Dead Girl Walking (16 page)

Then he told me to take off my clothes.

I weighed the percentages for and against Eli being crazy while I waited in his room. I deduced 32 to 68 percent odds that he had a good plan and a reasonable amount of sanity. He was an honor student, after all, not a pervert. So why did he loan me clothes, then tell me to take them off?

“Sorry I took so long,” Eli said the moment he returned. “But I finally found this.”

I eyed the bulging plastic bag in his hand. “And it is … what?”

“Your uniform.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m serious.” He handed me the plastic bag. “A uniform is like an invisibility cloak.”

I bit back a retort about him reading too many fantasy novels and instead opened the bag. Inside I found khaki slacks, a matching cap, and a button short-sleeved top. “This is a guy’s uniform.”

“That shouldn’t matter. Try it on.”

“Way too big,” I said dubiously. “Like something a janitor would wear.”

“Bingo. Only the official term is Maintenance Engineer. My Uncle Trey wore this uniform when he stayed with us after going bankrupt and losing his house. He’s a lazy jerk, but still he’s family, so Dad gave him a job. Uncle Trey complained he was allergic to dirt, and quit after one week. Last I heard he was living with his second ex-wife and still allergic to work. He left the uniform in the guest room.”

“Once I put on the uniform, then what?”

“I drive you to the hospital and you breeze inside wearing your ‘Get Into Hospital Free’ uniform. People only see the uniform, not the person.”

“Security Guard Karl won’t be fooled.”

“Leave him to me. You just get to the stairs.”

“Okay,” I nodded, hope rising again.

Leah, hold on a little longer,
I thought, willing my thoughts to reach her wherever she was.
I’m on my way.

What would have been a very long walk to the hospital took less than fifteen minutes in Eli’s father’s mint-green deluxe Camry.

When we stepped out of the car, I was so nervous I didn’t even notice I’d fastened the buttons on the uniform crooked. Fortunately, Eli did. Blushing, he pointed at my chest. I quickly redid the buttons.

“Thanks,” I said, letting the simple word mean many things. Thanks for his friendship. Thanks for the help. But mostly thanks for believing me.

We agreed it was safest for Eli to go in first. I’d wait five minutes, then follow.

Before Eli left, he gave me a pep talk, describing his favorite box of chocolate, a very eclectic blend of nuts, creams and caramels, and how we’d share them once I was me again. With this image firmly fixed in my brain, I found a bench outside the hospital to sit on and waited.

Shifting uncomfortably on the bench, I worried that everyone who passed stared at my ugly, oversized uniform. The cap covered my hair and my forehead. The short sleeves hung like long sleeves and the pants legs had been folded short and stuck in place with duct tape. I ran my fingers idly over raised letters of the “Maintenance” insignia below my right shoulder. Eli said uniforms made people invisible. Please let no one notice me!

After it felt like five minutes had passed, I sucked in a breath and visualized myself as an ordinary janitor coming to work.

The automatic doors swished open at my approach. A woman and two men on their way out of the hospital passed without even glancing my way. Letting out my breath, I entered the crowded lobby, afraid to look for Security Guard Karl at the elevators. When I risked a peek, I saw him deep in conversation with Eli. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Karl seemed annoyed.

Walking swiftly, I bypassed the elevators and slipped into the stairwell.

Yes!
I punched my fist into the air. I’d made it this far, now just up to Room 311. At least this time I knew where to go.

Almost there,
I thought when I reached the third floor.

Peeking out the door, I checked until the hall was clear. Then I casually strolled out in the janitor’s uniform. I sailed through the “Restricted Area” doors, holding my breath, afraid someone would shout “Imposter!”

But no one even noticed me. A nurse, sitting at a desk and absorbed in paperwork, barely glanced up. And a guy in green scrubs breezed by as if I were invisible. Eli was so right about the uniform; people just didn’t notice janitors.

Until someone called out, “Hey, you!”

Heart stopped. Mouth dry. Oh, no! Not her!

It was the elderly nurse I’d run from yesterday.

“Janitor Gal, I’m talking to you,” she snapped in a raspy tone.

I crouched, ready to run again.

“The garbage in Room 303 stinks. Would you take care of it?”

“Uh … garbage?” I repeated like a total idiot. I kept expecting her to recognize me and shout an alarm.

“Geez, don’t they hire people with half a brain around here?” She threw up her age-spotted arms in disgust. “Just dump the garbage. What’s your name, anyway?”

“Uh … Jessica Bradley,” I lied. “I’ll get the garbage right now.”

With the nurse watching me, I had no choice but to go into Room 303.

Phew! The garbage did stink. One look inside the plastic-lined container and I nearly vomited—but obviously someone beat me to it. I offered kudos and sympathy to all the janitors in the world. I looked around the room, noting the two neatly made beds, one empty and the other occupied by someone with a snoring problem. Tiptoeing over to the door, I checked in the corridor. The bossy nurse was gone, and only a cheerful, chubby blonde nurse sat at a desk, engrossed in a phone conversation.

It was almost too easy to sneak out of the room.

I counted down room numbers: 371, 357, 332 …

My heart revved up as I neared Room 311.

I was almost there when I came to the waiting room I’d noticed yesterday. The door was propped open. The chairs were empty but two figures sat dejectedly on the couch—Alyce and Dustin!

My friends—here! I could hardly contain my emotions—thrilled, terrified, anxious, joyful. Shaking, I wrapped my arms around my shoulders to hold myself together.

They were only a few feet away.

Yet miles apart.

Dustin held his computer-phone in his hands, tapping out an email. I was so used to that sound of soft clicking and how his eyes glazed over, as if he were transporting on the sound waves with his messages. Was he creating another faux political website, revealing embarrassing facts about corrupt politicians? Or emailing mutual friends, telling them about my condition?

Alyce stared down at the sketch pad propped in her lap, her pencil stilled. With her long legs folded into her chair, only a glimpse of her sheer black tights visible under her baggy, midnight-black skirt, she seemed swallowed whole by misery. Her face paled with sadness—a stark contrast to her usual silver eye-glitter, kohl shadows, and shimmering ruby red lipstick. A trail of dried tears glistened down her hallowed cheeks.

More than anything, I wanted to rush over and smother them with hugs. I had so much to tell them—all of it totally unbelievable, which is why I just stood there, disappearing like a ghost of myself as the janitor cap slid low over my forehead.

There was a footstep behind me. A hand touched my shoulder.

I whirled around to find Eli. “Amber?” he whispered. “What is it?”

I pointed, my arm shaking. “They’re here.”

“Your friends,” he guessed in a sympathetic tone that nearly broke down my resolve not to cry.

“We better go,” I managed to say.

But as I spoke, Dustin looked up from the couch. His eyes widened. He set down his cell phone and stood, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

“Hey, I know you,” he said.

Was I imagining the recognition on his face? But how could he possibly recognize me in this body? Unless he had psychic powers or our friendship was even stronger than I thought. This was like a miracle! Would Alyce recognize me, too? I’d known her longer than Dustin, since first grade. Yet she just sat on the couch, staring with a look as blank as the sketchbook on her lap.

But Dustin moved forward a few steps, until we were a touch away.

Then he turned away from me.

Toward Eli.

“Eli Rockingham?” Dustin nodded in greeting. “From Halsey High?”

“Yeah. Hey, Dustin,” Eli said, with a sideways glance at me.

“I thought I recognized you from science class.”

“With Mr. Walberg.”

“Yeah. You sit in the back and never say much.”

“Who needs to with you in the class?” Eli joked. “You say enough for everyone else.”

“True. Mr. Walberg needs someone like me to keep things interesting.” Dustin paused, frowning. “So what brought you here?”

Me!
I wanted to answer. But Dustin didn’t glance my way, as if the uniform really did make me invisible. With my blonde hair pulled back and no makeup, Leah’s best friends probably wouldn’t recognize her.

I bent over a garbage can as if I really were a janitor and covertly watched Dustin. He was a mess. His hair was uncombed, his shirt was wrinkled as if he’d slept in it, and his socks were two different colors. Without me around to double-check his colors, he probably didn’t even realize his mistake.

“I’m here to visit someone,” Eli told Dustin.

“Hope it’s not serious. A family member?” Dustin asked.

“Well … uh … not my family … a friend.” Eli hesitated. I guessed he was composing a convincing lie. So I almost fell over when he admitted, “I came to see Amber Borden.”

“Amber?” Dustin tilted his head, startled. “You know her?”

“I was just getting to,” Eli said.

“Amber never mentioned you.” Alyce came to stand supportively beside Dustin. Her narrowed black eyes challenged Eli to “prove it.”

“We’d met years ago, when she welcomed my brother and me to school with a great basket. We got to talking at Jessica’s party and found out we had a lot in common.”

Alyce folded her arms across her chest. “Like what?”

“Chocolate and math.”

“Her favorite things.” Alyce’s face crumpled and she leaned against Dustin. “She used to help me with my math homework. I’m horrible in math. And I don’t care much for chocolate. But Amber and I were still closer than sisters. I–I miss her so much.”

Dustin smoothed Alyce’s black hair. “It’s okay.”