Young Writers Society

"That's probably near the back," she said. The more recent it is, the more likely it'll be in the front.

They walked past the shelves and found faded and cracked records along the wall in the back.

Annabeth took the far left and grabbed the first record she saw. The handwriting was small and faded against yellow paper, but it wasn't entirely ineligible.

The date read 1845, and it looked like it was a log. Like the immigration records she had seen on that PBS show. There were names, ages, even businesses from that time.

Probably a census, she thought.

Edward looked over Annabeth's shoulder so he could get a look at the record. Liz had looked at something like that, once, back when she had been trying to find out if any of her mom's side of the family had come through Ellis Island. She had gotten him to try it, too.

He looked back at the records.

Censuses now were taken every ten years, but he wasn't sure that was the case in the 1800s.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to look for the next census.

"We could try finding the next census," he suggested. "Maybe we'll see a large group of people missing from it. Then we can check records from the years in between to figure out if something like this happened then."

Annabeth returned the census and pulled out another one. This time, the date was 1854. She scanned the record, noting all the residents that had deceased next to them.

"They're mostly elderly and children," she said, with some young and middle-aged adults too. "Must've been an epidemic. 1854... What was that disease again?" she muttered.

Still thinking, Annabeth put the record back onto the shelf and chose another far older one.

The first census she pulled out (which was probably a bad mistake since it looked like it was about to tear) was yellowed and very, very faded.

"16...I can't read the other numbers," she said. Annabeth squinted at the tiny cursive and held it up to the light, but the names were lost to her.

She glanced at Edward. "Do you know what it says?"

Edward peered over Annabeth's shoulder at the old, faded census. It looked so old that he kept waiting for it to crumble away in her hands. It must have been one of the very first censuses the town ever took.

Edward knew more cursive than Claire or Liz did, but it was hard reading the cursive of people who had lived centuries ago. He wasn't even sure Schadel could have read it, and she had a good eye for it after living with a brother who wrote almost exclusively in cursive.

He shook his head.

"I can't read it," he said. "I can see the 16 at the beginning of the year and can read a few letters in some of the names, but the cursive is too different for me to read."

Annabeth pressed her lips together in frustration and put the census back onto the shelf.

"This isn't helping at all," she said, tapping her fingers against the wood. There had to be another way. Maybe they weren't looking in the right place.

But there was nothing in the town hall, she thought. The library was their only option.

"So look elsewhere in the library...?" muttered Annabeth. She sighed. There were hundreds of old records in the archives. It would probably be days until they find something.

"Well, I'm stuck," she said, folding her arms. Annabeth glanced at Edward. "Do you have any idea?"

Edward let out a sigh of his own.

"All I can think of is looking somewhere else in the library," he said.

He glanced at the records they had just put back. They had to be making some kind of progress, but it didn't feel like all that much. What would Schadel have done if she was here? She always seemed to have theories during times like this. Even if this didn't end up being a ghost problem, she would have been able to think of something useful.

"Maybe this is one of those things where the answer is right under our noses the entire time," he guessed. "We just can't see what it is yet."

She folded her arms. "Maybe, but where could we find it?"

She took a step backward and bumped into something heavy. It landed with a thud that made her jump.

It was an old book. Annabeth lightly cursed and picked it up, trying to smooth its already crooked pages. Suddenly, a memory from earlier appeared, and she placed the book back onto the shelf with a thoughtful expression.

"Maybe, what we're looking for isn't in the library after all," she said. Annabeth dashed forward and threw open the door with such vigor she surprised herself. When she turned around, she noticed the rightfully confused Edward and gave him a determined smile. "Come on, we're going back to Town Hall!"

Edward stared at Annabeth for a moment. He had been so focused on figuring out what the censuses said that he hadn't considered going somewhere else. Annabeth's sudden decision to leave the library took him by surprise, too.

But then he saw that determined smile.

It wasn't exactly the same as Schadel's smile, but the running towards a solution without any explanation was very much like her. It made Edward smile, too—and wonder how a theoretical meeting with the two of them would go down.

"Okay," he said. He joined her over by the door. "Lead the way."

The walk back to town hall was much quicker, now that they knew the way. Annabeth and Edward walked up the steps and strode into the building like they owned the place.

They walked upstairs and found themselves back in the record room. Annabeth made her way to the bookshelf and glanced through the books again.

"A-hah!" she said and pointed up, pleased. "There, on the top shelf."

If dust hadn't had coated every inch of it, the book would have been pitch-black. She quickly pulled up the chair she sat in earlier and scrambled up, eagerly reaching for the journal. When her fingers closed around it, Annabeth gently lifted it up. The journal made a cracking noise, and the back had gotten stuck to the shelf. But after careful nudging, it finally freed. Annabeth gleefully grinned at Edward and lowered herself to the floor.

Now that the light fully hit the journal, she studied it. To her surprise, the cover looked as though it was new, even though the pages were yellow. It felt smooth beneath her fingers. And there was an old lock fastened around it.

"That's strange," she said. "Why is it locked?" She fiddled with it. The lock snapped in half and fell on the floor with a clang. The noise echoed around the room. Despite herself, Annabeth shivered.

"Now, let's see what the author wanted to hide," she said. She opened the book.