The Eastbrook is a seriously preppy scene, like a country club, except in Nantucket, they don’t call them country clubs. They’re all golf or tennis or yacht clubs. The Eastbrook is the closest to an actual country club, though, because it has a pool and a fitness club, and they organize social crap like the party tonight. This will be my inaugural event, the first time they’ll be bringing the little black stepchild along.
Charlie shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”
We’re on the side streets, wending our way closer to Fair-Ever. I’m worrying about what to wear tonight and about the fact that my boyfriend potentially has anger issues, so for once, I’m not focused on Lydia. Charlie parks in the driveway, and we get out and trudge to the door. Charlie. Outfits. Nails. Jealousy.
When I reach the family room, I see her. She’s doing her hanging routine again—this time in the corner by the flatscreen, swinging from side to side with her neck cricked over. I stop dead in my tracks and suck in a breath.
“What?” Charlie asks.
“Lyd—” I can’t finish because she’s in my face. Up close and rotten smelling—like a bag of trash with dead fish in it.
“Whore!” she screams, her face peeling back to reveal her skull.
The room starts to spin like a kaleidoscope, colors and shapes rotating everywhere. The sound of radio static is all I can hear, white noise droning in my head. Lydia moves in slow motion, twisting and changing from skeletal back to her beautiful, distraught face. She’s suffering. Over and over and again and again. And she wants me to suffer with her, to feel what she feels, to know how dreadful it is to be that sad.
I know, Lydia. I know. I see you, and I’m so very sorry. And then I’m going down. Going down hard.
“Jade. Jade. Come on, Jade. Get up.” Charlie’s murmuring quietly, but there’s desperation in his voice. He sounds as though he might lose it and start crying.
I use every ounce of energy I have to open my eyes.
Charlie hovers directly in front of my face. “You have to get up. Your mom is home,” he whispers.
She must be in her bedroom. Shoot! I slide my feet under me in preparation to stand, and Charlie hauls me up by the arms. We shuffle to the stairs, his arm supporting me, and we reach my room undetected.
He shuts the door. “Are you okay?”
I nod, sort of leaning against him on the bed.
“What happened?”
“She came at me. Like she does. She was angry and very sad.”
Charlie sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “This is getting out of hand. Someone else is going to find out if this keeps happening.”
“I know. But what can I do? I’m helpless. You’ve seen what happens to me now.”
“I know, but maybe you should ask the ghost guy again. Maybe he could help us.”
I shake my head. “No.” I don’t have the energy to argue about this right now, but I don’t want to call Martin. Martin is a selfish jerk who’s only out for himself.
“Jade?” my mother calls up the stairs.
I stumble to the door and open it. “Yeah?”
“Come down. I have a skirt for you to try on.”
“Okay. Be right there.”
I look back over my shoulder. “We’ll talk more tonight.”
“Okay,” Charlie says.
“Sorry.”
“For what?”
“Everything.” I slink off down the stairs before he can answer. Because really, there’s no answer for any of this. There’s no way to impose any kind of sense on what’s happening to us, and I’m not sure when that will change, if ever. I’m in an impossible situation that I think is only going to get worse.
Chapter 24
“Remember boys, no drinking tonight,” Mike says. “I don’t care who says it’s okay.”
We’re riding to the club in the Pilot—one big happy family packed in together. Mom looks like a real housewife of Nantucket in a designer dress and heels—hoping to make a good impression on Mike’s summer friends, I’m sure. I sit in the middle of the backseat between the boys—because they need leg room—and I’m trying not to lean too far one way or the other as Mike navigates the winding streets. Awkward to say the least. And now we’re going to get a lecture from Mike about underage drinking? Great.
Brendan sighs. “We know, Dad.”
“Have there been problems?” Mom’s tone says, Rich teenagers misbehaving on the Fourth of July? Shocking!
Mike glances over at her. “Yes, one year there was a keg down by the pool. Most parents turned a blind eye, but some were upset about it. The boys stayed out of it.”
“That was the year Ashley Ward stripped down and jumped in the pool,” Brendan says. He leans forward to eye Charlie. “Remember that?”
“Yeah, I remember.” Charlie rolls his eyes and tries to look unimpressed with the memory of naked Ashley Ward.
“See what I have to put up with, Jade?” Mike asks. “Thank goodness I have you and your mother now.” He smiles and shakes his head at me in the rearview mirror.
“No drinking, Jade. Even if other kids are,” Mom says. She turns back to give me a stern look, careful not to disturb her super-coifed locks.
Apparently, every instruction Mike gives to the boys has to be given separately to me in this new arrangement. “I heard Mike, Mom. I didn’t think I was going to suddenly have different rules at the Eastbrook.”
“I just want to be clear about my expectations,” Mom says.
I keep my eyes straight ahead, not wanting to look left or right at either of the boys, especially with Mike glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Mike says. He reaches to take Mom’s hand. Both hands on the wheel, Mike. Ten and two, remember?
Brendan leans forward again so he can see Charlie. “Have you seen the Eisenbergs this year?”
I’m starting to feel invisible.
“No. Not yet,” Charlie answers. He darts his eyes from me to Brendan, and I can tell he’s wishing Brendan would shut the hell up.
“Hot, dude. That’s what I hear. And I know you could get Rachel. You totally have to make a move. Like tonight.” Brendan keeps his voice low in an attempt to leave our parents out of this mini-strategy session. Mom and Mike are talking about something else now, so I don’t think they hear.
“Yeah, I’m not that into her,” Charlie says. He shakes his head and takes his sunglasses on and off twice.
“What? I’m talking about Rachel Eisenberg. Are you seriously saying you’re not interested in that?” Brendan’s acting like Charlie’s dating coach, prepping him for the big game.
“That? You say that like she’s a thing. Not a girl,” I scoff and cross my arms over my chest.
Brendan looks at me as though he’s just realized I was there. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s not what I meant. It’s just a saying. Like, she’s all that.”
“Well, I guess Charlie doesn’t think she is,” I say.
The Pilot bounces over a speed bump in the Eastbrook driveway as Brendan eyes me skeptically with a Why is my stepsister such a pain in the ass? look. But he must decide not to ask. Instead, he says, “Whatever,” to dismiss me.
Charlie lets out a big breath that he must have been holding. I guess it’s good we’re pulling into the parking area because this is already not going well.
Charlie holds the door for me, and we do our eye-locking again. I know he’s pleading with me not to antagonize Brendan anymore. I huff as I step out, looking away and smoothing down the front of my red skirt. It’s loose and hangs to my knees. I’ve been styled by Mom tonight—white tee, silver sandals with a ton of straps, and my hair down in loose curls all around my shoulders. Plus I added my silver key.
Together, we crunch up the shell driveway toward the main building. Mike walks next to me for some reason, so Charlie stays away. I see him eyeing us as we go, probably wondering what our parents are up to.
“I have a friend with a daughter your age who I think you’ll like,” Mike says. “She can take you around to meet some of the other kids.”
I notice Mom watching to see my reaction. “I’ll be fine,” I assure him.
“Okay. We’ll find her, though. Maybe Charlie can. Charlie, I was going to introduce Jade to Philomena.”
Philomena? Dear God, help me.
We approach the main building, a mansion on a hill that was once a private home and then an inn for a while. The place has freshly painted white clapboards and black shutters. Huge blooming hydrangeas line the base, and roses climb lattices on the sides. The scent of flowers on the air is like perfume. The other parts of the club are spread around the main building—tennis courts, pool, and fitness center—all built into the hill and made to look historic. The perfectly landscaped grounds sport rows of privet and winding paths—a playground for the rich after a weary year on Wall Street.
We proceed through the building to the party outside on a flagstone patio overlooking the tennis courts in the rear. Patriotic tunes like “Yankee Doodle” and the “1812 Overture” are being played by a small band. Bars and buffets are set up around the edges with clusters of beautiful people laughing and talking.
“Let’s get some drinks,” Mom says.
She steers us toward a white-tableclothed bar beside some more hydrangea bushes. Mike and Mom seem determined to keep me with them, so Charlie lingers around, too. Brendan has disappeared, probably looking for that Eisenberg girl or the sometimes-naked Ashley Ward.
The real Nantucketers—the people who live and work here—have plenty of diversity. At school, we have Jamaicans, Dominicans, Mexicans, El Salvadorians, and Nepalese, plus other mixed-race kids like me. I’m really not that unique in the world of the real Nantucket. But here at the Eastbrook, I’ll probably be one of the only non-white people, amongst the guests at least.
I grab a ginger ale, and Mom orders a glass of chardonnay.
While Mike gets his vodka rocks, he finds a friend to introduce to us. “Tom, this is my fiancée, Carrie O’Neil, and this is her daughter, Jade.” He beams with pride, his whole face nerdy and smiling. The man is truly gaga for my mother, and he seems pleased as punch that I’ve come along too.
My mom couldn’t have found a more benevolent stepdad for me. My own bias has always been that rich people are jerks, but not Mike. Mike is like the polar opposite of a jerk.
Tom shakes my hand. “Wonderful to meet you. I’m so happy for you all.”
Charlie shifts on his feet beside me. I know his body language; he’s ready to get us away and alone at the first opportunity. Right now, though, I can’t help but notice how gorgeous he is in his pale blue-and-white-checkered button-up. His shirt is official Ralph Lauren with a tiny pink polo player on the chest to prove it. Khaki shorts and flip flops complete his ensemble, and his hair is neatly combed, for once. The only sign of trouble is the purplish tinge around his left eye from the one punch Billy managed to land.
“I hear Brendan is off to Bucknell this fall. Congratulations,” Tom says to Mike.
I use the Tom distraction as my chance to get away. The oldest trick in the book. “Charlie, where’s the bathroom?”
“I’ll show you,” he says too quickly before striding away.
I follow, glad to be escaping Mom, Mike, Tom, and maybe Philomena.
And once we get inside the building, just out of view, Charlie stops and runs his hand up his neck. “Well, that was weird.”
“Yeah. What the hell? I know they’re trying to be nice, but geez.” I shake my head.
“And you. Do you have to taunt my brother? Really?” Charlie asks. He widens his eyes, acting shocked, but he’s grinning.
“What? I don’t have to listen to his crap.” I fold my arms in front of my chest, but I can’t stop the answering smile from spreading on my face.
“No, you made that very clear.” Charlie chuckles. “And why do you have to look so gorgeous? I’m going to have to keep you away from all the guys here now. They’re going to be trying to steal you.” He tilts his head down as if he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He just grins.
I can’t believe this is happening. Charlie just called me gorgeous to my face. And I can tell he means it. “Thank—”
“Charlie!”
We jump back from each other, knocked out of our romantic bubble by the shrill female voice. Before I know what’s happening, a girl is hugging Charlie. Draped on him actually.
“How come I haven’t seen you yet?” she squeals.
Charlie puts his hands on her back and pats, his eyes wide with something that looks kind of like fear. “Uh… I’ve been… working?”
She releases him, but grabs his hands. “You owe me a tennis match! Tomorrow. We’ll play tomorrow.”
Blond and pretty, she wears a blue-and-white-striped dress, definitely designer label. The whole package is kind of perfect but sort of off, too, like Stepford Wife meets Pretty Little Liars with a biggish nose.
“Um, I have to work tomorrow. Sports camp. This is my… Jade. This is Jade.” He apparently couldn’t bring himself to say stepsister or girlfriend.
Blondie flips her hair as she turns to look at me. “Lindsey. Hi.” She flutters her hand in a wave and turns back to Charlie. “Well, how about after? Like four. We could play at four?” She bounces on her toes as she talks.
Bile percolates in my throat. “Um, Charlie? Could we get some food?” I ask.
“Yeah. Yeah. Lindsey, I’ll see you later. Okay?” Charlie starts moving away, and I follow him, toward the buffet line off to the right.
“Okay. Yeah. For the fireworks,” she calls after him.
“Thanks,” Charlie mutters. His arm moves as if he wants to put it around me—on my lower back maybe—but he stops. We can’t do that here.
“You’re welcome. She was… interesting.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.”
We go through the buffet line, a huge spread of salads, finger foods, and gourmet burgers made to order. After we load our plates with an assortment of edibles, I spot my mother and Mike sitting at a table on the patio with a group of gorgeous-looking people. My mother’s new crowd. I look around for an empty table.
“Come on,” Charlie says. “I know a place we can be alone.”
He leads me back inside, through a bar area, then down a hall into a library-type room. Dark wood shelves built into the walls are filled with books and pictures—mostly of blond men and women wearing tennis outfits and posing with various trophies and medals. The heels of my sandals sink into the thick oriental rug. The room is right out of that board game, Clue. Professor Plum in the study with a rope. No one else is here, though, which is sort of the point, so we sit together on the leather couch and put our plates on the coffee table.
“So… Lindsey?” I smile, picking at my field greens.
“Can we not talk about her? Please?”
“Okay.” I giggle. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Research. Stuff I’ve seen online about ghosts.”
“What about them?”
“Banishing them.” He watches for my reaction.
I stop eating, freezing in place with my fork filled with arugula. “Charlie…”
“Have you read about it? Because it doesn’t seem that complicated.”
“Of course, I’ve read about it.” I know all about it, along with its potential pitfalls and hazards and problems, some of which may be complete and utter crap and some of which might be true. Who knows with all the craziness out there on the Internet?
; “Well, we could try it. I could help you try it.”
I try to focus on the sweetness of his offer and tamp down my annoyance that he suddenly thinks he’s a paranormal expert. I’m terrified of what could happen to me during a banishment. Could I be possessed? Killed? Who knows? Probably nothing will happen. Lydia will freak. I’ll get knocked out and wake up, and she’ll still be driving me crazy afterward. But maybe I should still try it, if only to make Charlie happy.
“I guess we could.” I pick up a chicken teriyaki skewer and start nibbling on it.
“Dad and your mom with be out tomorrow night at a cocktail party. And I know Brendan has to work.”
“So you’re saying we should try a banishment tomorrow night?” I finish nibbling the tangy, sweet chicken and wish I’d grabbed more of them.
“Yeah. I think we should.” Charlie takes an enormous bite of his cheeseburger.
“Okay…” I look at my food and realize I’ve lost my appetite.
“What’s wrong?” Charlie’s trying to chew with his mouth closed so it sounds more like Wats wong?
“I just wish we had more of a plan. We really have no idea what we’re doing.”
“But we have to try. Maybe it won’t work, but maybe we’ll learn more from trying. And then it’ll work the next time.”
I love Charlie’s optimism. I just wish I could share his positive outlook. “Did you go out with Lindsey?” I ask, my tone turned teasing. I don’t want to ruin our night with ghost talk, and I know there’s definitely a story about Lindsey.
“No.” But his face turns red.
“You kissed her, though, I bet. Was she your first kiss? I can see it now. You’re thirteen. You just finished your tennis lesson. You’re walking back to the fitness center—”
He bumps me with his shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I don’t think she liked me.”
Charlie chuckles. “She doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t have guy parts.”
Ever Near (Secret Affinity Book 1) Page 12
