Dead Girl Walking

by Linda Joy Singleton

  As I neared the gazebo, I heard someone say my name. Curious, I paused behind a large floral arrangement. Peeking through the orchids, I saw Trinidad with Jessica and some of Leah’s crowd: Kat, Tristan and Moniqua.

  “ … almost didn’t come but Amber drove me,” Trinidad said. She was sitting so close to Tristan that he practically shared her chair. What was that about?

  “Is Amber the freak in the hideous guy’s shirt?” Kat asked with a derisive laugh.

  Didn’t Kat remember two years ago when I’d welcomed her with a HHC basket, and she’d told me I was the nicest girl in the whole school? Guess not.

  “Yeah, that’s her,” Jessica said.

  “Ewww … fashion nightmare.” Kat’s blonde ponytail flopped across her shoulder as she crossed her long denim-clad legs, her shiny cowboy boots glinting with rhinestones. “When she first walked in, I thought she was, like, a street person. I wasn’t sure whether to call the cops or give her money for decent clothes.”

  “Donate money for the fashion impoverished,” Jessica joked. “Our next charity project.”

  “Waste of time,” Kat said. “She’s obviously a lost cause.”

  “Amber’s nice,” Trinidad put in defensively. “It’s not her fault she’s wearing an ugly shirt. She looked good when she picked me up, but then her shirt was destroyed when she fell in the cemetery.”

  “Cemetery! Are you serious?” I recognized Moniqua’s voice because she always laughed loudest when I stumbled in gym. While Kat could be annoyingly “catty,” Moniqua was just plain mean.

  Trinidad had the decency to look ashamed. “Can we discuss something else? I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “But you did and now we have to know,” Moniqua urged. “What was she doing at a cemetery?”

  “Um … I don’t think she’d want me talking about it.”

  That’s for sure, I thought.

  “But it’s only to us.” Kat patted Trinidad’s hand. “Trust me; we’ll keep any secret you share. Is it something illegal? Was Amber performing a satanic ritual?”

  “Nothing like that! Well … maybe I do need to explain.” Trinidad glanced uncertainly at the others, then shrugged. “We’re all friends, so it can’t hurt …”

  No! I almost rushed over and clamped my hand over Trinidad’s mouth. But it would have been too late anyway. Trinidad proved that singing wasn’t her only talent—she made my humiliating experience sound like a macabre adventure in stupidity. She laughed along with her new friends … while I died inside.

  “I’m not surprised she screwed up,” Tristan said as he scooted closer to Trinidad. “Amber is in my trig class and she keeps trying to cheat off my tests. Why did you invite her, Jess?”

  “She’s was all ‘I want to help.’ So what could I say?” Jessica spread out her arms like a shrug. “She practically got on her knees and begged me. You know what they say about charity starting at home.”

  “You’re sooo nice,” Kat gushed. “Leah would never invite a loser to her party.”

  “Leah isn’t here, and she hasn’t returned my texts or emails.” Jessica pursed her lips spitefully. “I heard she and Chad ditched school, but you’d think she’d at least tell me. I don’t know what’s with Leah lately. She’s been so … distant.”

  “Not with Chad, I’ll bet,” Kat said, giggling.

  “I couldn’t care less what they do. And Leah isn’t the boss of me, so if I want Amber on the fundraiser committee, she’s in.”

  Moniqua groaned. “She’s so pathetic, though, how can we stand her?”

  “No worries,” Jessica said cheerfully. “Amber can do all the messy stuff like painting signs.”

  “Our own geek slave.” Kat giggled.

  “That doesn’t seem fair.” Trinidad shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “But I guess Amber won’t mind since she volunteered to help. She’ll be great on your committee.”

  “Yeah, a great bore.” Tristan snorted. “Really, Trinidad, how did you survive being stuck with her on the drive here? At least you won’t have to go back with her. I’ll give you a ride anywhere you want.”

  “Ooh!” Kat clapped her hands. “Tristan and Trinidad, even your names sound like you were destined to meet.”

  “What do you say, Trin?” Tristan smoothly slipped an arm around Trinidad’s tiny waist. “Ditch the loser and I’ll drive you home in my Hummer—eventually.”

  “You have a Hummer? Wow … that’s way cool. But I don’t know … I mean … I’ll have to check with Amber first. She’s been awfully nice to me.”

  “She’s always nice in this earnest, revolting way,” Moniqua complained. “Makes me sick how she doesn’t have a clue what’s really going on. Her basket club is a big joke. She takes it seriously, but everyone is laughing at her club. Basket Cases, we call them.”

  “Maybe inviting her was a mistake.” Jessica frowned. “But she’s so eager to please. We’ll keep her busy and out of our way.”

  Out of their way? Like I was a disease!

  Shame washed over me and I blinked back tears. I’d been so looking forward to this party. I’d used my babysitting money to buy my now-ruined shirt, and I’d prepared a list of fundraising ideas to impress Jessica. I endured getting lost, scaling a cemetery gate, and itchy nettles.

  And for what?

  Utter humiliation.

  I wanted to turn invisible and slink away. But I couldn’t abandon Trinidad, no matter how much she deserved it. Anger pushed me out of hiding. I stepped away from the potted plant, where anyone could see me, then stomped over to the table.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I faced Trinidad.

  “I’m leaving,” I said in the calmest voice I could manage.

  “So soon? Is something wrong?” Trinidad pushed Tristan’s hand off her arm and stood. “Amber, are you sick?”

  “Oh, I’m sick all right. Of fakeness.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not anyone’s ‘geek slave.’ Go home with him.” I pointed at Tristan, not wanting to say his name.

  “Were you spying on us?” Tristan narrowed his eyes.

  I glared, holding tight to anger so I wouldn’t cry.

  “You heard us?” Jessica sounded a little scared. “We were just messing around. I’m sorry, we didn’t mean—”

  “Save it, Jess,” Moniqua interrupted. “Don’t apologize to her. Eavesdroppers hear exactly what they deserve.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed sadly. “The truth.”

  Then I left the party.

  I could hardly see out of the windshield through my tears.

  To shut off my thoughts, I amped my radio full blast and sang at the top of my lungs. I didn’t even know the words to the song, so I messed up the lyrics … like I’d messed up my life. I hoped a truck would smash into me or a bolt of lightning would strike my car. But there wasn’t a cloud, much less a lightning bolt in the sky, and all the trucks on the road were wise enough to avoid me.

  It was almost a surprise to make it home safely.

  Only I couldn’t bring myself to get out of the car. Why bother? My life was over. The fact that I was still breathing was a cruel irony.

  There was no going forward or backwards, only sitting here in limbo land. I couldn’t bear to talk to anyone, so going into the house was out of the question. Mom would take one glance at my face, know I was upset, and pepper me with questions. Then she’d tell my father and insist we discuss it over a family meeting.

  So I just sat there, with the car running, drowning in dark, hopeless thoughts. I glanced down at my lucky bracelet, tempted to rip it off my wrist.

  Lots of luck it brought me—all of it bad.

  By Monday morning, whispers and gossip would have spread around school. Basket Case … Basket Case! Is that really what everyone thought of my club? Of me? Were Alyce and Dustin my only real friends? Was everyone just laughing like I was a pathetic joke? I could never return to school. I’d have to transfer to another school or drop out. But dropping
out would mean never going to college and having a big career. If I asked Mom about home schooling she’d just say no, because she was already crazy busy raising the triplets. So what could I do?

  I couldn’t just leave school—yet how could I stay?

  Hearing a car, I looked up at the mail truck slowing in front of my house. The mail lady, Sheila, saw me and waved. She and I had gotten to be friends after I’d sent off tons of scholarship applications that sent me rushing out to meet the mail truck daily. But I didn’t want to talk to her today and hear about her chronic back pain and how her sister’s husband was in jail again. So I hunched down in the car and prayed she’d leave.

  Sheila waved again and called out my name.

  Just what I didn’t need.

  But she kept shouting for me, and if I didn’t go over my parents would come out of the house. I wiped my tears, arranging my hair so it partially hid my face. Then I walked over with a fake smile.

  “Amber, check out my new wheels!” Sheila said happily.

  “You finally got a new mail truck?” I said with forced cheerfulness. “Cool.”

  “Isn’t it a beaut? Except that it’s a manual and the gears are all wonky. I’m still getting used to it. But hey, enough about me.” She reached for a letter on her lap. “I have good news for you! That scholarship you were waiting for!”

  They’re probably rejecting me, I thought, but I didn’t want to ruin Sheila’s upbeat mood. So I kept on smiling and took the letter.

  “Well, open it up!” Sheila urged.

  I hesitated, then shrugged and ripped into the envelope. The opening lines jumped out at me: Congratulations! We are happy to offer—

  Ohmygod! I got the scholarship!

  Next thing I knew I was jumping and crying for joy. Sheila laughed and congratulated me, and then said she had to finish her route. I heard an awful clunk of gears as her car jerked forward, tires squealing.

  I read the letter, then read it again. Congratulations! We are happy to offer you a scholarship to a California State University of your choice. We have evaluated your application …

  I’m sure my eyes were as big and round as all those lovely zeroes. I nearly fell to my knees and kissed the pavement.

  Totally, totally amazing! All my dreams come true and folded neatly into an envelope. Grammy Greta was so right. I did have a future—and a great one! I could go anywhere and be anything I wanted.

  I was hugging the letter, poised to rush into the house and tell my parents the good news, when I heard an engine roar, the screech of wheels, and a scream.

  Then Sheila’s brand new mail-mobile, which was careening out of control in reverse, ran right into me.

  And I died.

  Golden light shone so brightly my eyes should have hurt, yet they didn’t. Nothing hurt.

  I didn’t even itch!

  Surrounded by the dazzling clouds of light, I felt incredible, amazing joy. I wasn’t anywhere in particular, yet I was somehow everywhere, which made no sense at all.

  Dreaming. Yeah, that had to be it. Floating, flying, sweet dreams soaring. There was music, too, an orchestra of crystal-pure angelic music. And when the clouds cleared, a woman glided toward me with arms outstretched, smiling wide. A smile I loved dearly and had never expected to see again. Not on Earth, anyway.

  Could that mean I was … ?

  “Not quite,” Grammy Greta told me, squeezing my hands and peering deep into my heart. Strangely, she had no wrinkles and her hair was dark brown, not silvery gray. She wore beige slacks and a striped shirt with a cat embroidered on the pocket. Not the starchy yellow cotton dress I’d seen her wearing at her funeral.

  Funeral … buried in the ground … over a year ago.

  I blinked at Grammy, then looked down at myself, searching for some clue to what was going on. I was still me, in ripped jeans and Dustin’s baggy shirt that barely covered my nettle bumps and reddened scratches. I ran a finger along an old scar on my right thumb, where I’d been snagged by a hook on my first (and last) fishing trip with Dad. The scar felt real and so did I—yet how could that be?

  “Am I dreaming?” I lifted my gaze from my hands to Grammy’s beaming face.

  “Dreams and reality are elementally the same.”

  “I don’t get it … but it doesn’t matter. If this is a dream, it’s a great one and I’m in no hurry to wake up. Oh, Grammy, I’ve missed you so much!”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” When she squeezed my hands she felt real and alive and wonderful.

  “How is this possible?” I asked, marveling at the misty ground swirling around my very ordinary sneakers, scents of mountain and ocean breezes, and the amazing woman standing in front of me. “I can’t believe we’re together. I never thought I’d see you again.”

  “But I’ve never been far away, and I see you all the time. Remember the card you received on your birthday with no signature?”

  “Sure. The cute black dog on the front looked exactly like Cola. I tacked it on my bulletin board. I couldn’t figure out who sent …” I stared at her widening smile. “You?”

  “I was only the messenger.” She nodded. “It was his idea.”

  “His? You mean … Cola?”

  There was a sharp bark as a furry black dog sprang out of nothingness with the bouncing energy of a puppy. He scampered over to me, red tongue lapping and his black whip-like tail wagging.

  If being with Grammy Greta was a shock, seeing my favorite (dead!) dog was absolutely mind-boggling. Until now I’d thought it was a dream, but dreams didn’t come with doggy breath and barking. Cola looked so healthy! When he’d died at the old age of nineteen, he’d been blind and lame. Now his black eyes shone with lively mischief. His tongue tickled my face when he slurped a doggy kiss.

  “Cola!” I wrapped my arms around his soft warm neck. When I brushed against his luminous gold collar, sparks sizzled like an electric halo. Vivid images circled around Cola’s neck as if my touch had pushed a remote control button and switched on a holographic TV. The cinematic collar reeled with pictures and garbled sounds. I tried to focus on the images but it was all a blur. Then abruptly the spinning stopped. The collar stilled to a plain gold band.

  “What kind of collar is that?” I jumped back, the buoyant ground swishing cloudy puffs around my ankles.

  “It’s not a collar. Cola’s Duty Director notifies him of new work assignments.”

  “Work … you mean my dog has a job?”

  “Why does that surprise you? Animals are very spiritual creatures and have evolved to a higher plane than humans. Cola was honored with the position of Comforter. Usually that work goes to cats or ferrets, but Cola showed outstanding empathetic abilities.”

  “He always did seem to understand me.” I nodded, patting his head. “What does he do?”

  “Comfort people when they’re alone and frightened. Comforters take the form of beloved pets, to help as a soul embarks on its final journey. Cola joins the person, usually in a hospital bed, offering love and companionship until their wait ends. I’m very proud of him … and of you, too.”

  I continued to pat Cola’s furry head as I met my grandmother’s tender gaze. There was so much I wanted to say, so many things I’d longed to tell her.

  “It’s all right, honey,” she said softly. “I already know.”

  “Even about my scholarship?”

  “Yes. It’s a wonderful opportunity.”

  “Except how can I … I mean … the mail truck went out of control. What happened?” I spoke with no fear, only confusion. “I was sure the truck would hit me, but I feel okay and nothing’s broken. My nettle bumps don’t even itch.”

  “They will when you return. But for now you’re in a neutral state. I brought you here in that instant before you were struck.”

  “So the mail truck did hit me?”

  “Yes, but only your body.” She nodded. “I couldn’t bear to watch you suffer, so I bent a few rules and brought you here.”

  “How? Are you an
d Cola angels?”

  “Far from it,” she said with a chuckle. “I manage a complicated network of volunteers—some living and some moved on. My job comes with certain abilities—like the power to bring you here. I’m so proud of you, honey. Watching you read that scholarship letter was one of my proudest moments.”

  “You saw that?” I asked, pleased.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the worlds! I helped make it happen. Not that you wouldn’t have done it on your own, but a persuasive voice in the right ear can speed things up.”

  “I’ve heard that advice before.” I snapped my fingers. “I read it in Create Happiness Through Happen-Ness.”

  “That was some of our guide-writers’ best work,” Grammy Greta said, nodding. “You know what they say about great books.”

  “Actually … I don’t.”

  “Great books aren’t written, they’re relayed.” She glanced down at my wrist. “I’m pleased to see you wearing the lucky bracelet.”

  “I always wear it.” I caressed the rainbow cloth. “But it wasn’t lucky today.”

  A screech echoed in my head with the blur of the mail truck careening toward me. But I pushed it aside, detached and emotionless, as if it had happened to someone else.

  Around me clouds shifted in purple and silver hues, and I glimpsed a panorama of brilliant green meadow, shady trees, sparkling water, and a distant shore where figures waved. I had a strong sense of knowing them … yet I couldn’t possibly.

  “Tell me, Grammy. What is all this?” My fingers curled in Cola’s silky fur as I regarded my grandmother solemnly. “Heaven?”

  “Close, but not exactly. It’s more of a moment, a transition in time, than a specific location.”

  “I don’t understand, but it’s nice here with you and Cola.” Cola perked up at his name, his collar flickering with quicksilver images. I scratched his head, which made him thump his back leg in his usual way. “You’re such a good boy. And I’ll bet you’re a great Comforter.”

  “He’s the best,” Grammy said.

  “I always wondered what happened to animals. What about my cats Snowflake and Pinky?” I looked around. “Can I see them, too?”