“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We went through a lot over the summer. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t affected by that.”
“You weren’t,” he said, his eyes snapping up to mine. “You moved on. You want to go do more cases. You want to be Spider-Man.”
I grinned at his joke. “People handle things in different ways. Plus, you went through a lot more than I did. I didn’t even know the girl who was killed. You did. They fingered you as the killer. You were staring down a life in prison at one point. Of course you’re not going to come out of that unscathed.”
“I’m working hard to try to fix it,” he said. “Don’t tell Mom, okay? I want to try to handle this on my own.”
“Okay, but first you have to tell me what happened after the accident. Who were you yelling at?”
He looked at me steadily. “It was that Ashley girl.”
I squinted, confused. “The one who came through during Mrs. Waldman’s reading?”
“Yeah. After the crash, she was there, yelling in my head. And it makes no sense. I wasn’t even focused.”
No wonder he’d been so shaken up. “Sometimes I’m hit with visions when I’m not concentrating,” I said. “It’s rare, but it happens.”
He shook his head. “My gift doesn’t work like that. I have to try. And I didn’t. She just barreled through.”
It was true. Perry didn’t have ghosts following him around all day. He didn’t see dead people while he walked through the mall. It took a lot of effort for him to connect with a spirit. So for Ashley to bust in like that was highly unusual.
“Maybe you were so freaked out by the accident, you opened your mind without realizing.” I lapsed into silence. “Who cares why it happened. What did she say? Was she any more coherent this time?”
“Hardly. Again, she was panicked, almost screaming.” He brought a shaky hand to his forehead. “It hurt my head.”
Perry’s shoulders were slumped forward, his eyes sunken. Even voluntary readings tended to tire Perry a bit, but this one seemed to suck all the energy from him.
“Were you able to make out anything she said?”
“I got her full name. Ashley Reed. I’m not sure, but I think she said she was famous. Or ‘a famous’ something or other. I don’t know. All I got was that and one other thing.”
“It should be easy enough to figure out.” I got off the bed, sat at his desk, and opened his laptop. It was already on, so I went to the search engine and typed “Ashley Reed.”
Perry fell back on the bed. “Read it to me.”
My eyes skimmed the listings. “There’s nothing. If she was famous, there would be something on the first page. But there’s nothing really.” I went to pages two and three. “Just regular people named Ashley Reed with Facebook pages and stuff. No one famous.” I clicked over to the news section and retried the search. “Nothing in the news under that name, either.”
“Maybe I heard her wrong,” Perry mumbled, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball.
I closed the laptop. “So what was the other thing?”
He opened one eye and said sleepily, “What other thing?”
“You said you only understood one other thing she said. What was it?”
“Oh.” He closed his eyes again. “She said, ‘It’s happening again.’”
I sat and stared at my brother as his breaths came deep and slow, indicating sleep. In my mind, I replayed the words Ashley had said. And I couldn’t help the feeling that her message was for me.
THURSDAY PASSED IN A HAZE OF CLASSES, AND THAT afternoon I sat in the kitchen. I should have been doing homework, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Ashley. Perry was never able to contact a spirit unless they were connected to the place we were, or the person we were with. Ashley had appeared at our house and at the accident scene, two different places. She’d appeared when we were trying to contact Sierra, but Mrs. Waldman didn’t know any Ashley. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the only commonality was us. But I didn’t know anyone with that name. And neither did Perry, unless he was lying.
The phone rang, so I hurried for the receiver on the kitchen wall.
“May I speak with Clare, please?” a woman’s voice asked.
“This is she.”
The caller cleared her throat. “This is Tracy Waldman, Sierra’s mother, returning your call.”
My heart beat a little faster. “Is there any news?”
“Unfortunately, no. But I would like to take you up on your offer to come to my house to see if you could pick up any clues about Sierra.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve gotten nowhere on my own.”
“Of course. When is good for you?”
“How about now?”
“Sure. I’ll see you soon.”
I stared at the phone in my hand for a moment, wondering how that had happened so fast. Then I hung it up, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable with the idea of going to the Waldmans’ house alone. I wouldn’t put Perry through the stress, and Mom was out buying fabric. Plus, it was clear Mom wanted no part of this.
The hardwood floor creaked behind me.
I turned and startled at the sight of Justin in the kitchen doorway.
“Perry let me in,” he explained with a sheepish smile.
I wasn’t exactly disappointed to see him, but I didn’t want him to know that and read too much into it, either. I forced a frown. “You’ve got to stop coming by uninvited.”
“Then you’ve got to start inviting me over.”
I tried hard to keep them straight, but the corners of my mouth lifted up. Justin leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, his head tilted to the side as he studied me. “So I heard you on the phone. Where’re you going?”
I figured there wasn’t any harm in telling him. “To Sierra Waldman’s house. To see if I can pick up on anything.”
His brow furrowed. “I thought she just ran away.”
“She might’ve. Or not. That’s what I’m trying to help her mother with.”
Justin paused for a moment, as if carefully considering what he wanted to say next. “A little birdie told me that you have a secret admirer.”
I wondered who this squawker was, but didn’t ask. “You knew that already. You were the one who found the flowers.”
“I assumed they were from Toscano.”
“No, Gabriel says it’s not him.”
“And it’s not me, so … who is it?”
I gave a slight shrug. “I honestly don’t know. I’d like to know, because it’s starting to give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Me, too. Though I’d have gone with a different word choice.”
I arched an eyebrow. “So that’s why you’re here.”
He held up one hand. “Guilty. I heard about the picture in your locker. I wanted to check on you.”
I was part flattered, part annoyed. “I’m fine. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I figured. It takes a lot more than a picture to scare you.” He rubbed his hands together. “Okay, when are we leaving?”
“For where?”
“Sierra’s. I’ll drive you and come along for the fun.”
I hesitated. Just minutes ago, I’d been thinking I didn’t want to go alone. But Justin pulling the whole helpless little girl needs a big strong man act made me want to turn him down on principle.
“It’s not going to be ‘fun,’” I argued.
He crooked his finger at me, daring me to come closer.
I inched forward.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Afraid to be alone with me? Afraid you won’t be able to resist my charm?”
I rolled my eyes and grabbed my bag. Now I had something to prove. “Let’s go, Romeo.”
Justin had gotten his license only a month ago, but after my fence fiasco, I didn’t have the right to judge anyone’s driving. So I kept my mouth shut when he ran over the curb, backing out of my driveway. He fiddled with the radio until he found the alternative roc
k station.
“Daddy’s car doesn’t have that preset?” I teased.
“Sorry I don’t have my own car like Gabriel does.” He drew out Gabriel’s name mockingly. “I heard he’s been driving you to school.”
“Only twice,” I said.
“All the girls in school are going all gaga over him. The new plaything. They’re like sheep, don’t you think?” His eyes slid toward mine.
I knew what he was doing. The last thing I ever wanted was to be a follower. But simple reverse psychology wouldn’t work on me. My attraction to Gabriel was no more about what other people thought than my relationship with Justin was.
“Pay attention to the road, Justin.”
He grinned and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the music. We arrived a few minutes later. The Waldmans’ house was a Cape-style, almost identical to Mallory’s next door. I wondered if Mallory was home. My eyes went to her upstairs window, thinking I glimpsed movement. I squinted and looked again, but saw only curtains.
I knocked on the Waldmans’ door and heard feet shuffling inside. Mrs. Waldman slowly opened the door. She looked rough, with rumpled clothes and dark bags under her eyes. She didn’t seem surprised that I had a friend with me. Her eyes didn’t register anything but resignation.
She told me where to find Sierra’s room and then returned to the chair I assumed she’d been sitting in when we arrived, facing the window, surrounded by only the sound of a grandfather clock ticking.
My shoes squeaked as I walked up the staircase. The walls of the upstairs hallway were plastered with photos of Sierra at piano recitals from about age three until twelve or so.
“There aren’t any pictures of her as a teen,” Justin whispered, noticing it just as I did.
It seemed that when their marriage started to fall apart, Mr. and Mrs. Waldman also forgot how to use a camera. From recent school gossip, I knew that Sierra’s parents became serial daters after their divorce. Sierra was shuffled back and forth between their houses as prospective stepmothers and stepfathers were paraded in front of her and quickly forgotten.
Those years must have been quite the change for Sierra. Growing up as a homeschooled child prodigy and the center of her parents’ world and then slowly losing that attention year after year until last month, when she was pushed into a school where everyone knew each other and no one had time for her, including her own parents.
I opened Sierra’s door, and Justin closed it behind him. The room was small, or maybe it just seemed that way because her furniture was gigantic. A white-canopied sleigh bed was pushed up against one wall, and a nightstand, tall dresser, desk, and vanity took up all the space on the other. A pair of jeans was balled up on the unmade bed and various pairs of shoes littered the floor. Mrs. Waldman had obviously kept the room as Sierra had left it.
“Where do you want to start?” Justin looked exhilarated, like a kid on an adventure. A far cry from the last time I cased a bedroom with someone. That had been over the summer, with Gabriel the skeptic.
“According to the police,” I said, taking in the surroundings, “she took her personal stuff with her. Purse, laptop, all that stuff.”
“Sounds like a runaway to me,” Justin said, lowering himself onto the bed.
“What are you doing?” I said in a loud whisper.
He folded his arms behind his head and leaned back. “Staying out of your way.” He patted the space beside him. “Unless you’d like to join me.”
I ignored him and opened the door to Sierra’s closet. I was hoping to find a big box o’ secrets hidden away on a top shelf under some sweaters. But there were only clothes. And more shoes. Seemed she loved shoes almost as much as music.
I stopped and wondered why I was thinking of her in the past tense. The evidence didn’t point that way. But her mother believed it and maybe that pessimism had crept into me.
I wandered over to the vanity. Most girls had pictures of their best friends or boyfriends stuck in the frame of their mirror. Sierra had old men. Old men with musical instruments. They were probably famous, but not to me.
I flipped through the papers on her desk. From the looks of it, her mother didn’t spend too much time on math during homeschooling, because Sierra bombed her last test. Though she got a perfect score in science. I looked for notes or anything personal in the pile, but found only schoolwork.
This was certainly not the desk she wrote her good-bye note on, though. The desk in my vision was dark wood. This one was white.
I wandered around the room, my fingers grazing all the surfaces, knobs, and switches. It brought up nothing interesting. Sierra spent a lot of time alone, in silence, or with classical music in the background.
“Want to rub your hands along the bed?” Justin asked, wagging his eyebrows.
I flashed him a look.
He smiled. “Just being helpful.”
I dropped to my hands and knees and peered under the bed. An indistinct form was bundled in the darkness. I reached my hand in and pulled it out.
The bed squeaked as Justin got up. “Find something?”
“Just an overnight bag.” I lifted it up and onto the bed.
“See if anything’s in it.”
I unzipped it and the handles fell open. “Empty.”
I gripped the handles again, about to bring them back together, when I felt that familiar buzzing feeling of a vision coming to the surface. I focused in on it and heard a voice.
“How many days will you be gone this time?” a girl asked.
The voice was somewhat familiar.
“Only three,” Sierra responded, shoving a pair of shoes into the corner of the overnight bag with one hand, while the other gripped the handle.
“It must be terrible,” the girl said.
Sierra tossed a pair of jeans into the bag. “It’s not so bad. There’s a piano at each house.”
“Well, I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” Sierra answered, zipping up the bag. Then she turned to say good-bye to her friend.
Despite the fact that her hair wasn’t dyed black yet and her eyes were makeup free, I immediately recognized the face of Mallory Neely.
Sierra’s friend. My friend. The one who’d told me, despite living next door to Sierra her whole life, that she hardly knew her.
I STOOD AT MY LOCKER, PULLING OUT BOOKS AND watching the stream of kids go by. I was keeping one eye out for Mallory.
She had a lot of explaining to do.
Why hadn’t she told me that she and Sierra were friends? Apparently close friends at that. Close enough to chitchat about the perils of having divorced parents while Sierra packed to visit her father.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, ready to tear into Mallory. Instead, Kendra stood eyeing me suspiciously.
“People are talking,” she said.
Vague much? “About what?”
“The cockroach in Tiffany’s locker, Cody’s car …” Her voice trailed off.
I shrugged. “Yeah, so?” I didn’t get her point.
She arched her finely manicured brows. “They are your biggest enemies.”
“Not by my choice. I’d love to live my life with no enemies at all.” I paused, finally understanding what she was getting at. “Wait, what are you saying?”
“It’s not what I’m saying. It’s other people.”
I suppressed a groan. Did I have to pull this out of her? “What are other people saying, then?”
“They’re starting to wonder if you’re getting back at the popular crowd.”
I leaned back against the locker and let out an exaggerated sigh. I was being put on the defensive. Again. Well, at least it was a familiar place. “They think I did those things?” I scoffed. “Please. Over the years, Tiffany and Cody have racked up a high number of people who have reason to seek revenge on them.”
Kendra narrowed her eyes. “But all those other kids wouldn’t be able to pull it off.”
“And I would?”
“Neither do I,” I snapped.
“But couldn’t you just put your hand on the locker?” She made woo-woo motions with her fingers. “And get a vision of Tiffany spinning the dial and memorize her combination?”
“It doesn’t work that perfectly —”
Kendra interrupted, “But it’s possible, right?”
I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead as the stirrings of a headache formed in my temple. I had to clench my jaw to force myself to keep my tone level. “Why would I do that? Why now when things aren’t that bad for me?”
“Tiffany says it’s because you think you can get away with it now. She says you think we’ll back you up.”
My frustration boiled over. “Don’t you see what she’s doing?” I snapped. “Tiffany has made it quite clear she hates that people are friendly with me now. She wants me to return to outcast status. She wants to turn everyone against me again. She probably put that cockroach in her locker herself.”
I slammed the locker door closed and slid my books into the crook of my arm. “I’ve got to get to class.”
Kendra put her hand on my arm. “Wait. I don’t believe what Tiffany’s saying.”
I hesitated. “Really?”
“Someone could have snuck into the office and snagged her locker combo. It could be anyone. I don’t think it’s you.”
“Thanks,” I said truthfully.
I was only slightly relieved, though. Kendra might have believed me, but the rest of the school? It would be Tiffany’s word against mine. And I had no doubt it was Tiffany who had started the rumor in the first place.
“Listen,” Kendra said. “I’m having a party tomorrow night. I want you to come.”
I blinked quickly. I’d never been to a house party before. Never even been invited. And my gut was telling me I didn’t want to go to this one, either. But I’d made a deal with my mother. And a deal’s a deal.
I forced a smile. “Sure, I’ll come.”
Kendra looked pleased. “Great.” As an afterthought, she added, “Obviously, don’t bring Mallory.”
“What? Why?”
Perception Page 10
