The Dead and Buried (23 page)

“You got what you wanted,” I said coldly. “Now go. Forever.”

“I will,” she said. “In just a moment. But, on my way out, there’s one last thing to do …”

That familiar menacing smile spread across her lips. She took an awkward step toward the top stair.

“Wait,” I said, suddenly nervous. “What are you doing?”

Ellie/Kayla looked over her shoulder at me. “Getting my revenge.”

“No, don’t!” Donovan yelled.

“We told the police,” I said. “Ellie will be punished.”

“A pretty little honor student with a wonderful sob story?” Ellie/Kayla snorted. “They’ll call it an accident. She needs to pay.”

My mother’s pendant burned against my skin. I felt feverish — from the inside out. “Don’t do this,” I said.

“She did it to me,” Ellie/Kayla replied.

“So be better than her!” Donovan said. “Be the girl I wanted you to be. Be the girl I thought you
could
be.”

The hard look in her eyes faltered and softened for a moment. I thought he’d done it. Convinced her. But it was
only a fleeting second and her determination returned. I realized it first and without thinking, reached out. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, hoping to have the strength to pull her back, away from the top step. But she was unnaturally strong. The writhing mass of our bodies tangled together and launched off the landing.

Donovan’s eyes widened with fear. His hands reached out for me, but — too late — grasped only air. I screamed loudly in surprise as my feet no longer touched the ground. Ellie/Kayla had jumped, even with me attached to her. It wasn’t a perfect swan dive, though. We fell forward and to the side, awkwardly, haphazardly. I let out a second, smaller scream of pain when my head smashed into the wall. And then, clinging to each other, we continued to fall.

Probably only two seconds had passed, but everything was in slow motion. It was like my mind knew — this is the last moment of my life. Slow it down, make it last. I was flying through the air.

Ellie lost her grasp. Like a cell splitting in two, we separated, identical expressions of horror on our faces as gravity pulled us down. Ellie’s eyes were her own — terrified, confused. Kayla had gone, left us forever.

Left us to die.

But then, suddenly, my body was filled with electricity. My skin hummed with an energy like nothing I’d ever experienced. I felt connected … tethered … to something or someone else. And instead of falling, I was momentarily frozen
in place. Instead of the pull of gravity, I felt the weightless sensation of floating. Of being held …

Cradled.

The scent of jasmine filled my senses. The sudden familiarity of it was overwhelming. An ache gripped my chest and my tightened lungs were unable to take in a breath.

But then my feet were planted on a stair. My hand reached out and grasped the railing. And the energy left me. Only a hint of jasmine remained in the air. And at the moment I realized I was safe, I heard the thud of Ellie’s body hitting the bottom.

Head first.

T
wo weeks later, I walked out of the police station after giving my final statement. I sat on the steps to wait for him.

The carpet my parents had installed saved Ellie’s life. The police arrived to find her unconscious body at the bottom of the stairs. Donovan and I were lucky that she lived, as it would’ve looked mighty suspicious if she hadn’t. Despite a severe concussion, she was fine.

We left out the ghost stuff and kept it simple, telling the police that Ellie came to my house and confessed to Donovan and me that she was the one who had pushed Kayla. Then, in an ironic twist, she herself fell down the stairs.

A half-truth, but it was the most they were going to get.

The police told me there was going to be some sort of plea deal. So my work was done. No trial. That didn’t mean Ellie would get off easy. But the specifics of her punishment didn’t matter to me as much as finally knowing the truth about that day and bringing peace to my home.

Looking back, we’d all been haunted by the dead and buried. Not just the house. We’d carried ghosts inside of us, making our spirits weary. Dad, Marie, and I with my mother. Donovan,
Faye, Kane, and the others with Kayla. And perhaps heavier than the ghosts were the secrets we carried.

But we opened ourselves up and now, just as the house was free, so were we. At last.

At first, Dad and Marie still wanted to sell the house and move. It was like we’d flipped places.
I
was the one telling
them
the house was safe and we should stay. Colby helped me convince them. His mood had lifted and he was back to his sweet, cheerful old self.

Kane removed himself from qualifying for the scholarship — which might have been taken away anyhow. He was now hoping for a partial lacrosse scholarship to a state school. After everything that happened, I couldn’t be his friend. But he needed someone now more than ever, with what his family was going through. So I told him something I’d learned from Kayla’s diary. Something that made him give Faye another shot. They both deserved a chance at happiness.

Shuffling footsteps came from behind me and I looked up to see Donovan settling down next to me on the stairs. The tightness lifted from my shoulders. Just having him beside me made the sky seem brighter, the temperature warmer.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his blue eyes lit with concern.

Those were the same words he’d said that day, when my mother had saved my life on the staircase. I knew it had been her — the jasmine scent, the way she’d held me. I’d worn the pendant ever since, but never felt her presence again. Still, the gemstone that used to give me only anguish now filled me
with a sense of tranquility. How my mother had managed to possess me — to save me — I don’t know. Maybe her pendant had opened a door like the Ouija board had done for Kayla. Maybe Donovan was right when he’d said it doesn’t hurt to believe in a little magic now and then.

I wove my fingers through his. “I’m great. How’d it go in there?” He’d had to give his final statement also.

“Fine. I’m just glad it’s done.” He brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “And that you’re all right.” He took in a deep breath. “Talking about that day … remembering you falling … I was so scared that you were …” He shuddered and squeezed my hand.

“I’m here,” I reassured him. “It’s over.”

He reached out to touch my face and let his thumb trail down my cheek and my jawline, sending a pleasurable shiver through me.

He spoke quietly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I spent months in this … limbo. I was alive, technically, but only going through the motions. Kayla had done these awful things and suffered a terrible end. I felt all this guilt. And everyone in school, aside from a couple friends, turned their backs on me. I think I just … lost faith in humankind.” He took another deep breath. “But then you came along. You woke me up. Made me see the good in the world again. You saved me, Jade.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box. “I wanted to give you a little something, a token or … whatever.” His cheeks reddened as he stumbled over his words. “To tell you how much you mean to me.”

I opened the black velvet box. A pair of drop earrings sat nestled inside, the gemstones a deep, dark green. Almost a match to my peridot pendant, but these weren’t peridot. They were emeralds.

I didn’t bother hiding the blotches on my neck. I was pretty sure he was used to them by now.

“For your collection,” he said.

“Thank you.” I ran my finger over the smooth stones. “They’re beautiful.”

“I chose them because, um, well I looked up the meanings online and I wanted, um …”

Seeing him so nervous was the most adorable thing I’d ever witnessed.

He took a moment to catch his breath and tried again. “Do you know what the gemstone means?”

I couldn’t help the smile that overtook my face. “Emerald is called ‘the stone of successful love.’”

“Yeah,” he said, matching me smile for smile and blush for blush. “That.”

When I was in elementary school, I wrote my first book. It was only around ten pages long and involved a house that swallowed children who walked by. So I would like to thank my parents, for continuing to buy me horror books even after they read that. And thanks to my teachers for encouraging me. That little girl with the freaky story didn’t grow up to become a serial killer. Just a writer.

As always thanks to my agent, Scott Miller; my editor, Aimee Friedman; and the fantastic team at Scholastic, including Lauren Felsenstein, Nikki Mutch, Becky Shapiro, Stacy Lellos, Bess Braswell, Elizabeth Parisi, Starr Mayo, Rachel Horowitz, Janelle DeLuise, Abby McAden, and David Levithan. You all rock!

Huge props to:

Susan Happel Edwards, for keeping me sane. Relatively.

Rebecca Micucci, for jewelry design info, letting me borrow all your gemstone catalogs, and being hilarious on a daily basis.

Much love to:

My parents, extended family, and the outlaws.

Mike and Ryan, who are always the highlights of my day.