Dead Girl in Love

by Linda Joy Singleton

  Only because the Dark Disposal Team captured him before he could steal your energy. If he’d touched you long enough, your essence would have spilled out like blood from a deep cut. You could have lost your mind and soul, which is worse than death.

  “He was horrible,” I admitted. “But it’s not fair to say that all Dark Lifers are evil. Maybe some are just misunderstood.”

  Don’t waste sympathy on the soulless ones who abuse humans. His sharp teeth flashed in a growl that sent shivers through me. Gabe Deverau is soulless and dangerous. But the DDT is closing in on him and soon he’ll no longer be a threat in any world.

  “So all Dark Lifers deserve punishment? Haven’t any of them ever been reformed?”

  Never. He shook his head, ears floppy like an ordinary dog, but the cold chill in his gaze froze all hope. If my own dog felt this way about Dark Lifers, how could I hope to convince my grandmother to forgive Gabe?

  Cola was sniffing again, his Duty Director sparked with red lights like flares in the night flashing danger. Your dark odor worries me. Why is it so strong?

  “I need to use a different brand of soap?”

  Do not make jokes. This is far more serious than you realize.

  Oh, I realize it’s serious, I thought anxiously. But I couldn’t let on or the DD Team would capture Gabe. He’d made mistakes, but I knew he wasn’t really bad. There was always hope for change. And I was determined to give that hope to Gabe.

  Amber, listen to me. Cola’s mind-voice was both stern and gentle. My fur is bristling in a warning of trouble. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Our roles have changed since my Earth life, but I’m still your faithful and loyal friend. I’d give my soul to protect you.

  “Thanks,” I said softly, so touched by his words that I forgave him for saying I smelled bad. “But I’m fine, Cola. And I’m getting close to a breakthrough with my assignment. I’m sure I can solve Alyce’s problem.” I didn’t add that a Dark Lifer was crucial to my plan.

  Solving problems isn’t a Temp Lifer’s job.

  “Yeah, I know. Grammy has told me the same thing. But Alyce is my best friend and helping her will only take a few more days.”

  Days you won’t have, my dog said gravely.

  “What do you mean?” I clutched at the soft quilted bed comforter.

  Cola straightened, haunches tense and fur bristling, looking fierce like a warrior dog readying for battle. Amber, the Dark Lifer you encountered on the boat—Gabriel Deverau—has been psychically located in this area.

  “Psychically?”

  Those with intuitive skills living on Earth contact the other side when they sense the presence of a Dark Lifer. We’ve had several psychic reports of Dark Lifer activity in this area. If the DDT hasn’t located him within forty-eight hours, all Temp Lifers in the area will be pulled from their mission.

  “But that’s not fair! I need more time.”

  Then hope that Gabe Deverau is captured. Soon.

  I’d been lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling forever, or maybe ten minutes, since Cola left in a rather spectacular lightning flash.

  Trying not to stress over Cola’s message, I told myself that being pulled from my mission wouldn’t be all that bad. It would be great to be me again, to play with my sisters and do mundane chores around the house. I actually missed hearing Mom sing off-key to country music while she jogged on her treadmill, and Dad’s corny dinner-table lectures. I wouldn’t even mind the stink of cleaning Snowy’s litter box.

  But my TL job wasn’t finished. I was not a quitter.

  And what about Gabe?

  I needed to warn him and fulfill my promise of a meeting with Grammy. No more putting this off—I had to see my grandmother.

  So I dug into Monkey Bag for the phone. I flipped it open, glancing at a wall clock and figuring Grammy should be back from the zoo by now. Only before I could hit her number, the phone burst with song. When I saw the caller ID, I couldn’t answer fast enough.

  “Eli!” I cried, flopping back on Alyce’s bed and leaning against a pillow. It was amazing how just seeing his name on the phone perked my spirits up.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” he rasped, wearily.

  “You don’t sound like yourself. Are you sick?”

  “I’m losing my voice.”

  “You sound good to me. It’s been, like, days! I’ve really missed you.”

  “Me too.”

  “So when can I see you?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. There’s … um … something … ” He paused in this really awkward, uncomfortable way, like he was about to knock me over with bad news.

  “What is it?” I gripped the bed’s comforter.

  “Uh … I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “Just say it.”

  “Okay … only it’s hard. I hate letting you down, but I thought you should hear it from me first.”

  Oh. My. God. He was breaking up with me.

  I went rigid, holding the phone like it was a grenade that could blow up my entire world. I should have expected this; Eli was on TV and had all those girls screaming his name and waving posters. Then there was his gorgeous competitor Mila who’d clung to him like she was applying for the role of Siamese twin—or new girlfriend.

  How could I compete with glamorous and talented Mila? They’d travel on concert tours together, sharing cozy meals and adjoining hotel rooms. It would be torture reading tabloids that buzzed about their showmance. Photos of them together, smiling, dancing, kissing, would be all over the news. I’d never turn on the TV again and join a nunnery.

  “Amber, are you there?” Eli asked through the phone.

  I didn’t want to be, not if it meant losing him.

  “Yeah … I’m here.”

  “You’re so quiet. I thought the connection died.”

  Something worse was dying, I thought miserably. Then I closed my eyes, the way people did when facing a firing squad. Ready, aim …

  “Go ahead … tell me.”

  “It’s over,” Eli said with a sigh.

  My heart plunged off a cliff, shattering.

  “Oh,” was all I could say.

  “I’m really sorry, Amber—I know how much it meant to you—but I’m out of the Voice Choice contest. I’ve been eliminated.”

  “The contest … this is about the contest ?”

  “What else?” he asked, clueless. “The judges came to a unanimous decision—I’m out. Everyone will know once it airs. I’ve been dreading telling you, but there it is.”

  “Wow! That’s great!”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to work up some sorrow or at least sympathy. And I really did feel bad for him … at least, the parts of me that weren’t jumping up with joy. Wicked selfish girl, I chastised myself. Good thing we were talking on the phone and not in person because I couldn’t stop smiling.

  “Your boyfriend is a loser,” Eli said.

  “Pul-leeese, you’re not a loser. Must you always be so overly dramatic?” I teased, paying him back for once accusing me of the same thing.

  “But you wanted me to be a star—then you could be my manager and we’d both go Hollywood together.”

  “All I want is for you to come home. I’ll make it to Hollywood on my own someday. For now, I’m where I want to be—or at least I will be soon. My assignment may end in two days, then I’ll return to my own body.”

  “Now that’s good news. I miss your body … not that way … well, maybe a little that way … but not like … you know what I mean,” he said, stumbling over his words in that adorable klutzy way I loved.

  “I know,” I said, smiling.

  “Are you sure you don’t hate me for losing?”

  “Over a dumb contest? Never happen.”

  “I didn’t even make the final three—number four and out the door. And Mila didn’t waste her time telling reporters that there wasn’t any showmance between us. Everyone says she’ll take top prize.�
��

  “Wrong,” I told him in a flirty tone. “She doesn’t have you.”

  Sappy? Yes, but true, and it led to Eli saying some sappy stuff, too, that would just look dumb written down, but it meant a lot to me. And I sensed Eli’s confidence returning, too, which made me feel good. I asked him to tell me more about the competition and he had me laughing out loud with the crazy stuff the fans did to get noticed.

  “They’d wait outside the hotel every day, screaming our names and throwing gifts like flowers and stuffed animals while they screamed for autographs. One little boy, about five years old, asked me to sign his sneaker.”

  “Did you?” I asked.

  “Sure.” Eli laughed. “That was safer than where some girls wanted me to sign. And before you even ask, no, I didn’t sign any of those places. I can’t believe how insane fame is. I’ll be glad to get home and forget all about Rocky, and just be boring Eli again.”

  “Boring? You? No way.”

  “I’d make a great accountant. I’m not cut out for this whole fame thing, being fussed over like a celebrity. It’s not just strangers, either. Can you believe my brother actually asked me to send him a signed photo for his girlfriend?”

  “You can’t mean arrogant, stuck-up Chad. Do you have a brother I don’t know about?”

  “Only Chad. Since I made it on TV, he’s suddenly noticed I exist and actually seems proud of Little Bro.”

  “About time he appreciated you.” Then I realized what else Eli had said. “Chad wanted your autograph for his girlfriend? But Leah is so not the fan-girl type.”

  “Not Leah. Chad has a new girlfriend.”

  “He broke up with Leah?” I’d spent some time in Leah’s perfect body, living her not-so-perfect life, and I remembered how much she loved Chad.

  “Actually I think Leah broke up with him, but Chad didn’t say. He never does, he just finds a new girl. When I started to sign my real name, Chad said ‘no, write Rocky.’ I guess that’s an improvement over him calling me Dufus or Geekwad—but Rocky isn’t who I am. I got my fifteen minutes of fame but it was like living someone else’s life.”

  “I know how that feels. Exactly.”

  “I give you kudos for doing it not once—but three times. You’re amazing.”

  “Insane is more like it,” I said with an ironic chuckle. “At least I didn’t switch into someone famous like this other Temp Lifer I met once, who couldn’t go anywhere without being mobbed. You can have fame … ” I paused, then added wickedly, “Rocky.”

  “Don’t call me that! And I’m not famous. No one ever remembers the singers who get kicked off. I’m just relieved it’s all over now and I can go back to my home and school. This is the first spring vacation that I can’t wait to end.”

  “But it was pretty awesome,” I admitted. “And to me you’ll always be Eli.”

  After that our conversation turned silly and sweet and all about us again. Talking to him made Dark Lifers and lost graves seem unimportant. We were all that mattered, sharing thoughts and feelings and hopes for when we were together again.

  Tomorrow night, he’d return to his real life.

  And soon I’d be joining him.

  As Amber.

  I didn’t accomplish much the rest of the day, although I did finally hear from my grandmother. Sounding frantic enough to pull out all her (my!) hair, she complained about my sisters’ lack of zoo etiquette.

  “I gave them strict rules,” she complained. “I told them we were playing a game of ‘Follow the Leader’ and that I was the Leader. They promised to do everything I said. But when I tried to organize them in alphabetical order, they wouldn’t hold each other’s hands. When I offered to buy them healthy snacks, they screamed that they wanted cotton candy and sodas. One would use the restroom, then minutes later another one had to go. And they whined about being too tired to walk. I explained the importance of behaving like proper young ladies, only they completely ignored me!”

  “They’re babies—not young ladies,” I reminded her. “You can’t expect them to be perfect.”

  “Oh they were perfect all right—perfect little monsters! Olive climbed into the flamingo enclosure and chased the flamingos to grab their feathers!”

  “Pink is her favorite color,” I said, trying not to laugh.

  “But that wasn’t even the worst! When I took the girls to the restroom for the third or tenth time, they unraveled rolls of toilet paper and ran around me until I was covered like a mummy.” Grammy’s voice broke. “My own grandbabies TPd me.”

  This time I did laugh. “They’ve done it to me, too.”

  “But I was sure I could handle them better than your mother. Now I’m not sure of anything—except your sisters have been banned from the zoo.”

  “Mom does okay,” I said. “She gets support from her Mothers of Multiples group. She doesn’t believe in being too strict or get stressed when the girls mess up because she believes they’ll learn more from making mistakes then from doing everything exactly right. Mom says being organized is great in theory but a little disorder strengthens character.”

  I was repeating what Mom had told me when I was going through a rough time adjusting to not being the only child anymore. For a while, I’d had this love-hate thing with my sisters. So much had changed, too quickly—moving from a lake condo to the suburbs, sharing my parents, and money suddenly being tight. I’d blamed the triplets for ruining my life. But I got over that when I realized that no one can ruin my life without my permission (advice from The Blame Game Myth). Now I was all about loving and missing those little TPing monsters.

  Grammy had grown silent on the other end of the phone. When she spoke again it was in a subdued voice. “I owe your mother an apology.”

  “You do?” I asked, surprised.

  “I never told you, but I was completely against your mother having any more children. You and I were always so close, and I was more worried about your feelings than my own daughter’s. When she asked for a loan for the fertility treatments, I refused. I said awful things about her mothering skills and warned her that if she went ahead with her crazy plan, not to look for any help from me … and she never did.” Grammy’s voice broke. “When I saw those beautiful baby girls, I wanted to tell Theresa how proud I was of her and that I was sorry. But I kept putting it off—then I died.”

  “Mom still loves you. She couldn’t stop crying at your funeral.”

  “I know—I was there. I tried to reach her through dreams and signs but she didn’t notice. And now that I’m with her, if I told her the truth, I’d break Temp Lifer rules.”

  “And seriously freak Mom out,” I added wryly.

  “Theresa was always easily shocked.”

  “Finding out your daughter is actually your dead mother would be shocking.”

  “I know.” Her sigh carried through the phone, soft and wistful. “Being with my Terry again has been a wonderful gift, and I can’t complain.”

  “Still, it’s got to be hard, too, when you can’t say what’s on your mind.” I meant this in more ways than one as I tried to work up the courage to tell Grammy about Gabe. But with her confession about Mom and the whole TPing thing, this wasn’t the right time to mention my secret meetings with a Dark Lifer. I’d call her back tonight.

  The rest of the day was quiet, mostly because Mrs. Perfetti had as much life as a zombie. She alternated between sleeping and watching TV, taking time out only to share a pizza with me. Her depression worried me, but at least she wasn’t ranting about the devil or hiding under furniture.

  Exhausted from my previous late night with Gabe, I fell asleep early. I dreamed that a giant woodpecker was tapping on my brain. Tap, tap, tap. The sound wouldn’t go away and grew louder.

  When I jerked up in bed, I was relieved that it had only been a dream and that giant woodpeckers didn’t exist.

  Then I heard it: tap, tap, tap.

  I looked at the window and saw a shadowy figure right outside it.

  With a
start, I jumped back, ready to run and call 911. But when the shadow waved an arm in a “come here” gesture, I recognized the broad shoulders, wavy hair, and cap.

  Gabe!

  My emotions surged forward like a wild thrill ride that I couldn’t wait to take. I hurried over to the window and slid open the glass. Gabe was straddling a thick branch of the tree I’d climbed so many times.

  “What are you doing here?” I spoke softly, although there wasn’t anyone close enough to overhear and I doubted any neighbors could see Gabe. He blended in with the shadows, as if the darkness was welcoming one of their own.

  “I had to see you,” he whispered through the grainy screen.

  “But you shouldn’t have risked coming here. It’s not safe!”

  “Not safe for whom?”

  Good question, I thought uneasily, at the same time impressed with his grammar. I never could get the hang of who and whom.

  I told him to climb down and wait for me. Then I grabbed a jacket and slipped quietly out of the bedroom, ignoring the voice inside me warning that this wasn’t a good idea. Earlier today I’d spoke of love and the future with Eli. Now here I was sneaking out to meet another guy. I loved Eli—that was something I was absolutely sure of—yet I couldn’t resist seeing Gabe again any more than I could resist licking the spoon when I mixed cookie dough. My roller-coaster emotions whirled up and down, spinning out of control and flying off the rails.

  I couldn’t wait to see Gabe again.

  When I peeked into the living room, Mrs. Perfetti was still sleeping, which worried me a little since it didn’t seem normal to sleep so much. Still, I was glad, since it would be easier to sneak out without her knowing. The DVD had ended and the TV screen showed a blank blue screen, humming slightly. I stepped softly through the door in the mud room and into the backyard.

  It took a minute for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.

  And there was Gabe, sitting on the edge of a brick planter, smiling up at me in a way that flip-flopped my stomach. His eyes, shadowed underneath the brim of his cap, were impossible to read. But his lips curved with secrets and promises. And I smelled a heady salty scent of fathomless seas.