I know exactly where she's going with her story. "He was already dead when he came into your room?"
She nods. "Si. I was very confused and scared at first, but as I grew older I saw it as my purpose."
"To help others?"
"Si, to help them move on, but that's not all it's about."
"What do you mean?" I hold a hand over my mouth so they don't see smashed rice and peas.
She stares out the windows directly across from her. "I feel I'm here to listen to them. The departed must be so lonely, no?"
"Can't they see other ghosts?" I sip my iced tea.
"Yes, but their families and the people they love can't hear or see them, so it's not very fulfilling."
Yeah, that stinks. "Why do they stick around?"
"It's the ones that have unfinished business."
I've heard that before. I just didn't know if it was true or not.
"What about you, dear? This can't be the first time…"
I nod vigorously. "Yes, it is. That's why it's so weird. I wasn't born with it like you were."
"But you had to be. It's not like in books when a character hits her head and can suddenly communicate with the dead. This is genetic."
I don't want to argue with her, but she's wrong. For me, this is definitely new.
* * *
When Eli pulls up in front of my house, there's an ambulance over at the Quinns. What happened now?
Most of the neighborhood is out, including Kinley and her mother. I use all my willpower not to look her way. I can't deal with the guilt I feel, especially since this is platonic.
"I can't stay," Eli says. "Text me with what's going on, okay?"
"Yeah," I say and step out of his car, grateful he's leaving. I run up our steps. Dad is on the porch, sipping a mug of coffee while watching the Quinn house and me.
"Is someone else hurt?" I ask him.
He shrugs. "Not sure yet. They just arrived."
Mrs. Jackson stomps her cane and shouts out Cujo's name. The little pup races down her walkway and runs across the street, into the Quinn front yard.
"Cujo?" Dad asks.
"Yeah, she just got him for protection."
Dad raises an eyebrow. "Have you met every neighbor?"
My escape artist routine springs to mind, and my stomach knots. There's only so much guilt a girl can handle before her insides implode. "Yes, Dad. If you didn't hole yourself up in your office, you'd meet them too."
He turns his attention back to the Quinns. "If I didn't hole up in my office, I couldn't afford to dress you."
I do a curtsey and hold out the hem of my shirt. "You mean these fine, couture garments?"
He chuckles. "Yeah, those."
Mrs. Jackson stomps her cane again. "Cujo, get back here right now."
As if the mutt understands English.
I run down our stairs and call out to her. "I'll get him."
"Oh, thank you, dear. Be careful. He growls a lot but is really quite gentle."
I doubt that. For some reason he sits in the middle of the yard barking at the Quinns' lawn ornament. An ugly pink flamingo. Maybe he thinks it's real, and he's talking to it.
I giggle and approach slowly so he won't run off or turn and bite me. Then when he isn't aware, I scoop him up. Instead of tensing and wanting to tear my face off, he licks my chin. I laugh. What an odd dog.
As I stand back up, I'm able to see into the living room through the front windows.
Mrs. Quinn is seated on the sofa. A paramedic is beside her, the other is standing to the side. I can't tell if Mr. Quinn is home or where Shayla is, but Mrs. Quinn is awake and talking. Whatever happened, it's not that bad.
Then I glimpse Linzy in the background. She's grinning. She looks up, sees me, and winks.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jazzy stops giggling at the cartoon and pouts at her baby doll. We're seated on the Rodriquez's chocolate brown couch. Everything in their home is either chocolate brown or accented with it. Except the walls, which are beige.
"Is something wrong, Jazzy?" I push her hair behind her shoulder so I can see her small face better.
She stares at the doll. "What if Mami and Papi like the new baby more?"
Oh, the poor thing. "That can't happen."
She looks up at me. Huge tears wobble on the rims of her eyes. "Why not?"
I pull her into my lap. "Because parents always love their first baby the most. But remember not to tell your baby brother or sister because we don't want him or her to feel bad, okay?"
Suddenly I wonder if that's the reason it wasn't difficult for Mom to leave, because she loved Vincent more.
Jazzy blinks, causing the tears to fall down her face, but she smiles. She leans her head against my chest and wraps her tiny arms around my body. I bring her closer and lay my cheek on the top of her watermelon scented hair. One day I want a sweet, little girl, and it won't matter if she's my first or my tenth, I'll love them all the same.
We part in time to watch the last few minutes of the show. When the credits roll, it's eight-thirty and bedtime, according to Gabi's instructions. She and Miguel will be home around eleven, ten-thirty if her feet get tired. This gives me two hours of uninterrupted television time, and they have HBO and Showtime. Hopefully they'll have something good to watch.
I sit on the edge of the bathtub while Jazzy brushes her teeth. She stands on a light blue, wooden step-stool with her name painted in pink along the side. Yellow stars are painted onto the sides, and another dots the "i" in her name.
A star. It's been almost an entire day without Linzy. It's weird and…lonely. Never thought I'd feel that way.
Jazzy spits out a mouthful of water and shows me her tiny teeth.
I turn my head and hold up a hand to shield my eyes. "They're so white you're blinding me."
She giggles, jumps off the stool, and runs into her room.
I wipe the spilled toothpaste out of the sink and push the stool between it and the toilet. Then I join Jazzy.
Her room is a pink lover's paradise. She has the front room, of course, and every bit of floor space is covered with dolls—stuffed, baby, plastic. Her full-size bed has a pink canopy and a small table and chair set sit in the middle of the floor for tea parties.
"This is a beautiful room. You have so many nice toys." I tuck her sheet and thin blanket around her body. They have window air conditioners, and they keep the shades down so it's pretty cool.
"Do you have a lot of toys?" Jazzy asks.
"I don't have any toys anymore."
She widens her eyes. "Did you get rid of them?"
"I'm kinda too big for toys."
She crinkles her brow. "What about the old ones? Where are they?"
"We move a lot, so we gave them away or they got lost."
She yawns wide. "I'm never moving and never getting rid of mine."
"That's an excellent plan." I kiss her forehead because she's just too cute and turn off her lamp. A nightlight, plugged into the wall, casts a pink glow along the room.
"Good night, Jazzy."
She's already asleep.
Well, that was easy. Some kids fight to go to bed. I return to my position on the couch and grab the remote. I flip through the channels, then flip again to make sure I didn't miss anything. Nothing good is on. Why is summer TV such a crap-fest? With school vacation, shouldn't this be the time to show the good stuff?
If Linzy was here, she could keep me company with her eye rolling and shrugging and general cynicism. I settle on some romantic comedy when the doorbell rings. I hesitate before going to the door. I've seen that movie about the babysitter who's harassed by anonymous phone calls to find out the killer has been upstairs in the house the whole time. Okay, so it's the door and not the phone, but still. There is a killer on the loose. I doubt he rang Linzy's front door, and there's no reason he'd visit here but…
The bell chimes again. I peek out the side window and see Troy.
Ohmigod.
I f
ling open the door and nearly squeal. "What are you doing here?"
He waves to a car out front. It drives off. It's not his mom. He steps inside and shuts the door. "You told me earlier you'd be here, so I thought I'd surprise you."
Seriously? I giggle. After I returned Cujo, and the paramedics left (alone), Troy texted me about going over Linzy's police file. I mentioned babysitting. I had no clue he'd do this. "Come in. Who dropped you off?"
"A friend from school. He'll pick me up later. I told him I'd call when I was ready. Mom needed the car."
We settle on the couch, and suddenly a movie about the awkwardness of falling in love seems very appropriate.
"As long as the Rodriguez's don't see you. I don't think they'd like this."
"No problems. I'll leave before they return."
Which means two hours of staring into his chocolate brown eyes. He totally fits with the decor.
"Too bad I didn't bring the file with me." Although discussing Linzy's death isn't how I really want to spend tonight.
He shrugs. "It's okay. We can watch TV or…whatever."
I don't want to assume with this boy ever again, but it's at this moment that I realize, believe, assume he's here for more than Linzy's death too.
He stares at my mouth, and we're only inches apart. But no matter what, I won't lean forward. I won't close my eyes. I won't…
He presses his mouth against mine, and I freeze.
Not as in an ohmigod-I-don't-want-to-do-this freeze. More like an I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-and-what-am-I-supposed-to-do freeze.
He brushes his tongue against mine, and I almost gasp, but refrain. This is the first time I've had any tongue action. Should I push my tongue in his mouth too? What did I eat for dinner? Do I have Cheetos breath? Oh gosh, what about my braces? Will he nick his tongue and I'll forever be known as the kiss killer?
He runs his hand along my back and pulls me closer.
We lean on the back cushions, and he turns so half of his chest is on top of mine. Before I realize, the kiss has deepened, and I'm no longer thinking about what my tongue should do. I copy his movements and turn off my mind, trying to infuse every tingle, every sensation to my memory forever.
I can't help thinking how I knew Troy and I are meant to be, though.
We pull apart for air, and I involuntarily giggle. Of course, I immediately feel like an idiot. Who laughs after kissing? I don't want him to think I find it funny. It was perfect. I open my eyes and look at his face, hoping I don't see a frown. There isn't. I smile.
He looks intense. Not upset, just concentrating, and then he smiles too.
Suddenly the mechanical sound of the garage door opening rips through my happy moment. My heart leaps into my throat. I glance at the DVD clock. Nine-twenty. What the heck? They're early.
"Go. Run," I whisper-shout to Troy.
He sprints off the sofa and flies to the kitchen.
The back door clicks as the inside garage door opens. I take a deep breath and smooth down my shirt and shorts. My hands tremble. I stand up as Gabi and Miguel enter the living room.
"Hi, you're early." My voice is higher than normal. Gosh, I hope I don't sound nervous.
Gabi rolls her eyes and collapses in an armchair. "My feet couldn't handle it."
Miguel, who seems quiet and gentle, laughs. "We'll have to wait until the baby's born."
"But then we won't have time with two kids," Gabi whines.
Miguel walks over and kisses the top of his wife's head. "We have plenty of time. And Piper can babysit again, no?"
"I'm just across the street."
"See? Plenty of time."
I don't bother to tell them I won't be here this time next year.
Miguel pays me while I tell them how perfect their daughter was. We say good night and I walk outside.
Troy's standing across the street, in front of Kinley's. I run over and we laugh.
"That was close," he says.
"Yep. So you want to hang on my front steps until you call for your ride?"
He stares into my eyes. "Yeah." Then he reaches for my hand and we entwine our fingers.
I start to giggle and clamp my lips shut. This is the perfect night, and nothing is going to ruin it. I no longer care that Kinley and I are fighting or that Linzy won't tell me who her killer is. All of those problems will still be here in the morning, and I'll deal with them then. Right now, this is beyond amazingly cool.
When we reach my driveway, Troy stops. "That's my mom's car."
I turn to see what he's talking about and see Chief Williams' car is parked up by my garage. For some reason, panic grips my body. "Maybe it's about Linzy," I say, but at the same time I'm wondering if she knows we were just across the street making out.
That's crazy though. She's not psychic. And even if she was, it's unlikely she'd drive over to do something about it. Troy's allowed to date.
We walk into my house. It isn't until I'm over the threshold that I realize I'll need to find an excuse why I'm with Troy. But it doesn't seem to matter when I spot Dad and the chief in the kitchen doing the very thing their children just were.
Kissing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I unlace my fingers from Troy's and step to the side.
"What's going on?" My voice sounds strange, far away and tight. Plus, the answer is pretty obvious.
Dad and the chief have stepped apart, but they're close enough that their arms touch. He clears his throat. "You're home early?"
He thought I'd be gone until eleven. He planned this. What about Bridget? Has my dad become a cheater?
Wait. It hits me. Duh. He was never with Bridget. He's been sneaking off to see Chief Williams this whole time. I can't believe how wrong I got that.
They walk to us. Guilt or fear is Etch-a-Sketched on their faces. It won't be as easy as shaking their expressions clear though. Do they realize what they've done? They've ruined any chance of me and Troy. I can't date my father's girlfriend's son. I don't blame Dad as much as the chief though. He knows I have a crush on Troy, but she knows I tried to kiss him. What a witch.
"Mom, what's going on?"
I glance at Troy, who looks completely dumbfounded.
"We wanted to wait a bit before we said anything." She stares at her son, probably too afraid to look at me in case my death glare singes her eyebrows.
"Piper, I hope…" Dad's tone is gentle, and it makes me want to scream.
I don't listen to whatever stupid excuse he has. I march upstairs and slam my door. I kick off my flip-flops and fall onto my bed. How can they do this? What's going to happen to me and Troy? The paint on my ceiling is chipped.
When the front door shuts and a car takes off, I hold my breath and wait. One, two, three…
Dad knocks on my door and opens it.
"Knocking only matters if you actually wait for me to say it's okay to enter. Otherwise, it's just rude and an invasion of privacy."
He looks to the door, then me. "I'm sorry. I'll remember that next time."
No, he won't.
I sit up and cross my chest with my arms. "What do you want?"
"To explain."
"What's there to explain? You and the chief have hooked up without any regard to your children. Way to go."
He scratches the side of his chin. "I don't know what hooked up means, but Olivia and I like each other. If you're upset because of your mom…"
"This has nothing to do with Mom. She stopped being a significant part of our discussions when she walked out on us."
He stops whatever he was saying mid-sentence. "Your mom…"
I grab a pillow and chuck it at my dresser, knocking over my deodorant and the bottle of lavender body spray. "This isn't about Mom," I shout. My heart races, and blood pounds through my veins. She's the last person I want to think or talk about. My life has nothing to do with her.
Dad stares at the pillow. "Piper, what's gotten into you?"
I scoff. "You really need to ask? I walk
into my house and find you kissing the mother of the boy I like. How do you think that makes me feel?"
"Aren't I entitled to move on with my life?"
No. "Yes, but why her? Why not someone who doesn't have a son? Like Bridget."
He wrinkles his nose. Okay, so he has good taste, but there are plenty of middle-aged women out there. Pick someone else.
"You have a crush on Troy. It'll past."
Ohmigod. He did not just say that. That expression about seeing red, well, I'm seeing crimson. Is that worse?
"Besides, you're too young to date."
"And you're too old."
He shakes his head. "I'll talk to you when you calm down and act your age." He turns and walks out of my door.
I grab my other pillow and chuck it at him. It hits the closing door and falls to the floor, like my heart. I fall back and sigh. This sucks. No, this is bigger than sucking.
"Ever see the parent trap?" asks a whispery voice from the beyond. Linzy walks into my room from the closet. "Just reverse it to break them up."
She's back. I half-smile, glad she's here. Which is odd, I know. "Where you been?"
She shrugs. "Around. Spying on the neighbors. Mrs. Jackson is boring, and so are the Abbotts."
"I'm surprised you know their names."
She flops onto the bed beside me. "It says it on their mailboxes."
I laugh. She's been living here her whole life and only learned them now.
"What's so funny?"
It's my turn to shrug. "Life."
"And death?" She smirks.
"Yeah."
We lie in silence for a moment.
"Did you try to hurt your mom?" I ask, afraid of the answer.
"Yes."
I gasp. If I do something to piss her off, will she come after me?
"Don't worry. She's fine. I just knocked some dishes off the counter. When she picked them up, she cut her hand, and she panicked. She's such a baby, scared of blood."
"Do you hate her?"
She must not have expected that question because she's silent. Then she sighs. "Sometimes. Do you hate your mom?"
I Spy Dead People Page 18
