Tara could see all the color fade from her teacher’s face. Mrs. Farmer gasped. “How do you know this?”
Tara sighed. “I just do, okay?”
Mrs. Farmer grabbed her by the arm. “Do you know Carla Holloway? Did she tell you this?”
“No, ma’am. I asked you who Carla is, remember? Uncle Pat and I just moved here, remember? We really don’t know anyone.”
“Then how . . . ”
“Maybe I’m psychic, okay? When you go home this evening, get out your new checks and look through the pads. You’ll find a couple of checks will be missing from each one. Confront Carla. She’ll fold. And don’t forgive her to the point of letting her keep babysitting for you . . . because she’s using the money to buy drugs.”
“Oh dear Lord,” Mrs. Farmer gasped, and reached for her cell phone.
Tara ducked her head and made a run for the hall. She’d done all she could do. The rest was up to Mrs. Farmer.
She made it to second period just as the last bell rang. That teacher frowned as she slid into her seat. Tara heard a soft masculine whisper from behind her.
“Good save, Moon girl.”
She turned. Flynn O’Mara grinned at her. Tara rolled her eyes and then dug her book out of her backpack, trying not to think about how stinkin’ cute Flynn was. Kind of had that classic heartthrob look, but with more muscles and straighter hair.
Henry showed up about fifteen minutes later and began trying to get Tara’s attention. She sent him mental signals to be quiet, but he wasn’t getting the message. Just before class ended they heard a loud commotion out in the hall. It sounded like doors banging—dozens of doors—against the walls. Henry threw up his hands and vaporized. That’s when she realized whatever was going on out in the hall might have something to do with Millicent. The door to her classroom opened and flew back against the wall with a loud bang. The fact that it seemed to have opened by itself was not lost on the teacher or the students.
“Wait here!” the teacher cried, and dashed out into the hall.
Moments later Tara heard the fire alarm go off. The teacher came running back into the room.
“Walk in an orderly line and follow me!” Students grabbed backpacks and folders and fell into line behind her as she strode quickly out the door.
Tara’s stomach sank as she slid in between Flynn O’Mara and a girl with blue hair.
“It’s probably nothing,” Flynn said over her shoulder.
Tara shivered. She knew better. It was something all right. It was Millicent. But why?
The halls grew crowded as students filed out of the classroom and made for the exits. To their credit, the exodus was somewhat orderly. As soon as they reached the school grounds, security guards began directing them to the appropriate areas. In the distance, Tara could hear sirens.
She kept looking back toward the school building. What had Millicent done?
Henry appeared in front of her, as if to say I told you so, then disappeared just as quickly again. A pair of fire trucks pulled into the school yard. Firemen jumped down from the rigs and hurried into the building. As Tara watched, smoke began to pour out of one of the windows on the second floor.
OMG! Millicent had set the school on fire? Why would Tara’s lifelong ghost pal set the school on fire?
The moment she thought it, Tara heard Millicent’s voice in her head.
I didn’t set the fire. It was already burning between the walls. Give me a break. I was trying to help.
Sorry, Tara told her.
As if that wasn’t enough drama for the day, a loud rumble of thunder suddenly sounded overhead.
Ghosts couldn’t control the weather, so this wasn’t Henry or Millicent’s doing. A strong gust of wind suddenly funneled between the school and the gym. She shuddered. Even though the day was warm, that wind gust was chilly. Then it thundered again. She looked up at the underside of the building storm clouds, frowning at how dark they were getting.
“Are you cold?” Flynn asked.
She turned to find him standing right behind her.
“A little. Who knew we’d need jackets today? It was in the nineties when I left home this morning.”
“Take mine,” he said, as he slipped out of his denim jacket and then put it over her shoulders.
“Then you’ll be cold,” she said.
“Nah. I’m good.”
She slipped the jacket on. The warmth from his body still lingered in the fabric, giving her a momentary impression of how it would feel to have his arms around her. It was an image that made her blush.
The wind continued to rise, with thunder rumbling every few minutes.
Tara shivered nervously as she looked up at the clouds. She hated storms.
“We’re going to get soaked,” she muttered.
A shaft of lightning suddenly snaked out of the clouds and struck nearby, sending the crowd into a panic.
“Into the gym!” Coach Jones yelled.
He waved his arms and pushed kids toward the gym.
“To the gymnasium!” a teacher echoed, and the crowd began to move. When the next shaft of lightning struck, this time in the football field nearby, they began to run. And then the rain came down.
Tara ran as hard as everyone else, but the ground was getting muddy and more than once she lost traction and slipped. If she fell, she would get trampled before anyone knew she was even down there. No sooner had the thought gone through her mind than her feet went out from under her. She was falling and all she could see were the legs of hundreds of students aiming straight for her.
Suddenly, Flynn pulled her upright. “Hang on to me, Moon Girl!”
She grabbed hold of his hand. Together they made it into the gym. They were heading for the bleachers before they realized they were still holding hands. They turned loose of each other too quickly, then grinned for being so silly.
“Thanks for your help,” she said, and took off his jacket. “It’s soaked. Sorry.”
“It’ll dry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks again.”
He eyed the dark hair plastered to her head and the wet t-shirt she was wearing as his grin widened. “You might wanna keep that jacket for a while.” She looked down, then rolled her eyes. Everything—and she did mean, everything—showed, right down to her blue bra and the little mole next to her belly button.
“Perfect,” Tara muttered. “Just perfect.”
“Yeah. I agree,” Flynn said.
She thumped him on the arm and then crossed her arms across her chest.
“Stop looking,” she hissed.
“I’m trying, but hey . . . don’t blame me for an appreciation of the finer things in life.”
Tara laughed despite herself, then put his jacket back on and climbed the bleachers. She sat down a little away from a crowd of sophomores and began wringing the water out of her hair.
I like her, Flynn thought. I like this crazy girl.
Flynn paused. If he followed her up and sat down beside her, it would only intensify what he was already feeling. There was no pretense with her. She was a little odd and definitely different from the other girls in school, but he had plans for his last year of high school that didn’t include getting messed up by another female. Bethany Fanning had done it to him big time over the summer, and he wasn’t in the mood to go through another dose of female drama. Still, something told him that Tara Luna wasn’t fake, and if there was drama in her life, she wasn’t the kind to exaggerate it.
He felt someone push him toward her, but when he turned around, there was no one there. Frowning, he climbed the bleachers and then plopped down right in front of her. That way he was close, but not staking out territory.
Tara had seen Millicent give Flynn a push. So, Millicent wasn’t satisfied with play
ing havoc at school today. Now she was playing matchmaker.
I delivered him. You do the rest.
“I can do just fine on my own, thank you,” Tara said beneath her breath.
Flynn frowned. “Sorry. I didn’t know you’d set up boundaries. Want me to move?”
“No. No. Not you. I wasn’t talking to you. Sit here . . . wherever you want. Sorry.”
Flynn’s frown deepened as he looked around. “Then who were you talking to, if not to me?”
“Ghosts,” Tara said. “I was talking to ghosts.”
“Yeah, right. Whatever. I can take a hint.” He got up and moved away.
Now see what you did.
“Just stop meddling,” Tara snapped.
Whatever, Millicent said, echoing Flynn, then made herself scarce.
Tara slumped. Could this day possibly get any worse?
About an hour later, the school principal came into the gym and made an announcement. The fire department had put out the blaze, but the students would not be allowed back into the building until they were sure it was safe. So, as soon as the storm passed, high school would be dismissed and the students were to go home. The principal also announced that anyone who was carrying a cell phone was allowed to use it to call home. Normally, kids had to keep them turned off.
Tara had a phone but, knowing there was no one home to call, she didn’t bother. As she walked out of the building she looked around for Flynn to give him back his jacket, but he was gone.
“Great. Just freakin’ great,” she muttered, as she headed down the sidewalk. She’d definitely messed up with the only guy who’d been nice to her.
The closer she got to home, she began to forget about him. There was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, like someone had just died. Something told her it had to do with that dark spirit.
Uncle Pat would be at work, which meant she’d be home alone for at least four or five hours. Plenty of time for the dark entity to plague her some more. If only she could figure it out. She couldn’t tell if it was threatening her, or just an unhappy spirit. Either way, it was the last thing she was in the mood to face. She fingered the chain around her neck, then followed it all the way down to the medallion with the image of St. Benedict on one side, and his prayer for protection on the other.
“I’m needing all the help I can get here, please.”
Henry popped up beside her. She smiled.
“Thanks, Henry. You are so my BFF.”
What about me?
“You, too, Millicent. What does this say about me . . . claiming two ghosts as BFFs?”
A soft wind began to encircle her—the ghost version of a hug. She would have cried if it would have done any good.
“Thanks,” she said, and then added. “So, guys, I need a big favor. See what you can find out about Shadow Guy. Why is he hanging around me, and even more to the point . . . is he evil?”
At that point her cell phone rang. She didn’t need to look at Caller ID to see who it was. Uncle Pat was the only live soul in the listings. That didn’t preclude the occasional weird text messages she got from Millicent and Henry, but when they wanted her attention, they never rang the phone.
“Hi Uncle Pat, what’s up?”
“Are you okay?” he asked. “We heard at work that there was a fire in the high school.”
“Oh. Shoot. I should have called to at least tell you that,” she said. “Yes, I’m fine, but class was dismissed for the day. In fact, I’m on my way home right now. The firemen wanted to do a thorough sweep before letting us back into classes.”
“What was burning?” he asked.
“Not sure. Probably electrical. I heard it started behind a wall.” She didn’t bother to explain that she’d heard it from Millicent. Uncle Pat tolerated just about everything she did except her claim to see ghosts. She’d learned a long time ago to keep all that to herself.
“Well, thank goodness you’re all right,” he said. “So, you’ll be okay at home alone?”
She thought about the dark entity, then sighed. Even if she told him, and even if he believed her, there was nothing he could do.
“I’ll be fine. And since I’ll have lots of time, I’ll make something special for supper tonight, okay?”
“There are some bratwursts in the freezer.”
“Yum,” she said, thankful he couldn’t see her face. Uncle Pat’s idea of a culinary delight was brats and beer. “So quit worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay then. See you later alligator.” Glad there was no one around to hear, she fired back with a response he’d taught her when she was barely old enough to talk. “After while, crocodile.”
“Peace out,” he replied.
She was still smiling when she heard him disconnect. Uncle Pat was such an old hippie. She dropped the phone back into her book bag and kept on walking. A few moments later she heard a siren in the distance, and turned to see if she could tell what was going on. To her dismay, she could see a new plume of smoke. The fire must have restarted in the high school. She was beginning to wonder if there would be a school to go back to, when she saw a red convertible turn a corner a few blocks up, then head her way.
She’d seen it in the school parking lot and knew it belonged to a boy named Davis Breedlove. She also knew he was the star quarterback for the football team and that he and Bethany Fanning had a thing going on, which meant her blonde entourage would probably be along for the ride. Telling herself not to borrow trouble, she turned around and kept walking, hoping they’d ignore her as they drove past. When she heard the car slowing down, then shouts and laughter, she sighed. She’d bet a new Blackberry it was that goofy twitch, Prissy.
“Hey, hey, it’s the new funny girl. Hey Tara Luna . . . or is your name Lunatic? Tara Lunatic? Are you a lunatic?”
“If this keeps up much longer I will be,” Tara mumbled to herself and kept on walking.
“Where’d you get Flynn O’Mara’s jacket, lunatic? That’s quick work. Already putting out. That’s the only way you’d get a hottie’s jacket, even if he is a bad boy hottie.”
Tara stopped and turned. She’d been right about who was driving the car. Davis Breedlove. And Bethany, the girl who’d given Flynn the evil eye the first day of school, was sitting beside him. But it was Prissy the twitch who kept mouthing off. Obviously, her part in the entourage was that of court jester.
Tara knew she should just ignore them, but she was really tired of this crap. She sauntered over to the car, then leaned against it to visit, as if they were her best friends.
“Nice car,” she drawled, and smiled at Davis Breedlove. A little taken aback by her nerve, he smiled back.
Bethany bristled. The nobody had just flirted with her boyfriend. That was so not cool.
Prissy caught the look on Bethany’s face and did what she did best—she attacked.
“Back off, bitch.”
Tara smiled again, this time at Prissy, but it was not friendly.
“You’re saving money to get a boob job and your Dad watches porno on the web.”
Prissy’s mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. The shock on her face was obvious.
Then Tara pointed at Melanie Smith, the other girl in the backseat beside Prissy.
“You binge and purge. Bad habit. I’d give it a rest before all your teeth rot and fall out.”
“Oh my God,” Mel whimpered, and covered her face with her hands.
A guilty pang made Tara back away from poor Mel. Tara pointed at Bethany, then stopped as something sinister slid through her mind. She didn’t know what it was, but something bad was going to happen to Bethany—and soon.
“You need to be careful about who you hang out with.”
Davis revved the engine. “Are you dissing me?”
Tara stepped back just in time to keep the car from rolling over her toes, then watched until it disappeared around a curve. She couldn’t quit thinking about Bethany’s aura of trouble. Maybe she should have said more to warn her. Tara gave a tired shrug. Who’d believe me? She shifted her backpack to a more comfortable position and picked up her pace. The sooner she got home, the happier she’d be.
Or so she thought, right up until the moment she stepped up on the porch. Before she knew what was happening, she was surrounded in darkness. A horrible pressure pushed through her mind, followed by a sudden bout of nausea so intense she almost gagged. The cross on the chain around her neck began to burn against her skin. She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. One minute her hand was on the doorknob and then the world began to spin.
Help me, she thought, and then everything went black.
“Tara! Moon girl! Are you all right?”
Tara groaned. She could hear someone calling her name, but she couldn’t focus.
Flynn was in a panic. He’d followed her home to apologize for acting like a jerk in the gym. He’d been several blocks behind her on Duck Street when he’d seen Davis Breedlove’s car pull over to the curb. He’d seen Tara talking to Bethany and her crew, and he felt sure they were taunting her. It’s what people like them did. When they’d finally driven away, he began walking faster, hoping to catch up with Tara, only she’d reached her house first.
He’d seen her step up on the porch and then stagger. She’d had her hand on the doorknob and then all of a sudden she was down. He’d sprinted the last half a block.
“Tara . . . ” Suddenly she could breathe. Whatever had attacked her was gone. She grabbed onto the only steady thing she could feel, unaware it was Flynn O’Mara’s arm.
“I’ve got you,” Flynn said. “Take it easy. Don’t sit up too fast.”
Tara shivered, then opened her eyes. “Flynn?”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, Moon girl, it’s me. Are you okay? Do you hurt anywhere?”
“I am so screwed,” Tara mumbled.
Sharon Sala - [Lunatic Life 01] Page 3
