The Ghost of Fossil Glen

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Authors: Cynthia DeFelice
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“What a horrible dream.” She rubbed her eyes. It had seemed so real. The girl herself had seemed real.
    It was the same face that had appeared to her the day her journal arrived in the mailbox.
    Who was she?
    Allie got up and headed down the hall to the bathroom. She heard the murmur of her parents’ voices as she passed their bedroom. On her way back to bed, she heard her own name and stopped to listen.
    â€œâ€”think she should see someone about it?” said her mother.
    â€œWhat do you mean, someone?” said her father. “Like who?”
    â€œLike a counselor.”
    â€œA psychiatrist?”
    â€œOr a psychologist.”
    â€œDo you think it would help?”
    â€œI don’t know. I don’t even know if it’s really a problem. She’s always had an active imagination. It’s not something I want to discourage, exactly. It’s just that I hate to see her lose friends over it.”
    â€œSo do I. And I worry sometimes that she doesn’t know the difference between what’s real and what isn’t. This thing about the words appearing in her journal…”
    â€œI know. It’s peculiar, to say the least.”
    There was silence for a minute. Allie waited expectantly.
    Her father spoke again. “Let’s give it a while. She’s really such a levelheaded kid. And she seems okay except for this thing with Karen and Pam.”
    â€œYou know, sixth-grade girls can be cruel to one another for no good reason,” Mrs. Nichols said thoughtfully.
    â€œMaybe that’s what’s going on,” said Mr. Nichols.
    â€œShe gets along fine with Dub.”
    â€œAnd her teacher seems quite fond of her. Her grades are good.”
    â€œYou’re right,” said Allie’s mother. “I’m probably worrying too much, making a mountain out of a molehill.” There was a long silence, during which Allie anxiously held her breath. Finally, her mother said, “Let’s keep a careful eye on her for a while, though, shall we?”
    â€œGood idea.”
    Quietly, Allie let out a sigh of relief. Her parents weren’t going to make a federal case out of the situation—at least for the moment. She tiptoed back to bed, vowing not to give her parents any further reason to worry about her.

Thirteen
    At school the next day, Mr. Henry handed back the students’ journals. The room grew quiet as everyone studied Mr. Henry’s comments. Eagerly, Allie read:
    Nice job, Allie. This story is very intriguing. I like the way you began with the mysterious message: “I am L.” Right away, I was curious to read more. This shows good imagination! I can’t wait to see what will happen next .
    Allie smiled. Mr. Henry had liked her journal entry. He had praised her imagination! Of course, she thought, he doesn’t know I’m writing about things that really happened. He thinks I’m making up a story. But he found it “intriguing.” Allie thought that was a good word to describe what was going on.
    She raised her head as Mr. Henry began to speak again. “I noticed that some of you had a little trouble getting started,” he said. “I’m hoping that writing in your journals will come to be a pleasure, not a chore. I really meant it when I said you may write about anything you like. You’re not writing to please me but to stretch your imaginations and to talk to yourselves about the things that are going on in your lives.
    â€œSome of you wrote about private thoughts and problems, which is fine. Others of you wrote very unusual pieces.” He looked at Allie. “Allie, how would you feel about reading your entry out loud? You don’t have to say yes. I was just thinking that your story would be a good example of an entry that was a little different.”
    Allie hesitated. Mr. Henry’s request had caught her by surprise. She felt torn between pride and embarrassment.
    â€œCome

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