Free Rebel Spirits by Lois Ruby

sunlight.
    But then, as I’m getting dressed, I notice a small, folded-up note has been slipped under my door. Feeling a prickle of fear, I pick up the note and unfold it cautiously. Printed in big block letters on Coolspring Inn stationery are the words, FRET NOT — OTHERS SEE THEM, TOO. No signature.
    Who’s them ? Shadowy figures running out of the shed in the middle of the night? Or ghosts? Could it be that somebody else in the house sees spirits? I know Charlotte does, but she wouldn’t have sent me a note — we’d talked about it already. What’s the point of the note? To reassure me that I’m not nuts? Or is it some sort of warning?
    I’m mulling all these questions over in my mind as I finish dressing and hurry downstairs to help Hannah with breakfast. Is she the one who wrote the note? I check her out for a conspiratorial glance — ha-ha, we’re in this weird space together, kid, both of us hanging on the kalunga line.
    But Hannah is as no-nonsense as always as she bustles around the kitchen. On the counter there’s a mountain of gaping orange halves. Hannah says, “Toss those rinds in the compost heap, dearie. The worms adore oranges. I wouldn’tdare put all that stuff down the disposal, the way it’s been acting up. Your poor father had to get down into the throat of the pipe again.”
    I nod, feeling relieved as I spot the industrial-strength yellow stick plunger in the corner. So it was probably Dad in the shed last night, getting the plunger, and he thought I was an intruder. But something still doesn’t sit right with me.
     
    After breakfast, I e-mail Randy.
    [email protected]
Up for a Skype chat, Randy?
     
    [email protected]
[auto-response] Hey, friends, I’m out in the villages upriver. Won’t return to civilization, e.g., Internet, until July 4. Happy Independence Day, all you Americans. Independence Day ’round here is March 6. Get back to you ASAP.
     
    Deflated, I try Jocelyn. Wish I could text her. She’s not great about responding to my e-mails. I guess the horsey girls don’tgive her much free time, or there aren’t good hot spots at the camp. Too bad, because everything around here is getting hotter by the minute.
    [email protected]
Hey, Jos. What would you think if you were in a pitch-dark garden shed & heard someone else in there, but you couldn’t see him, & then he dropped to the floor & took a flying leap over the split door to escape you? Make that me . Crazy things are happening here, & I’m, oh, a tad confused. Help!
     
    I realize it sounds hysterical and melodramatic, so I delete the whole message and slip into my running shorts, T-shirt, and sneakers. I sprint downstairs with one of my softballs. It feels good to toss it hand to hand while I pass by Gertie. She’s been sniffing around for Brownie, who’s out doing the Gettysburg tourist thing with her owners.
    “Let’s go outside, Gertie Girl.” That pacifies her, and she’s down the stairs in a flash, nosing at the back door. Outside, a rabbit crosses her path, and she barks madly and chases the terrorized creature.
    Evan Maxwell comes running around the house, clutching garden shears. “What’s happening here?” he asks breathlessly. “I heard Gertie going nuts.”
    “She’s so brave, chasing a rabbit one-tenth her size. Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”
    “You are?” He stands up taller and sweeps a sweaty lock of hair off his forehead. “Happy to see me — that’s the best news of the day, compared to the other news, from Princeton. A thick envelope from a university is great. This was a thin envelope.”
    “I’m sorry, Evan. Was Princeton your first choice?”
    “Third. I’m holding out for Stanford. I was wait-listed there, too.”
    A tiny glimmer of disappointment surprises me: He’ll be off to college in the fall. But then I think, Why should I care? We’re not really friends. “Can we talk about something that’s bugging me?” I ask him.
    Evan drops the clippers, grabs the