"Okay," I said. "We'll...we'll do our best to support him. I'm sorry I didn't--I mean, I knew he was sad--obviously, but I didn't think he was..."
"Miss Collins, I'm not asking you two to support him." Brother What-a-waste said. "You've already proved you can't do that. We're asking you to leave him alone."
CHAPTER NINE
Good Vibrations
By the time Jamie returned that night, there were news vans parked across from the school's driveway. A perimeter of reporters kept us on lockdown, but law enforcement didn't get involved until Benny Eagle found a photographer in the deer stand. Apparently, it's totally within the law to photograph minors as long as no trespassing is involved, but one toe over the line and you get chauffeured from the premises in the back of a patrol car.
Jamie found us at Higher Grounds. The place gets pretty loud in the evening, even more so because we've been cooped up all weekend, avoiding reporters, so Hiroki and I didn't notice him coming until a backpack dropped by my shoe. Jamie hurled himself into the chair between us.
Hiroki and I both jumped, looked at each other, then swiftly around for any sign of Brother What-a-waste. We hadn't talked much after the meeting that morning, but we'd both agreed that staying away from Jamie seemed like a great way to make him feel worse. On the other hand, if what Brother What-a-waste had said was true, it also wouldn't be responsible to bring him along on our trip back to Acid Park.
"Twenty minutes," Jamie said. His voice was sharp, the haughtiness I remembered from our first meeting slicing his consonants to utter precision. "Twenty minutes to get into the damn driveway. Please tell me it's open season on reporters."
I gave him what I hoped looked like a bland smile. "I can't really complain, since I want to be one of them."
"You're not that kind of reporter," Jamie snapped. I lifted an eyebrow, but didn't point out that I was only in so much trouble right now because, until my story on Aaron, I'd been exactly that kind of reporter. Jamie's forehead bunched as he dragged a book roughly from his bag. The circles under his eyes were the color of storm clouds.
Hiroki slid his chair back a few inches. "Dude, are you okay?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Jamie's voice was loud enough to get the attention of two sophomores at a nearby table. He glared until they turned back around.
It occurred to me why Hiroki might be uncomfortable; the unhappier someone was, the more likely they were to stay behind after death. He could feel when someone would stay behind. That made it hard for Hiroki to be around people who were in a lot of pain. No wonder he'd had such a hard time being around me lately--I've been a rampaging ball of frustration and fear.
"Hey," I said, poking Jamie in the arm with my pencil eraser. "You've got plenty of reason not to be okay right now."
He gave me a tight shake of the head. "I can't afford that. I have applications, essays, tests..."
"And forcing yourself to be okay when you're not isn't going to help you do any better on them."
"You know what I don't need?" he said. "A therapist."
I leaned back, but didn't say anything. I mean, I'd had a therapist after sixth grade, and I would recommend it to anyone who needed to get their mental and emotional shit together. Jamie was private, but being pushed away after I'd told him all about my problems? It hurt. Even though I knew the need to push people away.
I bit my lip and looked down at my notebook. A moment of awkward silence stretched between us before Jamie finally sighed and spread his hands on the table.
"My parents want me to see a shrink," he said. It sounded like he was forcing the words out. "I don't want to talk about Aaron. If I could pop a couple pills and they'd make me forget until exams are done, that would be one thing."
My chest gave a sympathetic clench. "It doesn't work like that."
"My parents seem to think it does." He glared at his hands, which were clasped before him on the table.
I met Hiroki's eyes. He shook his head, lips tight. Neither of us knew what to do. Jamie had never sought us out, hadn't really talked to us about Aaron or his feelings. The best thing I could think of to comfort him was exactly what would comfort me: the truth.
"I don't know if you even want me to say anything, so you can stop me if you just wanted to vent." He opened one of his clasped hands, a gesture that seemed to say 'go ahead'. I swallowed. "There's no medical fix for losing your best friend. It's not like there's something wrong with your brain chemistry, like with chronic depression." My hand went to the bangles on my wrist, and I twisted them around. I never really knew how much to reveal about my past. "When I was depressed," I said carefully, "the only things that fixed it were time and distraction."
Muscles moved in Jamie's jaw and temple. I glanced at Hiroki for help. He'd been watching me play with my bangles, probably wondering if I would disclose the history that had saddled me with my own strange talent.
Hiroki blinked at me, then glanced around as if I might be looking at someone else. Words of comfort weren't my best friend's strong suit.
"While you're distracting yourself, can we borrow your truck?"
Jamie looked up and I lifted a hand to my eyes. There really were no words for Hiroki sometimes.
"You're not planning on going back to Acid Park, are you?" Jamie said.
I grimaced. "Can you stop being perceptive for, like, five minutes?"
"Dude, look," Hiroki said, reaching across to tap the table in front of Jamie. "I'm pretty much singlehandedly responsible for getting the two of you into that situation. If I'd gone with the police the first time, I could have confirmed or denied the ghost's existence and saved us a whole lot of trouble."
"It's not all your fault, Hiro," I said. "I'm not exactly inculpable."
"In-ka-what?"
"Blameless. I should have known better than to try to go on my own. Better yet, if I had just taken down the stupid website full of school skeletons, I could have avoided feeling like I even needed to-"
"While we're all blaming ourselves," Jamie interrupted. "Why don't we go way back to the beginning and regret being born."
Hiroki shook his head. "If we can just interview the girl for the police, maybe they'll listen to me. We just need to borrow your truck. Just for an hour or so."
Jamie looked at him a moment, scalpel gray eyes cutting across my best friend's dark brown. Privately, I didn't mind the silent battle of wills. It was a very attractive moment of staring. Then Jamie sliced his gaze toward me.
"You're writing something about it?"
I swallowed, a blush creeping up my cheeks. "I mean, I'm probably not going to put it up on the Toilet Paper..."
He nodded. "Good. You need your own website anyway. That said, I will only allow my truck off the property under one condition."
I was still too surprised by the idea of my own website to respond, but Hiroki obliged with a raised eyebrow.
"And that is?"
"I'm driving."
I met Hiroki's gaze and read the same fear I felt. We couldn't let Jamie come with us. We'd promised not to let him take stupid risks, and this definitely counted as a stupid risk. There could be more police out there, or gang members. Heck, even ghostly April Weir might not be a great thing for him to be around.
"I can already see the hesitation," he said bitterly. "I take it that means my parents talked to the school, and the school talked to you?"
Hiroki's face stayed blank, but I must have flinched. Jamie sighed, slapping both hands on the table. He leaned back, turning his face toward the skylight above, and its mass of black and gray sky.
"For fuck's sake, I'm not going to hurt myself," he said. "My mom saw cuts on my hands from when I was redoing Aaron's prayer beads and thought I'd...you know." He righted himself, meeting my eyes directly. His voice dropped lower, both in volume and in pitch, so Hiroki and I had to lean in to hear him.
"I need to feel useful," he said. "I couldn't stop what happened to Aaron. I couldn't even do anything about it--that wa
s all you guys. I'm still processing it, still dealing with it. I mean, my best friend was murdered." His fingers curled into fists on the tabletop. "There's only one thing I can think of that will make me feel better without resorting to punching every single fuck-weasel on the lacrosse team. I need to help other people like him. Other ghosts. Even if it's just being a chauffeur, I want to be helping you help them."
His face was completely serious, eyes intent on me behind his glasses. Maybe it was stupid to ignore what the adults said, but Jamie was one of the smartest people I knew, and one of the steadiest. If he said he wasn't going to hurt himself, I believed him.
I also believed what he said about taking action. That sentiment, at least, I could understand. Nothing made me feel better faster than feeling like I was working toward solving a problem, or at least preventing the problem from happening again.
It was probably the stupidest thing I'd said since agreeing to go with the police sans Hiroki, but with Jamie's eyes on me like that and the memory of his empty half of his dormitory swimming up unbidden, there was really only one thing I could say.
"Okay."
#
Five hours later, we met in the parking lot. Hiroki had brought his trusty messenger bag, Jamie a black ski hat to conceal his blond hair, and I'd considerately packed a big thermos of coffee. I mean, it was a school night, and if I couldn't get any beauty sleep, I needed my anti-zombie serum.
We climbed into Jamie's recovered truck. Hiroki, as the smallest, sat in the middle. That was probably for the best because, had I been between Hiroki and Jamie for any length of time, I might not have had the self-control to behave. The fantasy was strong with me.
Instead, I climbed into the passenger's side, cupped my hands against the chill window, and peered out into the darkness. We rolled silently to the soccer field without the benefit of headlights. A service road led out behind the school, and Hiroki's reconnaissance had turned up far fewer press members lurking back there. Sure enough, I only saw the outline of one vehicle through the trees. I got out to open the back gate, but paused with my hand still on the door.
"Jamie," I whispered across Hiroki. "What was the scripture this week?"
He made a face, but I saw his eyes tick up as he thought about it.
"Er, Matthew 19:24-25, why?"
I slapped the dashboard and flashed a grin. "The things you overhear when waiting outside the teachers' lounge..."
Hiroki raised his fingers in air quotes. "'Waiting,'" he repeated.
Jamie gave him a significant look and they both nodded.
"Slander," I said, and stepped up to the gate. According to the meeting note I'd overheard last year, the gate combination was always the month number and the weekly scripture. It was the same combination for everything at school, and I'd tested it several times, knowing it would come in handy. Of course, I'd been imagining it coming in handy if I needed a secret location for some one-on-one time with Brother What-a-waste, but I could deal with this too. I bent toward the keypad and typed in 10-19-24, and sure enough, the light flashed green.
"Hail Mary," I said. I pushed open the gate and waved the boys through, climbing in beside them. Through the trees, the news van's working light came on, smothered quickly by a hand as someone exited the vehicle. "I just hope they don't have their cameras ready," I said, buckling in.
"Mhmm," Jamie intoned. "Have I mentioned I hate reporters?"
"Implied it," I said. "Strongly."
"Did I also mention I love my truck?"
"Not recently."
He smiled, cold and evil. "Let's see how they like 385 horsepower."
Hiroki's eyes nearly doubled in size, and he gazed at Jamie in abject wonder. "That was beautiful. I think it was the most American thing I have ever heard."
Jamie moved the shifter, his eyes narrow and cool. I put my hand over my heart.
"O'er the land of the free!" I sang. "And the home of the-"
Jamie gunned it. The roar of the engine sent them scampering into the drainage ditch alongside the road
We accelerated past them, wind howling. I snatched at the Oh-shit-grip to keep myself from jolting sideways as we swerved around the van. Hiroki and I screamed out the final word of the national anthem, and even Jamie was grinning, the whisker-like crinkles scrunching along his cheekbones. Whooping, we rolled down the windows, flipped the bird at the dudes now choking on our dust. Hiroki was practically crying with laughter.
"I think I just got naturalized..." he wheezed.
It was a fifteen minute drive to Acid Park. We passed by it a few times in both directions, making sure no police cars hid out in the trees before pulling down the long driveway. Jamie pulled right up next to the farmhouse. We left the headlights off as Hiroki and Jamie snuck around, trying windows. If we got arrested, at least I wouldn't have to go back to school.
"You sure you're alright with this?" I asked Jamie. "Oxford might not like it."
"I'm legacy at Oxford. They'd overlook it." His glance at me was smug.
"How do you even exist?"
Hiroki joined us. "The door's got a deadbolt," he said. "But I think I could fit through one of those windows." He pointed above us, where a set of six-paned windows sat propped open on the second story.
"Oh no." I pointed at him. "We did the window thing last time. I know how this ends, and I'm not anxious to get another concussion."
"You're not tall enough anyway," Hiroki said. Jamie, on the other hand, was squinting up at the frame.
"Who leaves their windows open?" I said. "They're really not even trying, are they?"
Jamie cracked his knuckles and grabbed the tailgate of his truck. "How fortunate for us." He climbed into the back. "For Satou's sake, I hope the floorboards are sound."
I stood back, lips pressed as the boys prepared to Mission Impossible their way into the farmhouse. Hiroki gritted his teeth as he grabbed onto Jamie's shoulders and was hoisted aloft. He grabbed the eve and pulled. A moment of curses and grunts followed with very little progress. Even with Jamie pushing on the bottom of his chucks, Hiroki couldn't get himself over the edge.
"Can you--not do--even a single--pull-up?" Jamie grunted.
"Nope," I confirmed.
"You can't even do enough to--Jesus!" Jamie just barely managed to dodge a foot-flail.
"I can do enough to Jesus!" Soon, however, it became evident he could not. Jamie and I were able to grab Hiroki's legs and move him back into the bed of the truck, where he rubbed at the red lines in his hands. "Plan B?"
"Bulldozer?" I said.
"No," Jamie said, looking at the window. "I think I can get up there"
"How could I forget," Hiroki drawled. "With the rigorous physical demands of chess, you must have the upper body strength of a titan."
Jamie's smile was knife-thin and cold. "Some of us actually attend P.E."
Hiroki scowled. "I have asthma."
Sensing the imminent posturing, I pointed back up at the window. "Well, I'm not fitting through that, so when y'all are done measuring your dicks, can we get on with the trespassing?"
Hiroki stepped back, sweeping his hand dramatically toward the window with a slight bow. "All yours, Grant."
Jamie smirked and clambered onto the truck's cab. It looked like he'd be tall enough to reach the window on his own, but it would be precarious, since the cab's roof didn't extend quite as far over as the bed. He had about two feet of distance to compensate for.
God, he was going to break his neck. And then it would be my fault. And then I would probably just lay in the road in front of the reporters and let them bury me in nasty articles. I bit my lips and let him jump.
He caught the sill with a grunt and got his feet against the wall. As promised, he was fairly quick about pulling himself up.
"Lucky me," he called down. "It smells like old people and asparag-AGH!" Hiroki and I both tensed, but an instant later, a hissing, skulking possum scampered from the window and across the roof.
Jamie, hand over
heart, leaned back out the window. All of us locked eyes, and laughed. "I'll meet you at the door," he said.
My heartbeat raced as I snatched up our things from the truck. When Jamie opened the door, he raised his eyebrows at me in a way that, had it been a different sort of moment, might have been flirty. But it was not that sort of moment because we were about to trespass on a very haunted crime scene.
The place was dark, and the light from our cell phones made shadow-creatures of the refrigerator and kitchen island. Occupying a full third of the dining room was the half-rebuilt whirligig, its large green flower of a pinwheel glinting in the light of our three LED screens.
Hiroki shrugged off his bag, which landed on the linoleum floor with a metallic slush.
"That was a lot easier than I thought," he said. Jamie just opened his hands and looked at the ceiling.
"Considering a life of crime?" I asked Hiroki.
"It's more lucrative than journalism."
"That's fair. So..." I looked around the room. "See anything?"
Hiroki's mouth squished to one side, but his quick gaze darted around without seeming to latch on anything. "We might have to coax her out," he said.
"Hopefully she's ready to move on," Jamie said. He glanced at me. "Do we know why she stayed behind in the first place?"
"I don't think spirits even know half the time," Hiroki said. "Especially the longer they've been around. Death is weird and confusing."
Jamie's chuckle did not sound at all amused.
"We should try anyway," Hiroki said, shooting a glare at Jamie. "Luckily, I brought something to help us summon the spirits, so to speak." He crouched next to his messenger bag. "Sometimes vibrations help. Something about rarefactions and frequency--I don't really know how it works."
Jamie frowned. Knowing him, he probably wanted a clearer explanation. I was focused on the fact that Hiroki was digging in his bag and I had absolutely no idea what he would pull out.
"So...what did you bring to create these...vibrations?" I asked. Jamie eyed me, his mouth twitching.
The Girl in Acid Park Page 8
