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“Go away,” I whispered.
“I’m not going away until you apologize.”
I sat up, not afraid anymore. I couldn’t help it. Lydia was just too aggravating. “Apologize? For what?”
“For accusing me of murder,” she said, sitting on my desk, right on top of my camera. “I’m not a murderer.”
“You tried to kill the whole Sunshine Club,” I said. “Or have you forgotten?”
Her jaw dropped. “That doesn’t count! A, I was possessed, and B, it didn’t work.”
“So if you didn’t kill Ashleen, why were you in the forest last night?” I asked. “Hmm? Just out for a hike?”
The thing was, I did believe her. Taking even a fraction of a moment to think about it, I realized that luring girls to a miserable demise in the woods was way too subtle for Lydia. If she wanted to kill people, she’d do it in the mall food court or something.
“I was there…” Her voice trailed off, like she really didn’t know why, and then she reloaded. “I was there because I…” She was staring at the floor, as if trying to remember something that bothered her.
“And you were out there when Kendra was hurt, too!” I said. “And you were in my car that day at the nature preserve—”
“No, I wasn’t,” she said. “That wasn’t me. And yeah, I was there when you found Kendra—I mean, when I found her for you, you’re welcome very much—but I’m not the one who hurt her.”
“Honest to God?” I asked.
“I swear on my own grave,” Lydia said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Excuse me, my grave is pretty important to me.”
I leaned back against my pillows and covered my face with my hands, suddenly exhausted.
“I’m telling the truth,” she said.
I opened my eyes. “I know. But if you didn’t attack Kendra and Ashleen, then who did, Lydia?” A giant sigh forced its way out of my lungs. “And why are you always around?”
I would never have thought ghosts could blush, but Lydia was actually blushing. She pursed her lips and stared out the window. “I’m not telling you.”
“Tell me,” I said, “or I’ll find another copy of that book, and it’s off to never-never land you go.”
She flounced and huffed and folded her arms and gave me the dirtiest look in the history of dirty looks.
“All right,” I said, standing up. “I’m going to go check eBay.”
“You won’t send me to limbo?” she asked. “If I tell you? You promise?”
Technically, I’d promised the night before. Not that there was any reason to remind her of that.
“Fine. I promise.” As much as I wanted Lydia to go away, I knew I had a really unique opportunity, and I had the presence of mind not to squander it. I’d met ghosts before, but always in battle. Never just in a regular conversation. “But…Lydia, ghosts aren’t natural. You shouldn’t even be here to begin with. Why wouldn’t you want to move on? Isn’t it lonely for you here?”
“I do want to move on,” she said, swinging her legs through my desk chair. “I guess. But not to a transitional state—for all eternity. I mean, think about it, Alexis. No matter how much you hate me, do I deserve to be in a gray void for the rest of time?”
I sighed. And I really did think about it.
If Lydia didn’t kill Ashleen—and if that wasn’t her in my car…
Then, no, of course not. Yeah, she tried to kill the Sunshine Club—but to be fair, when I was possessed, I tried to kill my family in their sleep. If Kasey hadn’t stopped me, I could easily have been a mass murderer.
I leaned my head forward and rested it in my hands. Of all the things I didn’t need.
“Ha!” Lydia said. “I’m right, and you know it.”
“Okay,” I said. “If you didn’t hurt Kendra or kill Ashleen, you don’t deserve the gray void. Now tell me. Why are you always around when these things happen, if you’re not causing them?”
“You know what?” She raised her chin haughtily. “I’m tired of your accusations. I’ll see you later. If I feel like it.”
And she disappeared.
When I heard my mother’s car pull into the garage, I strained my ears to listen to her—the way she walked, the way she hung her keys on the hook—for any indication that she’d heard something about Ashleen. Overcome by my need to know if she knew, I stuck my head into the hallway.
Mom stood by the garage door, head down.
“Mom?” I asked.
She turned and looked at me, a magazine open in her hand. “Hi, honey. How was your day?” Her voice sounded normal—light, but with an undertone of tension. Still, nothing that hinted at an awareness of Ashleen’s death.
“Fine,” I said, going back into my room.
Later, I went out into the living room and turned on the TV, slumping in the corner of the couch with the remote in my hand.
Behind me I heard the front door open. Kasey’s voice called, “See you tomorrow!” and the door closed.
“Hey,” she said, leaning over the couch. “What’s up? What are you watching?”
It was some lame Judge Somebody show where the judge works herself up into a lather trying to be fu
“Nothing,” I said.
Kasey dumped her stuff behind the couch and came around to sit next to me. I moved my legs to make room for her, but I turned up the volume a little, too—just enough to hint that I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. My sister caught the hint, so we watched the rest of the show in silence.
“If we ever end up suing each other over a rowboat,” Kasey finally said, “just shoot me, okay?”
“You got it,” I said.
The trumpety music that a
A minute later, Mom came out into the kitchen. “What do you girls want for di
Before we could reply, her cell phone rang.
My whole body tensed. It was like the energy in the room spiked before she even answered it.
“Hey, Jim.…What? No. What? Okay. Thanks. Bye.” Her phone hit the counter with a clunk. Her voice was like a clear tube made of glass so thin it would shatter if you touched it. “Alexis…turn to the news.”
My fingers were like stumps. I fumbled with the remote until Kasey took it from me and switched the cha
A reporter stood on location at Ashleen’s house, wearing her sad face. “Although police aren’t releasing details about the location of the body, they did confirm that it was missing teen Ashleen Evans. Autopsy results will be available later this week, but an anonymous source inside the police department told us there doesn’t appear to be any evidence of assault. The family has declined to speak to reporters, but they have released a statement asking for prayers and information that could lead to the arrest of whoever is responsible.”
Mom’s face was gray. She came up behind the couch and put a hand on Kasey’s and my shoulders.
They went to a split screen with the reporter in the studio. “Have the police compared this to the Kendra Charnow case at all?”
The field reporter adjusted her earpiece. “No, Dana, not officially. But obviously that’s something that we’re hearing a lot of from neighbors.”
Their chatter blurred together like squawking birds in my brain.
I searched the trees for a flash of Ashleen’s ghost or the purple dress. But what I saw, right behind the reporter, was a blast of white light.
I sat up and leaned forward. It hovered by the trees, and then it slowly grew larger in the frame—coming closer to the woman with the microphone, who was interviewing a crying teenage boy.
“Alexis,” Kasey said, and I turned to look at her, feeling my pulse pound against my ears. I thought she was going to accuse me of being involved or knowing something. But she was just looking for a shoulder to cry on. She wiped her eyes and leaned toward me, burying her face in my hoodie.
I put my arms around her, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the newscast.