I Spy Dead People (12 page)

"Of course."

They rise and leave the room. It's almost as if she wants Troy and me to be alone. But that's silly. No parents want their hormone-filled teenagers alone.

When Dad's office door slides shut, I take the bull by the throat, or whatever that saying is that Dad says, and ask, "How are you?"

What I really mean is how are
we
? Do you hate me? Can we still be friends? But I don't want to sound any lamer, so I keep my mouth shut.

"Okay. People think because of my mom's job I've been around dead people before, but I haven't. Other than my dad."

"Me too," I say way too enthusiastically. "I've seen pictures."

He nods and smiles. "I once opened a file Mom brought home from work. It was a guy who had his neck sliced in a collision. It was pretty gruesome. I was eleven. This was when Mom was a regular detective. She doesn't usually handle cases anymore, but the Quinns called her directly when Linzy turned up missing."

That explains why she didn't ask one of her minions to handle it. "Are they close?"

He shakes his head. "No. I think it's just because Shayla and I used to date."

Suddenly Linzy passes through the back door and scares the crap out of me. I try not to gasp, but Troy looks behind him. The safety chain sways back and forth.

"That's weird," he says. "There are no windows open."

I shrug. What can I possibly say?

Linzy walks through the table and jumps onto the counter. She walks back and forth along the granite before plopping onto the edge.

"About the other thing," Troy says.

I have to backtrack to figure out what he's talking about, and then it hits me. Warmth leaps onto my face, and I just want to die. Well, not dead die, like my neighborhood friendly ghost, but at least burrow under the table.

"If I led you on…" he begins.

I hold up a hand, hoping to stop any further embarrassment. "No, really, you don't have to say anything. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

God, this never gets any easier.

Linzy jumps down and sits between us. "What happened? Give me the deets."

No way. I don't need a ghost in my business.

"It's not that I think you're ugly or anything," he says.

I scoff. "Gee, thanks."

"He's a charmer. No wonder Shayla dumped him," Linzy says.

Guess Shayla told everyone that lie.

Troy fidgets in his seat. "No, I mean, it's not that I didn't…don't want to kiss you…"

Oh yeah? I sit a bit straighter in my chair.

Linzy widens her eyes at me then makes kissing sounds.

"So I wasn't reading you wrong? You…" I can't get myself to ask if he likes me.

"Well…" He adds a lilt to the end of the word that has me thinking he's about to add a "but."

Linzy continues with her juvenile kissy face and noises to match, then Dad's office door slides open.

Troy jumps out of his chair. "I gotta go, but I'll see you around, okay?"

Before I can reply, he's in the hall, headed for the front door.

"Piper and Troy sitting in a tree…" Linzy begins singing.

How old is she? We teased our friends with that in elementary school. Maybe middle grade, but not as mature teens.

She wraps her arms around her body and turns her back to me, pretending someone is hugging her. She continues with the kissing sounds. Obviously one of us is far from mature.

"What is your malfunction? You're such a baby," I say through gritted teeth.

"Who are you talking to?" Dad asks.

I spin around. He opens the fridge and waits for an answer.

I giggle and shrug. Again. Linzy's rubbing off on me.

 

I fudge through a transparent lie about practicing lines I heard on a TV show. At this rate I won't be surprised if Dad bans me from TV based on my weirdness. Then I go back to my room with Linzy on my heels. It's like we adopted a puppy, except she doesn't eat, doesn't need to be walked, and won't pee on the floor. If she didn't talk, I'd want to keep her.

"You kissed Troy Williams? Are you a slut or something?"

"No. That's absurd. You can't be a slut because of a kiss. Besides, I thought he was leaning in to kiss me, so I moved forward."

One side of her mouth lifts. "But he wasn't?" She roars with laughter. "What a loser."

She and her sister really need to learn a new vocabulary. Only half a day, and I'm already sick of both Quinn sisters. It's time to get to the bottom of this, so Linzy can move on. Seated on my bed, I ask, "What are your plans?"

She flits through my closet, ruffling the hanging clothes. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not going to hang out in my house for the rest of your…unnatural life, are you?" Oh, please say no.

She glides to my dresser and stares at herself in the mirror. I half-expect her to not have a reflection, like a vampire, but that's not the case. She's in livid color.

"Of course not. No offense, but you're boring. Where are the parties, sneaking boys in, drinking until you puke?"

"First, when you say 'no offense,' it means you're totally going to offend. And while all of those things sound like fun…" I roll my eyes. "You're dead, which means I'm on lockdown. Shoot, most of the kids in town are probably on lockdown."

"I wouldn't be."

"Yeah, that's why you're dead." Damn that was mean.

She glares through the mirror.

"How did you die?"

"I don't know," she says with the same interest I have for algebra.

How I died is the first thing I'd want to know. Up there with how Dad was handling my death, who's attending my funeral, and what outfit I'll be spending eternity in.

I sigh with the force of a hurricane. "Come on, Linzy. We can't keep talking in circles. You don't remember anything or you don't want to tell me? You won't move on, which means there's a reason. So why haven't you moved on yet?"

She shrugs. Of course.

"You know, Haley Joel Osment didn't have this much trouble with Bruce Willis in
The Sixth Sense
," I shout.

Linzy bounces on her tip-toes. "Oh my God, that was such a good movie."

I roll my eyes for the hundredth time. I think I'm getting eye strain. "Let's continue the list then."

Linzy plops onto my bed and would smack her head into my feet if she hadn't gone through them.

A slight chill buzzes through me, like cold static electricity. I pull up my legs and cross them over one another. I stare at her face, wondering if she felt the same, but her expression (sheer boredom) doesn't change.

"You and your list," she groans. "Don't you ever have fun?"

"This is fun." I tap the pen against the page.

She turns onto her side and props an arm under her head. "You're weird."

"Thanks. Now, you mentioned that Shayla and your mom would want you dead, which I don't believe. At least not your mom, but why the others?" I glance at my notes. "April, Margo, and Eli. Is that Eli, the guy with the Fedora?"

"Speaking of, where's your mom? Is she one of those workaholics who never have time for their families?" She completely changes the subject.

I sigh and give in. It's easier than fighting with her. "No, my mom left us."

She gazes down to my comforter and whispers, "Sorry."

I'm silent for a second, stunned that she showed an ounce of compassion. Maybe she's not all brat.

"Thanks. So back to the people who hate you. Why those others? Isn't April your friend, Elias your crush, and…who's Margo?"

Her eyes go from clear brown to a dark-almost black. Her face fills with color, and she clenches her hands. She jumps off my bed. "I'm going to kill Elias."

Uh-oh.

She disappears.

What the…? Where'd she go?

I jump up, ready to search every nook of the house, when I catch movement from the corner of my eye. I glance out my window and spot Linzy stomping down the street, past her house, through (not past but literally through) a couple of reporters.

I race down the stairs as fast and as quietly as possible. I can't risk Dad hearing me sneak out. He'll be so upset, and how would I explain it? But as I hit the front porch, I remember the media won't be quiet. Most of the reporters are closer to the Quinn household, trying to get a sound bite or whatever it's called from Mr. Quinn as he gets out of his car and scurries inside.

I no longer see Linzy on the street. Maybe she turned invisible. That must've been her in the house blowing the papers around Dad's office and not the heating system going berserk. But why was she slamming doors and knocking over chairs? I'll have to ask, but she probably won't give me an answer.

One of the reporters notices me. He taps his cameraman on the shoulder and points to me. Others notice and they hurry toward me. I turn around and run back inside. Hopefully they won't knock. They're more interested in speaking with the Quinns, but since I last saw Linzy, that doesn't mean they won't hound me if I step outside.

I softly shut the door and take a deep breath. There's no way I can follow Linzy. Darn. I head to the stairs and am about to go up when Linzy staggers through the front door.

Her eyes are wide, as if she just saw a ghost. Okay, so that's not funny, but she looks terrified.

"What happened?" I whisper. Did she run into her parents, or overhear a reporter talk about her bloated body?

"I can't get out." Even her tone sounds bewildered.

What the heck does that mean? "Huh?"

"I got to the corner, and it wouldn't let me go any farther."

This doesn't clear things up. "What's 'it'?"

She reaches out to grab my arm, but her fingers go through me. The cold current travels to my shoulder, followed by a shudder. I pull back and bump into the wall.

She stares at her hand then into my eyes, looking startled. She must not have noticed our earlier connection. "Follow me," she says and turns.

"I can't leave the house." I keep an eye on Dad's door, expecting it to open any second.

Linzy places a hand on her hip and cocks a brow. "You've never done something you shouldn't?"

Well, I didn't say that.

"The reporters will make a fuss, and Dad will catch me." Unless she can make me invisible too, there's no way I can stroll down the street.

"What about the back then?" Without waiting for an answer, she heads toward the kitchen.

I have to admit, it's a pretty great plan. I never would've thought of it. Hopefully the press hasn't either. Linzy's good at sneaking. Another reason she's probably dead.

I ease the chain off the back door, turn the deadbolt, and hold my breath as I open it. I freeze, wait, listen. When Dad doesn't come running, I step outside and barely shut it behind me.

A half circle of concrete, meant for a table and grill, I guess, meets the back steps. There's a giant tree in the far right corner and a shed in the left. The rest is completely devoid of anything but ankle-high grass. Dad's gonna have to hire someone to mow it soon. That's another of our promises. While I can try to learn to cook (hasn't happened yet), and I'll do half the cleaning (his room, toilets, and windows are off limits), there's no way I'm mowing or doing house repairs. I totally played up being a weak girl during those negotiations. I'm not proud of it, but if it means never picking up a toilet brush, I'll go against my principles. He got me back though. I was suckered into agreeing to help rake and shovel. Each winter I wonder why we always rent houses and never an apartment, where there's a landlord who does the grunt work.

"Come on," Linzy shouts. She stands by the bushes that line our property from the neighbors behind us.

I run over to her.

"There's a less dense area here," she says, pointing to a space in the shrubbery.

Does this mean she's looking out for me? Doubt it.

I push away the spindly branches and crouch down. A twig scratches my arm, and I wince from the unexpected pain. When I'm finally through, I brush several leaves from my shirt and survey the scratch. It's only an inch, but it broke the skin. Several drops of blood rise to the surface. Next time I'm sneaking into someone's yard, I'll wear body armor.

When I look up, I stare at the back of our neighbor's house. It's exactly like ours but their yard is perfectly mowed. Flowers are planted around the base of their tree and along the side of the house. It's homey and inviting. "Who lives here?"

Linzy's beside me. "Who cares?"

Why did I think I'd get an answer from her? I'll have to ask Kinley later. She'll know.

Linzy takes several steps across the yard.

I don't want to be seen, so I travel the path along the hedges until I'm at the corner, then continue toward the front. Once I hit the side of their garage, anyone home won't be able to see me.

Linzy isn't paying me any attention. She takes one step and stops, then another, and so on. It's like she's just learning how to walk. Why is she acting so weird?

"Hey," I whisper.

She glances my way, one leg raised, ready to step.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"You'll see. Don't look away or you'll miss…" She lowers her leg while talking and hits an invisible wall, like a mime during a performance. The impact sends her flying backwards, over the bushes and into my yard.

 

"I can't believe that happened. What was that?" I pace the length of my room, back and forth.

"How should I know?" Linzy's lying on my bed. She's on her back, eyes closed. When I asked why, she said she needed to rest. Flying took a lot of energy from her.

"It was kinda cool. It looked like fun. Was it? What did it feel like?"

"When I hit the wall, it felt like currents through my body."

"That's what it feels like when you touch me." I'm so buzzed about the whole ordeal, I still feel charged.

"It was startling when it happened the first time, and even though I expected it the second time, it still surprised me."

"Ohmigod, I can imagine. But the flying part had to be amazing. Who wouldn't want to soar through the air?"

She rubs her butt. "The landing's a bitch."