We snuck around the grounds of The Academy for days, taking pictures, wandering the halls of the new business offices. Looking back, it’s a wonder that no one stopped us, that no one questioned us. We even climbed the stairs directly to the attic and scoped out how we could break open the small, sealed door with a crowbar. I tried to write this story for years, but could never finish it. I remember we made our final plans on a school night. And I came home a little later than usual. Mom was in bed and I was trying to pretend like nothing much had happened. But it was spring and the window was open and I wanted to tell her everything. I wanted to tell her so badly that I was excited and terrified and sure we were going to find something incredible in that attic, that we were going to meet the ghost of the girl we’d all seen in the bell tower.
Alas, I really don’t trust my account of the events. There is surely someone else in the group who remembers it better. But I am only in touch with one of them now. She even got married there.
What I do remember is that we didn’t take enough risks, we didn’t go far enough. I remember we lost courage at the end, we gave up trying to get into the attic, into the tower. Yet, we did find something else.