“Kip?” I whispered back. “Is that you?”
Hollow skull eyes rose up, then down, as if nodding.
“Thank goodness you came back!” I said with a sigh of relief. “I’ve been trying to do what you want, but I need more information.”
His sunk-in mouth moved soundlessly.
“What are you trying to say?”
The disembodied head moved sideways, then sank down, until Kip vanished.
“Don’t go yet! Come back!” I slapped the side of my computer. The screen flickered bright, then flashed off to darkness.
The computer seemed as dead as Kip was supposed to be. I whirled around to see if his ghost was floating somewhere in my room. Only I was alone.
“Kip!” I called out. “If you can hear me, just answer one question. Do you want me to help Aileen or Leanna?”
I waited for a reply, but there was none.
Still I sensed his spirit nearby. “Kip, why aren’t you showing yourself?”
In my head I had a flash of a light bulb burning out, as if he was trying to tell me his power to crossover was fading.
“You can’t leave me like this!” I stomped on the carpet. “Should I go through with my plan to find a new guy for Aileen or Amy’s crazy plan to help Leanna?”
When there was no whisper of an answer, I intuitively knew that I’d heard the last from Kip.
From now on, I was on my own.
*
I was also on my own with schoolwork.
Independent study continued to be a major pain. It was either mind-numbingly boring or too confusing without a teacher to ask for help. I started to long for crowded classrooms, the stench of cafeteria food, and lame comments from teachers. Mostly I longed for my friends.
Before Mom left for some meeting about urban improvements, she looked through my assignments and was quick to voice her disappointment with my progress. “You haven’t done your language arts worksheet or the math assignments.”
I promised to work harder, but once she was gone I only finished three math problems before my mind shifted to other topics—like a damaged saber, Kip’s bloody computer message, and Nona’s failing health. Why was I wasting time with schoolwork when I should be solving real problems?
So I put my textbooks away and picked up the phone and called Nona. Only Penny-Love answered.
“Hey!” I said, glad to hear her voice. It felt like centuries since we’d talked rather than just a few days. “Ditching school again?”
“I never ditch school,” she said with an indignant sniff. “I always have a legitimate excuse from my mother.”
“Signed by you.”
“Details, details.” She giggled. “I had a good reason today. Soul-Mate Matches is swamped and this is the only way to get caught up. My promo idea of a discount flyer in the newspaper made us crazy busy.”
“So get back to work and put Nona on.”
“Now isn’t a good time.” There was a pause. “She’s busy with a client.”
“Tell her to call me when the client leaves. I need some professional advice.”
“Problems with Josh?”
“Nothing like that. I have this friend who needs romantic help.”
“Ah, a romance SOS! My specialty. Tell me about it.”
So I did, and when I finished Penny-Love was all about solutions. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. I’m going to email you a personal form for Aileen to fill out.”
“She won’t do it.”
“Figure out the information yourself.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“Be creative,” she said with a chuckle. Then she clicked off to get another call.
I stared at the phone for a few minutes, feeling like I’d been manipulated, which was certainly the truth. Penny-Love had pushed my problem back to me without telling me anything about Nona.
After printing out the form for Aileen, I was able to fill in some basic information like her name, address, school, age, and phone number. But that left about a dozen personal questions. Favorite foods, hobbies, music, tattoos?
Be creative, huh?
I considered the creative strategies Manny had used to get interviews for the Sheridan Shout-Out. Once he’d dressed up as a pizza delivery guy, heated a frozen pizza and put it in a carton. A few hours later he had his interview, plus a generous tip. Another time he’d posed as a teacher over the phone and faked a parent-teacher conference.
But I’d rather not lie, except as a last resort.
Aileen would still be in school, so I’d call her later. Or even better, I’d surprise her with a visit this evening if Mom, Dad, and my sisters were in the mood for Chinese food. We hadn’t eaten together once since I returned, and it was starting to bug me. We could be the poster family for dysfunctional families. Mom’s warp-speed schedule was hard to keep up with. And Dad was even worse. I’d seen more of Kip, which was sad considering he was dead. Going out to dinner would be good for us.
With this decided, I returned to my depressing piles of schoolwork.
After a few hours of mounting frustration, I finished the English report and two math assignments. I still had an essay to write on a controversial woman in politics. A search online had gotten me started, but I needed to hit the library for more information.
The library was only a few blocks away, and after consulting Mrs. Sweeny the librarian, I found some great resources. I checked out three books and printed articles from newspaper archives. As I scanned back issues, I ran across a small article about the band Arcadia High had hired for their upcoming prom.
I shivered, knowing the festive prom would result in a funeral.
That’s when it occurred to me that this was an opportunity to find out more about Kip’s accident. I’d only seen the one article from a small local newspaper. I’d never read any follow-up reports or checked competing papers. On a hunch, I searched back issues and found two more articles. One was short, just a paragraph, but the other covered half a page and included a gruesome photo of twisted metal wreckage next to a cheerful yearbook photo of Kip.
At first I didn’t notice anything unusual.
The report included vivid details of the prom; crowning ceremony for the new crowned king and queen, the band that I recognized because Vin raved about them, a list of faculty chaperones including Mr. Landreth, and the colorful balloons raining from the ceiling as the evening finale.
Then the tone switched to graphic gore with quotes from the first officer on the accident scene and an interview with Arcadia High’s football coach, who raved about Kip’s athletic promise and said losing such a talent had devastated the entire community. The principal praised Kip, bringing back my own painful memories of going to the principal’s office and being shown the “Kick Sabine Out of School” petition. Over a hundred signatures, but only one that mattered.
My mind drifted over the rest of the article, until one sentence jumped out at me. Huh? But that wasn’t right. I read it again:
The tragic accident occurred at approximately 1:15 a.m., after Kip Hurst dropped off his girlfriend, Aileen Paladini, a senior from Arcadia High, at her residence on Leonora Way.
But the timeline didn’t fit with Aileen’s story. She said they’d only stayed at the prom a few hours, sneaking out before the royalty crowning ceremony to go to a nearby motel, arguing and never going inside. Then Kip dropped Aileen off at her home “so early the prom was still going on.” Which meant the accident would have occurred before midnight—not after one.
So either the newspaper reported the time wrong.
Or Aileen was lying.
That night we ate Chinese at Chopsticks Cafe—and it would have been a perfect evening except for three things.
1. My father didn’t come home from work. (No surprise there.)
2. My sisters got into an argument and stopped talking.
3. Aileen wasn’t working.
The food at Chopsticks was fabulous, but I was left with a sour taste in m
y mouth and an overall sense of failure. And I wouldn’t get a chance to talk with Aileen for at least two days because tomorrow I’d promised to go with Amy to the Hurst house. Against my better judgement, we were going to conjure up some “black magic.”
Heaven help us.
It was a mystery how Amy managed to con Leanna into this wacko plan. But Amy was excited and positive it would work. “Leanna thinks you have magic powers, so she’ll believe whatever you tell her,” my sister insisted. If it helped Leanna get over her brother’s death, I’d give it a try.
Then tomorrow I’d tackle Aileen’s love life.
I had gone out in the backyard and collected green leaves and wild grass to pass off as witchy ingredients. I’d found a dark blue bowl and six yellow candles in the kitchen. Not exactly like the spell required, but Leanna was only ten years old—how would she know the difference?
After struggling through another morning of stay-at-homework, Amy and I arrived at the Hurst house.
“Shssh!” Leanna put her finger to her lips when she opened the door for us. “My mother is watching her soaps upstairs.” Then she led us into her room.
“Is that the stuff?” Leanna pointed to the paper bag I held after closing her door behind us.
“Yeah.” I tried to act serious, but I had the ridiculous urge to laugh. I mean, this whole plan was absurd.
“What do we do first?” Leanna asked. She kept her gaze fixed on me with a mixture of awe and fear. “Will it hurt?”
“Don’t be a baby,” Amy told her friend. “This is a forgiveness ceremony. You’re lucky Sabine said she’d do it. Not many people get to see her powers.”
“She really has witch powers?”
“Well, duh.” Amy flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder, giving Leanna an annoyed look. “If you don’t believe, we’ll leave right now.”
“I believe. I believe,” she said hastily, her eyes wide with fear. “But will getting a spell hurt?”
“Of course not.”
Then Amy prepared the spell. She’d taken out the candles, arranged them in a circle on the metal tray, and placed the dark blue bowl at the center. My sister glanced up at me expectantly. “What next, Sabine?”
“Uh … crush the chicory and dandelion.”
Amy did as I asked, and I thought I heard Opal’s laugh in my head. “You think this is funny?” I thought to my spirit guide.
Abundantly amusing. I wouldn’t miss it for all the worlds.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically. Then I glanced over at the younger girls and realized I’d spoken out loud. So I covered quickly by saying we needed to meditate and give thanks to the guiding spirits.
You’re welcome, Opal told me. Don’t neglect to ask for protective light and invoke blessings from your angels.
I lifted my hands over the waving smoke from the candles and spoke in a monotone, “I ask for a white light of protection.”
And angels, Opal reminded. Most people don’t realize it, but angels can be rather self-important and they crave adoration.
“And may our angels in all their splendor shine their grace upon us.” Is that good enough? I thought to Opal.
Excellent.
I was really getting into this now, and used some of the meditation techniques Nona had taught me. Breathing in and out, opening my mind, and welcoming positive energy.
“Is Kip here?” Leanna asked, gnawing at a thumbnail. She looked nervously around her bedroom.
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “To summon him speak his name three times.”
“Like that movie Beetlejuice?”
I nodded, wondering if that’s where I got the idea. Well, no matter.
“Let’s say it together,” I told Leanna. “Kip … Kip … Kip.”
Our voices echoed in the room, sounding so spooky that shivers rose on my skin. I had no idea if Kip would show up, but I would bet he heard us.
“What now?” Amy asked with an uneasy glance at me. I could tell she wasn’t sure how real this was.
I held out the dark blue bowl to Leanna. “Crush the snake root leaf and grass—”
Sabine dear, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I should warn you …
Leave me alone, Opal. I’m busy right now.
But there’s something you should be aware of.
I can handle this without your interference.
Interference is coming anyway.
And just then the door burst open.
My sister Ashley had arrived.
*
“I knew you guys were up to something,” Ashley said, her blue eyes shining black with anger. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at us. “Are you having a party without me?”
“Butt out,” Amy snapped at her twin.
“My butt’s gonna stay right here until you fess up. Why are you trying to steal my friend?”
Leanna shook her head. “It’s not like that.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. “Amy’s always taking my stuff, and now she’s after my friends, too.”
“Do not!” Amy retorted. “You’re the one who takes my stuff.”
“Whatever.” Ashley turned to Leanna and accused in a low, hurt tone, “You told me you had a violin lesson today and I believed you until I was out riding my bike and saw Mom’s car out front. At first I thought our moms were visiting, until I remembered Sabine drives that car. Then I find you in here—the room you wouldn’t even let me see—with my sisters. Don’t you like me anymore?”
Leanna looked close to tears. “I like you a lot.”
“Then why the secrets?”
“I—I didn’t mean … it’s hard to explain.”
“And what’s with the candles?” Ashley squinted down at the bowl and assorted ingredients. Slowly her gaze shifted to me. “And why are you here?”
While Amy trusted and believed in my abilities, Ashley was more like Mom and got uncomfortable with any paranormal talk. So I hesitated, not sure how to answer.
“Sabine, are you messing with that weirdness again?”
“Uh … define weirdness.”
She narrowed her expression into accusation. “Mom is going to be so mad. You promised not to do these things.”
“What’s she gonna do? Kick me out?”
Leanna looked between us, then said quickly, “I asked Sabine to help me.” Then she explained about arguing with Kip before he died and how she never got to apologize, so we were performing a forgiveness ceremony.
I wasn’t sure how Ashley would react, but I didn’t expect her to burst out laughing—which is exactly what she did.
“What’s so funny?” I asked when Ashley paused to catch her breath. “This is a very serious ceremony.”
Leanna nodded. “We have a sacred bowl, chicory, and snake root.”
“Oh, spare me.” Ashley waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “I collected leaves for a school project and that’s not snake root. It’s an oak leaf.”
“An oak leaf?” Leanna repeated in surprise. “How can Kip forgive me with only an oak leaf?”
“Substitutions work okay,” Amy said.
“That bowl is the one we made chocolate chip cookies in last week,” Ashley added.
“Those were great cookies.” Leanna frowned, narrowing her gaze at Amy. “Is this really the same bowl?”
Amy shrugged. “The bowl doesn’t matter.”
“All your mumbo-jumbo doesn’t matter either,” Ashley declared. “There’s no such thing as a forgiveness ceremony.”
“There isn’t?” Leanna’s mouth fell open.
“My sisters are tricking you.”
“We’re trying to help,” I insisted.
“By faking witchcraft?” Ashley challenged.
“If it’s not real, it won’t work.” Leanna sank in a chair, as if all hope drained out of her. “Kip will always hate me.”
“You really think that?” Ashley asked incredulously. “Just because you had an argument before he died?”
“He sa
id he’d never forgive me.”
“So what? My sisters and I argue all the time and say worse things. Amy whines that I’m mean to her—which is so not true—and Sabine ignores me like I’m a baby in diapers.”
“I do not!” I argued.
“Ashley’s right,” Amy said with an apologetic glance at me. “Sometimes you have this superior attitude and brush us off.”
“Me brush you off? You’re the ones always rushing off to classes and appointments.”
“Which you don’t consider important,” Ashley pointed out. “Like modeling is a childish dress up game.”
“I never said that.”
“But you thought it,” Amy said, softening her words with an apologetic tone. “Whenever I talk about an audition or job, you roll your eyes.”
Amy and Ashley gave me identical accusing looks. I was too stunned to argue, and a little ashamed because they might be right. Could I be jealous? Well … maybe a little. Not because I wanted what they had, but because everyone fussed over them and seemed to forget I existed. And the only talent I had scared my mother. Still, that wasn’t my sisters’ faults, and I needed to treat them like mature young women. So I swallowed my pride and told them I was sorry.
Amy hugged me, while Ashley smiled triumphantly and turned to Leanna. “See what I mean? We fight a lot and still love each other.”
“But Kip hated me when he died and—” Leanna’s eyes filled with tears. “And I—I didn’t get to say I was sorry.”
“I repeat: So what?” Ashley tossed her dark hair over her shoulder and turned to me. “Sabine, let’s pretend you and I got into a big fight and you called me a selfish brat. So I yelled back, ‘You’re the worst sister in the world and I wish you were dead.’ Then you choke on a piece of pizza and die. Would you still be mad at me?”
“Of course not.” I tried not to smile as I added, “Even if you are a selfish brat, I’d still love you.”
“And I wouldn’t wish you were dead even though you’re bossy.” Ashley turned back to Leanna. “Fighting is normal in families. I don’t really think Sabine is the worst sister in the world—I’m sure there are lots worse. Sometimes we just say things without thinking. That’s what sisters—and brothers, I guess—do.”
Sword Play Page 12
