The Hollow by Jessica Verday

  "Don't you see, dear?" she said. "Caspian was afraid of Nikolas because he still doesn't fully understand us."

  I felt my heart start to beat harder, and my breath came quicker. Was I hyperventilating? Was this what a heart attack felt like? I tried to keep calm, but the crazy talk in the room was starting to go to my head.

  "What's there to understand?" I asked Katy. "He's just a harmless old man, and you're harmless too, right?" I immediately thought back to the peppermint tea I had consumed here. Good God, do these people put crazy leaves in their tea?

  I stood up and paced around the room. Nikolas and Katy seemed to be waiting for me to calm down. They were watching me with guarded expressions, and I heard Caspian's words in the back of my head. They're not what they seem, Abbey. There's more to whatever bogus story he told you.

  I stopped pacing midthought and turned back to them with a big smile on my face. "I get it. You two are like some of those people who pretend they're part of living history or something, right? You get dressed up and go to battlefields and stuff like that. Only, since we live in Sleepy Hollow, you pretend you're a part of that. I get it." Relief flowed through me when I'd figured it out. They just took their acting a bit too far.

  Katy shook her head at me. "We don't pretend we're from the legend. We are the legend."

  Rolling my eyes, I looked over at Nikolas. "Seriously. Come on, guys. I need you to be straight with me."

  Nikolas rose from his chair and stepped closer to me. I felt that change happening again, and power filled the air.

  "I know its hard, Abbey, but you must believe us," he said gently. "Katy's full name is Katrina Van Tassel. We have proof. A birth record, pictures, and more…"

  I scoffed at him. This was going too far. "And who are you supposed to be? Ichabod Crane? Or Brom Bones? The legend says that she married Brom, but I always had my suspicions that Ichabod came back into the story."

  "Neither. I'm the Headless Horseman."

  My jaw dropped to the ground. I actually looked down to see if I needed to pick it back up. "The Headless Horseman?" I repeated with a gulp. "But you… you… have… well, a head"

  I mentally chastised myself as I came up with that lame logic, but apparently I was in the land of crazies now, so hopefully it was anything goes.

  "Appearances aren't always what they seem, Abbey," Nikolas said softly.

  At this point I started eyeing the door and calculating how far it was to the only exit. If I started moving closer, I could make a runfor it.

  "Okay," I admitted, humoring them while I started my slow advances. "So if you're the Headless Horseman, the real one, from the legend, how did you end up here?"

  "Well, the legend is true," said Nikolas. "Up to the point that I was a soldier, and did die in battle. But then I fell in love with Katrina. She could see me when no one else could."

  I nodded like I was following along, and turned to Katy. "So the Headless Horseman was a ghost who fell in love with you. But what about Brom Bones? The end of the legend says…" I was moving closer and closer to the door, and I nodded at her to finish.

  She got an excited expression on her face, and I felt a tiny sliver of guilt for making them think I believed their craziness. "Washington Irving wrote the legend that way to protect us. He changed the ending."

  Reaching behind me, I felt for the doorknob and twisted it slowly.

  "So you really ended up with him-the Headless Horseman- instead, and you both decided to stay in Sleepy Hollow together forever?"

  Katy smiled. "Yes, dear, we've been caretakers for the cemetery ever since. I'm so glad you believe us."

  Pushing the door open, I stood framed in the afternoon sunlight slanting in on us. "Actually," I said, "I think you're a niceold couple who have deluded yourselves into thinking these things because you don't want to face reality. I'm sorry if things got too strange and too busy for you, out there in the real world, but that's where I live, and that's where I'm going back to."

  I turned and sprinted down the path for all I was worth. Leaving my gloves and scarf behind. Leaving behind the warmth and friendship I'd thought I had. And leaving a piece of my broken heart behind for those poor lonely people.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The Truth

  The old country wives, however, who are the best judges of these matters, maintain to this day that Ichabod was spirited away…

  "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

  I threw myself into the project with Ben to keep me busy. It keptmy mind occupied, and I tried to make up for the time I had spent before not holding up my end of the work. I didn't allow myself to think about cemeteries, or old people who were crazy, or peppermint tea, or boys with green eyes, or dead best friends.

  Every time my thoughts started to wander, I immediately pulled out a notebook and started writing down ideas for new scents for the science project. Sure, we already had our main list completed, and it was a pain in the ass to scramble for a notebook in the dark at night in bed… but it was the only thing that worked.

  When Valentine's Day was less than a week away, I begged off working at Uncle Bob's for the weekend. I was not in the mood to see happy couples gazing into each other's eyes while sharing sundaes together. I planned to stay home and continue my process of not thinking about anything at all.

  By Saturday afternoon I was moping around the house. The weather was cold and nasty outside, and there had been thunderstorms off and on all morning. Not very conducive to a bright and shiny happy day. I really should have just climbed back into bed with some hot cocoa and a good book, but I was restless.

  After wandering aimlessly from window to window in the living room, I dragged myself over to the couch. Mom was reading a book there, so I flopped down next to her. I picked up the remote and started to channel surf, but it seemed to take her forever to recognize my boredom.

  I kept sighing dramatically after every commercial, until she finally shut her book forcefully and glared at me. "Okay. I get it. You're bored, or upset, or something. Want to talk about it?"

  I shook my head stubbornly and kept flipping.

  "Why don't you go up to your room, then? Some of us were enjoying the peace and quiet around here."

  I shut the TV off and crossed my arms in front of me. Mom picked up her book again and went back to her reading. Tilting my head back to gaze at the ceiling, I tried to follow a tiny crack from one end of the room to the other. It was a painfully boring exercise, but I didn't have anything else to do.

  I sighed again.

  That must have been too much for Mom, because she slammed her book shut and got to her feet. "Silence just isn't silence with you, is it? Get your coat. Let's go see a movie or something."

  I jumped up off the couch to get my jacket. "Can we see something that has bombs or explosions in it? I am so not in the mood for a romantic comedy."

  "We'll see what's there." She joined me at the door and slipped on her jacket before scooping up her keys from the small hallway table.

  We stepped outside, and I ran to the van. The rain had stopped for a moment, but the air was still chilly. As soon as I heard those doors unlock, I scrambled up into the front seat and waitedimpatiently while Mom started it up. My teeth were chattering, and I quickly turned the heater up to as high as it would go.

  Once the interior had warmed up slightly, and my nose no longer felt like it was caught in the freezer, Mom put both hands on the wheel and shifted to drive. Then she turned to face me and put it back into park. "Why don't you drive today?"

  "Me? D-drive?" I sputtered. "But I don't even have my permit yet, and you only took me out to practice in that empty parking lot, like, twice."

  She shrugged. "So? Your seventeenth birthday is coming up in a couple of months, and you'll have your permit then. Besides, it's only fifteen minutes to the theater, and there aren't that many people out today. The practice will be good for you."

  "Okay." I jumped at the chance and threw the passenger side door open. Mom
switched seats with me and I carefully adjusted my mirrors then put on my seat belt.

  "Nice job," Mom told me. "Now just pull out slowly, and take it easy. You know the way."

  Looking both ways as I pulled out of the driveway, I put my blinker on, signaling a left turn. This is apiece of cake. I took my time on the side roads but really poured on the gas when we hit highway nine. The sign posted said fifty-five, and I intended to make sure I hit every bit of that speed.

  I cruised along, hitting my speed, and my stride, and glanced over at Mom. She was actually grinning and nodded at me. "You're doing great, Abbey. Nice driving." I smiled back. I only took my eyes off the road for a second, but that was why I didn't see it until it was too late.

  Straight ahead, lying in the road mere inches away, was a two-by-four with several rusty nails sticking out of it.

  I hit the brakes hard and swerved to the left. There was an angled curb there, and for a couple of seconds we were airborne before touching down again. I held on tight to the steering wheel, even as I heard the dull thuds, and I braked again until we came to a stop in a gravel parking lot.

  "What the hell was that doing in the road?" I exploded.

  Mom didn't say anything, but she had a sickly expression on her face.

  "Sorry, Mom," I said quickly, "I didn't mean to-"

  She cut me off. "Don't worry about it, Abbey. Are you all right?" At my brief nod, she glanced into the side mirror. "You did what was necessary. Once you saw that braking wasn't going to work in time, you got out of the way. It was the smartest thing to do." She sighed heavily. "Let's go look everything over and see what the damage is."

  I turned the engine off and slid out of my seat. Mom was already walking around to her side of the car and looking it over from top to bottom. "Everything looks fine here," she called out.

  I looked at my side and immediately saw it. "It's over here, on my side. Both tires blew out." A sick feeling flooded my stomach. This could be really, really bad news for me and my future license.

  Mom came around to inspect the damage. She crouched down and looked at each tire before instructing me to pop the trunk. I did as she asked, and she went to go peer inside.

  "Damn it," I heard a minute later. There was a loud clunking sound, and I walked back to see what she was doing.

  "Well, we have a jack but no spare," she informed me. "Not like one spare would have done us any good, anyway, but that's beside the point. I told your father that we needed to replace the one we did have, and did he listen to me? No, he did not."

  She kept ranting, even as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed information to get the nearest tow truck's number. Then she called the insurance company to give them some information, and I heard her ranting to them, too. I went to go move the board out of the road so no one else would hit it. Giving it a ferocious kick with my foot, I muttered several angry words before heading back to the car.

  Mom had finished making all of her phone calls, and she told me that we might as well wait inside the car since it could be a while. I heeded her advice and climbed into the passenger side, a safe distance away from the steering wheel.

  The rain started up again, and we sat there, huddled inmiserable silence. Two hours passed, and several more phone calls were made, before the tow truck finally showed up. We stood out in the rain with him while he loaded the van up.

  "Guess we won't be seeing that movie after all," I said to Mom. She just rolled her eyes and told me to go get inside the tow truck. I squeezed my way around crumpled-up fast-food bags and a gazillion empty soda cans before Mom and the tow truck man climbed in.

  "So is the repair shop close to here?" Mom asked the guy as she elbowed me over to make a little more room.

  He ran a greasy hand through his straggly hair before answering. "Yup. About five miles up the road here is Mike's Auto Repair."

  Mom breathed an audible sigh of relief. "If you could just take us over there, we'd really appreciate it." He nodded and then shifted gears as we lurched bumpily down the road.

  It didn't take me long to discover that five miles spent squeezed next to a gear shift was entirely too long for my comfort, and I happily disentangled myself when we arrived at the auto shop. Mom paid the tow truck driver, and we both hurried into a small gray rectangular building. While she went over to the parts counter, I wandered down a back hall, looking for a waiting area. I found it easily enough but sighed in despair as I noted that all it had to offer was an old TV, a gross-looking coffee machine, and acouple of car mags.

  Not exactly how I'd pictured spending my afternoon.

  But I took a seat and stretched my legs out over the empty orange plastic chairs next to me. I tried to ignore the scent of stale grease that permeated the air, and reached for the television remote. The television had a grand total of seven channels, and three of them were fuzzy. "Of course, of course," I said to the empty room.

  Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the wall behind me, pretending I was at home on our couch. Maybe this will all be over when I open my eyes again.

  Someone entered the room, and I opened my eyes to see that it was Mom.

  "Well," she said. "The good news is that they have our tires in stock, and it should only take about an hour and a half to get to it."

  I groaned. "How long will it take them to put the tires on, once they get to it?"

  "Oh, it won't take that long. But that's not the best part. The best part is that with parts and labor, it will end up costing me a hundred and fifty bucks."

  I groaned again, louder this time. I could envision myself doing infinite amounts of laundry and handing over portions of my paychecks from Uncle Bob for the next five years. "I'm really sorry, Mom. I'll pay for it. I didn't mean to do it. It was a complete accident."

  "Don't worry about it," she said. "I know I'll probably regret this later, but accidents happen to everyone."

  I almost hopped up and hugged her right then and there, my relief was so overwhelming. "Thanks, Mom. Really, thanks. But I was driving pretty well before that, right?"

  She glared at me. "Don't push it. I could still have you doing a lot more dishes from now on," she warned.

  I shut my mouth and closed my eyes again. Whatever she wanted, just as long as I didn't have to pay for those tires.

  "What do we have to entertain ourselves with in here?" she asked.

  Lifting a hand, I pointed in the general direction of the TV, or at least where I thought the TV was, since my eyes were closed. "A TV that gets four channels, some old coffee, and a couple of magazines."

  Her voice perked up. "Magazines?"

  I opened my eyes briefly, and then shut them again. "You won't want them. Not unless you secretly read Car and Driver or Auto Enthusiast.

  Her voice fell. "Oh."

  I readjusted my feet, and she grew silent. I kept my eyes closed, oblivious to whatever she was doing, and tried to will myself into sleep.

  The next thing I knew, I was jerking awake, and catching myself before I slumped off the chair. I gazed sleepily around the room. I must have drifted off after all. Mom was furiously typing away on her PDA, and I yawned loudly before getting to my feet. "I'm going to take a quick walk around to stretch my legs a bit, maybe see how far along they are on the car."

  "Okay," she murmured.

  I left the waiting room and found my way back to the main part of the shop. Our car was still waiting to be put up on the lift, so it was bound to be a while. Exhaling loudly, I turned the corner and walked to the end of the hall, where another room appeared to be. I didn't mean to snoop or pry, but I was bored out of my mind. That had to count as extenuating circumstances or something.

  I poked my head into the room and saw a dark-haired man sitting behind a large desk. He was wearing mechanics overalls, but I couldn't read the name badge sewn onto them. I knocked twice on the wood frame outside the door and waited.

  He looked up with a blank expression on his face, and I spoke hesitantly. "I'm sorry
to bother you, sir, but my mom and I are waiting for our van to be fixed, and I was wondering if you had anything else to read around here. Not car related?"

  The man stared at me, then pointed to the corner. "There's a box of old magazines. They were donated, so I don't know what's in there. I think we might have thrown in a book or two from thelast time we cleaned out the shop. But you're welcome to look through it."

  I smiled at him and went to grab the box. "Thanks. I'm sure this will help pass the time."

  "You're very welcome," he said. "Glad to be of service."

  The box was kind of heavy, but I managed to carry it out of the office. I only made it three whole steps toward the waiting room before I dropped it, though. Since there was no one else nearby, I sank to my knees to see what was inside.

  Digging through all kinds of magazines, including some that dated back to the eighties, I quickly realized there was a lot of crap in that box. A thick, stout book was buried near the bottom, and I picked it up, only to read Chilton's Car Guide: Toyota 1984 on the side before dropping it back in.

  I kept on digging.

  Moments later my fingers struck something else smooth and hard, and I lifted out a dusty yearbook. It was facedown, but when I turned it over, I was surprised to see that it was from White Plains High. And it was only two and a half years old.

  Jackpot.

  I drew my legs up underneath me and sat cross-legged with my back to the wall. All of my yearbooks at home had several signatures scrawled throughout, each one wishing me various ways to "Have a Good Summer," but I noticed that this book's pagesremained signature free.

  Interesting.

  Flipping through slowly, I wasn't surprised to see that most of the pictures were dominated by the pretty people. I thumbed past them until I saw individual photos. One of the teachers, in a rumpled suit and on obvious hairpiece, caught my eye, and I remembered a game Kristen and I had played in history class last year.

  "It's time for another round of Guess When Mr. Ives's Toupee Will Fall Off," I murmured to myself. "You were really good at that game, Kristen."