltered. “Where’s Dad?”
    â€œHey, Josie,” Aunt Barb said with a forced smile. “How was your day?”
    â€œFine. Where’s Dad?” I checked the kitchen and the bathroom on the unlikely chance he was waiting to jump out and surprise me.
    â€œWhy don’t you sit down for a minute, honey?”
    My insides froze, squeezed, shattered. “Where’s Dad?” I shouted.
    Aunt Barb stood quickly, hands splayed in a calming gesture. “It’s not what you think, honey, okay? He’s all right. He’s still at the hospital. They just want to keep him a little longer.”
    I sank into Dad’s leather chair and let the tears fall, torn between relief and fear.
    Aunt Barb scooted the ottoman beside me and sat down. “There’s an infection, Josie. They’re fighting it with strong antibiotics, okay? He just has to stay for a few more days. I didn’t mean to scare you. I got it all wrong, didn’t I?”
    I sniffed and wiped the tears from my cheeks. “Kind of.”
    â€œI’m sorry, pudding.” She squeezed my shoulders in apology.
    â€œSo will he be home for the auction?”
    â€œThey’re not sure. They hope so. But you know your daddy. He would try to get up out of his wheelchair and run the darn thing all by himself. He doesn’t need that kind of stress.”
    â€œBut he’ll be okay? Are we going back today to see him?”
    â€œUncle Bill and I were there all morning. He’s very tired. Maybe tomorrow?”
    I tried to smile to hide my disappointment. From his spot on the couch, Uncle Bill gave a slow nod—his own special way of offering reassurance. I knew they both tried so hard, did so much for us, and I loved them for it. But I wouldn’t feel settled until we got Dad back.
    I