Jennifer McMahon - Promise Not to Tell

Prologue
November 7, 2002

Part 1
Now and Then Spring, 1971
November 716, 2002

1
Late April, 1971

2
November 7, 2002

3
Late April, 1971

4
November 8, 2002

5
Early May, 1971

6
November 1013, 2002

7
Late May, 1971

8
November 14, 2002

9
Early to Mid-June, 1971

10
November 15, 2002

11
June 16, 1971, and Sometime in the Fall of 1973

12
November 15 and 16, 2002

Part 2
The Last Days November 17, 2002
June 16, 1971

13
November 17, 2002

14
November 17, 2002

15
June 16, 1971

16
November 17, 2002

17
November 17, 2002

18
November 17, 2002

Part 3
November 24, 2002

19
November 24, 2002

W HEN THE P OTATO G IRL WAS MURDERED the killer cut out her heart. He buried it, but the next day, she rose againfrom that exact same spot. Ryan poked the campfire with a stick for emphasis, sending a shower of sparks up into the night.

Opal inched closer to Ryan. He was fifteen, kind of cute in that farm-boy way. Tori said Ryan had a huge crush on Opal. Tori was the one whod set the whole thing up, said it would be fun to go into the woods and make out with the older boys. Opal was twelve and had never kissed a boy before but it wasnt like she was going to admit that to anyone, even her best friend.

What, like a zombie? Tori asked. Opal was quietshe hated the Potato Girl stories.

Yeah, back from the dead like a zombie. Its like a potato: you cut it up into pieces, bury any one of those pieceseven a little bit of peel if it has eyesand another plant grows. Ryan snapped a stick as if he were breaking a bone and tossed it into the fire.

Opal shivered. She thought of the visit shed had just that afternoon. But no, she mustnt think of these things. And she knew better than to tell the others. Theyd think she was lying or crazy or maybe a little of both.

And she roams these woods now, added Sam. You know how you can tell when shes coming? By the smell. That rotten potato reek. You can smell her a hundred feet off.

Oh, puh-leeaase! Tori rolled her eyes. Sam was her sort-of boyfriend.

Let me get this straightyou dont believe the Potato Girl is real? Ryan was incredulous.

I believe she existed once. I know she did. My mom went to school with her. She was just some poor kid who was murdered. All this ghost shit? Itswhaddaya call it. An urban legend.

Jesus, Tori, are you forgetting that Dan and Chris saw her right here just last week? Opal said. And what about Becky Sheridans little sister, Janey? She says the Potato Girl met her down in the Griswolds old field and locked her in the root cellar.

And what about me? Opal thought.

God, would you guys grow up? Dan and Chris were wasted, as usual. Janey was just screwing around and got stuck. Tori spread her hands in a tah-dah gesture.

Right, said Opal. The door was latched from the outside, brainiac. How do you figure she pulled that one off?

All Im saying is, shit can be explained.

And all Im saying is, theres some shit that cant, Opal said.

Opal knew Tori was still mad at her about the jacket. Earlier that afternoon, before meeting the boys, Tori had found out about Opals borrowing her cross-country jacketwithout asking. That was bad enough, but Opal happened to wear it while fixing the chain on her bike, and Tori was furious about the grease stain on the left sleeve. Opal had to promise to have it dry-cleaned, paying for it with her own money. And in the meantime, Tori could borrow her jacket. Only it wasnt exactly her jacket. It was her mothers oldest and most favorite jacket, which Opal had borrowed on many occasions without asking and now was forbidden to so much as touch. It was fawn-colored suede with fringe on the sleeves and front. A cowgirl, rock-star jacket that Opal had to admit looked better on Tori, who was a little older and actually had a figure. The two girls had the same haircut (both done by Shirley at Hair Today on the edge of town) and both were blond, but the resemblances stopped there. Opal knew Tori was the pretty one, the one the boys looked at; the truth was, most days she couldnt care less. She had bigger things to worry about than boys.

Opal knew her borrowing annoyed people, and that one day she might get in real trouble for it, but she couldnt seem to make herself stop. Half the time, she wasnt even aware she was doing it. Like the night she took Toris cross-country jacket, she was most of the way home before she even realized she was wearing it. Some people smoked. Some chewed their nails. Opal borrowed. It wasnt stealing exactly. She took things only from people she knew, people she liked and felt close to. And she did her best to return the things unharmed before anyone even noticed they were missing. It gave her a thrill. A sense that she was so much more than her twelve-year-old self when she carried pieces of other people around with her. They were like good luck charmstalismansimbued somehow with little bits of other peoples souls.

I T WAS A COLD NIGHT . The four kids sat close to the fire, while the boys swapped more Potato Girl stories. Tori mostly kept silent, smoking the Camel Lights shed pilfered from her dad, occasionally fluffing her hair, snorting and shaking her head at the most outlandish tales. There were plenty of stories to go around without her input. Every kid in New Canaan had grown up hearing about how the Potato Girl walked the woods where she was killed, searching for her murderer, taking her vengeance on anyone who crossed her path.

I bet the reason she hasnt left is that the killers still here. She knows who it is and wont rest until hes dead, Ryan said.

But its not just him shes pissed atits the whole fucking town. Shes cursed the whole town, Sam said.

Curse or no curse, I have to pee. Ill be right back. Tori rose, pulling the suede jacket tight around her.

Take the flashlight, said Sam.

Moons out. Ill find my way, replied Tori as she headed off, out of the circle of firelight.

Be careful! I smell rotten potatoes! shouted Sam after her.

Asshole! she called back.

They listened to her footsteps, crunching over dead leaves and twigs, moving farther away, then disappearing altogether. They heard her curse quietly onceprobably got her foot tangled in the undergrowth. The fire crackled. They told more stories.

After five minutes, Opal said Sam should go look for her. The guys brushed it off, said girls took forever pissing, had a good laugh about just what it was girls did that could take so long.

When ten minutes had gone by, they called to her, but there was no response. The guys said Tori must be fucking with them. Trying to give them a good scare.

Fine, Opal said finally. You two macho men stay here. Im gonna go find her. She snatched the flashlight from Ryan and marched out into the darkness.

R YAN AND S AM STAYED by the fire laughing at how hysterical girls could be. Wasnt that what they were doing there to begin with? Hadnt they come to the haunted woods, as countless other boys had done, hoping the girls would get a little scared, need a little comforting? Wasnt all the ghost-watching shit just an excuse to get out in the woods and fool around? Werent the woods behind the Griswolds old place littered with bottles and condoms, specters of couples who had come before, with not one sign of some tormented little girl ghost?