Is She for Real? Read online

  Can History Repeat itself?

  When Bethany Warren moves from New York City to the small town of Warwick, she’s surprised at how quickly everything in her life seems to fall into place. She finds a great group of friends, and even has a new boyfriend, Nate Carlson, who lives next door and gives her a beautiful old ruby ring.

  Everyone in Warwick is a little obsessed with the Legend of Lady Warwick, the town’s namesake, who, according to the legend, was mistakenly buried alive and now haunts the people of Warwick. Bethany thinks it’s just silly old town folklore, but then she starts acting strangely. Her new friends start to wonder: Is she for real? Will Bethany snap out of it, or is real life imitating legend a little too closely?

  GO TO SLEEP . . . IF YOU DARE!

  THERE ARE MORE CREEPY BOOKS

  AT YOUR FAVORITE STORE!

  LOOK INSIDE FOR

  SPOOKY ACTIVITIES

  FROM

  P. J. NIGHT

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Cover art by Aly Turner

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  Copyright © 2012 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  SIMON SPOTLIGHT and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  YOU’RE INVITED TO A CREEPOVER is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Text by Kama Einhorn

  Designed by Nicholas Sciacca

  First Edition

  ISBN 978-1-4424-5056-1

  ISBN 978-1-4424-5057-8 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 2012930111

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  A figure walked through the fog onto the sand. It was dark and visibility was poor, except for the thin beam of light shining on the ocean from the full moon above.

  He crossed the beach, his fine leather shoes covered in sand up to the silver buckles, but he paid that no mind.

  The man wore a thick woolen cloak. He stood in the dark in front of the roaring waves and spoke softly.

  “I am sorry for all the days I spent at sea, my lady. I am sorry for every day that I did not spend with you.”

  His voice grew louder, and he dug his hand into the pocket of his waistcoat to clutch the ring.

  “I have burned all your things, milady, having kept only this ring to remember you by. This ring that I slipped on your finger because I loved you so. But you were never the same after that.”

  He paused, now overtaken by sobs.

  Please believe me, he thought.

  After a moment, he gathered himself and held the ring above his head.

  “This ring … this ring is to blame … I curse this ring!”

  He hurled it into the sea.

  Nate Carlson was psyched to take his metal detector to the beach. The walk to the beach was a short one because the beach was right behind his house. “The beach is my backyard!” Nate used to tell his friends when he was little. He supposed he got that line from his parents, who said it all the time. It was true, anyway, and pretty awesome. There was a small lawn between his house and the beach, but that was it. Nate felt that wonderful familiar feeling of anticipation as he approached the sand. It was a cloudy, windy day, so he had the beach to himself.

  Slipping off his shoes, Nate stepped onto the cool sand. He switched on the metal detector and started walking, scanning the sand back and forth.

  A large black bird swooped near his head. As he ducked, he thought of his twin sister, Lissa. That bird would have sent her running home. Birds totally creeped her out, especially when they flapped too close to her head. He looked up to see a few of them circling above. The others were dive-bombing the water, catching food. They would drop straight down out of the sky, beak forward, disappear into the water, then come up with a crab struggling in their beaks.

  It was cool to watch. He had never noticed this type of bird before, but then again, he never paid much attention to birds.

  Beep, beep, beep! Nate’s thoughts about birds were interrupted by the sound of the metal detector going off. Nate bent down and dug around a little. All he found was an old, crushed tin can. He left it there and kept walking, looking at the variety of shells along the tide line. His favorite were the jackknife clams, which were long and thin, and the jingle shells, which his mother called “angels’ toenails” because of their golden shiny hue. Nate’s mom said a lot of things that, in Nate’s opinion, were pretty corny.

  Beep, beep, beep! He dropped to his knees and dug around, not finding anything at all. But when he scanned the spot again, the detector kept beeping. He dug deeper—still nothing. But when he scanned the spot again, beep, beep, beep!

  He dug deeper than he had before, the sand growing colder and damper the deeper he went. He felt around in the sand for something, anything, but couldn’t find the source of what was setting off the detector. But still … Beep, beep, beep!

  He had dug maybe three feet down with his bare hands when a tiny flash of gold caught his eye. He fished around until his fingers closed around something. Pulling his hand free, Nate looked in his palm and saw it: A small, perfect ruby ring. This may actually be treasure, Nate thought. He sat and stared at it as he brushed the sand off with the bottom of his shirt, squinting to get a better look. He realized that the late afternoon sun had gone down, and the sky had suddenly grown quite dark. A strange feeling settled over him just then. He looked around—had anyone seen him find this ring? Should he show someone? The strange feeling grew deeper, and on some level, Nate realized he felt very nervous all of a sudden. Were there rules of buried treasure? Should he call the police?

  What is going on with me? Nate wondered, trying to dismiss the feeling and focus, instead, on his discovery. But before he could do either, a loud crack startled him. He looked up to see a brilliant flash of lightning over the ocean. I’d better get home fast, Nate thought. He had promised his parents he’d never use the metal detector outside on the beach in stormy weather. The sun had been shining just a few moments ago, but a storm was definitely coming. Nate knew it wasn’t safe to be outside with the metal detector during a lightning storm. Quickly shoving the ring deep in his pocket, he ran to gather his shoes and head inside.

  I am the owner of actual buried treasure, he thought as he walked, the ring safely in his pocket. But what do I do with it? Maybe I should give it to my love. He almost laughed out loud at the thought. Ha! There are no girls at school I even like that way, much less love.

  When Nate got home, he deposited his metal detector on the enclosed porch in the back of the house and headed inside for a snack. Standing in the kitchen at the side of the ho
use, he saw a moving van parked on his street. Three men were carrying boxes and furniture into the empty house on the other side of the graveyard. If Nate’s backyard was the beach, his “side yard” was a graveyard, which was just as unique, but not quite as much fun, since his parents didn’t exactly let him hang out there. At the other side of the graveyard was a large house that had been vacant for months, since old Mr. Reiney had passed away. But it looked like someone was finally moving in. Nate was curious and headed back out the door to investigate.

  Crossing the graveyard, he saw a couple about his parents’ age, an older woman, and a girl about his age standing on the porch of the house. As he approached, the couple waved and the girl smiled.

  Nate wasn’t shy. He waved back and smiled at the girl.

  The man was the first to speak. “Hello there!” he called. “Come on up to the porch!” He and his wife and the old lady and the girl were all looking at Nate.

  The girl was beautiful, with long, curly blond hair that swooped over one eye, and the lightest, brightest blue eyes Nate had ever seen.

  “I’m Richard, and this is my wife, Sally, and my aunt Mimi,” he said, gesturing toward the old woman, who smiled but didn’t say anything. “And this is our daughter, Bethany.”

  Bethany smiled at Nate. “Hi,” she said simply. Nate stood and stared at Bethany, trying to think of something to say. His mind was suddenly blank.

  Think, Nate! Speak! Say something! “Hi,” he finally said to the small group. “I’m Nate Carlson, and I live over there on the other side of the graveyard. My parents run the bed-and-breakfast, but we live there too.” He pointed to his house. “I guess the neighbors in between our houses can’t really introduce themselves,” he added, then cringed at his attempt at humor. Did that sound lame? he wondered.

  But Bethany laughed, so Nate relaxed.

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Nate,” Richard said. “You two look about the same age. Are you in seventh grade?”

  “Yes.” Nate nodded.

  “Well, I guess we’ll be seeing each other in school then,” Bethany said. She gave a quick wave and went into the house.

  “Well, bye,” Nate said to the group.

  “Great meeting you, Nate,” Bethany’s mom said.

  “You too. See you later.” Nate turned and headed home, all the time forcing himself not to turn around to see if Bethany had come back out of the house.

  Early the next morning on her way downstairs to breakfast, Lissa Carlson rolled her eyes as she sprang down the steps and passed the familiar framed story that hung in the entryway:

  Welcome to the Warwick Inn!

  In 1659 Lord and Lady Warwick arrived from England to establish a new settlement in Connecticut. Because they were the leaders of the original group of settlers, the town was named for them.

  Lady Warwick was a legendary beauty, with pale skin, emerald-green eyes, and ruby-red lips. It is said that she always wore her long black hair poker straight and parted precisely in the middle, though that style was not at all in vogue during her lifetime. During the last few years of her young life, she always wore a ruby ring that had been a gift from her beloved husband. Legend has it that Lord Warwick brought the ring to her as a peace offering after returning from a long fishing voyage.

  Lord Warwick loved the sea and would often go on very long fishing voyages. While he was away, Lady Warwick worried constantly about his safety, but she was also very jealous and became convinced he had a mistress. Lord Warwick returned from what was to be his final voyage to find Lady Warwick very ill. She was also very angry and claimed he had broken her heart by being untrue to her. Soon after, she fell into a coma and died, and the bereaved Lord Warwick buried her behind their home.

  Years later, when Lord Warwick (who had since become the town’s governor) moved to a different house nearby, he had her coffin dug up to be moved to the land of his new house. The grave diggers found the coffin suspiciously light, so they opened it up. They found the inside of the coffin scratched up … and Lady Warwick’s body GONE! Lord Warwick and her doctor had buried her alive. Presumably they had been unable to detect a faint heartbeat without a stethoscope. But where was her body?

  To avoid suspicion of witchcraft, Lord Warwick had the coffin burned and ordered all her possessions burned as well. He lived out the rest of his days alone, and left the instruction that upon his death, he was to be buried in the town graveyard, with Lady Warwick’s gravestone placed next to his.

  Local legend says that if you hear the wind tapping at your window in the town of Old Warwick, it’s really Lady Warwick’s ghost trying to get back inside to reunite with her beloved husband. And she’s still brokenhearted and angry, so watch out!

  Bouncing into the kitchen, Lissa found her parents sipping coffee at the breakfast table. She grabbed a waffle off the plate. Nate was already halfway through his waffle, which he had slathered in his usual combination of peanut butter and bananas, with honey drizzled on top. His shaggy hair half obscured his face. Lissa preferred her waffles with just a touch of peanut butter and a pat of jelly.

  Lissa and Nate were twins, and their faces certainly looked similar, but their personal styles couldn’t have been more different. Nate had a disheveled skateboarder look, while Lissa kept herself very tidy and wore her hair short. They both had dark blond hair and big brown eyes, and the same exact dimples when they smiled.

  “These are very strange children,” said Mrs. Carlson, addressing her husband. “They seem to think their waffles are slices of bread and it’s lunchtime. Who doesn’t want butter and syrup on a waffle?”

  “Go figure,” said Mr. Carlson, smiling at Nate and Lissa as they happily munched their waffles. They had to eat quickly to get the bus in time. As they ate, their parents discussed the B and B business of the day: which guests were coming, which were checking out, and other fascinating matters.

  “I’m going to try making a new granola this week,” said Mrs. Carlson. “It’s going to have cranberries and cashews.”

  “Sounds amazing,” Mr. Carlson said. “I did love last week’s, though, with the dried blueberries and the coconut. What about the scones? Do we have any more dried cherries for the cherry-ginger version you made a while ago? That was a big hit.”

  “We have the cherries, but I only have fresh ginger, and that recipe called for sweetened, crystallized ginger,” Mrs. Carlson said. “But I’ll go online and figure out how to crystallize it myself. It can’t be too hard.”

  “Excellent,” Mr. Carlson said, smiling happily at his wife.

  “Hey, everyone, did you notice the moving truck at the house on the other side of the graveyard yesterday?” Mrs. Carlson asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Nate said, trying to sound like it was no big deal. Like the truck hadn’t contained the possessions of the most beautiful girl he’d ever laid eyes on. “I meant to tell you. A family moved in there. They’re nice.” He tried to make it sound as simple as possible: They’re nice.

  “Really?” Lissa said. “Are there kids?”

  “Uh, yeah, one,” Nate replied. “A girl. And she’s in seventh grade, so I’m sure we’ll be seeing her in school.” I hope I see her at school, he added silently.

  “Yay!” Lissa said. “Finally a kid in the neighborhood! What’s she like?”

  “I dunno. She’s cool,” Nate said, and stuffed his face with waffle to avoid talking any more about Bethany.

  “Well, I’m glad someone’s finally moving in,” Mr. Carlson said. “That’s a great house, and I’m excited to meet our new neighbors. The neighborhood hasn’t felt the same since Mr. Reiney passed away.” Elderly Mr. Reiney had lived alone in that house and had been the president of the Old Warwick Historical Society.

  “I know. Maybe they’ll join the historical society,” Mrs. Carlson said hopefully.

  Nate and Lissa met each other’s glance, and Nate rolled his eyes the exact same way Lissa did. Their parents were an endless source of entertainment for them.

  Bu
t the truth was, their parents loved their jobs owning and operating the Warwick Inn. The family lived in a wing that was mostly separate from the main part of the B and B, so it wasn’t too weird, and sometimes Nate and Lissa would go for days without seeing a single guest.

  Tourists came from all over to get a dose of town history, which Lissa’s parents were more than happy to give them. The walls of the inn were full of historical photos, documents, and maps, including the ghost story above the staircase. Apparently, to some people, the history of colonial Connecticut was all the rage. Who were these people? Nate and Lissa often wondered.

  “Remember, you said Olivia and Lily could sleep over Friday night,” Lissa reminded her mom. “We’re going to make cookie dough and then not bake it. Just eat it.”

  “Right, Liss,” her mom said. “That’s fine, of course you can have your sleepover. But I wish you wouldn’t eat raw dough. It’ll make you sick.”

  “I disagree,” Nate said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin, as if commenting on something of great importance. “I’ve eaten plenty of raw cookie dough in my time, without incident.”

  “Oh, have you, young sir?” his dad said with a laugh. “Hurry up, the two of you, before you miss the bus.”

  Lissa grabbed her backpack and turned to her mother. “That’s what kids do at sleepover parties,” she said. “It’s not like we sit around and tell ghost stories.”

  “Well, I don’t see why not,” her mom replied earnestly. “You’ve got the best ghost story in the country right here in this town. But suit yourself!” Lissa smiled and rolled her eyes one more time as she and Nate took off.

  The bus stopped right next door to the Carlsons’, in front of the old graveyard, where Lord Warwick was buried next to the gravestone of Lady Warwick. This had been a huge selling point twenty years ago, when the Carlsons were looking for a property to start their B and B.

  Another big selling point was that the site of Lord and Lady Warwick’s original home, the home she died in and had been buried next to, was just a few blocks away. There was no actual house there because Lord Warwick had it burned to the ground after she died. There was just a historical marker on a large stone.