Last Dance

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Last Dance Page 12

by Linda Joy Singleton


  Only he’d changed his name to Kasper.

  I was so stunned, I wasn’t aware that someone had crept up behind me—until a rough hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

  “What do think you’re doing in here? I told you to stay away!” Kasper’s fleshy face flamed with fury.

  “James!” I exclaimed, then slapped my hand over my mouth.

  “What did you … YOU!” He glared at me with intense hatred. “You’ve been poking around too much.”

  I backed up against a wall, still reeling from this realization. Now that I studied him close up, it was so obvious. The good looks had faded, but the cocky attitude was still etched in hard lines around his mouth and forehead.

  “You should have left when I warned you,” he said harshly.

  “You! You left the note and made that phone call! But how did you know about my grandmother?”

  “You used a credit card in my store. It only took a quick credit check to find out about you.”

  “But why me? I never did anything to you.”

  “Not me—Chloe. I had to stop you from sending her away. I’ve dealt with your kind before.”

  “My kind!”

  “I’ve studied enough freaks to recognize one when I see one. You weren’t the first psychic to come here. I got rid of them and I’ll get rid of you, too.”

  “What do you mean?” I cried, so flat against the wall now that I could feel the rough wood stabbing into my shoulder.

  “I’ve had my fill of nosy psychics, claiming to see ghosts and knowing more about Chloe than I do. It doesn’t matter that I never see her ghost myself. I know she’s there every October when other people see her. She’s my ghost and no one’s gonna send her away. I got a good thing here with this museum and my books. You’re not going to ruin it.”

  He reached out viciously for my arm, and jerked me out of the room. For an old guy, he was surprisingly strong. I struggled, but it was no use. He kicked the red-heart door shut and pulled me down the hall. I could hardly breathe. My mind raced, grasping this new horror. I kicked out and connected with soft flesh. He grunted with pain, but didn’t let go. With a furious snarl, he wrenched my arm back so hard I screamed

  “Shut up!” he barked.

  “That hurts! Let go!” Pricks of light in blackness swam before my eyes.

  He shoved me forward.

  I stumbled and would have fallen except he jerked me to my feet. My arms felt as if they were breaking and tears stung my eyes. The more I struggled, the sharper the pain. I wondered where he was taking me, terrified to find out. Was he going to kill me—or worse?

  He stopped in front of a door, yanked it open, and flung me forward. “In there.”

  My arms flailed and I stumbled, falling, bumping down a staircase, landing painfully on a hard floor. A door slammed from above and a bolt locked.

  Feeling my way back up the stairs, I found the door and shook the knob. Rattling, pulling, and screaming to be let out until my voice grew hoarse. Finally, I gave up and I sank wearily onto the top step.

  Trapped.

  I’d been stuck in a room at school once, and while that had been scary, at least I knew I’d get out eventually. There was no knowing anything now—except fear.

  Trembling, I called out with my mind. “Opal, I need you.”

  I listened, waited, desperate to hear her comforting voice.

  “Please, Opal. I need your help.”

  But there was no answer. And I felt abandoned. How could she let me down when I needed her the most?

  Then I thought of all the people I’d let down lately—Penny-Love, Josh, Thorn, my sisters. And I hadn’t succeeded in helping Nona, either. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, yet I had. And now that I needed help, there was no one around. My actions were coming full circle. Karma, Nona would call it.

  Time drifted to a kind of numb blur as I huddled on the stair step. After a while my eyes adjusted, and I made out bulky shapes. Stacked boxes, a broken bicycle, a legless chair, a lopsided couch, a ripped mattress, a folded Ping-Pong table, and even a juke box.

  I guessed I was in the museum’s basement.

  What did Kasper have planned for me? I should have fought harder and ran away when I’d had the chance. But he seemed so old and harmless, like a nerdy Santa Claus. But there was nothing jolly about keeping gruesome momentos of Chloe’s death. Had he bought or stolen them from a police evidence room? He was totally twisted.

  I thought back to our first meeting at the museum. On my way out, I’d told him the phone was going to ring before it rang. At the time it seemed like a harmless trick. But now I realized I’d given myself away. He’d seen me at the park last night talking with Chloe and must have switched on the pavilion lights. He would have been desperate to get rid of me before I got rid of Chloe. He faked the phone call saying my grandmother was in the hospital. When that didn’t work, he’d probably seen the yellow jeep drive by and followed us out to Peaceful Pines and left the warning note.

  It all made terrifying sense. But what would happen when he returned? He couldn’t let me go—not now.

  I have to get out of here before he comes back!

  Jumping up, I pounded desperately on the door. But it was locked and built so sturdily that I’d need something heavy to break through. And the lock wasn’t one of those old, easy-to-pick types. This one was gleaming brass, state of the art, and undoubtedly bolted. The only way to open it was from the other side with a key. And the only windows were too high and small to work.

  Still, I couldn’t just give up. So I explored the room, searching for anything that might help me escape. I moved boxes, peered into dark corners, and crawled behind heavy furniture. But all I found were cobwebs and solid brick walls. After bumping my sore knee again, I sank down on the floor in defeat.

  Hopeless.

  I looked at my watch—11:20. I’d been here for nearly an hour. What was happening at the celebration? Had Cathy given her speech? Had the guest of honor made an appearance? Was Kasper watching with satisfied delight? And what about Dominic? Had he given up on me and returned to his campsite?

  I closed my eyes and concentrated hard again on Opal. She was supposed to watch over me, so where was she? More than anything I longed to hear her comforting voice. She wouldn’t just let me rot here—not unless I was meant to be like Chloe. Was it my destiny to die young?

  Shuddering, I wrapped my arms around my shoulders. A draft of air swirled around my ankles. And I sensed something different.

  Opening my eyes, I saw a glowing silver globe floating in the air, rising high over my head.

  “Who are you?” I whispered. “Opal?”

  The light glowed brighter, taller, and wider. It shimmered into a misty shape of a young girl with flowing caramel hair and a full cotton skirt.

  Chloe was back.

  “I’ve never been so glad to see a ghost!”

  She smiled faintly, her form translucent and hard to make out, as she had less energy away from the pavilion. I wasn’t sure if I could trust her—she had just possessed my body a short while ago. But I sensed she was on my side and wanted to help.

  “Get me out of here!” I said anxiously.

  She lifted her hand and pointed toward a dark, dusty corner of the basement where boxes were stacked nearly to the ceiling.

  “What do you mean? Do you want me to look in the boxes?”

  With a shake of her head, she floated up and over the boxes. She crooked her finger, gesturing for me follow—so I did.

  She ducked behind the boxes, then popped back up, motioning for me to come with her. While I moved the boxes aside, she hovered overhead. I could see a dusty hole behind the boxes. Her glow showered light so I could see clearly. There were more boxes, but these were smaller and easier for me to move aside. When I was done, I found myself facing a wood-paneled wall.

  “Now what?” I cried anxiously.

  Chloe swept over to the wall and then vanished.

  “Come back!” I
called, reaching out and touching the wood.

  When the wood wobbled, I realized it wasn’t solid, but a large sheet of plywood propped against the wall. I shoved it aside and glimpsed a shadowy face. My scream cut off when I recognized the face—my own! Light from outside reflected my own image in a grimy window.

  The latch on the window had been broken a long time ago. Had this been Chloe’s escape route? Now over fifty years later, it was my escape route, too.

  After tugging and banging on the window, I pried it open. Cold, rainy air rushed in and I gasped with relief. I quickly scrambled through the window and found myself in a narrow alley.

  Now which way? I wondered, pushing my damp hair from my face. The rain had eased to sprinkles, but I was still soggy and cold. I stood there, unsure which way to go—until I saw a glowing shape to my right like a ghostly beacon offering guidance.

  This narrow passage ended at the sidewalk. Hearing the sound of a door closing, I looked at the museum entrance and covered my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. A chubby bald man was stepping out of the door. I gasped.

  He whirled toward me and shouted, “YOU!”

  Blood pulsed through me and gave life with fear. When I started to run, I heard him yell for me to stop. But I kept running, following a glowing light that I knew was Chloe. Everything blurred as I moved, but instead of heading back for the celebration, I turned up a hilly trail, higher and higher. I didn’t hear Kasper behind me and hoped I’d lost him.

  I slowed at the top of the hill, startled to find myself in a familiar rocky clearing. I heard clomping footsteps and turned back to see Kasper. His face blazed with rage, and he lifted his hands to aim a gun at me.

  He was totally insane and I was going to be totally dead. Ohmygod! I knew I was going to die. This was my fate, like Chloe’s. Only no one would celebrate my death, few would even mourn me. No! I couldn’t just give up. There had to be a way out, but what? I was trapped between a cliff and a killer.

  Then something in the air changed; energy shimmered like a glowing tornado. The glow slowed and settled into a ghostly shape.

  “Chloe!” I screamed. “Help! Stop James!”

  James? she whispered in a tone haunted with pain. But her expression was confused and I realized she didn’t recognize Kasper. It made sense, I suppose, since he’d changed so much, while Chloe had stayed the same.

  Shivering, I glanced at Kasper. The gun fell from his hand and he stared at Chloe. “I can see you!” he cried in shock. “After all these years—I never saw you before—I was never completely sure …” His words trailed off and his face went as pale as death.

  The other times Chloe appeared she was misty and hard to see. But being here, in the place of her death, made her glow with blinding energy. She shimmered so bright my eyes ached. But I couldn’t turn away, caught up in her powerful emotions.

  She hovered high off the ground, dry grass swayed in her wind and bits of twigs and rocks skittered across my feet. I didn’t move as something even more amazing happened. As I watched Kasper-James, he changed. He grew taller, his wrinkled face smoothed, softening, and his saggy flesh thinned, and golden hair spread across his bald head. The illusion only lasted for a moment.

  James. Chloe reached shimmering fingers towards him. I’ve been waiting.

  “Don’t hurt me! Stay away!” His eyes widened with fear. “It wasn’t my fault.”

  She hovered on the air, her essence so bright my eyes stung. Why did you leave me? I waited … so lonely.

  “It was an accident. You were angry, shouting that I had betrayed you, then rushing at me so fast, I jumped aside and you fell. I didn’t mean for you to die—and I was so scared. I knew they’d blame me.”

  “You did betray her,” I said, accusing. “You can’t hide from her anymore. But you can help me show her how to find peace on the other side.”

  He ignored me, putting his hands in front of his face protectively as he backed up. “Don’t hurt me—keep away!”

  But Chloe swirled closer, a brilliant glowing vision. James–don’t leave me–come to me. Her silvery shape glistened like tears. Caramel hair flowed around her like dark rain as she reached for James.

  “Keep away!” he ordered, turning to run.

  But quick as lightning, she flashed past me to block his way. Electricity crackled, sparking around Chloe, until her essence shone as fiery as a burning sunset.

  I waited and waited, Chloe murmured. For you.

  She swept ominously closer to him. I struggled to find the words to help her, to free her of her pain and help her find peace on the other side. But things happened too fast.

  Chloe kept coming after James. He backed up, and would have collided with me if I hadn’t flung myself sideways. I landed hard on the muddy ground. My head hit something hard, a bush or log, and for a moment I laid there dazed.

  When my head cleared and I wiped mud from my eyes, I saw Chloe and James close to the cliff. Misty rain swirled with Chloe as she advanced toward James. His face paled with terror and he didn’t seem to realize he was backing closer to the edge.

  “Watch out!” I shouted to him.

  But he didn’t seem to hear and stepped back blindly. Slipping, stumbling, his arms flailing in the air as he disappeared. His hollow scream seemed to echo forever.

  Chloe hovered in the air over the cliff, her essence fading until I could only see a faint shimmer of caramel brown. I heard her murmur, Wait for me, James.

  Then all was silent, except for the soft pattering of raindrops and my own soft sobs.

  With a heavy heart, I turned away to find Dominic.

  “So Kasper was actually James? And he went crazy with grief and fell off the cliff? That’s so tragic! And to think I slept through it all!” Thorn exclaimed the next morning as I folded clothes into my suitcase. It had been past midnight when I returned last night. I’d been too stunned to talk, leaving the tragedy for others to sort out, numb as Dominic led me away.

  I hadn’t wanted to leave, but Dominic insisted. “There’s no good to come from telling the truth.” And I knew he was right. Kasper—AKA James—was beyond my help.

  “It all seems like a bad dream,” I now admitted to Thorn.

  “At least they’re together,” Thorn said, sitting cross-legged on her unmade bed.

  “Yeah. Chloe got what she wanted.” I sighed, sadness mingled with closure. I sensed that finally—fifty-four years after her death—Chloe was at peace.

  “So I guess this will end the Chloe Celebrations,” Thorn was saying. “My aunt will be glad. But there’s something she won’t be happy about.”

  “What?” I shut my suitcase and eyed her curiously.

  “I’ve decided to fess up. It’s time I let her see the real me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Totally.” Thorn pulled out a plastic makeup bag and black wig from her suitcase. “Watch out world, Thorn is back. My aunt will have to get used to the real me.”

  “Great!” I applauded, then added with a wistful sigh, “If only I had your courage. Then I’d stand up to my mother and tell her I’m going to my sisters’ birthday party whether she likes it or not.”

  “You survived a lot last night,” Thorn said as she slipped on dagger-shaped earrings. “I am so glad I don’t see ghosts. I think you’re like the bravest person I know.”

  For the first time that morning, I smiled. Maybe I was brave when I had to be. I couldn’t run from my problems—including my mother.

  *

  A half-hour later, I was hanging up the phone when Thorn came back with the widest smile I’d ever seen on her face. “You’re never gonna guess what my aunt said when she saw me!”

  I imagined what an old-fashioned woman would think of Thorn’s pale, striking black-and-white makeup, black leather, and multiple piercings. “Did she scream?” I asked.

  “No. She just asked what I wanted for breakfast.”

  “No way!”

  “Not one word about my black hair and Goth look. W
hen I asked why she wasn’t surprised, she said that she already knew. Apparently my mother showed her pictures. And Aunt Deb never even let on.”

  “Well that’s good, isn’t it? She doesn’t mind and you don’t have to be fake.”

  “Yeah—and that’s not all,” Thorn added. “Aunt Deb rolled down her waistband and showed me her pierced belly button.”

  “Pierced!” I choked out in delight.

  “With a tiny diamond. She said that even middle-aged ladies like to rebel a little.”

  “So next she’ll be going Goth, too,” I teased.

  “I hope not, that would be too weird.” Thorn glanced at the phone and asked more seriously, “So how did the call to your mom go?”

  “Okay. I guess.” I kept my expression calm, although inside I was still intimidated and anxious. “Mom isn’t happy, but that’s her problem. I’m going to the party so my sisters won’t be disappointed. I’m doing this for Amy and Ashley.”

  “Good for you,” she said with a pat on my shoulder. I just nodded, knowing that I still had a battle ahead with my mother. But I’d deal with that later.

  French toast was delicious, and it was cool to have the real Thorn back.

  While we were washing and drying dishes afterward, there was a sharp honk from outside. Thorn raced to the front window and peered out. Following her, I saw a bright yellow jeep pulling in the driveway.

  “My jeep!” she cried joyously, then tossed her washrag down and sped outside.

  Another vehicle pulled in behind the jeep—Dominic’s battered white truck. Goat, Dominic’s mechanic friend, stepped out of the jeep and handed over the keys to Thorn.

  The jeep gleamed like new. Thorn caressed her hand over the smooth canvas, and I was pleased that you couldn’t even tell where it had been punctured.

  After Thorn hugged and thanked Dominic, she asked him if he would drive me out to Peaceful Pines since she wanted to spend more time with her aunt. Dominic gave me an uncertain look. “As long as Sabine is okay with it,” he said cautiously.

  “Sounds great,” I said, surprised at how much the idea of going with him pleased me. Of course, that’s just because he’d been so much help and I knew he cared about Nona. It had nothing to do with the kiss. He hadn’t mentioned it, and neither had I—as if we’d silently agreed to pretend it never happened. We were friends, nothing more. And I needed all the friends I could get. My life was sure to change soon—and not in a good way. Evan was probably already planning his revenge.

 

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