At the bottom, I peek around the staircase, down the hall. Dad's office door is shut, but it can't make that sound anyway. The coat closet and garage-slash-basement door are shut too. It doesn't mean they weren't open a minute ago though. I edge forward and open the closet with a wide jerk. Nothing but Dad's and my jackets and a couple of umbrellas. No coats or boots. It's been a few years since we've lived up North, so when the cold comes we'll have to go shopping.
I grab the garage doorknob and turn it. I walk down one step. The empty garage is another step straight ahead, and to my left is the dark flight down to the basement. I reach out to flip the light switch and hesitate. Why bother? I'm not going down there. Never go into a basement or attic. That's the number one rule in horror films. Along with no running through the woods in high heels, and the first people to die are either black or having pre-marital sex. I don't plan on doing the first or last, and the middle one I can't control.
I turn around, slam the door shut, and head to the kitchen. The light above the stove is on, and I stare at the orange, triangular glow on the floor. Once I'm standing in it, I notice one of the table chairs overturned. Maybe that was the first crash? Great, but how'd it happen, and what about the door?
The car alarm still beeps, but at least it's quieter back here.
A cold chill starts at my head and dances around me to my feet. I shiver and glance up at the vent in the wall. There's one beside the doorframe and another at the baseboard by the table. Even if something's blowing though, it would be the heat, and it's definitely getting colder in here.
Something behind me rattles. I twirl around but don't see anything. I take a couple of steps, stand in the doorframe and spot movement from the corner of my eye. It's Dad's office door. It's sliding open at turtle speed.
I have to be seeing things. This is insane. And even crazier is that I haven't bolted out the door and into the road yet. As freaked out as I am though, part of my brain is screaming that there's a logical explanation. And that's why I take a few more tentative steps, until I'm in front of Dad's door. I peek in, but no one is on the other side. How is it doing that on its own? More importantly, what the hell is wrong with this house?
The cold from the kitchen gushes down the hall, straight at me. It blows my hair off my shoulders, takes a right, and passes me into the office. It rustles the papers on Dad's desk, growing stronger and stronger until the curtains blow and a whirlwind circles the room. Papers fly, and something from Dad's bulletin board pulls free and circles, mid-air, like water circling a drain.
I step inside and stretch out my arm until my hand is inside the windstorm. My fingers become instantly cold, as if holding an ice cube. I pull back and rub my knuckles.
Suddenly the wind stops, and the paper falls. It's the photograph of Cameron McDougal.
My heart thumps so loud it competes with the car alarm. I don't believe in the supernatural. It's fantasy and illogical, but it's also the first thought that enters my mind. Is Cameron's spirit here trying to tell me something?
The floorboards creak behind me. I whirl around, but no one's there. I walk back into the hall. Both the basement and closet doors are ajar. I want to laugh it off, nervous giggling like Kinley, but fear has seized every cell of my body.
Dad's office door slides shut. A small gust whooshes at me.
I jump and scream.
The front door opens, and Dad walks in wide-eyed. "What's going on?"
The chill leaves the air, and the thick humidity instantly returns.
I stare at him, not sure what to say or what just happened. "I…uh…"
The car alarm stops.
"Were you in my office again? How many times…"
"I think the heat has gone berserk." It's the only thing I can think of, the only explanation, even though it doesn't really make sense.
He hands me a jug of milk and walks to the basement door. "I'll check it out."
When he goes down, I stand there and listen, wait for something to start again, but all I hear is Dad clanking downstairs. Maybe it was just the furnace. Dad will come up, and it'll be fixed.
But as I put the milk in the fridge, I glance over my shoulder, making sure I'm alone.
* * *
I stir my Fruity Pebbles until the milk is pink and the once crunchy bits become soggy and break apart. I slept fitfully, with nightmares of killer cars and aliens trying to suck out my soul with a gravy syringe. Quite frightening. Then I woke up but didn't really, I only thought I was awake, and saw Mom enter my room. It was too dark to make her out, but I saw her silhouette. She smelled of lilacs or roses—something floral. I haven't dreamt about her in a long time.
"Not hungry?" Dad sets down his tablet. The New York Times is displayed. Troy's right. Print is dying.
I shrug. "Just didn't sleep well." I don't want to share the weirdness from last night.
When he came up from the basement, he didn't find anything wrong. I only told him about the gushes of air. He said it was probably a mechanical problem and he'd call Bridget. Then he went into his office, lectured me about not snooping, and shut himself inside for the rest of the night. I went to my room, never telling him what really happened. It's too strange. He won't believe me.
"Do you have any plans today? Going to hang out with Kinley?" He sips his coffee.
I sit up straight and push my bowl away. "Dad, it's a holiday. Can't we go see the fireworks?"
He shakes his head. "I have so much work to get done, Piper. I can't take a break this early."
He likes to pretend work is the reason why he does nothing else, but even when the books are done, he still stays home.
"I don't want to sit around the house while everyone else is out having fun. If you don't want to go, can I go with Troy?"
He nearly chokes on his toast. "You know the rules. No dating until sixteen."
Yeah, yeah. "It won't be a date." Not if the entire town's there.
"You just said…"
"Not just Troy. Troy and Kinley. Can I go if Kinley comes too?"
He thinks about it for a sec then nods. "If Kinley's parents say okay, then yes. But I want him picking you both up here."
That way he knows Kinley's really going? Geesh, Dad, way to trust your daughter.
I jump up and kiss his cheek anyway.
After dressing, I text to make sure Troy can still take me, and if Kinley can come along. He texts back immediately. Yes. Then I text Kinley and rush over to her house. Our street is quiet. As far as I know, Linzy's still missing. It almost feels wrong to look forward to tonight when her family is suffering.
Kinley opens her door with a toothbrush stuck in her mouth. White foam oozes on her lips. "I have to spit. Come on."
I shut the door behind me and follow her upstairs to the hall bathroom. While she finishes her oral hygiene, I fill her in on the convo with Dad.
"So will you come?"
She pats her mouth with the towel. "Of course, but I'm not sure if my parents will let me. We usually go as a family."
She's lucky.
"I can't go unless you're with me. Can we ask?"
She widens her eyes. "Of course. I'd rather hang with you and Troy than Mom and Dad."
We run downstairs and into the kitchen where Mrs. Abbott washes the counters. She always seems to be doing that.
"Hey Mom, where's Dad?"
"He had to run to the office."
"On a holiday?" Kinley's voice dips with disappointment.
Her mom offers her a weak smile. "He won't be long. You know how hard he works."
Sounds like they wish he was home more, while I wouldn't mind if Dad went out more.
"Did you need something?" Mrs. Abbott asks.
"Well, Piper asked me to go to the fireworks with her and Troy tonight. Can I?"
Mrs. Abbott stops wiping and stares at me. "Just you children?"
I can see the "no" forming on her mouth. Then I'll have to stay home and deal with our eerie house.
"My dad's goi
ng too," I blurt out and immediately bite my tongue.
Kinley gives me a sideways glance. She can't be that upset about lying. She did it with my Dad last night.
Mrs. Abbott smiles. "Well, if Mr. Grimaldi will be there then, yes, you may go."
Kinley squeals so loudly I shut my eyes. She wraps her arms around her mother. "Thanks, Mom."
As we run up to her room, she whispers, "Now we'll just have to not run into my parents all night. But that shouldn't be too hard. I doubt they'll hang near the teens."
"Right. And their attention will be on the fireworks. It's not like anything else will divert it."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
By the time the three of us get situated with a blanket and cooler of goodies, I'm over being weirded out about last night. It was probably just cross wiring or something mechanical, like Dad said. So I settle down and smile at the scene around us. It's mostly teens or young families in the area. It looks like half the town is here so far. The buzz feels electric. For some reason I feel like dancing. My skin jumps with excitement.
"This is great," I say. I'm sitting between Troy and Kinley, and we're in the same spot as yesterday.
Kinley grabs a Diet Coke and pops the top. "I hope I'm not a third wheel," she whispers.
"Please. It's not like anything's going on."
Then, as if the angels conspired, Troy moves closer to me. His fingers brush against mine. But before our hands commit to more, Eli squats in front of us.
He gives me the body check and smirks at my shorts. They're red, white, and blue striped, so, of course, I had to wear them.
I quirk an eyebrow, immediately disliking him. What does Kinley see in him? There's something slimy and cocky about his face. Not literally on the slime part, no open, oozing wounds, just a gross, smug attitude. Physically, he's my coloring, with light brown eyes, just like me. I can't tell his hair color, but I assume it's dark. Thing is, as regular as his face is, it's just that. Average and unmemorable.
He looks to Troy. "Have you heard anything about Linzy?"
Troy shakes his head. "Not yet. You?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I had." Total logic, but does he have to say it so snotty? He turns to me. "You're the one who last saw her?"
I shrug, not wanting to give him any information. "I guess."
He watches me, just stares like I'm an object on a shelf, and he's wondering if he should buy it. How rude.
"What?" Talk about snotty attitudes, I'm surprised my snippiness didn't knock him over.
He stands and says something to Troy that I don't catch because Kinley leans over and whispers, "He's so cute."
Yeah. Whatever.
After Eli leaves, I push thoughts of him away and refocus on mine and Troy's connection. But our hands are just sitting there, and no one's making the first move.
There aren't many boys I've been crazy about. Sean in Miami, Mark in Southern Cali, Aaron in Georgia. Okay, so maybe it's been one a year, but that's not a bad thing. I'm not a slut. I never even kissed any of those guys. My first kiss was Jeffrey in Pennsylvania, but I was ten so it doesn't count. My first real kiss hasn't happened yet. You know, the kind that makes your head spin and you see shooting stars. I'm sure it's coming soon though, and it'll be with Troy. I can feel it.
Cheers sound, and the first fireworks shoot into the air. Green, white, and yellow lights fall from the sky. There's applause and chatter, and several kids scream in delight.
I haven't seen a fireworks display in a couple of years. I'd usually go with friends and their families, but I haven't had the best luck in getting invites lately. We usually don't leave the town we're living in until the end of July. This year is different because Dad proved the cops wrong in our last town. Even if we had stuck around for this holiday…well…I'm an idiot.
We were living in Stone Mountain, Georgia and I'd become close to Andrea Steele. Her twin brother is Aaron. Andrea and I hung out every day at lunch and most days after school at her place. We did our homework together. I spent some weekends at her place, and we went to the movies every Sunday afternoon. Sometimes Aaron would go too, or he'd sit and do his algebra with us. At first I didn't think he liked me, but then he was always around, and Andrea joked about how he was only there because of me.
She was sorta right.
One day we went to see one of the Saw movies. I forget which one; there are so many. I flinched at a jump scare and grabbed his hand. He snarled and pulled back. I tried to play it off, said I forgot Andrea was on the other side of me, but everything got weird after that. When I'd go to their house, he was never around. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't even stay in the same room as me. I sent emails and texts, and he blocked my number. Then Andrea became distant too. I think she only did because of her brother.
I lost what I thought was my best friend, kids at school whispered about me for a while, and I spent the rest of the school year alone. Yeah, there were other girls to talk with about classes and how hot Leonardo DiCaprio is, no matter how old he gets, but there were no more sleep-overs or Sunday movies.
This year is extra special because not only am I here, but there aren't any parents keeping an eye on me. I'm like a regular teen, and I can pretend my folks are someplace else in the crowd. Mom and Dad, snuggling and smiling. A happy, unbroken family.
"Pretty cool, huh?" Troy says while leaning so close his cheek grazes against mine.
Ohmigod, this is it. The moment.
I glance at his perfect lips and move in. My squeals, on the inside, are so loud they drown out the popping of the fireworks. I can't believe I'm making the first move. I'm so bold. This is going down in my diary. Not that I have one, but if I did I'd write this entire night in it. I won't forget these details for a very long time.
As my lips start to brush his, he pulls back. Not a millimeter so I'll assume he's nervous or needing to belch. No, so far back that he may as well have swam across the river. The frown and look of disgust on his face clearly suggests I just made myself into the biggest butt.
Nausea rolls through my belly like a tsunami, and I jump up and run off, away from the crowd.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later I'm about a quarter mile away, standing by the water's edge, dipping my toes in, and contemplating drowning myself. The fireworks still light up the sky, but their awesomeness is wearing off. My phone beeps for the millionth time, but I'm afraid to see what Troy's been saying.
I finally glance at it and realize the twenty texts are from Kinley. So he doesn't even care if I'm okay?
plz answer where r u?
Im fine. Just need a minute. Sorry I messed up ur nite.
Gosh, I'm such an idiot. Why did I think he wanted to kiss me? He only leaned over to say something. Not because he wanted me to jump his bones.
My phone beeps again. no u didnt. just worried. Troy 2.
Yeah, I bet. He's probably wishing he never met me.
Go on wout me, I type. I can't face him again, especially not tonight. Maybe never.
I slip the phone into my pocket.
Red, white, and blue lights flash in the sky. It must be the final display because it's huge and breathtaking. The water glistens with the colors, and it lights up so much of the area that even where I stand is illuminated.
I kick the water. It ripples out. How will I ever face Troy again? We're not in the same grade, so maybe it'll be easy enough to avoid him? I hope.
My cell beeps.
I kick the water again. It recedes then heads back and splashes over my feet.
I pull out my phone and read the message.
were not leavin u. Ur dad wll kill me.
He wouldn't kill her, but he'd never let me leave the house again. There would be nothing worse. Well, except kissing a boy who doesn't like you.
Seaweed tickles my toes.
I bite my lower lip and stare at my phone. What do I do? It's too far to walk home, day or night, and I'm not too fond of hitching. I've seen those movies where people stupi
dly pick up a hitchhiker who turns out to be a crazed maniac. I could call Dad, but then he'd want to know why I ditched them.
The seaweed twirls around my ankle. Gross. I hate ocean life.
Wait, this is the river, not the Atlantic. Do rivers have seaweed?
I point my phone down to the water and use its light to figure out what I'm wading in. It's dark but doesn't look like the stuff my sushi is wrapped in. I pull my leg back and it untangles. I point the light farther into the water, along the length of whatever that is. When I reach a pale forehead, two open eyes, and a body, I scream.
It's Linzy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
All my life Dad's dealt with the dead. I've seen death certificates, pictures of murder scenes, and corpses. Each year my life has been consumed with one person's death. One full school grade. This year is supposed to be about Cameron and his embezzling accountant. Not a fourteen-year-old actress. Not someone I've seen walking around and live across from. The deaths have always been in the past, old news. Not current. And definitely not in the flesh.
I've never seen a dead body in person before.
I'm seated sideways on the back seat of Chief Williams' car. The door is open, and my feet are on the ground. I refuse to look at them, don't want to think about Linzy's long, dark hair twirled around them.
This area of the river is mobbed with police, paramedics, and watchers. The cops have roped off the area with that yellow police tape, and a few officers stand behind it, making sure no one crosses over.
After I stopped hyperventilating, I wanted to text Kinley first, but it didn't seem like the right thing to do, so I called 911. I also called Dad. He's talking with the chief now. They're huddled a few feet away. Kinley and Troy are behind the tape with the rest of the town. I caught a glimpse of the Abbotts rushing toward their daughter. I hope I didn't get her in trouble.
The medical examiner arrived a few minutes ago, and he's down by the water's edge with Linzy's body. They pulled her out immediately, so the water wouldn't wash her away. I've been trying to listen to what's being said around me. I flipped off Emotional Piper and am in PI Piper mode. It makes it all less nauseating.
I Spy Dead People Page 7
