Dead Girl Walking

by Linda Joy Singleton

  “What’s wrong with caring about my homework?”

  “It’s more than that. Something is off with you, I don’t know what exactly. When you talk, it’s like you’re acting in a play and not being natural. And then there’s my hair.” Her mouth puckered into a pout. “I’ve been waiting and waiting and still you haven’t said one thing about my new extensions.”

  “Uh … your hair looks nice.”

  “Nice? Is that all you can say? And since when do you call anything nice?”

  “It’s really pretty.”

  She snorted with disgust. “I have the weirdest feeling I’m talking with a stranger. Chad warned me you were different, but I didn’t believe him—until now.”

  What a tempting chance to explain my real identity. But I knew she wouldn’t go for it. And what if she told Mr. Montgomery I was crazy? He’d ship me off to DeHaven faster than I could calculate the square root of pi.

  I carefully considered what I knew about Jessica: how it was important to her to be liked and have others admire and respect her. She tried to be a good person, but she was easily influenced by her friends. She possessed a soft heart—and soft hearts could be manipulated.

  All I had to do was think of my parents, sisters, and friends to bring on my tears. I wasn’t faking, just drawing on my very real pain. Immediately Jessica was by my side, wrapping her arms around me.

  “Everything is so confusing,” I sobbed.

  “Oh Leah, I’m sorry. You’ve had a rough time and I haven’t made it any better. Yell or throw something at me—I deserve it for being a horrid friend. If your homework is wrong, I’ll ask Rebecka to do it over.”

  “No, it’s okay.” I’ll fix it myself later, I thought.

  “Well, you let me know if you need anything.”

  She really meant it, and I was glad that Leah had such a good friend.

  Except that Leah was gone and all that was left was … me.

  Realization slammed like a fist into my gut.

  I was Leah Montgomery—for the rest of my life. At school Jessica was my best friend. She’d hang out with me and we’d sit with Moniqua, Kat, Tristan and other popularity-plus friends. Classmates would admire and envy us. Some—like Rebecka—would even pay for the privilege of being with us.

  This was my reality. It was time I accepted my fate.

  Amber Borden was dead and gone forever.

  Leah Montgomery lived.

  Jessica rambled on about school and friends and shared memories I didn’t share. Her presence filled my room, overwhelmingly, giving me too much to think about. I craved to be alone but sweet, sincere, determined Jessica showed no interest in leaving.

  When Jessica found the gift bag Mrs. Montgomery had left, she squealed in ecstasy over the suede laced-ankle heels. She said I had to go out to show off my new shoes. Then she swept through my closet like a fashion cyclone, searching for a matching outfit and accessories. Her clashing opinions about styles made me dizzy. Short was in but mini was out; white was the new black yet black never went out of style; and low-waist jeans were tacky unless accompanied by a sexy, low-back tattoo.

  Finally, I told her bluntly that I needed to sleep.

  “I’ll go—if you promise to come to my house tonight for a fundraising meeting.”

  “You can’t be serious. I only got out of the hospital a few days ago.”

  “So it’s time you had some fun—and show off your fabulous new shoes. It’ll just be our group and afterwards Mom’s serving a yummy Hawaiian barbeque dinner. It’ll be so much fun—and even more with you there. Come on, Leah, please, please, please say you’ll go!”

  “Tonight?” I laughed bitterly. “My father will never let me out of here.”

  “If your father agrees, you’ll go?”

  I nodded, positive his answer would be a stern “no.”

  “Great.” She lifted her head confidently. “I’ll handle your father.”

  Jessica hurried out of the room and returned less than ten minutes later—smiling. Her powers of persuasion were phenomenal. If she wrote a book on the topic, it would be an immediate bestseller—and I’d probably read it.

  Once she’d left, I slapped my forehead. “Stupid! Stupid! What have I done?”

  I wasn’t ready to hang out with Jessica and her backstabbing friends. They knew more about Leah than I did—which could be humiliating. And considering how badly my first Jessica party had turned out, I was in no hurry to repeat the mistake.

  Still, I couldn’t hide in this room forever. Eventually, I’d have to face Leah’s crowd. I’d be a jumble of nerves, expecting to be called out as a fraud. But how would they know? I certainly wasn’t about to tell them.

  Since I looked like Leah, for my own survival I’d have to learn to act like her.

  Beginning with the daily schedule Angie had given me.

  Leah liked exercise.

  I could learn to like it, too.

  With this resolve, I didn’t complain as Angie led me down to the pool to swim laps. She must have worried I’d escape again, because she kept a sharp eye on me. Not being a skilled swimmer, I doggie paddled and floated on my back. The heated water cocooned me against chilly breezes. My mind wandered and my body slipped into auto-pilot, until to my surprise I found myself slicing through the water with powerful strokes. Hey, I was really swimming. Cool.

  Next on the schedule: one-hour workout in the gym.

  I’d heard the wealthy people had complete gym facilities in their homes, but I’d had never been in one until now. There were two treadmills, a computerized stationary bike, a stepper, weights, and elliptical equipment. I spent an hour trying out the different machines. It wasn’t pretty. I groaned, sobbed, and sweat. But instead of the expected aching muscles, I had this incredible mental rush, like I’d climbed a mountain or soared into air from a bungee. This body thrived on exercise.

  All that thriving made me hungry.

  Lunch was served in the dining room. I was the only one at the table since Mrs. Montgomery had taken Hunter to consult with his lawyer, Mr. Montgomery was at his office, and Warden Angie was who-knew-where-and-who-cared off running errands. Only Angie’s husband Luis remained to serve me.

  A chubby and fuzzy-bearded teddy-bear, Luis moved and spoke in a relaxed, hippie-like way. He dished up food so fabulous he could have been a chef in a five-star restaurant. I could tell he didn’t like me, but that didn’t stop him from gossiping about his passion—soap operas. I knew a fair amount about this topic myself, thanks to my neighbor Dilly, who considered it her duty to fill me in on all the drama of All My Children, General Hospital, and The Young and the Restless.

  I didn’t interrupt Luis as he talked—except to ask for more food. He gasped (I guessed Leah didn’t eat much), then he rushed into the kitchen and returned with more creamy homemade clam chowder, honeyed corn bread, and fresh salmon fried in a spicy batter. It was the best meal I’d had since landing in the wrong body.

  But then Angie returned and spoiled everything. She snapped at Luis to get back to work. He smiled at me conspiratorially, then collected the dirty dishes and hustled to the kitchen.

  I had no other place to go except my room. Sinking onto the bed, I stared up at the ceiling. I couldn’t sleep, or even cry anymore. How was I going to pass empty minutes without a computer, TV, or anything to read except some fashion magazines? I considered searching Mr. Montgomery’s office library for something to read, but didn’t want to go into that formidable room again.

  Boredom swallowed me whole and gnawed … until I remembered the journal.

  I dug it out from under the bed (dumb hiding place!) and settled myself in a chair by the window. I hoped for intimate diary passages as juicy as Luis’ soap operas. But a quick flip of the book showed mostly empty pages, and only some brief writing on the first few pages—not typical entries, either.

  Page One: A scribbled red heart with Chad’s name written inside—like something a ten-year-old with her first crush would draw.


  Page Two: Jagged pieces of a heart, ripped apart. Instead of Chad’s name there were ugly slashes of black Xs.

  Trouble in Love City?

  There was only one more page, and it contained just six scrawled lines:

  They called me a slut

  So I slept around.

  She called me a bitch

  So I became one.

  He said he owned me

  So I lost my soul.

  I reread the lines, quaking inside with the certainty that Leah was writing about herself. Had these been her last thoughts before taking the pills? She seemed so unlike the confident leader I’d admired at school, breezing through the halls with her entourage, smiling and waving at friends. Was that all an act? What was really going on with her? The line about her sleeping around bothered me the most.

  What had this body I now inhabited experienced?

  If only I could have saved her, somehow. Now I was afraid she was gone. Not trapped in my real body, as I’d first thought, but banished to a dark place for suicide victims. I’d survived because of her loss—it didn’t seem fair. But what Leah had written in her journal wasn’t fair, either. Instead of accepting responsibility for her actions, she blamed the unknown “They,” She,” and “He.”

  I couldn’t help getting hit by a truck, but Leah sure could have stopped herself from swallowing pills. Maybe I still would have gotten lost on the way to my own body. Maybe I would have ended up in a completely different body or no body at all. I had no way of knowing what might have happened to me. But if Leah had held on longer, if she’d believed in herself, I know what would have happened to her.

  She’d still be alive.

  Aside from being cook, gardener and handyman, Luis also acted as chauffeur.

  When he dropped me off at Jessica’s mini-mansion, I clutched my beaded handbag tightly, swallowed hard, and shoved everything “Amber” from my mind.

  “Leah, it’s so lovely to see you!” Mrs. Bradley, Jessica’s elegant, dark-haired mother, enveloped me in a hug. Her hands sparkled with ornate gold, diamond, and sapphire rings—middle-aged versions of Jessica’s ring-covered hands.

  I murmured “Hello” in my most polite tone, then followed her into a vast room of windows showcasing a gleaming piano. In another corner, leather chairs and a couch were arranged around a glass-topped coffee table. A familiar trio sat on the couch.

  “Leah!” Kat and Moniqua squealed.

  “Leah,” Chad said in completely different tone: husky, with intimate undertones. He crossed the room, pulling me into an embrace. “I know it’s only been a few days but it’s like I haven’t seen you for months. I’ve been crazy trying to get in touch with you. Your damn father gave orders not to accept my calls. You know what I miss most?”

  When his hands wandered up from my waist I stiffened. “Not now, Chad.”

  “Come on, Leah.” He brushed his fingers across my hair. “Don’t be mad. I never would have left you at the hospital if I didn’t have to.”

  “Oh, you had to?” I asked sarcastically. “I go back to the car and instead of finding you in it, there’s a police officer.”

  “Sorry, but I have some unpaid traffic tickets and I’d have been screwed if that officer ran my license. Still, I felt bad about leaving you.” He didn’t sound very sorry.

  “Of course, you had to ditch me,” I said with heavy irony.

  “I knew you’d understand.”

  “More than you realize.”

  The young, dark-haired maid I remembered from my last visit came in carrying iced tea. Although I didn’t know her, I felt a kinship; both of us were forced into roles that masked our real personalities. Her dark eyes shone like someone who laughed easily when she wasn’t working. I would have liked to follow her out of the room and hang out. Instead, I sat in a leather chair, avoiding Chad.

  Jessica propped a laptop on her knees, clicking her keyboard with one hand while sipping tea with the other. “Meeting starts now. Thanks for coming, everyone.” She gave me a warm smile. “Especially Leah. Welcome back.”

  “Yay, Leah.” Kat applauded. “I wouldn’t even know you’d been sick if I, well, didn’t know you’d been sick. You look fabulous.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Moniqua added with a rattle of her beaded braids. “Kat actually thought brain fever would make your hair fall out. We downloaded some sites for wigs. But she was wrong as usual.”

  “I didn’t say for sure, just that I heard it could happen,” Kat explained.

  “She read it off the internet. Probably one of those fake medical sites.”

  “Whatever.” Kat jabbed Moniqua with her pointed black shoe. “All that matters is having Leah back with us, looking as gorgeous as ever.”

  When they talked around me, I felt more like furniture than part of this conversation.

  “Can we get on with this meeting?” Chad complained, moving possessively closer to me. “Leah and I want to have time to go someplace alone … if you know what I mean.”

  “Maybe none of us care what you mean.” Jessica scowled at Chad. “Can you at least pretend to take this meeting seriously? You’re only here because of Leah, but the rest of us care about starving people who depend on our fundraisers.”

  “I care.” He flashed a cocky smile.

  “Then show it,” she snapped. “We only have one day to come up with a fundraiser. The principal has offered us a wonderful opportunity to use the auditorium this Friday, after school.”

  “In three days?” Moniqua exclaimed. “You’ve got to be joking. No way can we plan anything that soon.”

  “Did I say it would be easy? No, I did not. That’s why it was so urgent we meet tonight. We need to come up with something amazing enough to get the whole school excited. Any suggestions?”

  “Leah could ask her father to bring in one of his bands,” Moniqua suggested.

  “Cool!” Kat clapped. “A concert for the poor.”

  I cringed, because I couldn’t imagine asking Mr. Montgomery for anything. Fortunately, Jessica was more realistic. She pointed out that with spring break coming up there wasn’t time for a big music event. “What we need is something like a spontaneous rally, where everyone shows up to donate money.”

  “Or bags of food,” Chad said.

  “Exactly!” Jessica flashed him a wide smile. “But if we want to inspire kids to join in, we need to keep it simple. How about a canned-food drive?”

  Everyone was nodding, so I did, too. At Thanksgiving last year, Alyce and I had volunteered at a homeless shelter. I’d gotten this emotional rush, and realized that I liked helping people. Jessica seemed genuine about her project, too. But what about Leah? Was she motivated by a big heart or a big ego?

  I’d probably never know.

  The canned-food drive got a unanimous vote. But no one could think of a fun event to bring in a crowd. “Hardly anyone will stay after school just to donate food,” Jessica added. “What should we do?”

  Moniqua wanted a have a dance-a-thon; Kat thought a game like Bingo might be fun; and Chad offered to invite a famous pro-golfer pal to sign autographs. No one asked me for any suggestions, so I sat quietly, listening.

  After a while, Mrs. Bradley came in wearing a flowing flowered skirt and a lei. “The Hawaiian barbeque is ready,” she announced. Tangy and sweet aromas swirled deliciously in from the kitchen. “But go ahead and finish your meeting. Everything is being kept warm in heated dishes, so no rush. When you’re ready, join me in the sun room.”

  “Smells great,” Chad said, smacking his lips appreciatively.

  “Nothing fancy tonight, simply casual buffet.” Mrs. Bradley reached up to tuck a white blossom behind her ears. “I hope you don’t mind serving yourselves. The little boys can be so noisy, so I’m letting them eat in the playroom with their nanny.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Jessica said.

  “How old are your brothers now?” Moniqua asked. “I just love little kids.”

  “Three and five, and they’r
e adorable little monsters,” Jessica said fondly. “But I’m glad they won’t eat with us—they love having food fights and I don’t think any of us wants to wear more food than we eat.”

  I was the only one who didn’t laugh. My little sisters loved food fights, too. Cherry, Melonee, and Olive always giggled hysterically from their high chairs when they tossed food at each other. I used to get mad, but now I’d give anything to hug them—even if it meant getting splattered with spaghetti and green beans.

  “Returning to our agenda.” Jessica tapped the end of her pen against the coffee table. “Any more ideas?”

  The others shook their heads while I continued to be silent, wondering if this was usual for Leah. I’d expected her to be the take-charge type, but instead that role seemed to fall to Jessica. Still, I did have some ideas. I thought of the list I’d prepared before the car accident, which was full of charity-event ideas, the names of local businesses that frequently donated to good causes, and raffle items that parents, teachers, and students couldn’t resist.

  Should I stay quiet, as everyone seemed to expect? The more I talked, the more chance there was of making a mistake and saying something totally un-Leah. Still, good ideas were a shame to waste. Biting my lower lip, I slowly raised my hand.

  “Yes, Leah?” Jessica said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I think we should … um … have a raffle.”

  “We don’t have enough time to come up with fantabulous prizes.” Jessica flipped a page of her notebook and scratched something out. “I just don’t see it as possible.”

  “But it is possible,” I continued in a louder voice. “I know what to do.”

  “You do? Really?” Jessica sat the notebook down, staring with clear surprise.

  She wasn’t the only one staring at me. The others watched curiously, puzzled even, as if this was a new behavior for Leah. My heart jumped. Oops. If only I could swallow my words. I’d never felt so out of my element—not even that other time at Jessica’s. At least for a while, there, I’d had Eli and all that chocolate. But this was like acting on stage—without knowing any of my lines—in front of a tough audience. I was sure I was saying everything wrong.