Prologue
Adeline Argyle stared up at the rickety house on Sunflower Lane as the nice lady who worked for children’s services walked up the cracked sidewalk. A man who didn’t look anything like her daddy came outside, letting the rusty screen door slam behind him.
“Mr. Albert Argyle?” The lady asked.
“That’s right,” the man said, rubbing a hand down his beer belly. He had hair sticking up from his head like he’d just gotten out of the shower and forgot to comb it.
“I’m Dahlia Lowell, from children and family services. I have your niece, Adeline Argyle here.”
“Great niece, and you're late,” the man harrumphed before turning to go back inside. He didn’t offer a welcoming smile or so much as a second glance at Adeline, who stood a few paces behind Dahlia, her pink princess backpack on her shoulders.
Dahlia turned to Adeline. “Come on, Sweetheart. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” She offered Adeline her hand, and the little girl took it, not having anything else to hold on to.
“I don’t want to live here,” Adeline whispered.
The woman offered no response and simply led Adeline into the house.
Adeline wasn’t sure if Dahlia had heard her, not that it mattered.
They came into a small living room with an old linen couch that smelled of musk, smoke and beer.
It sat across the room from one of those old chunky televisions with knobs and antenna ears.
Adeline swallowed and held tightly to the straps of her backpack as she looked at the console table by the window. It had a row of framed photographs on it, but she didn’t recognize any of the people.
“Those are your grandparents,” the man said, catching her gaze.
“I’ve also got a picture there of my parents, and their parents.
You never met them.” He kept walking down a narrow hallway and stopped in the doorway of a room across from the bathroom.
“This will be your room.” He went inside and Dahlia followed, taking Adeline’s hand as she went.
“This is lovely,” Dahlia said.
Adeline wanted to groan. She didn’t see what was so lovely about a room with peeling green paint and a bed with an ugly brown quilt.
The dresser in the corner was missing the bottom drawer, leaving it with only two drawers.
“Look,” Dahlia said, going over to the dresser.
“You can use that empty space as a home for your dolls. What do you think?”
Adeline sighed. Dahlia was nice, but this room was nothing like her room back home. A place she would never see again. Adeline’s eyes welled with tears, but Dahlia either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “All right, Mr. Argyle. I have some forms for you to sign and then I’ll be out of your hair.”
Dahlia followed Albert out, leaving Adeline alone in her new room.
She hated every part of it, except for maybe that little space with the missing drawer that Dahlia said she could use as a home for her dolls.
Adeline shrugged out of her backpack and plopped onto the floor in front of the dresser.
She carefully unzipped her bag and pulled out her most prized possessions.
Dahlia still had a suitcase full of her clothes in her trunk, but what Adeline loved most were the dolls her parents had gotten her every year for Christmas and her birthday.
They weren’t expensive or fancy. Most of them were knockoffs of Barbies, but Adeline loved them.
She loved dressing them up, combing their hair, and playing house with them.
She pulled them out one by one and carefully arranged them in the small space. She had to lay them down to make them fit, but as she finished arranging each doll and moved on to sorting their clothes and other accessories, a smile started to replace her pout. Maybe her room wasn’t so bad.
“I wouldn’t sleep on that bed if I were you,” a growly male voice said in a weird tone.
Adeline jerked her head, nearly dropping the little comb in her hand. But there was no one there.
She gripped the doll’s comb tighter in her fingers, but just as she was about to place it in the little spot she’d left for it, the voice spoke again. “You are in such big trouble, Young Lady.”
Adeline’s breath hitched in her throat and she sputtered a cough. “Who’s there?” She asked in a croaked whisper. She stood and turned three hundred sixty degrees, the little hairs on the back of her neck standing upright. “Go away,” she demanded softly.
Only whoever had spoken didn’t go away. A white filmy substance came into view.
The longer Adeline stared at it, the more it came into focus.
A man? He had on clothes that looked like he’d just come out of a social studies book from a hundred years ago, and he wore a top hat that covered most of his forehead.
Adeline’s eyes grew wide as her fingers opened and the little comb fell to the old carpeted floor. “Who are you?” She asked.
The man looked at her, his eyes growing wider and then squinting as if trying to get a better look at her. “Who am I?” He asked sarcastically. “Did you just seriously talk to me?”
Adeline nodded.
“You can see me?” He asked, a mixture of horror and amusement lacing his tone.
Adeline nodded again.
“How?” He demanded, his hands on his hips.
Adeline shrugged. It wasn’t often she saw ghosts, but ever since she could remember, she’d always hated going to visit her mom’s mom at the cemetery because she was always seeing ghosts and spirits there, and they scared her.
She tried to ignore them, but it was hard. Especially when they said things.
“Why aren’t you at the cemetery like the others?” Adeline whispered. If Uncle Albert heard her, she’d be in big trouble. Her parents always scolded her when they’d catch her talking to someone they couldn’t see.
He shrugged. “I reckon my body is buried there, though I’m not actually sure. You can really see me? Hear me, too?”
Adeline nodded with a shaky breath. “What’s your name?”
“Crawford Mills, but my friends called me Ford.” He took a grandiose bow that made Adeline smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kid.”
“Adeline,” she said. “I’m Adeline. My mommy and daddy died, and now I have to live here with Uncle Albert. Is he nice?”
Ford was about to answer when Uncle Albert appeared in the doorway. “All right,” Albert said. “Dahlia put your suitcase out in the living room so you’ll need to go get it. Then I’ve got supper on the table if you’re hungry.”
Adeline hadn’t really thought about food, but now that he’d mentioned it, her belly was empty and she did want to eat.
She went back into the living room with the smelly couch, and wheeled her overstuffed suitcase into her new room.
Her mom had let her put princess stickers on the pink suitcase, but most of them were now faded or torn.
She touched her favorite sticker, the one her mom had given her when they’d gone to Disneyland last year.
A soft sigh escaped her lips as memories of that time with her parents flooded her mind. She missed them so much.
“Are you coming, Young Lady?” Uncle Albert called from the other room.
Adeline dropped her hand from the suitcase, and ran to join Uncle Albert in the kitchen.
She sat down at one of the two place settings and stared at the contents of a bowl in front of her.
She hated stew. Her eyes welled with tears, but she swallowed them back and wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve.
Uncle Albert cleared his throat, then cast his unforgiving gaze on her. “Now, let’s go over the rules of you living here, because I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. And I have to tell you, I’m not a fan of kids.”
Adeline, Age 9
“Everyone take your seat,” Mrs. Dunhill called out. “It’s time for independent reading. You can finish your science projects tomorrow. You’re all doing a wonderful job. I can’t wait to show them off next week at parent teacher conferences.”
Adeline sat down at her desk, rubbing at the black paint spot on her hand. She’d been so busy painting her volcano, she hadn’t even realized she’d gotten paint on herself until it had already dried.
“I like your volcano,” Martin Ellis said. He sat at the desk next to hers and was always trying to talk to her when Mrs. Dunhill wanted them to be quiet.
Adeline smiled politely and nodded her thanks.
She’d gotten in trouble before for talking when she wasn’t supposed to, and Uncle Albert had made her stay in her room all weekend.
She didn’t mind being in her room, but Uncle Albert only let her eat twice in two days and her stomach hurt.
She didn’t want to make him angry again, so she learned to stay quiet when she was told.
“What do you think of my fiery inferno?” Martin asked, excitedly.
Adeline rolled her eyes. He was going to get her in trouble. She kept her gaze on the book in front of her, doing her best to ignore him, but he persisted.
“Psst, Adeline, did you hear me? What do you think of my inferno?” Martin was a little taller than her and had the darkest hair Adeline had ever seen. Hers was also brown, but not nearly as dark. He also had the kind of eyes that always looked like they were about to spill a secret or crack a joke.
Adeline glanced over at him and smiled, then brought her index finger up to her lips to remind him they had to be quiet.
Martin shook his head. The defiant little twerp wasn’t going to stop. “Are both your parents coming to the parent teacher conference?”
His question shouldn’t have upset her, but it did. Her parents died when she was seven years old, and Uncle Albert wasn’t happy about having to take time off work to come to a stupid conference. He didn’t care about her volcano, and if she was being honest with herself, neither did she.