EIGHT
Daddy bellows the end of a song, crooning as his guitar rings out a long note. The crowd surrounding the stage hoots and hollers in response, the applause lighting up the room.
“Wow, your pops can really play that thang!” Myah says across the bar table, sipping water.
We came to see Daddy’s show before we go on part one of our mission tonight: talking to Asher about the Myers House.
Robby wasn’t allowed to come (Lena: “A bar is no place for little boys”), but he’s busy at home doing research. (On what? No clue.)
“Yo, these ribs are fire!” I say through a mouthful of food.
“Nah. My uncle makes the best ribs in the city. These are just okay. You’ll see.”
Daddy bows to the applause and makes his way over to our table in the corner. Clearly we’re sitting VIP since we’re the only two kids in the entire place.
“You sure you got enough food?” Daddy asks, looking over my platter of ribs, mac and cheese, black-eyed peas, and hush puppies.
“I told them to put it on your tab,” I say, offering him a hush puppy. “These taste just like Grandma’s!”
Daddy smiles. “Told you this place had some good food.”
I motion across the table. “Dad, this is Myah Horton. Myah, Dad. Myah and her parents were at Tim Truman’s memorial yesterday.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” Myah says with a nod.
“Hey, likewise. I love seeing baby girl make new friends. You from Savannah?”
“Yes, sir. Born at Memorial.”
“And what school do you go to?”
“I’m at Hubert Middle School.”
Dad grins. “All right. That’s a good school!”
“What do you know about schools down here?” I ask with a laugh.
Dad shrugs. “Eh, I know lots of things! Let me get back to work. Looks like I’ll be working overtime trying to pay off your tab.”
Dad throws me a wink before heading back to the stage and on to his next song.
“How long have you been traveling with your pops?” Myah asks.
I wipe my mouth clean with a napkin. “Almost six months.”
“That’s cool. You homeschooling or something?”
“Yeah, but we’re gonna go back to Harlem in the fall, before I start school. You ever been to New York?”
“Ew. With all them people living on top of each other, sharing the streets with rats as big as fat cats? No, thanks.”
I laugh. “That’s mad OD! It’s the greatest city in the world! Better than living on top of a graveyard.”
“That’s what all you New Yorkers say. But nah, I get it. Life is much … slower down here. But a good slow, you know what I’m saying?” She laughs, her necklace bouncing off her shirt.
“Yo, what did you mean when you said … ‘And I know how to prove it’? How you gonna prove it’s Mr. Truman in that house?”
“Oh! ’Cause I know how to talk to spirits.”
I wait for her to say “sike” or “just kidding,” but she remains stone-faced.
“Ummm … what?”
Myah blows out some air. “I know. It sounds crazy, but it’s true. I’ve been hearing ghosts all my life.”
“So, you really know how to talk to them? How?”
“Well. I haven’t really tried. I mean, when I did, my grandmama got real mad. It’s why she makes me wear this mojo bag. To keep bad spirits away ’cause I got the gift.”
I want to laugh, but she seems dead serious.
“You … don’t tell people that often, do you?”
She shrinks a bit. “No. Gives everybody the creeps, talking about the dead and stuff. Black people don’t even go on ghost tours and yet YOU do. So, I feel like I can trust you with this stuff.”
“Thanks. I guess it is kind of weird, right?”
“A little. Just don’t go running your mouth off about it.”
I hold my tongue. Why are ghosts such a touchy subject? Why can’t we talk about the dead? I’m sure they talk about us. But maybe she’s right. We should keep this story between us for now. Which means, no telling Kiki and Truth. Strange to think of keeping secrets from them.
I wipe my sticky hands, checking the time. “All right. Let’s go find Asher.”
“Where is this guy? ” Myah says, tapping her foot by the bench in Madison Square.
“He’ll be here! The website said they have a tour at nine p.m. tonight.”
We hang away from the crowd, closer to the sidewalk. The streets are full of people.
Myah checks the time. “I don’t want to be too late riding that City Kitty.”
“City Kitty?”
“The CAT bus, girl. Most of us take it, but it just come when it wants to.”
“Is that Myah? Myah!” someone calls out.
A boy our age with short, skinny dreads rides down the street on his bike with three other boys riding behind him.
“Who’s that?” I ask, trying not to frown but failing.
Myah’s face falls and she turns away.
The boy stands on his bike, shouting, “Myah, what you doing down here? Don’t want to be seen out, huh? Still owe them folk all that money, huh? HAHHH HAHHH!”
The boy rides off, his laugh echoing off the buildings, and his friends follow, all of them cackling and teasing as the group fades into the shadows.
“Uhhhh … What was that about?” I ask. Those boys were mad annoying.
Myah straightens and shakes her head as if nothing had happened at all. “Anyway, you had them twenty-five-cent oysters yet? Or the saltwater taffy and candied apples? So dang loud down here. So much traffic. You probably used to that being from New York, right?”
Is she really gonna pretend some boy wasn’t just clowning her out here? I open my mouth right as I spot Asher walking toward the square.
“There he is!” I tip my chin in his direction.
Myah does a double take. “That’s your ghost expert?”
I laugh. “Come on!”
We race up the block to cut him off, hoping to have a little privacy.
“Hi, Asher! Do you remember me?” I ask him.
Startled at first, he takes me in and smiles.
“Hey? Yes! Hi. I remember you. From a couple nights ago, right?”
“Right. Listen, I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”
He looks at Myah with a confused grin and checks his watch. “Sorry. I don’t really have time to talk. I’m about to give a tour.”
“It’ll be quick! I swear.”
He looks over at the crowd forming in the square. “Well. Okay. But let’s make this fast. Don’t want the guests to get antsy!”
“Remember the other night, when you took us to Calhoun Square? You said it was an African American burial ground with a lot of activity, right?”
“Yes?”
I pull out the blown-up picture from my bag. “You know this house, right?”
Asher stares at the photo for a moment, frowning. “Uhhh, no. Nothing comes to mind.”
I blink. “You said it was the Myers House. Belonged to a woman who died next to the window?”
Asher breathes in and takes another look. “Oh! Yeah. Right. Sorry, it looks different.”
“Do you see anything … weird in it? Maybe in the window?” Myah suggests.
His eyes ping-pong between us, then focus on the photo again. He swallows hard, staring.
“Huh. Well. Looks like there are some lights.”
“Yes! Orbs!” I say.
He twists the photo around as if a different angle will make it clearer. “You think it’s a ghost? Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes, sorta.”
“See, we think it’s the ghost of Tim Truman,” Myah goes on to explain. “You ever heard of him? He was found dead a few days ago.”
Asher’s eyes go wide. “Whoa! No, sorry, I never heard of him. Sounds awful.” He shakes his head. “Well, I don’t think you captured a ghost there.”
“But what are those lights?” I ask.
He chuckles. “Could be anything! Probably just some random streetlights or a flash hitting a piece of glass inside.”
“You don’t think it’s the ghost of Elizabeth Myers?” I challenge him. Doesn’t he see that shadow of a person behind the lights?
He looks again as if he’s thinking hard, then wags his finger.
“You know, the City Council voted to tear the Myers House down a few weeks ago. Another condemned mansion. The ceiling caved in and just about everything is rotted. Too dangerous to try to restore. But they did mention some old mirrors inside, so that’s probably it.”
Myah shakes her head. “Soooo … you really don’t think it’s a ghost?”
“Nope. Afraid not.” He hands me back the photo. “And … I wouldn’t bother anyone with this. People who don’t believe in ghosts or the paranormal tend to get really sensitive about stuff like this. Especially when it comes to a dead loved one.”
I nod, understanding, but Myah still seems skeptical.
“Like I said, the place is boarded up and a hazard,” Asher adds. “So whatever you do, don’t go in that house. It’s dangerous in more ways than one.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, feeling nervous.
“Remember how I told you that square is full of dark energy? That energy can appear in different forms, like demonic spirits. Those spirits are known to attach themselves to people, especially children. You can end up bringing one of those spirits home with you.”
Myah turns into a statue.
“Now, if you would excuse me, I have a tour to get to. But if you want to know more about ghosts, you can take my extended tour. I go into deeper history about the haunts in Savannah. Have a good night, guys!”
Myah and I watch him walk away and start his performance in the square.
“Is that it?” Myah asks, all sad.
Real talk, of all people, I would’ve thought Asher would be on our side. I’m shocked. He seemed so cool and into paranormal stuff. Maybe I misread him. Maybe he’s just like everyone else who blows off kids.
I shake my head. “We need another opinion.”