Haunted by doubts
The story so far: After a disturbing encounter with Joe, Ben finds a lighter and flicks it on and off, nervously. Rachel sees him head to the barn and runs to stop him, accusing him of planning to start a fire.
n CHAPTER TEN
Haunted by doubts
The next few days were torture. Every time Ben saw Rachel he wanted to explain why he had the lighter, tell her that he would never harm the horses, that he wasn’t a firebug like his father. But she avoided him, and each time he remembered their confrontation in the barn he was speechless with embarrassment. If she told on him, would they believe his explanation? Joe’s warning, The first time you mess up, you’re out of here, tormented him.
And to make matters worse, he seemed cursed: wherever he went, inside or out, he stumbled over matchbooks, and sometimes lighters. Every time it happened he recoiled as if he had been burned, and he couldn’t help wondering if Joe was deliberately leaving them around for him to find. But he didn’t see Joe around, and he didn’t even know anymore if he had dreamed him, if Joe was just a pain- in- the- neck living guy, or if he was a pain-in-the-neck dead guy. The whole thing was beginning to drive Ben over the edge. He didn’t dare talk to anyone about it – they’d probably think he was nuts. What if he really had spoken to a ghost? Maybe he was nuts. By Saturday afternoon he was so jumpy he decided to go for a run just to burn off some of the tension.
The heat was punishing as Ben labored up the driveway at the end of three miles. He was out of shape, and it was the worst time to run on a summer day, but it was the perfect excuse for collapsing on the front steps and groaning. The air burned in his throat with each gasp.
“Tough workout, huh?” Mr. Brennan said, coming out onto the porch.
Ben nodded, sweat pouring from his brow and stinging his eyes.
Mr. Brennan sat down beside him. “Listen, I’ve noticed that maybe you’re not feeling right at home yet. If something’s troubling you, don’t be afraid to get it off your chest.”
Ben let out a stifled, bitter laugh as he gulped for breath. How was he supposed to say he was pretty sure a ghost was taunting him by leaving matches around? How was he supposed to say this ghost was trying to turn him into a firebug like his dad? No way. “I’m okay,” he panted.
“And don’t forget, any time you want to be your father . . .”
“What?” Ben gaped at Mr. Brennan.
“I said, if you want to see your father, just let me know.”
Rattled, Ben shook his head. Now he was hearing things, too. “No, thanks,” he said with difficulty. He pictured his father the last time they’d had a normal day – buying socks at the dollar store, nothing more special than that – but they’d had a decent time, eaten kebabs from a street vendor, talked about normal stuff. And all the time, as it turned out, his father had been expecting the police to arrive and arrest him.
And they had. And that was that.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut. It was all his father’s fault. Not that his life had been all that great. But at least it had been his. Now, here he was with these rich folks on a horse farm in the middle of nowhere.
“Well, just let me know,” the man repeated. “Mrs. Brennan and I are going out tonight, and should be back around twelve. There’s a bunch of DVDs from the movie store in the den.”
“Thanks.” Ben managed a wan smile, and wiped his dripping chin against his shoulder. “Mr. Brennan?”
“Yes?”
Brennan waited, an expectant look on his face, but Ben didn’t know what he wanted to ask. He just wanted.
“Never mind,” he said.
“Sure? Okay,” Mr. Brennan said when Ben nodded. “By the way, we’re moving Gogo to the track tomorrow. His big race is next Saturday, and we wanted to give him a few workouts over there. Come with us, I’ll show you around.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Ben glanced up at the barn. From snippets of conversation he had overheard, he knew that Wind Rider Farms was counting on Go By Wind. “Mr. Brennan?”
“Yes?”
“Is it true your barn burned down when you were my age and the horses – you lost your horses?”
The smile froze on Mr. Brennan’s face. “Why do you ask?”
“I just – ” Ben gulped. Was that a flicker of suspicion in the man’s eyes? “I just heard that, and I – I wondered,” he faltered.
Mr. Brennan looked up at the barn. His jaw tightened. “That’s all in the past,” he said finally. It was clear he didn’t want to discuss fire with Ben. “I believe in the future.”
Without another word, Mr. Brennan went inside. Joe’s words came back to Ben once more. The first time you mess up, you’re out of here.
Had Rachel told her uncle about the lighter, after all? Were the Brennans beginning to think they had made a dangerous mistake taking Ben in? Maybe they were planning to send him away – banish him? Then where would he go?
The unfairness of it flared up in Ben’s mind like a bonfire. Just because of a stupid lighter? Just because he had picked up a piece of litter, he was going to get tossed aside like a racehorse that wasn’t fast enough? Without even giving him a chance, they were going to assume the worst about him, that he was a firebug like his father? They couldn’t be so unfair, could they? Was their niceness just an act, after all?
Was it possible that Joe was right?
n NEXT WEEK: Evening up the score