Is that all she's concerned about? "Did you go to the river? Maybe you went for a swim and got sucked under?"
She curls up her top lip. "Are you serious? I never go to the river. It's disgusting and stinks. That's Shayla's place. She's a sewer rat."
Wow, possibly true but harsh much?
"So, how'd you get there?"
She shrugs again. It seems to be her favorite habit. "I don't remember that. Someone must've put me there."
"You say that so casually. If that's true then someone killed you first."
She doesn't reply, just stares at her hands. "There are a few people that dislike me enough."
Whoa. Seriously? I've made some frenemies, like Aaron. But no one hates me enough to actually kill me.
"Okay, who?" Figuring out who the suspects are and then narrowing them down is the first step in good detective work. Especially since I don't know her life, and right now the entire world is a suspect.
She leans back against my pillows. "Well, there's Shayla, Mom, April, Margo, and maybe Elias."
I blink several times. I expected her to give me two names tops, not a handful, and not anyone I've already met. I jump up, grab my notebook and pen off my desk, and return. "Okay, let's start at the beginning. Why would your own sister want you dead?"
Her eyes become huge. "Are you serious? Shayla and I hate each other. We wish the other wasn't born. Now she doesn't have to whine about all the attention I get. Not just from the world but from Mom and Dad. They don't love her as much as they do me."
That's so sad. If Vincent was still alive, would I have to compete for Dad's love? I already know Mom cared about him more than me. If not, she wouldn't have stayed away all these years.
I scribble notes onto my page. "Okay, but surely your Mom wouldn't kill you."
Linzy shrugs. "She told me she hated me the other day."
Whoa. What goes on in their house? "Why?"
"She was complaining she had nothing to wear to a luncheon with cast members. I told her that she shouldn't worry about it. No one cared what she looked like. I'm the star. I'm the one the paparazzi follow and hound. I'm young and beautiful, and she's not."
Ouch.
"She said I was evil and she hated me." Linzy laughs.
I narrow my gaze. "What's wrong with you?"
She gives me an innocent look. "What?"
"She cares enough to let you have a career. You're fourteen not forty. You could be hanging at the mall with your friends. You're so ungrateful. She's your mother. How would you feel if she left you? No wonder someone killed you. You're horrible."
I don't know what came over me. I'm not usually so verbal when someone pisses me off. Well, I am in my head, but not to their face. I always worry the person won't like me anymore, and not having friends sucks. But I guess with Linzy I don't care. It's not like we'll become best of pals. She's dead.
"This is stupid." She jumps up.
The bed doesn't move. No dips or anything.
She walks to my door. "I'm outta here." Instead of opening it, she walks through it.
I race to it and fling it open. She's not in the hall or on the stairs. Where'd she go?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kinley sounds tired through my cell.
"Um, talk about what?" Does she know about last night, about Linzy's ghost? No, that's impossible. How could she?
"Troy and the kiss."
My stomach knots up. I'd almost forgotten about my humiliation. "Oh that. It kinda pales in comparison to everything else that went on, huh?"
I'm lying on my bed, clutching Mr. Floppy, the stuffed bunny Dad got me when I was seven and afraid to go to the dentist. He has two buck teeth (the bunny, not Dad or the dentist) and somehow this was comforting to my seven-year-old brain.
"Yeah, I can't believe Linzy's dead and you found her. That had to be horrible."
Last night's events went from bad to worse. I don't want to see Troy for a while, and I'll never get the image of Linzy's bloated face out of my mind. But seeing her on my bed and then talking to her almost makes the dead part unreal. If I share this with Kinley, she'll hang up and think I'm crazy. I think I'm crazy. But part of me wants to know, too. What if Kinley did believe me?
"Do you believe in the supernatural?" I hold my breath.
"The TV show or vampires and werewolves?"
"More like ghosts. Like what happens to us after we die."
"Well, we go to heaven or hell, right?"
I'm not sure of my spiritual beliefs, and I don't want to get into a discussion on religion. One of Dad's super religious uncles loves to corner people and preach at them. I avoid him every Christmas Eve celebration. It's the one holiday we travel back to New York for.
"Do you think it's possible that our spirit can hang out here for a while before moving on?"
I listen to the silence.
"No. If that was possible we'd see their spirits, right? And I've never seen any."
"What if only some people can see them? Like mediums." I definitely don't think I'm gifted or anything. This is the first time this has happened to me, and I've been around death my entire life.
"Nah, that just sounds like something people say when they want to feel special or get attention."
My chest tightens. That's what Andrea said in the end—that I was trying too hard to be her friend after the Aaron ordeal. I guess I texted too many times and was pushy. He accused me of wanting attention, being needy. It's not true. I only wanted a friend. I don't want Kinley to think that's what I'm after though.
"Why?" she asks.
I shrug even though she can't see it. "Just wondering."
There's a knock on my door, and Dad sticks his head in. "Chief Williams is here. She'd like to ask you a few more questions."
I nod then say to Kinley, "I gotta go. Call you later?"
"I'm probably never leaving the house again, so I'll be here."
The Abbotts and Dad have given us stay notices. We aren't allowed in town without adult supervision. I don't mind so much at the moment, but I have a feeling that it'll get super annoying over time. At least the Abbotts never said a word about Dad not being with us last night. I don't think they realized he showed up afterwards.
I hang up and go to the window. The chief's car is in the driveway, behind Dad's. Reporters are all over the street, mostly in the Quinn yard, some in ours. Good thing we have A/C. I wouldn't be able to keep my windows shut and drown out their noise without it.
I head into the kitchen and stop short when I realize Troy's at the table beside his mom. Dammit, Dad. Thanks for not telling me every name on the guest list. I glance down at my oversized tee, plaid PJ shorts, and pink fuzzy slippers. The ones with the hole in the side. I know how I look at a time like this shouldn't be important, but it kinda is.
When I look back up, the Chief, who'd been talking to Dad, glances at Troy for a second. He averts his gaze to the table. I don't know what's worse—having to face Troy or having his mother know what happened.
"Good morning, Piper." The chief motions to a chair next to her, across from Troy.
I swallow hard, take it, and keep my gaze on my hands, which I place on the table. I can't bear to look any of them in the eye. Dad will know I'm hiding something just from the guilty expression I'm sure covers my face. Him finding out I tried to kiss a boy would be a social death sentence.
"I was wondering if you remember anything more about last night?"
I shake my head immediately. Not that I had time to think about it, what with a visit from a ghost, but I doubt there'd be more info anyway. I already told her it all. "No, nothing more."
"And how is the press? Have they become a nuisance yet?" She directs this one at Dad.
"When are they not?" he asks wryly. "For the most part they're behaving, but we haven't tried to go outside yet."
They talk about the reporters, and I steal a quick glance at Troy.
He catches my eye and smiles. N
ot the bright and happy kind but enough of one for me to think he's not mad. Not that he has a reason to be. I didn't do anything wrong, other than assume he wanted to kiss me, but sometimes people get weird when you invade their personal space, or when they know you think of them in a way they don't reciprocate. Like Aaron.
I can't believe I made the same stupid mistake as when I was in Georgia. What's wrong with me? I could've sworn the signs were there, though. As it turned out, Aaron got close to me because he was a fan of Dad's. Is that why Troy's been so nice? He doesn't seem interested in Dad. Maybe the chief told him to act nice?
I take a deep breath, and the chief glances at me then her son. To Dad she says, "Can we talk in your office?"
"Of course."
They rise and leave the room. It's almost as if she wants Troy and me to be alone. But that's silly. No parents want their hormone-filled teenagers alone.
When Dad's office door slides shut, I take the bull by the throat, or whatever that saying is that Dad says, and ask, "How are you?"
What I really mean is how are we? Do you hate me? Can we still be friends? But I don't want to sound any lamer, so I keep my mouth shut.
"Okay. People think because of my mom's job I've been around dead people before, but I haven't. Other than my dad."
"Me too," I say way too enthusiastically. "I've seen pictures."
He nods and smiles. "I once opened a file Mom brought home from work. It was a guy who had his neck sliced in a collision. It was pretty gruesome. I was eleven. This was when Mom was a regular detective. She doesn't usually handle cases anymore, but the Quinns called her directly when Linzy turned up missing."
That explains why she didn't ask one of her minions to handle it. "Are they close?"
He shakes his head. "No. I think it's just because Shayla and I used to date."
Suddenly Linzy passes through the back door and scares the crap out of me. I try not to gasp, but Troy looks behind him. The safety chain sways back and forth.
"That's weird," he says. "There are no windows open."
I shrug. What can I possibly say?
Linzy walks through the table and jumps onto the counter. She walks back and forth along the granite before plopping onto the edge.
"About the other thing," Troy says.
I have to backtrack to figure out what he's talking about, and then it hits me. Warmth leaps onto my face, and I just want to die. Well, not dead die, like my neighborhood friendly ghost, but at least burrow under the table.
"If I led you on…" he begins.
I hold up a hand, hoping to stop any further embarrassment. "No, really, you don't have to say anything. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."
God, this never gets any easier.
Linzy jumps down and sits between us. "What happened? Give me the deets."
No way. I don't need a ghost in my business.
"It's not that I think you're ugly or anything," he says.
I scoff. "Gee, thanks."
"He's a charmer. No wonder Shayla dumped him," Linzy says.
Guess Shayla told everyone that lie.
Troy fidgets in his seat. "No, I mean, it's not that I didn't…don't want to kiss you…"
Oh yeah? I sit a bit straighter in my chair.
Linzy widens her eyes at me then makes kissing sounds.
"So I wasn't reading you wrong? You…" I can't get myself to ask if he likes me.
"Well…" He adds a lilt to the end of the word that has me thinking he's about to add a "but."
Linzy continues with her juvenile kissy face and noises to match, then Dad's office door slides open.
Troy jumps out of his chair. "I gotta go, but I'll see you around, okay?"
Before I can reply, he's in the hall, headed for the front door.
"Piper and Troy sitting in a tree…" Linzy begins singing.
How old is she? We teased our friends with that in elementary school. Maybe middle grade, but not as mature teens.
She wraps her arms around her body and turns her back to me, pretending someone is hugging her. She continues with the kissing sounds. Obviously one of us is far from mature.
"What is your malfunction? You're such a baby," I say through gritted teeth.
"Who are you talking to?" Dad asks.
I spin around. He opens the fridge and waits for an answer.
I giggle and shrug. Again. Linzy's rubbing off on me.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I fudge through a transparent lie about practicing lines I heard on a TV show. At this rate I won't be surprised if Dad bans me from TV based on my weirdness. Then I go back to my room with Linzy on my heels. It's like we adopted a puppy, except she doesn't eat, doesn't need to be walked, and won't pee on the floor. If she didn't talk, I'd want to keep her.
"You kissed Troy Williams? Are you a slut or something?"
"No. That's absurd. You can't be a slut because of a kiss. Besides, I thought he was leaning in to kiss me, so I moved forward."
One side of her mouth lifts. "But he wasn't?" She roars with laughter. "What a loser."
She and her sister really need to learn a new vocabulary. Only half a day, and I'm already sick of both Quinn sisters. It's time to get to the bottom of this, so Linzy can move on. Seated on my bed, I ask, "What are your plans?"
She flits through my closet, ruffling the hanging clothes. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you're not going to hang out in my house for the rest of your…unnatural life, are you?" Oh, please say no.
She glides to my dresser and stares at herself in the mirror. I half-expect her to not have a reflection, like a vampire, but that's not the case. She's in livid color.
"Of course not. No offense, but you're boring. Where are the parties, sneaking boys in, drinking until you puke?"
"First, when you say 'no offense,' it means you're totally going to offend. And while all of those things sound like fun…" I roll my eyes. "You're dead, which means I'm on lockdown. Shoot, most of the kids in town are probably on lockdown."
"I wouldn't be."
"Yeah, that's why you're dead." Damn that was mean.
She glares through the mirror.
"How did you die?"
"I don't know," she says with the same interest I have for algebra.
How I died is the first thing I'd want to know. Up there with how Dad was handling my death, who's attending my funeral, and what outfit I'll be spending eternity in.
I sigh with the force of a hurricane. "Come on, Linzy. We can't keep talking in circles. You don't remember anything or you don't want to tell me? You won't move on, which means there's a reason. So why haven't you moved on yet?"
She shrugs. Of course.
"You know, Haley Joel Osment didn't have this much trouble with Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense," I shout.
Linzy bounces on her tip-toes. "Oh my God, that was such a good movie."
I roll my eyes for the hundredth time. I think I'm getting eye strain. "Let's continue the list then."
Linzy plops onto my bed and would smack her head into my feet if she hadn't gone through them.
A slight chill buzzes through me, like cold static electricity. I pull up my legs and cross them over one another. I stare at her face, wondering if she felt the same, but her expression (sheer boredom) doesn't change.
"You and your list," she groans. "Don't you ever have fun?"
"This is fun." I tap the pen against the page.
She turns onto her side and props an arm under her head. "You're weird."
"Thanks. Now, you mentioned that Shayla and your mom would want you dead, which I don't believe. At least not your mom, but why the others?" I glance at my notes. "April, Margo, and Eli. Is that Eli, the guy with the Fedora?"
"Speaking of, where's your mom? Is she one of those workaholics who never have time for their families?" She completely changes the subject.
I sigh and give in. It's easier than fighting with her. "No, my mom left us."
She gazes down to my comforter
and whispers, "Sorry."
I'm silent for a second, stunned that she showed an ounce of compassion. Maybe she's not all brat.
"Thanks. So back to the people who hate you. Why those others? Isn't April your friend, Elias your crush, and…who's Margo?"
Her eyes go from clear brown to a dark-almost black. Her face fills with color, and she clenches her hands. She jumps off my bed. "I'm going to kill Elias."
Uh-oh.
She disappears.
What the…? Where'd she go?
I jump up, ready to search every nook of the house, when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. I glance out my window and spot Linzy stomping down the street, past her house, through (not past but literally through) a couple of reporters.
I race down the stairs as fast and as quietly as possible. I can't risk Dad hearing me sneak out. He'll be so upset, and how would I explain it? But as I hit the front porch, I remember the media won't be quiet. Most of the reporters are closer to the Quinn household, trying to get a sound bite or whatever it's called from Mr. Quinn as he gets out of his car and scurries inside.
I no longer see Linzy on the street. Maybe she turned invisible. That must've been her in the house blowing the papers around Dad's office and not the heating system going berserk. But why was she slamming doors and knocking over chairs? I'll have to ask, but she probably won't give me an answer.
One of the reporters notices me. He taps his cameraman on the shoulder and points to me. Others notice and they hurry toward me. I turn around and run back inside. Hopefully they won't knock. They're more interested in speaking with the Quinns, but since I last saw Linzy, that doesn't mean they won't hound me if I step outside.
I softly shut the door and take a deep breath. There's no way I can follow Linzy. Darn. I head to the stairs and am about to go up when Linzy staggers through the front door.
Her eyes are wide, as if she just saw a ghost. Okay, so that's not funny, but she looks terrified.
"What happened?" I whisper. Did she run into her parents, or overhear a reporter talk about her bloated body?
"I can't get out." Even her tone sounds bewildered.
What the heck does that mean? "Huh?"
"I got to the corner, and it wouldn't let me go any farther."
I Spy Dead People Page 9
