"Believe me, it wasn't the door that stopped me. It was me that stopped me. I mean, jeez, just because I'm dead doesn't mean I can't get scared," She shakes her head and scowls at me.
"But, he hasn't really lived here all that long," I say, rushing to make more excuses, like the worst kind of codependent fool. "So maybe he just hasn't gotten around to furnishing it yet. I mean, that's probably why he doesn't want me to come over; he doesn't want me to see it like that." And when I replay my words in my head, I can't help but think: Oh, God, I'm even worse than I thought.
Riley shakes her head and looks at me like she's about to let me in on the truth behind the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and Santa, all in one sitting. But then she just shrugs and says, "Maybe you should see for yourself."
"What do you mean?" I ask, knowing she's holding something back.
But she gets up from the bed and goes over to the mirror, gazing at her reflection and adjusting her costume.
"Riley?" I say, wondering why she's acting so mysterious. "Listen," she says, finally turning toward me. "Maybe I'm wrong. I mean, what do I know; I'm just a kid." She shrugs. "And it's probably nothing, but…»
She takes a deep breath. "But I think you should see for yourself"
"So how do we get there?" I ask, already up and reaching for the keys.
She shakes her head. "No way. Forget it. I'm convinced he can see me."
"Well we know he can see me," I remind her.
But she stands firm. "So not happening. But I'll draw you a map."
Since Riley's not so great at drawing maps, she settles for making a list of street names instead, indicating their left and right turns, since north, south, east, and west always confuse me.
"Sure you don't want to come?" I offer, grabbing my bag and heading out of my room.
She nods and follows me downstairs. "Hey; Ever?" I turn.
"You could've told me about all the psychic stuff. I feel bad about making fun of your clothes."
I open the front door and shrug. "Can you really read my mind?"
She shakes her head and smiles. "Only when you're trying to communicate with me. I figured it was just a matter of time before you'd want me to spy on him." She laughs. "But, Ever?"
I turn to look at her again.
"If I don't come around for a while, it's not because I'm mad at you or trying to punish you or anything like that, okay? I promise I'll still look in and make sure you're all right and stuff, but, well, I might be gone for a while. I might be kind of busy."
I freeze, the first hint of panic beginning to stir. "You are coming back though, right?"
She nods. "It's just, well… " She shrugs. "I promise I'll be back, I just don't know when." And even though she smiles, it's obviously forced.
"You're not leaving me, are you?" I hold my breath, exhaling only when she shakes her head.
"Okay; well, good luck then," I say, wishing I could hug her, hold her, convince her to stay; but knowing that's not possible, I head for my car and start the engine instead.
Twenty-Three
Damen lives in a gated community. A detail Riley failed to reveal. I guess since the presence of big iron gates and uniformed guards could never stop someone like her, it didn't seem very important. Though I guess it doesn't really stop someone like me either, since I just smile at the attendant, and say, "Hi, I'm Megan Foster. I'm here to see Jody Howard." Then I watch as she scrolls down her computer screen, searching for the name I just happen to know is listed as entry number three.
"Leave this in your window, on the driver's side," she says, handing me a piece of yellow paper, the word VISITOR and the date clearly marked on its front. "And no parking on the left side of the street, right side only." She nods, returning to her booth as I drive through the open gate, hoping she won't notice when I pass right by Jody's street as I make my way toward Damen's.
I've almost reached the top of the hill when I see the next street on my list, and after making a left, quickly followed by another, I stop at the end of his block, kill the engine, and realize I've lost all my nerve. I mean, what kind of psycho girlfriend am I? Who in their right mind would even think of enlisting their dead little sister to help spy on their boyfriend?
But then again, it's not like anything in my life is remotely normal, so why should my relationships be any different?
I sit in my car, focusing on my breath, fighting to keep it slow and steady despite the fact that my heart is pounding like crazy and my palms are slick with sweat. And as I gaze around his clean, tidy, affluent neighborhood I realize I couldn't have picked a worse day to do this.