Buried by Linda Joy Singleton

me! “Sabine, I’ve been having strange feelings and visions since I found a locket. It’s messing with my thoughts and freaking me out.”
    â€œI’ve heard of things like this happening with old jewelry. Nona says antique jewelry can hold onto energy from its previous owners. Remember all the trouble I had with that antique witch ball?”
    â€œYeah—but this locket isn’t very old or possessed by an evil spirit. It’s cheap and tacky, with a shoelace instead of
a chain.”
    â€œHmmm … there’s weird energy around you.”
    I swallow. “A … a ghost?”
    â€œNot exactly, but something supernatural. I can feel it.”
    â€œYou can? Even when we’re like two hundred miles apart?”
    â€œPsychic vibes are sort of like phone lines. We don’t have to be physically together for our energy to connect,” Sabine says. “Tell me more about the necklace.”
    â€œI found it on the stage in the auditorium,” I begin, then explain how there had been chaos on stage because of Philippe’s sudden visit and I have no idea who lost the locket.
    â€œThe Philippe?” Sabine gives a fan-girl squeal. “As in super-star rocker?”
    â€œDown, girl,” I tease. “He was here, but I didn’t see him so I can’t tell you much except someone on the stage with him lost the locket. And when I opened it, I found … ”
    â€œWhat?” she asks after I hesitate.
    â€œA curl of soft black hair.”
    â€œI just got shivers up my arms,” Sabine says.
    â€œIt gave me the creeps, too. I’m sure it was cut from someone who was dead,” I add grimly. “I don’t know why I’m so certain of this, but I know it’s true.”
    â€œYou’re psychic, Thorn, that’s why you know.”
    â€œStop already. I just find things—like this damned locket. You’re the one who sees ghosts and talks to your spirit guide. Can you see anything now about the locket and curl?”
    â€œI’m closing my eyes and concentrating … this may take a minute.” The phone goes silent and all I hear is my own quick-thumping heart. When Sabine comes back on, her voice is whispery. “I can’t see anything, but I smell damp dirt.”
    â€œLike a grave?” I guess, shivers rippling down my arms, too.
    â€œMaybe. I’ll try contacting my spirit guide. It takes some concentration—for an entity over three hundred years old, Opal can be stubborn. But she knows a lot.”
    In the subsequent silence, I visualize Sabine in her attic bedroom with its homespun lavender décor … the quilt on the bed and the stained glass window. Whenever Sabine is thinking, she twirls the black streak in her blond hair that she says is the mark of a Seer. I twist my hair, too, hoping she’ll come up with answers so I can free myself of this strange obsession with the locket.
    â€œMy spirit guide wasn’t much help,” she finally says with a sigh. “Opal says confusing things that are hard to understand. I’ll try to repeat it, although it doesn’t make sense. She said, ‘A broken melody bleeds betrayal. Long-buried truths will be uncovered when the Finder follows the map.’”
    â€œWhat map?”
    â€œAll Opal would tell me is that the map rides a paper saddle.”
    â€œThat doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œExactly. Way confusing.” Sabine sighs. “When I asked Opal to translate it into English, she got all huffy and left. I’m sure she meant you when she said ‘the Finder.’ Maybe her words will mean something to you later.”
    â€œMaybe,” I say, disappointed.
    Sabine asks about my family, and I’m glad to change the subject so I catch her up on Mom’s job, my siblings, and K.C. When she asks about school, I share some of Rune’s Weird News stories like space debris splashing into a wedding