by Suzy Cox
“Wow, you were dating a genuine New York metrosexual,” Tess said, giving me her special poor-you face.
Despite myself, I really wanted to swing at Tess now. But what was the point? David’s arm would go right through her smug face without leaving a mark.
“Actually male grooming is increasingly en mode,” Lorna said seriously.
“Guys, fascinating as this isn’t, can we get on with it before the entire school shows up?” Nancy tried to put the letters and textbooks back neatly on one of the shelves, but they just fell off and joined the rest of the trash. She sighed and pulled David’s beat-up schedule off the inside of his locker door instead.
“Now according to this”—Nancy tried to flatten the crumpled piece of paper out, ignoring the coffee stain that made all of Friday’s classes illegible. Unless you spoke fluent mocha—“David’s first class of the day is, I think this says … chemistry?”
“Nuh-uh. Hell to the no,” I said firmly. “Even if you dig up my dead body and drag it here for me to walk over, there is still no way I am sitting through another blast of that. Comprende? David is simply going to have to play hooky from that class today.”
Nancy looked at me aghast. She was not the hooky type.
“Which will serve the double purpose of, one, not making me any more brain dead than I already am,” I continued. “And two, giving us a chance to walk around the school to see what’s going down.”
“Jeez, whine much, Charlotte?” Tess dramatically rubbed her ears.
I felt a familiar dry feeling in David’s throat—what was it? I hadn’t had it for days. It may have been all the “whining,” but something wasn’t quite right. I might be in charge of David’s brain, but his body was telling me he wanted something.
I put his fingers in the pocket of his combats and pulled out some coins, a paper clip, and a guitar pick (as if he had any real use for that) and went to get a Coke from the soda machine. I pulled back the ring pull with a pssst and downed the whole thing in one.
I belched so loudly Lorna flinched. Even with a girl at the wheel, guys were still gross.
“Hey, Maher, you’re here eaaaaarly,” a familiar-looking guy in black cords and an Iron Maiden T-shirt yelled.
I looked at the clock on the wall of the arch in front of me. It was 8:59 a.m. The students were arriving.
“Yeah, Ms. Jackson said that if I didn’t clean up my locker before lunch she was going to give me detention again.” I shrugged.
The guy was carrying a folder with Camels on the Freeway scribbled on the front. Okay, so he was one of the band. A quick glance at his frizzy chin confirmed that he was trying to grow a hipster beard. Figured. Tom or Pete or Plectrum? I had no idea. Even though I’d taken pictures of the Camels play before, it was so hard to recognize them in daylight instead of some dive bar.
“So …,” I said. Camel looked at me expectantly. “Soooo....”
Oh help, I was tanking here. I needed the Camel to go leave me to possess my ex alone. Someone distract him please, I thought to myself.
As if on cue, Tess Jabbed an old OJ carton precariously balanced on top of David’s gym bag. It tumbled out of his locker and onto the floor, spilling moldy orange grossness on the light gray tiles. Forget what I said about the apple. The OJ had been dead longer.
“Man, I do not normally agree with Ms. Jackson, but that is rancid, my friend,” Camel said.
“Rancid,” I agreed, trying not to laugh as the citrusy goop slid from tile to tile and right through Lorna’s right foot. Of course it didn’t stain her immortal Pretty Ballerinas, but she gave Tess a look that clearly said that was not the point.
“So, I guess I’ll catch you at band practice tonight then?” Camel mimed an air guitar strum with his hands. “We’ve got the downstairs room in Arlene’s from five to seven. My brother’s working the bar, so the manager said we could use it until the support act needs to tune up. We’ll be jamming where some of the greats have played.”
What, like That Band No One’s Ever Heard Of and the One Supporting Them?
“Excellent. Arlene’s at five.” I strummed back at him. Camel sloped off down the hall. See, pretending to be your ex-boyfriend was a piece of carrot cake. I could totally do convincing guy chat. You just shrugged a lot, repeated back what they said, and tried not to sound like you cared. Easy. Why had I been freaking out?
And why had the world gone black?
“Hey, gorgeous,” a female voice drawled in my ear.
Hey, who-geous?
“Guess who!” she asked.
Much as I hated to admit it, Mystery Girl Covering David’s Eyes could be one of very, very many.
“Um, Kaitlynnn?” I tried.
“No, naughty!” she scolded. The girl removed her hands, so I could see again, and stood in front of David’s body. A bit too close actually. Had she not seen Dirty Dancing? Was she not aware of the concept of other people’s dance space?
I took a step back to let David’s eyes focus and get a better look at her. Just-Call-Me J. “It’s me!” she trilled.
Even though there were only a handful of kids around, Jamie looked furtively up and down the hallway.
“I know you had to say I was Kaitlynnn out loud just now so that no one gets suspicious. And I know why—she said you told her that you don’t think you’re emotionally ready to exclusively date me or Kristen at the moment …”
Oh, had he now?
“But I just wanted to tell you that what happened between us last night”—Jamie leaned in and whispered in David’s ear so close that I could feel her warm breath in the part only Q-tips normally go—“it was really special. And when you’re in more of a relationship place, I hope you’ll give me a call.”
“Really special”? I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I still cringed. What had happened to David—had his standards died with me? If Jamie caught the weird look on David’s face (which was mine and read what a giant boy slut), she ignored it. Instead she thrust her number into his hand. OMG, this girl actually had little “call me” cards with lipstick kisses she’d personally puckered on them.
“Oh, cute!” Lorna said, eyeing one.
“Oh, heave!” Tess said.
Ohforgodsake, I thought.
The flirting and the kissing with the other two I could (begrudgingly, seeing as I was dead) take. Well, kinda. But this? This “really special” thing between them? It was the whore that broke the camel’s back.
It was time to get even.
I couldn’t stop David systematically working his way through every girl on the entire island, but I could ruin his chances with this one—right now.
“Actually, Kaitlynnn,” I called after her.
Jamie spun around to me and frowned. “My name’s not Kaitlynnn,” she pouted. “You do know that, right?”
I had David make a puzzled look. “Oh yeah, sure. Sure. It’s just that there are so many girls at the moment, I keep forgetting all your names.” We shrugged. A proper noncommittal shrug. The kind I imagine George Clooney gives whatever waitress he’s dating this week when she asks how he feels about settling down, having kids, and giving up summers in Lake Como.
“That’s not very nice, Davey.” Jamie brushed an invisible piece of lint off the retro Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus tee he was illegally wearing under his regulation blazer, and looked up at him from underneath her heavily mascaraed lashes. “But I forgive you.”
She batted him on the nose with her forefinger like he was a naughty, but adorable puppy dog. “You have sooo much going on in that cute head of yours right now, even I would have trouble remembering really important details—if I was you.” She stroked his man-bangs in sympathy.
Honestly, what was it with these women? They were like the cockroaches of the dating world. Trample on them and they just came back stronger.
“Actually, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I made David say. “It’s kinda hush-hush, but I can trust you, right? I bet you could ke
ep a secret better than Kristen or Kaitlynnn.”
“Oh, I can.” Jamie practically purred.
“You see, I do like you, but I have this little issue. A health issue.”
Jamie visibly paled.
“Sometimes I break out in …” David trailed off. Let her guess what it might be. “And, well, I don’t wanna go into it, but it’s kinda gross.”
She took a massive step back and bashed into a sophomore walking behind her.
“Maybe it’s the stress of what I’ve been through recently,” I said. “But I am pretty sure it’s not contagious. At least it hasn’t been in the past. And the doctor said he was thirty percent sure it wouldn’t be. But I just wouldn’t want you to catch anything that would cause a rash or blemishes on that beautiful face.”
I took two steps toward her and ran David’s thumb down Jamie’s flawless cheek. She jumped back like she’d been touched by a hot poker. A very hot, very unhygienic poker. “You get what I’m saying?” I asked.
Jamie looked at David in disgust. “Of course. That is, like … I … better get going. See ya.”
She bolted down the corridor. Job done.
“Wow, I’ve never seen anyone in five-inch wedges move that fast,” Lorna said, wide-eyed.
“That was a total waste of investigation time, but it was very, very cool,” Nancy said, putting her hand on David’s shoulder. “He deserved it.”
“You do realize that will be all around the cheersquad in about five seconds flat?” Lorna asked.
“Really?” I said. “Damn, I’d hoped they’d all hear it within three.”
Chapter 22
“MAHER! MAHER! IT’S NINE FIFTEEN A.M.—ISN’T there somewhere you should be?”
While the other kids trailed into their first-period classes, we took David’s body for a tour of the school to see what was going on. We were peering in the gym, discussing how pleased we were that phys ed was something that died with your body, when Ms. Jackson, my English teacher, appeared from nowhere. Wasn’t she supposed to be in class too? Like, teaching?
“David, why aren’t you in homeroom?” she asked. “As far as I know Advanced Hallway Loitering isn’t on the Saint Bartholomew’s syllabus. At least not this semester.”
“Oh, I like her,” Nancy said, stepping away from the glass and leaving the ninth grade class to their softball game. “She’s funny.”
“Though she has the worst taste in shoes.” Lorna was eyeing Ms. Jackson’s flat-booted feet.
“I bet she just walked here in those boots because they’re warm, and she’s going to change out of them when she has to teach a class.” For some reason Nancy had decided she was Ms. Jackson’s newest fan. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Ms. J looked rather like a grown-up version of Her Geekiness: black-rimmed glasses, brown hair that shone red when it hit the light, only a little lip gloss to pass for makeup and a bulging handbag that was big on the practical and small on the likely-to-be-featured-in-Vogue.
“In fact …” Nancy poked her entire head into the second bag Ms. Jackson was holding. “Lorna, get in here! See! She has some really cute pale-blue sling-backs ready to go!”
Lorna popped her head into Ms. Jackson’s green canvas Strand Book Store bag too. “Oh, they are lovely. Look at the bows! They match the little one on her belt and …”
“Oh, please, if you two don’t stop goofing around, I’m going to have to take charge and I think we all agree that is not something we want to happen,” Tess said. “Short of old Tree Trunk Legs in there”—she pointed through the gym window to Coach Brock, who was trying to break up a softball-induced fight between two girls who’d gone for the ball at the same time and nearly knocked each other out—“telling us we have to get down and give her twenty. So come on already.”
Chastised, they pulled their heads out of the bag and, as they did, Ms. Jackson looked down at it strangely, as if she were half expecting a wild animal to crawl out.
“Look! She’s spirit sensitive!” Nancy said in delight. “She felt us. I love it when that happens.”
“That happens much?” I asked, thinking back to Ali and the girls’ bathroom.
“Only with really tuned-in people.” Nancy smoothed down her curls.
Ms. Jackson tilted her head and refocused on David with a confused look. She took a second, then seemed to remember what she was doing. Which was giving him hell.
“David, I’m waiting. Shouldn’t you be learning something right now?”
“I have a free period,” I made David say. “I’m just off to …” Quick, look around, find an alibi. Ah, there one was. “I’m heading to the library. I need to get ahead with some extra reading for that assignment you gave us last week.”
“Really?” Ms. Jackson looked like she believed him as much as my dad did when Mom said she’d “only be five more minutes” getting ready to go out for dinner.
“Course,” I said. “You said we should find a Shakespeare character and think who their modern-day pop-culture counterpart would be.”
How was I remembering this? I obviously paid way more attention in lit than I thought. I cocked David’s head to one side in the hope it made him look less like he was lying. “I have this theory that you can draw some very direct comparisons between the way Shylock is treated in The Merchant of Venice and how Spencer Pratt was in The Hills.”
She couldn’t be buying this. Unless she hadn’t watched The Hills. Which seeing as she was over thirty, may be the case. I hoped.
Ms. Jackson stared at me intently, like, if she made David uncomfortable enough he might break and say, Yep, you’ve got me. I’m a ditcher, hands up. Do your worst.
I held firm.
“Then I’ll wait with great interest for our next class.” She hoisted her green bag back up on her shoulder. “Now get in there before I remember who Spencer is, think through properly what you’ve just said, and have to send you to the principal’s office. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said … and tried to walk through the shut library doors.
I banged David’s head, bounced right off them, and fell on the floor at Ms. Jackson’s feet.
“You’re acting very, very strangely. Even for a teenage boy,” she said.
If only she knew.
Behind me I could hear the others giggling.
I pulled David’s body up and brushed the dust off his jeans. His head was throbbing. Man, that was going to hurt tomorrow. With any luck he’d have a black eye for the Halloween dance.
“I’m fine. On my way. Really want to study. See ya!” I pulled the library door open and walked in. Lorna, Nancy, and Tess glided through the wall. No bruises or bounces for them.
Inside, the place was deserted. Seriously, who came in here for a free period at this time of the day anyway? Any sensible person would be at home if they didn’t have to be in class until ten a.m. Which was exactly why hardly anyone had a free now. The faculty knew they might as well write another hour in bed on your schedule.
Lorna looked around. “This place is a ghost town.”
I forgot I was in David’s body—again—and laughed out loud. So loud it echoed around the room. Weird. I’d done that—made that sound. I’d been invisible for so long, it felt bizarre to be able to disturb the Living without appariting or Jabbing or—
“Shhh!” said a muffled voice somewhere in the stacks.
“Oh, great, we’re going to get lectured again,” Tess said. “Nancy, let’s ditch this body and continue detecting without it. The boy’s holding us back.”
“You’re David, aren’t you? David Maher?” the voice asked.
Depends on your definition of “are.”
A small sandy-haired girl poked her head around the end of the C aisle. She walked over to the library’s main desk and looked up at me with a shy smile.
“Yes. Do I know you?” I asked. Better play dumb.
“I’ve seen you around,” she said. She straightened some papers on her desk so that they were at right angles to
a neat pile of books and on an exact level with her stamp. “It’s very early to be in here. Can I help you with something in particular?” she asked encouragingly.
Man, this was not helping us at all. It was time to make a move.
“Nah, that’s nice of you, but I’ll get out of your hair.” I turned David to walk him out. Remembering to open the library door this time.
“So what else did you do around here, Feldman?” Tess bounced through the wall. “You know, for fun. Or were you such an ardent member of the Little Blond Boy Appreciation Society that you couldn’t fit anything else into your packed schedule? Though I guess all that gazing and hand-holding and hugging must have been pretty intense.”
“Wow, every wannabe stand-up within fifty blocks must be delighted you didn’t live long enough to graduate high school,” I said, pulling David’s body up tall. “You’re too funny. I’m not sure they could have taken the competition.”
“Guys! Guys!” Nancy said, rubbing her temples.
“Actually I had plenty of interests, if you must know. For a start I was in the photography club,” I said defensively.
“And let me guess who your favorite subject to shoot was,” Tess said.
Nancy shot her the Look. “That sounds very creative, Charlotte,” she said.
“It was actually. The photography room’s just around there. Wanna take a look?”
“Oh, I can think of nothing I’d rather do,” Tess said, giving me the fakest smile you can imagine. Lorna poked her in the ribs.
I walked David’s body down the hallway and peeked inside the club room door. Silence. No budding Leibovitzes in here. I stepped inside. And instantly felt like I’d been kicked in the guts.
On the wall—blown up a meter square and in pride of place—was the last photograph I’d ever taken. A portrait of David I’d snapped as we were walking home through the park. Usually I spent ages setting pictures up, worrying about the light, or what our teacher Miss Peters said made “good composition.” But this time, I’d just clicked my camera without even trying. We’d been walking past the boathouse, and the background was a blur of lake and grass and early evening sun reflecting off the lens. David wasn’t even looking at the camera; he was laughing with his head to the side. When I came to develop it, I kinda thought I’d have caught half his head or maybe just an ear. But as soon as the picture came into focus, I realized it was probably the best photograph I’d ever take. Just looking at it, you could feel the autumn air and the breeze and the sense of it being Friday and us having two full days before we had to go back to school. Miss Peters made me enlarge it in the lab and put it on the wall as the shot of the month, which totally made me feel more proud than I wanted to admit.
