Light emits from beneath Dad's office. Nothing unusual there.
The dim light above the stove is on, casting an eerie glow across the linoleum floor to the back door. The safety chain sways slightly. Dad must've just fastened it. I open the fridge, grab a bottle of water, and eye the cold pizza. I take a slice, on a paper towel, and head to the front of the house. I pause by Dad's door, listening for any signs of him being awake. If he's working and I walk in, he'll be annoyed. Not like growling, evil monster annoyed, but enough to make me feel bad. But if he's asleep and I knock or wake him upon entering, then I'll feel worse. So I turn and climb the stairs.
When I reach the top, I shiver. It's suddenly chillier up here. Doesn't heat rise? This house is weird. I go into my room and push the door with my foot. It closes but doesn't click shut. I set the pizza and bottle on my nightstand and go back to fully close the door.
Loud voices sound, and I freeze, trying to figure out where they're coming from. Dad doesn't own a radio. He either prefers to write in silence or to some old CDs he owns, but I don't hear music. It's definitely talking. Are there people outside? Did Linzy come home, and are she and her mom arguing again?
I open my door and step into the hall. It sounds like the television in the spare room. I fling open the door and see a woman dancing on the beach in a white dress. The announcer is talking about how light their pads are. "You'll never know they're there."
Because every woman wants to frolic on the sand when cramping. I switch off the TV and go back to my room. Since when does Dad watch TV? The only reason he got it was because we usually go through a movie stage after he finishes a book and before we move to our next destination. Only that didn't happen this last time. We were packed and out of Georgia as soon as his editor approved the book.
The pizza no longer looks inviting. I drink some water then crawl under my sheets. After a few minutes, my body starts to feel heavy, and I close my eyes. Finally. Sleep.
In that weird place between awake and slumber my thoughts flitter to Mom. Where is she? Is she happy? Does she have another family?
As I drift off, giggles sound.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I get up, shower, smear cream cheese on half of an un-toasted onion bagel, then step onto the porch, all before Dad emerges from his office. I hope there's been news of Linzy. It's another bright, warm day, and everyone seems to be taking advantage of that. Except the Quinns.
Mrs. Jackson is sitting on her porch, sipping lemonade. I debate waving, since we haven't been introduced. It would be the polite thing, but I don't want her to call me over and engage in a conversation about the good ole days or whatever old people think about. Mr. Friedman hops into his sports car, while Mrs. Friedman is on her knees in front of her flower garden. I make a mental note to ask Kinley which days the gardener visits. I have to get a glimpse of him.
I don't want to approach either of these women, so when Mrs. Rodriquez steps outside with her daughter and sets up a tea party in the grass, I hurry over. When I get closer I realize Mrs. Rodriquez is sporting a small baby bump.
"Hi," I say more enthusiastic than I'm feeling. I slept solid for the last seven hours, but once again I was disturbed by dreams of being chased by Linzy and a loud car.
"Hi." Mrs. Rodriquez looks up. She wears a large straw hat which blocks the sun from her eyes.
"Hi," says the little girl. "Do you wanna play with us?"
"Um…" I look to her mom to see if it's okay.
She waves a hand at the empty part of the blanket. "Please."
"Okay." I sit and smile. "I'm Piper. We just moved in."
Mrs. Rodriquez nods. "I saw the trucks the other day. You're with your dad?"
I nod. "Yeah, we travel around all the time. He's a writer. Vincent Grimaldi."
She shakes her head. Unless you're a crime buff, you wouldn't have heard of him. "Sorry. I don't do a lot of reading."
No matter how many people tell me that, and there's been a lot, I still cringe each and every time. How can a person not read? That's like not breathing. It goes hand-in-hand.
"My husband does though. I'll have to ask him. Oh, I'm Gabriella, but call me Gabi, and this is Jasmine."
"Call me Jazzy," she says in a voice kinda deep for a little girl. It makes me giggle.
"How old are you, Jazzy?"
She holds up one hand and tries to bend her pinky down, but then her ring finger curves too. She repeats her actions to no avail, and a deep frown covers her eyes. Finally, huffing and obviously annoyed, she holds down her pinky with her other hand. All of that to show me she's four.
Gabi and I laugh.
"How old are you?" Jazzy asks.
"Fifteen."
"Wow, you're old. Are you old, Mami?"
Gabi rubs her belly and winks at me. "Very old, baby."
Jazzy pours water from a purple, plastic teapot into four plastic teacups. The fourth being for a giant, stuffed bear with a lopsided yellow bow. From the various colored stains on its fur, I'd guess he's an avid tea partier.
When I look up, Gabi's staring at me. "Si es usted de Puerto Rico?"
"Uh?"
She laughs deep in her chest. "I guess the answer is no then. I asked if you're Puerto Rican."
"I am. Right, Mami?" the little girls peaks up.
Gabi smooths Jazzy's dark hair with her hand.
"Oh, no," I say. "Everyone thinks that though, especially when I lived in New York. My mom is black and my dad's Italian."
Gabi nods. "Mixed babies are very beautiful."
"Am I beautiful, Mami?"
"Ah, mi hija, you are the most beautiful in all the land."
Jazzy giggles. "Like Snow White?"
"Exactly."
A twinge stabs me in the chest. Did Mom and I have similar chats? Were we close? Did we share tea parties with my dolls? I barely remember what she looks like, let alone what we did.
From the corner of my eye, I see Dad step outside. He looks up and down the street, then spots me and nods. A dark blue car pulls up in front of our house. A woman with long, auburn hair steps out and walks to Dad. They shake hands. Who's she? They both look over at the Quinn's.
"So, have you heard anything about Linzy?" I ask.
Gabi's eyes widen, and she nods toward Jazzy. "This one is a parrot, so be careful what you say. But no, not a word since last night. I was hoping we'd come out and hear something."
I grin. We think alike. Very cool.
"The chief acts like this is common."
Gabi waves away a fly. "Oh yes. That youngest one is always causing drama. Always arguing, pushing her limits, and the parents just argue back, never demanding respect. Now if that was me…"
She purses her lips and gives Jazzy a sideways glance. "Let me tell you, she will not even consider speaking to me that way."
I chuckle. "My dad's the same way."
She waves a finger at the air. "That's good. It's the way it should be. Too many parents want to be friends with their kids. That comes later. When they're young, parents need to be firm."
"Mami, I gotta go potty." Jazzy gets up and holds her hands over her crotch.
Gabi pushes them away and scowls. "Then go inside. You can do it by yourself."
Jazzy shakes her head. "No, I gotta go poopy." She lowers her voice, whispers the last word, then switches sides and holds her butt.
I can't help but laugh. Kinley was right; Jazzy's so cute.
Gabi pushes herself up. "Okay, go start. I'll be right there."
Jazzy runs into the house, still holding her butt.
"We may be a few minutes. I'll see you around?"
"Sure." I get up. Dad and the woman are still talking.
"Hey, do you babysit?"
Dollar signs fill my vision, and I imagine all the cute accessories I'll buy. Summer is too hot for scarves, hats, and tons of jewelry, but in fall, winter, and spring, I'm decked out. "Yeah. I even have a certificate from CPR training."
"That's fantastic. Miguel, my h
usband, and I want to go out salsa dancing before I can't see my feet again. Can I call you sometime?"
"Sure that'll be great."
"Good. I'll get your number later. I've asked the girl next to you…"
"Kinley?"
"Yes, but her mother said no. She may be a bit too strict." She winks and heads up her front steps.
Yes, a job! I babysat in Georgia, which is where I got the certificate, but it was sporadic. I'd love to have a regular gig, rely on steady money.
I cross the street and slow down in front of Kinley's, trying to catch a glimpse of her in her room or downstairs, but the sun's reflection makes spying impossible. When I reach my steps, Dad and the woman are laughing.
"Piper, this is Bridget Lansing. The realtor who found us this house."
We shake hands. Her grip is strong, but her hands are bony and feel fragile, like I can crush her fingers if I try. "Nice to meet you, Piper."
"You too. Have you heard anything?" I look to Dad.
"I spoke with Mrs. Quinn this morning," Bridget says, knowing exactly what I'm referring to. "Still nothing. They contacted Linzy's cast members and friends in town. No one's seen her."
Bridget looks to Dad. "It must be so hard for them. I went by earlier. Mrs. Quinn, Maureen, is beside herself."
"I can imagine." Dad shakes his head. He does that when he doesn't know how to process something.
We all watch the house for a minute, in silence, before Bridget clears her throat.
"Well, I should be going. Just wanted to stop by and make sure everything's all right. Oh, I hope you'll both be at the fireworks display tomorrow. It's always so extravagant. The town puts on a great show."
"I'm not sure. I have so much work."
She lays a red manicured hand on his arm and leans closer. "Oh, but you have to. I promise you'll have a great time."
He glances at her hand then her blouse. "I don't know."
I take a step to my left and realize Bridget has her top three buttons undone, and my father just stared at her freckled cleavage. Oh gross—the staring, not the freckles.
She bats her fake lashes and pouts her red glossy lips. Isn't she supposed to be a cougar? Then why on earth is she flirting with my geriatric father?
"I'll convince him," I say, my voice a bit more tense than intended.
"Yay." She pats the top of my head, like I'm a dog. Then she says good-bye and for Dad to call her if he needs anything. I hope I imagined the emphasis she put on "anything." She climbs into her car and pulls into her driveway, two houses down.
I fold my arms across my chest. "Do you like her?"
Dad's looking at the Quinn house, so he does a double take. "What?"
"Bridget. Do you think she's pretty?"
He shrugs. "I guess so." But from his vibe, he doesn't seem interested.
Good. Not that I don't want Dad to be happy. I definitely want him to date again. I'd just rather not have a step-mommy any time soon. I like it being just me and him. But if he found someone he couldn't live without, I'd deal. Just not Bridget Lansing. She may be a great person, but she comes across as trying way too hard.
I sit on the step and join Dad in watching the Quinn house. "Gabi asked me to babysit someday. I said I could do it. Is that okay?"
Dad sits beside me. His face looks droopy, like it's still asleep. "The family there? Yeah, that's fine. If it becomes a regular thing though, remember, school nights…"
"I must be home by nine. I know." I lean against him. Part of me loves how his rules never change, but part of me is also hoping that in another year they will. A nine o'clock curfew at sixteen seems a bit Kinley's-mom-strict. But for now, I'm just glad he came outside to see where I was and didn't assume I was off with friends.
He slings an arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. "Hey, did you fall asleep in the living room last night?"
"No. Why?"
"When I went up to the bathroom around three the TV was on."
I jerk up. That's not possible. I turned it off.
Didn't I?
CHAPTER EIGHT
I shove a handful of microwaved popcorn into my mouth. I click the volume button on my laptop several times, so I can hear Linzy whine about how her boyfriend caught her cheating on him over my crunching. Well, not Linzy herself but her One Day at a Time character, Devon Wilshire.
"He won't even listen to my apology, Felicity. It's so unfair." Devon and Felicity, a blonde with large, doll-like blue eyes, stand by their lockers at school.
Felicity places a hand on Devon's shoulder. "He just needs time, Devon. He'll come around."
Devon bows her head. "That's not even the worse part."
Felicity takes a step closer. "What can be worse than getting caught making out with the new school hottie, Ethan, by your boyfriend of two years, Zach?"
Why do they constantly say each other's names and retell what we just watched? Do they think we're idiots?
The camera zooms in on Devon, as tears fill her eyes. "I think I'm pregnant, and I don't know who the father is."
Felicity gasps.
I gasp.
The theme song begins, and the credits roll.
"Oh my God." I throw a piece of popcorn at my screen. It can't end like that. It's the latest episode, which means I have to wait until after the holiday to see what happens next. Now that's unfair.
My cell buzzes on my nightstand. As I turn to grab it, I realize the sun isn't flooding through my windows anymore. It's moved off toward the side of our house. How long have I been sitting here catching up on the show?
My phone vibrates again. It's two texts from Kinley.
r u home
im @ ur door
I shut my laptop, jump off the bed, and brush popcorn crumbs off my shirt before running downstairs. Dad's in his…drumroll, please…office with the door shut. If our lives ever relied on how well we know one another, I'd totally survive.
When I fling open the front door, Kinley's standing there wide-eyed. She gives me a strange look, steps inside, and says, "I didn't invite her."
Who? Is Linzy back? I take a step forward.
Suddenly Shayla's in my face. "What did you do to my sister?"
I flinch at the near physical attack, the venom in her voice, and her hot, wretched garlic breath. Good God, girl, grab a Tic-Tac.
"What do you want?" I ask, needing a second for my heart rate to enter the normal zone.
"I heard that cop tell Mom and Dad you followed Linzy the other night."
"So?"
Her right eye twitches, and she grabs my arm. "What did you do to her?"
Has she gone bonkers? "Why would I do anything to her? I don't even know her. You're the only lunatic I've met here."
Someday I'll learn to keep my mouth shut.
She digs her fingernails into my arm, and I yelp. Yep, just like a dog.
"Get off me, you psycho." I almost mention how she just proved my point but don't want her digging in more. I wretch myself free as Dad's door slides open.
He stands directly behind me. "What's going on?"
Shayla looks up all wide-eyed and innocent. "I-I just want to know what happened to my sister." Her eyes fill with tears, and she throws in a sniffle for good measure.
Ohmigod, this is a family full of actors. Crazy ones at that.
"We're very sorry that you and your family are going through this," Dad says. "But my daughter and I don't know what happened to her."
"Bu-but she saw her that night."
"Yeah, talking to someone in a car. Then Linzy walked off. That's all I know."
I'm sure the chief filled in her parents, so why Shayla's over here blaming me is beyond my logical thinking. She probably just wanted to get back at me for yesterday with Troy.
She starts to say something, and Dad steps around me. He fills our doorframe, so Shayla has to take a step back. He grabs the door, ready to shut it. "Please tell your parents if there's anything I can do to help, to just ask."
I cross my arms across my chest and cover the area where she grabbed me. "Yeah, that must be it." But I don't fully believe it.
Dad smiles to Kinley. "I hear you're a fan."
Her face turns a shade of pink. "Yes. I have a few of your books. If I get them, will you sign them, please?"
"Of course, anytime. I'll even give you signed copies of the ones you don't have."
Kinley squeals and does this potty dance move.
Ohmigod, this is so embarrassing. She's acting as if Dad's a rock star.
He, of course, is eating it up. His grin is a mile long, and there's a light in his eyes. Something stirs in my chest. Maybe in his own world, he is a rock star.
"This is fascinating, and you guys can drool over books later, but Kinley and I have some decorating to do upstairs."
Dad heads back to his dungeon. "Anytime, Kinley. And help yourself to anything to eat."
He slides his door shut, and I check out my arm. Four pink crescent moon shapes stand out. They're sore and might leave a bruise.
Kinley winces. "Wow, she was pissed."
"Yeah, what a wench. Like I'd personally hurt her sister? Come on."
We run upstairs. I shut my door behind us then go back to my spot on my bed and move over the popcorn and notebook so Kinley can join me.
She kicks off her sandals and leans her back against my fluffed up pillows. "Are we really decorating, 'cause I'm sorta colorblind."
"For reals? That's so cool." I've never met anyone who was colorblind before.
She wrinkles her nose. "Not really. When I was in kindergarten, our teacher gave each of us a colored flag. We had to match ours with another student's. I was too young to realize I should just wait until everyone was done, and the one without a partner would be my match. As it turned out, I had orange and walked to green. All the kids made fun of me, and it continued for years."
I sigh. "That sucks. But you obviously have a great memory, so that's something useful."
She shrugs.
"My dad has a great memory too."
She glances at me. "Oh yeah?"
I Spy Dead People Page 5
