I made a face. "I just want the cordless to call Ryan."
"Wow, Daisy, I didn't know you had it in you," Poppy said. "He is a hottie, but maybe a little out of your league."
"He's my friend, remember, Poppy? Don't be disgusting," I said. "Can I have the cordless?"
"Friend, huh? That may have been true when you were both playing in the sandbox, but if you haven't noticed, Ryan is all grown up now."
She crowed even louder when she saw the blush spread across my face. "I knew it! You do have a thing for him."
Too embarrassed to reply, I just held out my hand for the phone. Poppy usually carried the phone around like it was her security blanket. She reached under a pillow and handed it to me.
I stomped up the stairs. Poppy was such a pain in the butt sometimes. Even if I was interested in Ryan, I didn't have a chance. Not with Samantha Devereaux in existence.
I shut my bedroom door and locked it. Poppy's talents didn't include psychic eavesdropping, and Rose would never stoop so low, but there was still the garden variety of eavesdropping, like loitering outside the door to listen.
This was something I definitely didn't want my sisters to hear.
I took a deep breath and dialed Ryan's number. It was just Ryan, who I'd known all my life. Ryan, who'd shot up a foot the summer before high school. Ryan, with his green eyes and dark brown hair, hair that looked so soft I wanted to touch it.
"Mendez residence, Ryan speaking." Ryan's dad insisted he answer the phone that way. You know, the polite way.
There was a lump in my throat, which blocked my power of speech. Damn that Poppy! She had to open her big mouth and make me think about Ryan in that way.
"Hello?" Ryan said. "Daisy?"
Caller ID. Sometimes I hated technology. Like now, when it would have been so easy just to hang up.
"Hey, Ryan," I said finally.
"What's up?"
I'd called Ryan lots of times, but this was different because I needed a favor. A big one.
"Can you meet me tonight?" I asked.
"Uh, sure. Where?" Ryan's voice sounded resigned, not exactly the reaction I wanted from the hottest guy in school. I reminded myself I had no interest in Ryan Mendez.
"At the diner at around ten thirty." Slim's Diner was conveniently located across from the police station.
"Daisy, my curfew is midnight." Ryan's dad was strict, being the police chief and all.
"I know, I know. It won't take long."
"Okay," he said. "Do I want to ask what you're getting me into this time?"
"It's no biggie," I said, "but bring that extra set of keys. You know the ones." We both knew his dad kept a spare set of office keys at the house.
He groaned in exasperation, but he didn't say no.
Chapter Two
Ryan was late. I checked my watch again. Definitely late.
I was the only one left in the place. Flo (her name really was Flo) came over and asked me pointedly, "Can I get you anything else?" Which was restaurant code for "You're the only one left in the place, so quit nursing that Sprite and skedaddle."
"Slow night?" I asked, hoping that conversation would distract her.
"The tips have been lousy," she groused. 'And my feet are killing me."
Flo talked like some world-weary waitress from the fifties, the kind who showed up on late-night television musicals, but she was only twenty, hard-bodied, and with serious tats. And if you had asked her to wear a pink uniform and scarf, she would have shoved it down your throat. She wore jeans to work, along with one of her unending supply of T-shirts with slogans. This one said "VIRGINITY IS A STATE OF MIND."
I was afraid virginity would be a permanent state, in my case.
"I'm waiting for someone," I said. "He should be here any minute."
A second later, loud music filled the room. We both jumped.
"New jukebox," Flo explained. "It's a little touchy. It plays what it wants to."
I stared at her. We were the only two people in the place. "Who put the money in?"
The song playing was "Here Comes Your Man" by the Pixies.
Flo shrugged. "Nobody. It's just different from other jukeboxes. Slim called someone to come out and fix it and everything. He couldn't find a thing wrong with it."
Flo glanced over my shoulder at someone who was coming into the diner and gave a sparkling smile. You didn't have to be a psychic to know it was Ryan.
"It's about time," I said, without turning around. Flo only smiled like that for Ryan.
He sat down across from me. "How'd you know it was me?"
"I have my ways." I smirked.
"Sorry I'm late. I had something to take care of." He turned to Flo. "Can I have a cup of coffee? Whatever's in the pot is fine."
"That swill? Don't be silly," Flo said. "I'll make you a fresh pot."
Flo didn't use words like silly. It sounded so girlish, so flirtatious. So not Flo. Ryan did seem to have that effect on the opposite sex.
I frowned and looked at the clock again. "You'd better get your coffee to go," I told him. I wanted to make sure we had plenty of time to investigate.
"Daisy, are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Of course I'm sure," I said. I ignored the fact that if Mom found out, I'd probably be grounded until graduation. Mine, not Poppy's.
After Ryan paid the check and Flo handed him a huge cup of coffee to go, we were finally ready.
"Did you remember the keys?" I asked him once we were outside.
He nodded. "What do you need them for this time?"
"The morgue." I didn't look at him when I said it.
"New hobby?"
"I need to look at a dead body."
"Of course you do," he said. "What else would you do in the morgue?" He took my arm as we crossed the street. "Well, we'd better hurry. Officer Denton is about to take his nightly cigarette break."
I wondered briefly how Ryan knew so much about Officer Denton's habits, but the feel of his hand on my arm distracted me.
Main Street was empty of people. There weren't even any cars in sight, except the lone police cruiser parked in front of the station.
Ryan looked up and down the street. "We really need to get a movie theater or something. It's like the town dies every night at eight."
We weren't really going to the actual morgue. The nearest real morgue was in Santa Cruz, but "the cooler," as I'd heard Chief Mendez call it, was the place where bodies could be temporarily stored in Nightshade. This body would probably be shipped off to Santa Cruz before the weekend was over, so we had to act fast.
As we neared the side door, the sound of Officer Denton's voice carried in the night air. "But honey, I think we should wait until..."
His voice faded, but I could tell he was pacing outside as he smoked a Marlboro and he talked on the phone with Tammy Clarkson, his girlfriend of twelve years. Everyone in town had a pool about when he was going to pop the question. I had a five spot on Valentine's Day 2020, but I'm a romantic.
Ryan rummaged in his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. When he handed them to me, I fit the key in the lock. The door opened with a groan. We froze, but we could still hear Officer Denton talking on his cell.
"If my dad catches us—"
"He won't," I promised rashly. "We'll only be a few minutes."
Once we were inside, it took me a few minutes to get my courage up. I flicked on the pen-sized flashlight I'd brought and shone it around the room.
There was a beat-up metal desk and a filing cabinet in one corner. The remainder of the room was taken up by a long table, and along the other wall, a row of refrigerated steel drawers.
The cooler was not the place to stash a cold soda. The cooler was the place to stash a dead body. I gulped.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Ryan asked. His voice sounded soft, concerned. His hand brushed mine, and every molecule in my body jumped to meet him.
"I have to do this," I replied after a minute. "Mom needs my help. She just doesn't know it y
et. Can you guard the door?"
Ryan went off to play lookout while I did some snooping.
All the talk at school about vampires had me spooked, but I took a deep breath and approached the cooler.
A gust of cold air slammed the breath from my body when I opened the first compartment. To my relief, it was empty. I knew I didn't have much time for snooping, but I'd never seen a dead body before and it wasn't something I was looking forward to. I shivered and breathed in through my mouth. There was a strong chemical smell in the room, but it couldn't completely disguise another, more unpleasant odor. I steeled myself not to think about it and opened another drawer.
There she was—a shell that used to be a person.
I could tell she'd probably been attractive when she was alive—red hair, petite figure. Her shoulders were bare and she looked cold, draped in a white sheet. I resisted the urge to put my jacket around her thin shoulders. I checked her neck, looking for fang marks. I felt a little ridiculous doing it, but anything was possible in Nightshade. Her neck was long and white, but it didn't have a mark on it.
I didn't know what I was doing. Why had I tried to help? This death stuff was way beyond my abilities. I wasn't psychic. I wasn't a detective. What I knew about solving mysteries could be found in the pages of a Nancy Drew novel.
On her right hand was a smudged ink stamp. I could just make out the word Opal.
Could Opal be her name? But why would she stamp her own name on her hand?
There was a tattoo of a four-leaf clover on the base of her left thumb. That lucky charm hadn't brought her much luck. I also noticed that her long auburn hair had a thick white streak that extended along the part, all the way down to the tip of her hair.
I moved away from the body. There wasn't anything I could do for her now, except try to find her killer.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a movement. I held still, barely daring to breathe, and watched. There it was again. Her hand moved, I was sure of it.
"Is there anybody there?" I said, and then felt foolish when I remembered what Mom had told me, that bodies sometimes gave the illusion of movement after death.
Just my imagination. I closed the drawer containing the body and clicked off my flashlight. I had a few clues but didn't know what to do with them.
Ryan burst into the room. "We've got to leave now!" he panted. He moved closer, until he practically bumped into me, then handed the keys to me. "Hold on to these."
I heard footsteps coming closer. I couldn't see his face in the dark, but I knew his face mirrored the panic welling up inside me.
"Officer Denton," I hissed. "What do we do?"
Ryan grabbed my hand. "I have an idea," he said. "Just play along, okay?" His palms were sweaty.
The footsteps sounded like they were right outside the door. Ryan drew me closer.
"Wha...?"
That's when Ryan kissed me. It was obvious he'd had lots of practice. I hadn't, but I was a quick learner.
I liked the way he cradled my cheeks in his hands as we kissed.
He pressed his body closer to mine. I moved backward until my butt touched something cold. He'd backed me into the cooler. The thought repulsed me for a second and I tried to shove him away.
"Kiss me back," he whispered, and I responded, all thoughts of where we were flying out of my brain. I wriggled closer and touched my lips to his once again. His hands tangled in my hair and the tip of his tongue met mine.
We heard a loud throat-clearing, and then someone turned on the light switch. Ryan and I stood blinking in the sudden brightness. I realized I was still in his arms and took a giant step backward like we were playing a game of hokey-pokey, rather than a game of hanky-panky.
"Mendez," Officer Denton said, "what did I tell you would happen if I caught you in here with a girl again?"
"You'd call my dad," Ryan replied glumly.
A girl? My brain registered. Again? Who had Ryan brought to the morgue? And why the morgue?
Officer Denton stared at us for a few seconds. "I thought I took your keys away last time," he said.
" The door was already open when I came in," Ryan said. Technically not a lie, since I was the one who opened it.
I found my voice. "Please don't call his father. I asked Ryan to bring me here. It's not his fault."
Officer Denton could barely restrain himself from giving Ryan a congratulatory high five.
I glared at Ryan. It'd probably be all over the county tomorrow about what a stud the Mendez kid was. If it wasn't already, I thought, remembering Officer Denton's words, particularly the part about the girl and again.
Finally, we convinced Officer Denton not to say anything to Ryan's dad or my mom. After giving us a stern warning to head straight home, Officer Denton let us off the hook.
Ryan insisted on walking me home, even though it was almost his curfew. I stared straight ahead the whole time. It took us about ten minutes to get from the station to my house at the other end of town—and people think I'm exaggerating about how small Nightshade is.
We were in front of my house. I opened the gate and we started up the walkway.
Ryan stopped in his tracks. "Daisy, I'm really sorry about that kiss," he said.
I turned and looked at him. "Thanks a lot," I said.
"I didn't mean it that way," he said. "I just meant that a morgue isn't the best place for a first kiss."
"Didn't sound like it was a first for you," I said.
Ryan said softly, "Daisy—"
"You're going to miss your curfew," I said.
He didn't budge.
"It's no big deal," I said.
"You seem mad," he said, leaning against the fence.
"I'm not mad," I said, gritting my teeth and smiling as pleasantly as possible. "You just took me by surprise, that's all. Next time, just give me a little notice."
"A little notice before I kiss you?" Ryan said. He grinned widely. "I can do that. I'm going to..."
He leaned in. I never found out what he was going to do, because the porch light flickered on.
I saw a curtain stir at one of the front windows. I was going to kill Poppy.
"I'll see you later," Ryan said. I watched him as he hopped our low picket fence and took off, whistling in the dark. Why was he in such a good mood?
I was in a pretty good mood myself, I thought, remembering the kiss. What was I thinking? Ryan Mendez and me? As if I didn't have enough problems.
Chapter Three
I glared at Ryan's back. He was in the front, right next to the volleyball net. Rachel King, who was on the opposite team, was halfheartedly checking him out.
Rachel was on the cheerleading squad with Samantha Devereaux. I'd always liked her the best out of all the cheer clones. She was probably the second most gorgeous girl at Nightshade High—second only to Samantha.
Rachel had long curly brown hair, smooth skin the color of an iced latte, and deep blue eyes. She didn't look gorgeous today, however. Her skin had a green cast to it, like the algae that grew in Poppy's fish tank. It looked like she'd tried a home highlighting kit, and the effect was startling: there was a long white streak in her hair.
I glared at Ryan again. It was already Wednesday and he hadn't said any more about our kiss in the morgue. In fact, he hadn't said much of anything. He seemed to have urgent business on the other side of the galaxy whenever I appeared.
What was his damage? It was just a kiss between friends. It was no big deal. That's what I tried to tell myself, but it was more than a big deal. It was the kind of kiss that poets write sonnets about, but Ryan Mendez was too stupid to see it. Or maybe he was on the receiving end of fabulous kisses every day of the week.
It was my turn to serve. Ryan turned to watch me and then looked away quickly. I hit the ball as hard as I could. It went right for Ryan's head, but he ducked at the last minute and it careened into the net.
"Sorry," I called, smiling sweetly.
Samantha Devereaux had manag
ed to dye her P.E. uniform black. She still had the pendant on as well. I thought Ms. Foster was going to read her the riot act about her uniform when she pointed to Samantha and said, "Why are you wearing that in my P.E. class?"
Samantha tried to look innocent. "What do you mean?"
"Miss Devereaux, you are fully aware that I do not allow any jewelry to be worn in my gym. It's a safety hazard."
"I'm sorry," she said, smiling sweetly.
For a minute, I thought Ms. Foster would take the pendant from Samantha, but instead she blew her whistle again. Figures that Sam would get away without a demerit for a dress code infraction. The teachers at school let her get away with murder, just because she is the captain of the cheerleading squad.
The other team rotated, and it was Rachel's turn to serve. She stepped up to the line and then crumpled to the floor.
Ms. Foster blew her whistle as a crowd gathered around Rachel as she lay on the floor. I stood in the back and hoped that she was okay.
"Step back, please," Ms. Foster said. "She needs a little room."
A minute later, Rachel sat up. "What happened?" she asked.
"You fainted," Ms. Foster said. "But I'm sure you're fine now."
"Shouldn't we take her to the nurse or something?" I asked. Ms. Foster was new, substituting for Mrs. Lamb, who was out on maternity leave, but weren't teachers supposed to know this kind of stuff?
"Yes, yes, of course," Ms. Foster said. "Daisy, could you and Ryan help Rachel to the nurse's office?"
Ryan didn't look at me as we each took one of Rachel's arms and helped her to her feet.
We kept our arms around her as we escorted her to the nurse's. I noticed that Rachel leaned heavily on Ryan's shoulder. She even fluttered her eyelashes, but weakly.
I knocked on the nurse's door. Nurse Phillips answered and then took over, tskng at the sight of Rachel's pasty complexion.
Nurse Phillips had a retro thing going. Cherry red lipstick, cat's-eye glasses, and platinum blond hair done up in a beehive do so high it blocked out the sun. She looked like someone ready to go to the hop, but I guesstimated her age to be somewhere in the midthirties.
I breathed in and almost choked on the smell of Aqua Net hairspray. Nurse Phillips's hairstyle probably required cases of the stuff.
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