The Dead Girls Detective Agency (18 page)

I opened my eyes and there I was in Times Square, feeling less sick than I ever had after a port. Standing in among all the brightly lit billboards was kinda claustrophobic. Like being trapped in a gigantic pinball machine.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Nancy said, beside me.

“What?”I asked, as she disappeared again, porting back a second later with her hand firmly on Lorna’s wrist.

“I know you don’t like it,” Nancy was ranting, “but we need to help Charlotte out, right now. And get back on schedule.”

Lorna snapped her arm out of Nancy’s grasp with an elaborate
tut!
and straightened up her dress.

“I hate this place,” she spat. “It’s so full of … tourists. And dirt. And smells. And there is not one decent clothes shop within five blocks. It’s stupid.”

“Yes, but it’s also the busiest place in the city,” Nancy said, “and the one thing we need right now is lots and lots of members of the Living to jump intooooooooo …”

As she spoke, Nancy started running at a girl of about our age who was taking pictures of the mega-scrapers and McDonald’s signs, just a few feet away. When she got to her, Nancy jumped—right into the girl’s body. And disappeared. The girl shook, then straightened up.

“That’s the really gross part,” Lorna whispered. “It’s like jumping into a swimming pool that you doubt has been cleaned properly. Only, like, one million times worse.”

I stared at the Nancy-Possessed Girl. Really slowly she raised her right arm and waved it at the place where Lorna and I were standing. Nancy was moving her! She raised the other arm and did a double wave, just to make sure we were paying attention. How weird. The girl’s mouth opened.

“See what I’m doing, Charlotte?” she yelled at me. The voice wasn’t Nancy’s. It was lower and kinda croaky, like she smoked ten cigarettes a day. “It’s easy,” she said with a rasp. “I’ll get out of here, then you can have a go.”

Smoker Girl’s arms dropped, then she shuddered slightly—shivering at a blast of cold air only she could feel—and took a massive step forward.

Nancy fell out of the back of her body, almost tripped over her own feet, then quickly righted herself and smiled.

“See! Easy! All you need to do is run, jump, then when you’re ready to leave just wiggle yourself out and take a step backward. The Living people who’ve been possessed usually feel a bit weird and quivery—but only for a second—so they shiver themselves, which helps you to pop out the back.”

“I can’t get stuck?” I asked. Because that would be (a) gross, and (b) exactly the kinda thing I’d do.

“Honestly, in three years of possessions, I’ve never seen any ghost do that,” Nancy reassured me.

“And that includes that dumb stoner jock we lost for two days in Central Park,” Lorna added. “Even
he
managed to get out of his football coach. And you are so much smarter than him.”

Thanks.

I looked around. Did I just run at some stranger I liked the look of? Did it matter if I went for a guy over a girl? Was it better to get one who was standing still so I didn’t miss them and fall over like Nancy almost did? Or was this actually a time when I should go for a moving target—because there was more momentum and stuff?

“Start off with someone who’s sort of the same size as you,” Nancy said encouragingly. “That makes it easier. I guess because you don’t have to try so hard when you’re controlling them—because you remember what it was like to be alive and move someone of that weight.”

Right. Good advice.

“It’s like when my driver’s ed teacher started us off with our first lessons, we all took turns in his teeny Mini before we were allowed to move on to our own Jeeps and BMWs,” Lorna added.

Yep, I imagined it was
just
like that.

Right. I scanned the crowd. I needed a shortish, size 4-ish girl then. Who didn’t look like her insides were somewhere I didn’t want to be.

How hard could this be in the most hectic place in town?

“Oh, this one! Try her!” Nancy shouted, pointing at a small red-haired girl in a camel-colored coat and matching boots, who was walking toward me. “Run at her, before she gets to you. Go on! Run!”

I geared up to run, really I did, but I just wasn’t quick enough. The girl was walking straight at me. Fast. I lifted my right heel, ready to go like an athlete on the starting block, but I couldn’t move. I chickened out.

She walked right through me without my moving a muscle. Tickle.

“What about this one over here?” Lorna said, nodding at a seriously tall office worker in her thirties. She looked a little big for me. What if I couldn’t even lift her leg to make her walk?

“Or this one?” Nancy shouted, motioning to a smaller pink-haired girl with piercings.

OMG, this was like that time my parents took me on vacation to Hawaii and I tried to surf and I didn’t stand up once. Every time I saw a good wave coming and knew I was supposed to paddle, I totally panicked, then froze, and got my timings all wrong, wiped out and nearly drowned while still lying down.

Then I saw her. Standing right between the glowing T.G.I. Friday’s sign and the neon red steps in the middle of the square, looking at a map. She was about my age (check), my height (check), my weight (check), looked like she’d showered in the last twenty-four hours (check, check), and seemed to be on her own so no one would notice if she acted weird for a couple of minutes. That was my girl.

“Okay, I’m going in,” I yelled. “If I am the first ghost to ever get stuck in a human, I hope there is some supernatural emergency service you can call to come and get me out.”

This was it. I started running at the girl. As fast as I could. She was getting closer. And closer. So close now, that I could see her hair was tied back with a cool purple-and-silver band.

I closed my eyes and jumped.

My feet landed hard on the ground with a thud.

Was I in?

I did feel a bit different. Heavier than before. It reminded me of that time in kindergarten when Mom made me a pumpkin suit to go and watch the Thanksgiving parade because she thought it would be cute, but actually it was just hot and clunky and kinda hard to see any of the balloons through. But I couldn’t complain, because even at six years old, I knew she’d spent far too long putting it together for me to be a brat about it.

I guessed this meant Operation Possession had been successful.

“Charlotte, wave to let us know you’re safe,” I heard Nancy call. It was like hearing her voice through earmuffs.

I picked up my arm and waved. I felt like I was operating a puppet—a very well-behaved, Living puppet—but a puppet nonetheless.

I wiggled the other arm. Then made Girl I’d Possessed jump up and down. You know what? If you didn’t think about it too much, this was actually fun.

“Hey, Charlotte, how are you doing?” I felt a tap on the GIP’s shoulder and turned to see a gorgeous woman in her early twenties talking to me. She was wearing a beautiful purple silk dress with futuristic pink-and-green-patterned flowers on it and matching green pumps. Her hair was the kind of Penelope Cruz brunette I always wished mine would be. It fell in perfect waves around her face. The kind of waves that said,
This hair? Oh, I just got up late and pulled a brush through it this morning
. But actually meant,
This hair? I was up at five a.m. with my blow dryer, a hundred dollars’ worth of products, and the skill of John Frieda
.

Crap. Who was she? Maybe the GIP wasn’t alone after all. Was this her older sister or aunt or something? And was GIP freakily called Charlotte too?

Too scared to say anything, I just smiled fakely unless I gave the game away.

“It’s me! I’m inside here! Me! Lorna!” the woman said.

“Lorna?” I heard myself ask. The GIP had a Southern accent. Not totally
True Blood
, but she wasn’t from around here either. “What are you doing in
her
?” I motioned at the perfect woman in front of me. “I thought you hated possession.”

“
OMG
, I doooo,” Lorna said. “But have you seen what this woman is wearing? It’s next year’s Spring/Summer Erdem. As in
Erdem
.” I had no idea what she was talking about. But for Lorna, this was clearly A Big Deal. “Not even Michelle Obama can get on the waiting list for this yet! She must work in fashion or—” Lorna reached into the GSP’s red Mulberry purse and pulled out a business card. “
OMG
!
OMG
! She has Anna Wintour’s third assistant’s details in here! Like, of course she does. You do not get an outfit like this without knowing some seriously stylish people.”

“Um, guys?” Nancy said. She hadn’t possessed anyone again, and was standing beside us, looking paler than ever next to our Living bodies.

The fact I could still see her must mean that, even though I was looking through the GIP’s eyes, I could use my ghost powers too.

“Charlotte, it’s only your first go at possession, so want to try to get out of there now? And Lorna?” Nancy scowled and went to say something. Then decided it was so not worth it. She turned back to me. “Like I said, wiggle your shoulders a bit, then take a step backward—and out you should come.”

I turned back to Lorna. “Well, it was lovely to meet you, Ms. Erdem,” I said, holding out my hand.

Lorna shook it. It was so weird to feel human skin again. It felt … less soft than I remembered. “You too, Miss Unspecified Blue Sweater and One Size Too Big Jeans,” Lorna said. “I’ll be out of here in a minute. I just want to enjoy this dress for one second longer. And check out my reflection in that window over there.”

I turned back to Nancy. Wiggle, step back. Wiggle, step back. That sounded fine.

“Come on,” Nancy said. “It’s as easy as taking a wet swimsuit off.” She smiled.

Hmm … which wasn’t that easy from what I remembered. Still. I wiggled. It was as if I were moving in a really tight winter coat. One more go. A really big wiggle this time, then I did as Nancy said and threw myself backward.

A little too hard, as it turned out.

I found myself sitting on the concrete next to an overflowing trash can and a half-eaten hamburger.

“Oh, so that’s the famous Feldman grace I keep hearing about,” Nancy said with a smile. “
Now
I get why your whole class thinks you were clumsy enough to trip to your death instead of being pushed.”

Hil-ar-ious.

I pulled myself up. The GIP was still standing in front of me. She looked around slowly, then down at the map in her hand, and carried on walking in the direction of Broadway.

“She doesn’t seem to have noticed I was even there,” I said. “Does she have no memory of it? None at all?”

It seemed bizarre that I’d done something as major as possessed her—even though it was for less than a minute—and she hadn’t known. As far as she knew, she’d seen the world-famous Times Square and now she was off to the next attraction on her itinerary.

“Have you ever had déjà vu?” Nancy asked. “You know, when you’ve been standing somewhere and you suddenly feel like you’ve so been there before? Or when you’re having a conversation with someone, and you know you’ve already had it?”

“Yesssss,” I said, intrigued.

“It’s a side effect of possession,” Nancy said.

What?!

“Déjà vu is just the Living’s brains trying to readjust after a ghost’s been in the driving seat for a while. That’s why the Living feel like they’ve been somewhere before—because they have, just a few seconds earlier, it’s just that, at that moment, someone else was in charge of their body so they weren’t really able to take notice of it. Same with conversations—they end up having the same one over, because they can’t remember having it the first time around.”

“Ghosts go around possessing the Living so often, it’s become a common phenomenon? Comforting thought,” I said.

Nancy laughed. “Come on, let’s go find Lorna. We need to stop her treating that woman like her own personal doll.
Invasion of the Body Snatchers
wasn’t entirely fictional, you know …”

Chapter 17

“THIS IS SOOOO EXCITING!” NANCY BOUNCED
up and down on the spot three times, her curls flying and looking redder than usual in the light. “I know you guys might be under the impression that, when I was alive, I was some bookish super-serious type …”

It took massive reserves of self-control not to catch Lorna’s eye and make a face.

“But ever since I saw
Bring It On
when I was having a study break from my Latin lessons, I have always wanted to try on a cheerleading uniform and wave pom-poms,” Nancy said, bouncing twice more. “Just for a day! It looks so … mindless and silly. Which must mean it’s fun. And now I get to try it! Do they still say, ‘Gooooooooooo, team’? Or is that just in the movies?”

No question about it, this was up there on the most-disturbing-sights-of-my-death-so-far list: Nancy Radley standing in the cheerleaders’ inner sanctum, their changing room, and seriously loving it.

“Don’t you mean you, like, have totally always wanted to, like, be a cheerleader and, O to the M to the G? you could not be hearting this more?” Tess asked, in her best airhead voice.

“Oh, puhlease,” Lorna rolled her blue eyes. “You guys are so, like, totally stereotyping popular kids. As if anyone talks like that in real life.”

“So can we just go over the Plan: Stage One one more time, please?” I asked, trying to get things back on track.

“Quick on the uptake, aren’t you, Feldman?” Tess said. “With lightning intellect skills that good, you’d never be the kind of girl whose boyfriend could cheat on her in front of her face and
still
think she had a chance to get him back.” Tess paused. “Oh, hang on …”

Bitch.

“Nancy, the Plan,
please
?” I said, trying my hardest not to glare at Tess.

“Good idea, Charlotte,” Nancy said. “You can never recap a plan too many times, I always say.”

“Really?” Lorna asked. “Because even I am up with this one. Do we really need another play-by-play?”

Last night, after my possession lesson, we’d gone back to Lorna’s room (she said it had better feng shui than HHQ’s, and even though I had no idea what that meant, I agreed with her) and talked about where we needed to take the investigation next.