Artemis held out a hand in acknowledgment. “The people we tell stories about were real once. They had lives, you know? We shouldn’t let stupid stories bury the truth.” She stopped, sliding the slushy straw around. “Think about your mom. We don’t know what really happened the day she went missing. There are plenty of stories, but there’s a truth there, and I’m sure you want to know it. Right?”
I kneaded my hand. “Right.”
“With what we found last night, you’re a little closer to that. Those pictures, that notebook—those are Dasree Novak’s history. A piece of it.”
“I think all of this is her history,” I said, looking down the road at Addamsville gathered for the parade. “The ghosts, the fires, the disappearances. Figure out one and you figure out the rest.”
“Too bad it couldn’t clear your name,” Artemis said.
I snorted. “All we have to do is make the town believe the supernatural exists. ‘Yes, Chief Rivera, Bach is actually a very youthful septuagenarian! I have an old picture to prove it!’”
Artemis laughed.
Sadie and Grim appeared before the parade began, Dad corralled between them. He’d bounced back from last night and looked like the sun had risen inside his face. They stopped at one food truck for a walking taco, at another for a vegetable kebab, and at a third for an ice cream cone. Dad double-fisted the kebab and the ice cream while Sadie cradled the walking taco for him. I reminded myself to breathe evenly; they didn’t know what was going on in town. They had no reason not to be at least kind of happy.
“You look like a smiling terror,” I said. Dad finished a bite of zucchini with a satisfied sigh.
“It’s a bright day, Zoo! Everyone’s here, the parade’s going to start—hey there, Artemis! Wow, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. What’ve you been up to?”
“Hi, Uncle Lazarus. I’ve been fine, focusing on school. Mymom should be around here somewhere, if you want to talk to her. She’s been all over the place this morning.”
“Hopefully she’s a little more welcoming than Buster, eh?” Dad beamed.
“Everyone’s more welcoming than Buster,” Artemis said.
Dad laughed. Honestly laughed. Apparently one of the town council members hating you to your face because of somethingyou didwas super funny. I wanted to punch Buster as much as the next person, but if someone stole a bunch of my money for something I thought was a worthy cause, I’d be pretty pissed, too. I’d be furious.
I pressed my lips together and picked at my funnel cake.
Something caught Dad’s eye down the street and he jumped like an excited dog. “Oh! There’s Abby Rivera. I have to go say hi. See you girls later. Don’t get into trouble, okay?”
Sadie gave me an exhausted look as she and Grim trailed after him. She wasn’t used to getting up before noon on weekends, definitely not when she’d stayed awake so late, and definitely not when she had to babysit someone with as much energy as Dad, outside, around a lot of people.
The distant thump of the drums and high keening of the brass floated over the buildings. The parade began at the high school, marched down Handack Street, turned east at Walton, then southwest along the diagonal of Valleywine, where it would pass through town center and make the jackknifeto go north up Handack again and end at the high school. The marching band led the way, followed by the four class homecoming floats and the color guard. The mascot, Morty the Dead Miner, ran up and down the parade line, high-fiving little kids and throwing candy.
Sidebar: the mascot was really called Marty the Miner, but ghost miners are more intimidating. Kind of insensitive about all the real miners who died in this town—some of whom had appeared today to watch the parade—but there were bigger fish to fry.
Artemis grew still as the marching band turned down Valleywine. I nudged her. “Why do you look so nervous? Do you have a crush on someone in the marching band? Who?”
I’d been joking, but she seized up like a rabbit in a flashlight beam.
“Nobody.”
“Yeah, okay, that sounds legit.”
Nowshewas picking at her funnel cake. I kept an eye on her, and not a moment after I’d turned away, she looked up again and became very focused on the band. At the head of their column was Mads. When she wasn’t working at Hal’s, Mads was in one club or another, or acting as drum major for the marching band. Today her long dark braid was gathered up at the back of her head, and she smiled and marched like a Miss America contestant. I wasn’t a smiley Miss America sortof person, but if I was, I would have wanted to pull it off like Mads.
Artemis paused with a piece of funnel cake halfway to her mouth.
“Is it Mads?” I said.
She dropped the funnel cake. “No.”
“Oh, it is.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Oh my god, shut up.”
“That’s super cute. You should ask her out.”
