Chapter Five

From his vantage point already on the bus, Gus spotted Meghan kissing Deb goodbye. He looked away as quickly as possible: there were only so many times per day he could stomach watching his brother kiss Meghan—or anyone else, for that matter!

After Deb moseyed away, Meghan boarded the bus, spoke to Mr. Jones for a moment, negotiated the narrow aisle, and plopped down next to Gus in his seat about halfway back.

She eyed him with concern. “What the hell was that performance in history class?! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” Gus said.

Keeping his voice at a whisper—the bus was nearly full, and he didn’t want anyone eavesdropping—Gus explained everything that had happened since yesterday.

Meghan was floored. “A car in the woods? And Mrs. Miller thinks it was a… soul?” Meghan leaned into the last word with something approaching awe.

Gus shushed her. He was pretty sure the boy across the aisle had overheard at least “soul,” because he was stealing glances at them like they might turn into werewolves and bite his head off.

Meghan quieted. “Sorry. It’s just so… I don’t know—I’ve got nothing to compare it to!”

“We’ll be there in a few minutes,” Gus whispered. “Maybe you’ll see the car for yourself.”

When they were almost to the woods, Gus and Meghan moved to a more isolated seat near the rear of the now-half-empty bus.

Gus wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he see the car again? Would Meghan see it? He didn’t want to make a big show—it would already be a long time before his bus mates forgot his demonstration from this morning. He didn’t want to add any more moments for them to remember.

“Okay. Where do I look?” Meghan whispered.

Gus pointed out the big oak and described the path the car had followed. He didn’t see anything unusual at the moment. Neither did Meghan.

Gus concentrated hard on what he had seen that morning, trying to will the car into existence. The bus was almost even with the tree now, and—

To Gus’s surprise, the bus was slowing down. Then he remembered that this was the blonde girl’s stop—the one whose name he couldn’t recall—and then he remembered that they hadn’t picked her up that morning. Had she made it to school after all?

Gus looked around the bus and spotted her a few rows up gathering her things. He pointed her out to Meghan. “I feel like I know her, but I can’t remember her name. Is it ’Olivia’?”

Meghan followed where he was pointing. “Maybe? But I don’t think so. She’s in my biology class, but you know how Mr. Keeley is—‘good morning, Ms. Bartlett’, ‘good afternoon, Mr. Marsh.’ I know her as Ms. Howdershelt.”

Gus dismissed Olivia (or was it Sophia?) from his mind. He had only a few more seconds to make the phantom car appear.

The bus passed the tree, but no car careered though the woods. Gus focused on the area where he had first seen the car, then on the tree, and then on the area in between. He still didn’t see anything.

The bus slowed more as it approached Possibly-Olivia-or-Sophia’s long uphill driveway. Gus again scanned the length of the phantom car’s track. Nothing.

The bus stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, Gus saw the stop sign swing out from the side of the bus. He heard the whoosh of the door opening, and Mr. Jones bidding farewell—”see ya tomorrow, Soph”—to Almost-Certainly-Sophia.

Gus was just about to give up when he heard the unmistakable rev of an engine, coupled with squealing tires.

Gus searched the woods for the car, but nothing was there.

Meghan gasped. “Oh my God!”

For a split second, Gus thought Meghan must be seeing the phantom car. He turned to her. But Meghan wasn’t looking into the woods. She was staring toward the front of the bus, aghast.

As Gus whipped around to see what had caused Meghan to call out, several things happened in quick succession.

A pickup truck—nothing phantom about it—tore toward the front of the bus, driving in the opposite direction.

As Gus registered that this had been the source of the rev and the squeal, he watched Nearly-Roadkill-Sophia flatten herself against the side of the bus, barely escaping an untimely death. Her purse fell, scattering its contents.

The truck screamed past Sophia and sped along the rest of the bus. Stunned, Gus scraped together enough presence of mind to look at the license plate as it barreled by him. He could tell they were West Virginia tags, but only caught the first three digits—“14D”—before the pickup was beyond the back end of the bus and out of sight.

Mr. Jones screamed and hurled himself out the door and around the front of the bus to where Sophia was.

At that instant, Gus knew the car in the woods was back.

Gus stood in his seat. “Look!” he whispered hoarsely, and showed Meghan where to look.

Gus watched an encore of this morning’s performance. The car, which Gus could now see was something from the 1950s or 60s, was racing full-tilt through the woods. Quite literally “through,” as trees passed harmlessly through it.

From this vantage point, a little farther behind the car’s path, Gus could see its trajectory better. It never swerved, never wavered. Just accelerated. Whoever was driving that thing was pedal to the metal.

The phantom car began to shudder, as though it had left pavement and ventured onto gravel. A split second later, SMASH. Its hood wrapped around the oak. The driver of the car had apparently never noticed the tree. Or maybe they fell asleep?

The car faded.

Gus checked in with Meghan, but quickly realized she hadn’t seen anything. He glanced around.

Most of the kids on the bus were still absorbed with Sophia’s brush with death. Mr. Jones was outside helping Sophia to her feet while she desperately shielded him from tampons she was stuffing back into her purse.

But in the rows near Gus, kids stared at him like his face was upside-down. A middle schooler two seats in front of them looked particularly skeptical of his sanity.

Gus took stock and decided getting tough was his best bet. “What are you all looking at? Anyone else catch the license plate?”

No one answered, but no one looked away from him either.

Meghan stood up for Gus. “Maybe pay a little more attention to the important details and a little less attention to being jerks and someday you’ll actually be useful.”

That did the trick. Folks went back to watching Sophia.

Sophia dusted herself off, checked her purse and the ground around her one more time, crossed the other lane of traffic—safely—and started up her driveway. Gus noted that the driveway was so long and steep you couldn’t even see the house from the road.

Mr. Jones re-boarded the bus. “Anyone see anything?” he asked.

Gus jumped in. “I got the first part of the license plate: one-four-D.”

Mr. Jones grabbed a note and jotted it down. “One-four-D. That’s it?”

“Sorry,” Gus answered. “It was around the turn before I could catch the rest.”

Mr. Jones nodded. “All righty. I’ll report what we got. Y’all ready to go?”

“Hang on,” Gus said, and Mr. Jones eyed him.

Gus didn’t want to provoke any further suspicion, but he had something he needed to know. Mr. Jones was a professional driver—of sorts—and a bit older, which made him a likely person to ask.

As offhandedly as he could manage, Gus asked, “So, Mr. Jones, tell me”—an awkwardly formal start—“was there ever another road here? Like, say, a little in that direction?”

Gus indicated the woods. Without looking at the woods, or even blinking, Mr. Jones stared Gus down.

“What if there was?”

Gus assumed that meant yes. “It’s nothing. Just a little idle curiosity.”

Mr. Jones raised his voice. “Ya know poor Soph just about got killed, right? This feel like the right time for idle curiosity?”

Gus gulped but held his ground. “I got the license plate, sir.”

“You got part of it,” Mr. Jones snapped back, but his temper dissipated. He grunted. “This road used to be over there, but when 50 was moved for some drainage stuff, they moved this one too, so the intersection would be better.”

Gus tried to smile nonchalantly, and grimaced instead. “Thanks a ton, Mr. Jones.”

Mr. Jones grunted again and plopped into the driver’s chair. Meghan tugged Gus back down onto their seat.

“Thanks a ton?” Meghan mocked.

“I was trying to sound normal and I overdid it.”

“What did you see?”

They lurched as the bus started moving again.

“The car is aiming for that tree, I’m sure of it. It’s going off the road—or what used to be the road…” Gus trailed off when he noticed the middle schooler two seats ahead was peering over the back of her seat at them, her eyes wide.

Meghan also saw the girl gawking. “Wait and tell me when we get to your place.”

Gus was surprised. “You’re not getting off at your house?”

Meghan laughed. “Dude, we already passed my house. I stayed to see the car in the woods.”

Gus couldn’t help but laugh, too. “At least you know I’m not stalking you. I don’t even know where you live.”

“Deb‘ll bring me home,” Meghan explained. “He feels bad about forgetting it was Wednesday, so I’ll let him make it up to me.”

Gus certainly didn’t mind a few more hours with Meghan. Still, “We can’t talk about this with Mom around.”

“We’ll tell her we’re doing our history project.”

“Where?” Gus pressed. “The dining room table is right out in the middle of the house. She’ll hear us.” He almost went on—and I’m not hanging out in my bedroom with my brother’s girlfriend, no matter how much I’d like to—but thought better of it.

“We could go out in the field,” Meghan suggested, a little too offhandedly.

And now Gus understood. Meghan didn’t stay on the bus only to see the car in the woods, and she wasn’t coming to his house only to help Deb save face. She wanted to see The Spot.

“You’re right,” Gus mocked, “that’s not the least bit weird. ‘Hey, Mom! Meghan and I are just gonna head over to the pond—you know, where Dad died?—to do some history homework.’”

Meghan couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, whatever,” she scoffed. “We’ll figure something out.”