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I dug around in my backpack and held up a copy of Les Misérables, and not the abridged version. “Because I have a hundred pages of this to read tonight. Not to mention calculus homework and a history outline everyone else has already been working on for a week.” The thought of all the homework I’d had heaped on me today was almost enough to make my ghost problem seem small.
Almost.
“Unlike some people, I still have a life,” I muttered.
Kimberlee’s lips pressed into a straight line and before I could apologize, she spun on her heel and disappeared through my bedroom door.
When Kimberlee popped up silently beside my locker the next morning, I tried to apologize for my harsh comment. “I was stressed,” I said quietly, hoping no one was close enough to catch me talking to myself. Again. “I should have kept my mouth shut.”
“Whatever,” she said, not meeting my eyes as I slammed my locker shut. “I just want to get this over with.”
I had almost reached the stairs that would take me up to Bleekman’s room when a flash of red grabbed my eye. I tuned Kimberlee out and my eyes tracked the redhead.
Finally, something good about Whitestone.
Fingers snapped in front of my face. “Hello? Focus!”
Kimberlee. It was a testament to the sheer hotness of the other girl that I had, for ten seconds, managed to forget Kimberlee entirely.
Hot Girl was standing less than twenty feet away, digging through her locker with her back to me. I was trying to figure out a nonlame way to approach her when she stopped and turned. I glanced away, afraid she’d been able to sense my eyes burning a hole in her back. Maybe a few inches below her back. After what I hoped was a safe amount of time, I glanced in her direction again. It took me a few seconds to find her.
Hugging a guy in a letter jacket.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the two of them. It was like a car wreck—you don’t really want to see the guy all mangled inside, but you can’t look away. And it wasn’t some third-string nobody—this guy was majorly ripped and could probably break my neck with two fingers. Maybe one. It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t very tall—but what’s a little height when you’ve got shoulders like steel girders? The redhead leaned against the lockers next to him and smiled.
I knew that kind of smile. It was a special smile reserved for special people. Like, boyfriend people.
Damn.
But really, why wouldn’t she be taken? She was totally gorgeous and—considering she was at Whitestone—almost certainly rich. Girls like that don’t just wander around single.
“Enjoy your little trip down fantasy lane, loverboy?” Kimberlee was leaning against my locker looking totally bored.
Oh yeah.
But I couldn’t help glancing back at the hot girl again.
“Trust me; leave that one alone,” Kimberlee said, following my gaze. “She was this total slut as a freshman, but she doesn’t really date now. Probably not even into guys anymore.”
I looked over at Kimberlee with my best duh face and flicked my head in her direction. “Human tractor over there?”
“Wait, wait,” she said, laughing. “Him? Mikhail?”
She would think this was funny.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree. Mikhail is—” Her mouth snapped shut and her eyes took on this funny look. She sighed melodramatically. “I must be wrong. After all, just because he was dating someone a few months ago doesn’t mean they’re still together. I’m so out of the loop.” She sighed again.
Was she being sarcastic? I felt like I’d missed something, but couldn’t imagine what.
“You really better stay away from her now,” Kimberlee continued. “Mikhail could break you in half without even trying.”
“Just tell me her name,” I whispered.
“Why?” Kimberlee shot back. “So I can help you keep ‘having a life’?” So much for her whatever.
“I’m helping you,” I reminded her.
“Fine,” she said, sounding way more pissy than I thought my request could possibly justify. “It’s Serafina. Serafina Hewitt. I’ll meet you outside of Keller’s class at three fifteen sharp so we can go to the cave. Back out and you’ll be sorry.” She shot a finger gun at me and walked through the wall of lockers.
(#ulink_ec9e7215-f7ba-5eff-a9e1-5fd55fe6126c)
AS SHE’D PROMISED, KIMBERLEE WAS waiting for me after school, just inside the front doors. “Finally,” she muttered.
I pushed open the door and instinctively held it a few seconds to let Kimberlee out. She snickered as she walked by. “Holding the door for your imaginary friend?”
“That’s only an insult to yourself.”
She tossed her hair. “Whatever. Where’s your car?” she asked.
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. A black BMW Z4 con- vertible was my mom’s idea of a good, sensible car. Something about them lasting forever? I turned to Kimberlee. “This way.”
I headed to the farthest end of the lot, where almost no one parked. The spaces on both sides of my Z4 were empty. That was worth the walk.
Kimberlee stroked her fingers along the black hood as though she could actually feel something. “I saw this yesterday when I followed you home,” she said, as if following people home was completely normal. “Daddy’s?”
I put my shades on as I pressed the unlock button on my keychain. “Nope. She’s all mine. Kimberlee, meet Halle.”
“Halle?”
It’s not that I’m embarrassed that I named my car, but, well, it’s kind of personal.
Kimberlee stood outside the door. After almost thirty seconds I rolled down the window. “You coming?”
“I thought you were going to open the door for me.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that for my imaginary friend.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She slipped through the door and settled in the seat.
I stared at her, everything I’d learned in physics screaming that this made no sense. “Why don’t you fall through the bottom of the car?” I finally asked.
“I don’t know,” she said testily. “Why don’t you?”
I shook my head and put the key in the ignition.
“Should I put on my seat belt?”
“Can you?”
That shut her up.
“Come on, why Halle?”
Okay, not completely. “Not telling you.”
“Spill!”
I didn’t have the stamina for another battle of wills with Kimberlee. “I named her after Halle Berry. She played Storm in the X-Men movies.”
“You’re such a nerd. Why her?”
I could feel my face getting hot. “Well, you know . . . ’cause she’s hot. And black. And my car is hot, and black.”
Kimberlee smirked. “So you want to ride her all over town?”
“What? No, it’s a compliment! Like naming a boat! I just—it’s just a stupid . . . Forget I said anything. Can we just drop it now?”
“Whatever you say, Grand Wizard.”
I shook my head and started the car. She was just baiting me. Again. How did I keep walking into her traps?
“You drive like my grandma,” Kimberlee said after a few minutes of inching along.
“You think that’s an insult? Try harder.” I knew what this car could do. The first week I got it I took a trip to Vegas and made it from Phoenix to the Hoover Dam in just over two hours. My car is fast. And I admit, I roared into school moving pretty quick yesterday, but then I realized the kids here all drive like they’re on crack. Seriously. So after a near miss with a red Miata, I’d decided that slower was better.
At least until I got out of the parking lot.
Kimberlee pointed me down several streets, each wider and more stately than the last, until I pulled up in front of a huge white mansion.
“Whoa, sweet.” Our house was supernice, but this was the kind of house you see on the home-design shows my mom watches. The feature homes.
“Turn down that little road over there. It’ll take you to the beach,” Kimberlee said, clearly not impressed.
“Are you sure nobody’s going to arrest me for being here?” Because I was most definitely not sure.
“Nah. There’s a gate. I’ll tell you the code.”
I pulled onto the drive on the right side of the house and stopped next to a keypad.
“Eight-six-four-two-two, star.”
I punched in the numbers, then my finger hovered over the star. I closed my eyes and pushed, expecting flashing lights and cops with their guns drawn. I could almost hear the megaphone. Step out of your car with your hands up! But all I actually heard was the quiet whir of the gate sliding open. So far, so good.
The road sloped sharply before ending in a ten-space parking lot in front of a gorgeous white beach, surrounded on both sides by tall cliffs. “Whoa!” I said as I climbed out of my car, feeling more like I was on a movie set than what was essentially someone’s backyard.
Kimberlee glared at the foamy green waves. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”
“Why? ’Cause you died here?”
“Let’s just get to the cave.”
“You’re reading my mind.”
She stayed a few feet ahead of me as we trekked across the sand.
She didn’t leave footprints.
“This whole ghost thing is still freaking me out,” I said, my eyes fixed on her feet.
“Yeah,” she said without looking back. “Took me about a month to really get a handle on it, too.”
Great.
When we reached what looked like the face of a mini- cliff, she took two running steps and jumped, then basically floated into the cave.
I was stuck ten feet below. “You suck,” I shouted.
“Wimp. There are handholds all the way up. That’s how I did it when I was alive.”
I found a ledge for my foot and stepped up to reach for one with my arms. In a few seconds I had four limbs on little ledges and was sure I looked like a bug clinging to the wall for dear life—all of three feet above a sandy beach. I looked up to Kimberlee for help. She was staring out at the sea. A gust of wind made her skirt flutter suddenly, giving me an eyeful. I froze, lost my balance, and slid down the rock. Or, more accurately, fell sprawling into the sand.
“Perv,” Kimberlee said with a sinister laugh that made me remember that wind couldn’t touch her clothes. Only Kimberlee had any effect on Kimberlee’s clothes.
“Don’t do that again,” I said darkly. At least not while I’m clinging to the side of a cliff. Without looking at Kimberlee I started to climb again, more carefully this time. It took me about three tries and at least ten minutes, but I made it. I peered back down at the beach. The climb looked a lot shorter from up top. “Okay,” I said as I scrambled to my feet. “Where’s the stuff?”
She tilted her head to the back of the cave. I turned and blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, my jaw dropped.
There must have been a hundred boxes stacked in the back of the cave, which was way deeper than I’d expected. “A few things? A few things! Are you insane?” My voice echoed through the cave, repeating my words back to me.
“Jeff . . .” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.
“This is ridiculous. You lied to me.”
“I did not.”
“No one in their right mind would ever classify this as ‘a few things.’ You lied to get me up here and hoped you could just flutter your eyes and it would be all better. Well, it’s not.” I backed away from the massive pile of boxes. “I’m not doing this.”
“Jeff . . .”
“I should call the cops,” I said as I backed away. No way could I return all this stuff on my own, not in any reasonable amount of time. “I’ll bet they could—”
“No!” Kimberlee shouted, running after me. “They’d just confiscate it all. Then I’d be stuck here forever! Jeff, please.”
“No. I’m leaving,” I said, as much to myself as to Kimberlee, “and I am not coming back.” I looked over the edge and tried to find the handholds I had used climbing up. It’s only ten feet. Just jump! I let myself down as far as I could while holding on to the ledge, then tried to fall slowly. My feet hit the sand a moment before my ass did. My tailbone stung, but at least I was out of the klepto cave. I looked over at my car and forced myself to walk calmly instead of running—which would probably make me fall and look like an idiot.
Again.
Kimberlee was right beside me. “They’re organized,” she pleaded. “It’ll be easy. A bag for each person. The boxes are sorted by category. A couple of trips and we’ll be done.”
