The Ghost of Poplar Point Page 10

  Michael stepped forward, pulled the pin, and jumped back with a shriek of delight. Soon a thick cloud of white smoke filled the air.

  “Wow!” said Dub.

  “Cool!” cried Brad.

  For once, Joey was speechless.

  Michael tugged on Allie’s hand. “Allie! Look!”

  Allie, too, was amazed. It was quite an impressive display. She watched the smoke thin out and disperse in the light breeze. But, she thought uneasily, the pageant was going to take place inside, not outside on Dub’s lawn. She pictured the smoke filling the opera house, imagined people panicking, thinking there was a fire.

  “Um, Uncle Hal,” she began, “the pageant’s inside, at the opera house downtown. Is that going to be a problem, do you think?”

  Uncle Hal frowned for a moment. Then he brightened. “Tell you what. Is there a back door to the stage area?”

  Allie glanced at the others, and they nodded.

  “Good. Make sure that door is open for ventilation. Do you think you can get me backstage?”

  “I don’t see why not,” said Allie.

  “Great. I’ll take care of setting off the smoke bomb, and I’ll rig up a fan that’ll blow the smoke away from the audience and toward the door. We’ll only need to set off one of these puppies, anyhow. You’ll get a nice, smoky effect and the nervous Nellies in the audience won’t be having heart palpitations. How’s that sound?”

  “It sounds terrific,” Allie said, relieved at the idea of Uncle Hal being on hand.

  Uncle Hal smiled at them all. “So. Looks like you’re set. Can you think of anything else before I take off?”

  There was one detail that had been bothering Allie, and it came to her that Uncle Hal might be just the person to deal with it. “We need somebody to work the spotlights,” she said hesitantly. “Do you think—”

  “You got it,” Uncle Hal said confidently.

  Allie thanked him and he turned to climb into the van, saying, “You call if you need anything else, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Brad. “Thanks a lot, Uncle Hal.”

  As the other kids were saying their thanks, Michael ran forward and hugged Uncle Hal.

  Uncle Hal gave him a wink. “See you Saturday, little buddy.”

  Allie smiled. “Looks like somebody has a new hero,” she murmured to Dub.

  “He’s not the only one,” Dub said with a grin. “Uncle Hal is awesome. Thanks to him, we are going to blow the audience away!”

  Allie laughed and said, only half-kidding, “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Twenty-three

  On Saturday, Allie and her family arrived at the lakefront park, where the festival was already in full swing. Mr. and Mrs. Nichols were taking Michael on the kiddie rides, and Allie was meeting up with Dub. The plan was for Allie’s parents to take Michael home for an afternoon nap so he’d make it through the pageant. Allie and Dub would stay all day at the festival, eating both lunch and dinner there.

  For several hours, they went on their favorite rides, then took a break for some food. They were meandering around eating cotton candy when they saw the familiar figure of their sixth-grade teacher, accompanied by his golden retriever.

  “Hi, Mr. Henry!” they called.

  Allie bent down to pet Hoover, saying, “You’re looking quite sporty today, Hoovey, in your red bandanna.”

  “She felt the occasion required something festive,” Mr. Henry explained.

  Allie asked, “You’re coming to the pageant tonight, right, Mr. Henry?”

  “Absolutely,” he said. “Half of my last class is in it, I hear.”

  With a little smile at Dub, Allie said, “Be sure to stay until the very end.”

  “Yeah!” Dub said. “Don’t leave early, even if you think the beginning is kind of boring.”

  “Because the ending is important,” Allie added.

  Mr. Henry nodded. “I was planning on staying to the end, anyway,” he said. “But now you can be sure I will. Why do I have the funny feeling you guys are up to something?” He looked from one to the other, a question in his eyes.

  Allie and Dub gave him their most innocent expressions, and he laughed.

  “I remember once when we were all complaining about something we were doing in social studies, you said the reason we study history is so we can learn from the mistakes of the past,” Dub said, his tone serious.

  Mr. Henry looked impressed. “It’s nice to know someone was listening,” he said.

  “Umm, you might need to bring that up in our defense,” Dub went on.

  “Your defense? Now you’ve really got me intrigued.”

  After they’d said goodbye to Mr. Henry and Hoover, Allie and Dub headed over to the craft booths, only to run smack into Karen Laver. “I heard Miss Lunsford found out somehow about your little surprise,” she said. “That’s too bad. I hope you didn’t get into too much trouble.”

  “As a matter of fact, we didn’t get into trouble at all,” Allie said breezily. “Must be Miss Lunsford didn’t think that information came from a very reliable source.”

  Karen’s confident expression faltered for a moment, then her usual smirk returned. “Well, Miss Lunsford is a pathetic wimp. But there’s someone else who I think will appreciate hearing all about the latest detail I’ve learned.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Allie said recklessly. “Who?”

  “Mr. Kavanaugh. You’ve heard of him, I’m sure.” Karen gave Allie a malicious grin and added, “Somehow I don’t think he’s going to be too thrilled to hear about the smoke bombs.”

  At that, Allie felt all her bravado drain away. In their eagerness to see Uncle Hal’s goodies, they had forgotten to make sure the coast was clear outside Dub’s house. “You—you’re not going to tell him,” she said feebly.

  “Oh, no? Just watch me.” Karen’s face was flushed with triumph. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. And if I don’t see him here, he’ll be at the pageant.” She gave them a little wiggle of her fingers. “Ta-ta, now.”

  Stricken, Allie looked at Dub. “She saw us set off the smoke bomb.”

  “We’re toast,” he said.

  “What time is it?” Allie asked Dub.

  “Almost five,” he said. “We have to be at the opera house at six. We have an hour to … what? Keep Karen away from Mr. Kavanaugh? Lure him away somewhere so Karen can’t find him? Or, I know! We catch up with Karen and, by appealing to her better nature, get her to keep quiet!”

  “Hah,” said Allie in a dull voice.

  Dub sighed. “It’s hopeless. She’s right, she can always tell him at the pageant.”

  Nevertheless, they spent the next hour searching the crowd in vain for either Karen or the Kavanaughs. At five minutes to six, there was nothing to do but go to the opera house and hope for a miracle.

  Twenty-four

  Despite her worries about Karen Laver and the Kavanaughs, Allie was immediately swept up in the chaos and excitement backstage at the opera house. The cast members were getting dressed, practicing their lines, and proclaiming dramatically about how nervous they were.

  “They think they’re nervous,” Dub whispered. “What about us?”

  Allie’s parents arrived, bringing Michael, whose entire body seemed to be vibrating with excitement.

  “Hey, you look great, Mike!” said Allie.

  Michael stood, proudly displaying his outfit. He was shirtless. Over his shorts he had on a leather breechcloth Mrs. Nichols had made, tied on with a beaded sash. On his feet were moccasins, and around his neck he wore some strings of colorful beads. He was holding his father’s old wooden lacrosse stick with leather laces, which Mr. Nichols had cut short to four-year-old size.

  “You gotta get dressed, too, Allie,” he said with concern.

  “I will,” Allie assured him.

  “Michael, we’re going to leave you here with Allie and Dub, and get some seats right up front,” said Mr. Nichols. “Are you all set?”

  Michael nodded. His parents hug
ged him, then Allie, and Dub, too. “Good luck!” they said as they left the backstage area.

  When Allie and Dub were dressed, they joined Pam and Julie, who were peering out from behind the curtain at the crowd that was already beginning to pour into the theater.

  “Have you seen Karen?” Allie asked urgently.

  “No. And where’s Uncle Hal, I wonder?” asked Julie.

  “He’s going to wait until the pageant starts, then sneak back here,” said Dub. “Just so nobody gets suspicious about what he’s doing.”

  Allie peered past the curtain to look for Karen and saw the Kavanaughs take seats in the front row.

  “Oh, no!” Julie said. “The Kavanaughs are going to sit right under our noses! I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

  “Don’t look at them,” Dub advised.

  Allie watched as her parents approached the front row and prepared to take two of the open seats. Dub’s parents arrived at the same moment and greeted Mr. and Mrs. Nichols. It looked as if they were going to sit together when Mr. Kavanaugh went over to them, smiled, spoke, and gestured to the entire front row in the center section. Allie couldn’t hear him, but it was obvious that he was claiming those seats for himself.

  “I can’t believe it!” Allie said, outraged. “Look at him, hogging all the best seats for himself and his friends.”

  “He has friends?” Dub asked. He and the other kids peered through the curtain again to watch as Dub’s and Allie’s parents were directed to the second row, while Mr. Kavanaugh, all smiles, called to some other people and motioned them toward the front. Mrs. Kavanaugh was seated, looking down at her lap. Allie remembered Janelle saying that her parents had fought about the pageant and that her father had, naturally, won.

  “Man,” said Dub, watching Mr. Kavanaugh with disdain. “He acts like he owns the place.”

  “He probably does,” said Julie. She scanned the crowd, looked at her watch, and said, “My parents better get here soon, or they’re going to be way in the back.”

  “Hey, I didn’t know Indians had pink plastic digital watches back then,” Pam said innocently.

  “Oops!” said Julie. She took off her watch and put it in the pocket of her calico dress. “That was a close one.”

  Just then Allie spotted Karen Laver coming down the aisle toward the front row. She gasped, and elbowed Dub sharply. “Look! It’s Karen—and she’s heading for the Kavanaughs.”

  With a simpering smile on her face, Karen stood waiting for the Kavanaughs to finish their conversation.

  Miss Lunsford bustled past backstage, her cheeks flushed, calling, “Two minutes until curtain! Places, everyone. Places, please!”

  Allie and the other kids couldn’t tear their eyes away as the Kavanaughs turned to look questioningly at Karen. Allie’s heart sank when Karen began to speak. She watched Mr. and Mrs. Kavanaugh’s expressions change from polite interest to surprise. When Karen had finished, Mrs. Kavanaugh’s face was unreadable. But there was no mistaking her husband’s fury.

  The house lights went dark, and Allie and the others ran to take their places as the curtain rose.

  Twenty-five

  In the first scene of the pageant, Allie stood onstage as Janelle Kavanaugh spoke the opening words. “My name is Skayendady. I am a Seneca Indian. My age is twelve winters. I belong to the Wolf Clan.”

  Allie tried to collect herself, thankful for the moment that she was blinded by the bright stage lights, as Janelle went on with the words of the script: “This is my story. It is a story of how settlers from across the sea came to the lands of my people. It is a story of friendship.”

  Janelle had never become comfortable in her role. Her delivery was, if possible, more flat and unconvincing than ever. Maybe because she knows it’s all untrue, Allie thought.

  Allie went through the motions of her part, acting out the scenes where she and the other Senecas first greeted the settlers, accepted their gifts, and gave them food in return. It seemed to drag on and on, and felt more false than ever. She was grateful, though, for all the rehearsals that allowed her to keep going even though her mind was spinning in panic about Mr. Kavanaugh.

  Finally, there was a scene that didn’t include her, and she was able to leave the stage. She passed Dub, who was just coming on. There was no time to talk, but he gave her a wide-eyed look and mouthed the words Mr. Kavanaugh!

  From offstage, Allie peered around the edge of the curtain and saw that Mr. Kavanaugh was no longer in his seat. He was standing between a set of stairs that led up to the stage and a doorway that led to the backstage right area. His face was tight and angry.

  “Allie!” someone whispered. It was Michael, standing next to Brad and Joey. He was grinning, completely unaware of the impending disaster. Even in her desperate state, Allie noted that Brad and Joey looked terrific, every inch the figures of George Washington and General John Sullivan.

  “Hi, Mike,” she said hurriedly. “Hi, guys. Boy, am I glad you’re here. Mr. Kavanaugh—”

  “We know,” said Brad. “Dub told us. What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Allie. “Where’s Uncle Hal?”

  “Checking out the spotlight system one last time,” said Brad.

  “What if Kavanaugh just barges up onstage before our part even gets started?” Joey asked.

  Allie, too, was worried about this.

  Miss Lunsford rushed by then, looking frazzled. “Allie!” she said. “You’re on in the next scene!”

  “Okay,” Allie answered. To Brad and Joey she said, “Look, I’ve got to get back out there. Just go ahead with the plan, I guess. And keep your fingers crossed!”

  They nodded, but Michael grasped her hand, his face grave, and asked, “When do we get to do the smoke bombs?”

  She knelt down in front of him, took his other hand, and tried to smile. “Soon, Mike,” she said. “You stay with these guys until it’s time, then do everything just the way we practiced, okay?”

  Michael nodded, and smiled, too. “Okay!”

  Allie raced back to take her place for the scene in which the settlers and the Seneca gather for a feast. As she pretended to be enjoying the wonderful food and her newfound friendship with the settlers, she looked over at Mr. Kavanaugh, who was still standing by the stage door. Immediately she wished she hadn’t.

  The thin mask of joviality and charm he usually remembered to wear had been completely stripped away, revealing his true face. He was staring back at her, and she thought that the anger he’d shown before was far less frightening than this cold appraisal. She saw clearly that, at that moment, she was no more to him than an obstacle in his path. She was an annoying bug that needed to be squashed. He was simply figuring out the least troublesome, most efficient way to go about it.

  To add to the tumult in her mind, she was strongly aware of the presence of the ghost of the real Skayendady. For over a week, Skayendady’s spirit had been hovering in the background, seemingly content with the way Allie was handling matters. She hadn’t done anything—or made Allie do anything—overt or embarrassing. But now Allie sensed that she was greatly agitated.

  At last the feast scene ended. As the curtain was closing, she saw Mr. Kavanaugh reach into his pocket and take out what looked like a cell phone. Allie fled the stage.

  The next scene was a long one in which the Seneca braves showed their hunting and fishing methods to the male settlers. Allie felt utterly unnerved. She really needed to talk to Dub.

  Miss Lunsford, the techs, and the cast members who weren’t onstage gathered in the backstage left area, but Allie headed to the quiet, shadowy wing to the right, where there was a little area partitioned off with plywood that had been painted black. She had last seen Dub there, pacing back and forth, going over the lines of his big scene one final time.

  “Dub!” she whispered. She heard muffled footsteps and whispered again, “Dub? I’ve got to talk to you!”

  Allie peered around the plywood partition into the dimness,
where music stands, folding chairs, some risers, an electric keyboard, and bits of stage sets and scenery from past productions were jumbled together haphazardly.

  A creak was followed by a faint click, as if the door that led from the theater to the backstage area was being closed very carefully. Then Allie heard more footsteps, coming toward her.

  Uncertain now and a little nervous, she whispered, “Dub, what are you doing?”

  A figure stepped from the shadows. “Dub—” Allie began. Then her stomach flip-flopped. It wasn’t Dub but Darryl Kavanaugh.

  Twenty-six

  For a moment Allie and Darryl Kavanaugh stared at each other in silence. Then Mr. Kavanaugh spoke. In a low voice, so as not to be heard from the theater, he said, “Call it off.”

  Allie was too stunned to respond.

  “You know what I’m talking about. Call it off now.”

  When Allie still didn’t answer, he sighed and said, “You’ve stepped into something way over your head. I know all about this crazy stunt of yours, and it isn’t going to work. So save yourself a lot of embarrassment and stop it now.” The softness of his voice only added to the menace Allie felt in his words.

  “Go tell your friends,” he said calmly. “The fun’s over.”

  Allie wanted to speak or run or do something, but she felt immobilized. She knew that all she had to do was scream, and everyone in the theater would hear her. But she didn’t want to ruin the pageant, not now, when they were so close to the end.

  Her mind raced. If Mr. Kavanaugh was sure their “stunt” wouldn’t work, why was he trying to get Allie to call it off? Maybe there was still a chance they would succeed.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  Darryl Kavanaugh dropped his calm demeanor and let out an irritated sigh. “Listen, you little brat,” he said venomously. “I’m trying to give you a chance here, but I’ve had it with you.”