Dead Voices

“Who would be in—?” Coco broke off. The door was shaking on its hinges, knob going back and forth, like someone inside was trying to turn it. But it was locked. Who would be in there?

“Ollie?” called Brian. “Ollie, that’s not funny.”

No answer. The door shook again.

Brian said, staring at the door, “Do you think—”

“I don’t know,” said Coco. “I thought I heard—listen.”

Brian shushed. Silence fell once more in the hall. The door was still.

And then Coco heard a voice.

A very small, very scratchy voice whispered, from behind the closet door, “Is anyone there?”

They both froze.

“Can I come out?” said the voice. “I’m scared.” The door handle jerked up and down.

“But,” said Brian, “if that’s not Ollie, then who is talking?”

Coco didn’t say anything. Her mouth and throat had gone dry.

The tiny trembling voice only went on, “I’ll be goodest. I promise. I promise!” The door rattled harder than ever. “Let me out! Let me out!”

Coco and Brian looked at each other. “Was there someone else in the lodge? That we didn’t know about?” Coco asked. But she knew there hadn’t been.

“No,” whispered Brian.

“Should we open the door?”

“Definitely not.”

“Whoever it is, they’re scared,” said Coco.

The closet door rattled again.

Coco’s hand darted out, hesitated on the handle. “Coco!” cried Brian.

But before she could lose her nerve, Coco wrenched the knob and threw open the door. It wasn’t locked. They both stumbled back. She heard Brian’s quick, frightened breath.

They both stared into the closet. But there was nothing in there at all.

4

OLLIE WAS IN the bunk room, pulling on an extra sweatshirt. The bunk room had been warm the night before, but now it was chilly. The whole lodge seemed to be getting colder, Ollie thought. As though the storm outside was pressing inward, creeping in through cracks.

Ollie’s insides were cold too, but it had nothing to do with the storm. She was sad. She was confused.

She’d forgotten how her dad had been before the plane crash. She’d forgotten how silly he could be, how fun. It was more than just bad jokes. It was the way he used to laugh, how things like banana pancakes for breakfast could make him so happy. She’d forgotten all that.

But that morning, her dad had been his old self. He’d been cooking, and laughing, and announcing his pancakes like a circus ringmaster. He’d plunked down the pancakes, winked at C

oco’s mom, and held her hand. Did he—like Coco’s mom? Ollie wasn’t sure what to think about that. Maybe she was imagining things. Coco’s mom wasn’t that special! Ollie’s mom had been special. The most special person who ever lived.

But Ollie’s mom was gone. And now Ollie didn’t know how she should feel.

She thought about Coco. Ollie loved Coco. Coco was like her sister. She would love for Coco to be her real sister. That seemed like a big step, though. And Ollie didn’t want another mother. Absolutely not!