Suddenly my eyes jerked open.
I was instantly awake, panicked, but not because of my dream.
In the murky darkness, a shadowy figure loomed over the bed — watching me.
3
“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, jerking upright and pulling the pillow close to my chest.
“What’s your problem?” The shadow’s voice was female and annoyed. “Stop freaking out.”
“Stay back! Get away!”
“Rayah, it’s just me. Are you having another nightmare?”
There was a soft click and the bedside lamp flashed on, so bright I was momentarily blinded. When my vision cleared, I saw short, prickly pink hair and black kohl eyes. This girl was older than me — oops, scratch that — I mean, older than my real self, about the same age of Sharayah. She wore snug black jeans, a black leather aviator jacket over a neon-pink shirt, and dangling, barbed-wire earrings.
“You’re her … um … my roommate?” I asked, blinking away confusion.
“Are you high? Why else would I put up with you? It’s not the first time you’ve woke up screaming. Was it the ocean nightmare again?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Like that surprises me.” She chuckled, a silver stud on her tongue. “How much did you drink this time?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“You are so bad. Didn’t you get any sleep? I left so you could have privacy in here last night, but I expected you to sleep some, too. You owe me, by the way, because the twin bed Sadie loaned me was as hard as concrete. So get your ass out of bed.”
“This early? We’re going out?” I frowned, wishing I knew her name and how to act toward her. Were we best friends or just casual roommates?
“Of course we’re going out! Your suitcase is already in the car. Did you fry all your brain cells?”
“I hope not,” I said seriously. My head spun like I’d been whirling upside down on a roller coaster and a bitter taste sickened my mouth.
“Pull yourself together, okay? I can’t believe you’re not even ready — unless that’s what you plan to wear. Hey, if you want to go in a shirt and thong, cool with me. Truckers will honk when they look down at our car.” She pried the pillow from my clasped hands then tugged on my arm. “Hurry up, Rayah.”
“I can’t … ” I shook off her grip. “I don’t feel well enough to go anywhere.”
“Just because you’re hung-over doesn’t mean we’re dumping our spring break plans. If this is about your ocean phobia, no one will make you get into the water. And need I remind you that leaving so early was your idea?”
“It was?”
“Don’t you remember anything?” She rolled her dark eyes. “You insisted we leave early because you were all paranoid about a stalker.”
“The stalker! You know about that?”
“Well, duh. You showed me the note.”
Note? I puzzled. Did that mean there had been other threats?
“Do you know who’s threatening me?” I asked her.
“How would I? The note wasn’t signed — besides, I think it’s a joke. I’m always threatening to kill you — especially when you don’t clean your half of the room or stink up the place with black herb tea. But I don’t really mean it. And I doubt anyone else does, either. Whoever sent the note is just trying to freak you out.”
“It’s working,” I said, hugging my shivery arms.
So there were at least two threats. I wanted to ask if there’d been any more but couldn’t without causing suspicion. My heart pounded and I felt fear rising. I could understand why Sharayah needed a life break away from her stalker. It was risky for me, though, because I couldn’t tell Sharayah’s friends from her enemies.
“Come on, Rayah, it’s already way later than we planned to leave and I’m starting to get pissed,” she added accusingly. “Don’t push me, okay? I was nice enough to stay with Sadie last night so you could have privacy with James. Now I find you’re not even ready and still wearing his shirt.”
“James?” I fingered the shirt. “That guy who left this … um … my boyfriend?”
“Ha, ha. Funny, Rayah,” the roommate said with a wry chuckle. “As if you’re ever serious with one guy. Sadie is waiting in the parking lot. Time to hit the road.”
“Road?” My stomach lurched.
“Screw your hangover, we’re leaving now.” She yanked me to my feet — she was surprisingly strong despite being almost a head shorter than me. “Sadie is doing the driving and you can sleep it off on the way. Let’s get out of here.”
“But I can’t go or I’ll miss seeing—” I cut off, realizing I’d said too much.
“Seeing who?” she asked icily.
“Um … it’s hard to explain.”
“Don’t tell me this has to do with that slacker James.” She folded her arms across her busty chest, narrowing her gaze as if daring me to cross her. “I warned you he was only after one thing, which he obviously got since you’re wearing his shirt.”
“This has nothing to do with him.” I had a sudden desire to rip off the shirt and take a shower. A long, hot, deep, body-cleaning shower.
“Then who?” she asked suspiciously. “Remember our Hands-off-Exes agreement. You better not be hitting on Kyle. Even though he’s a scumbag and I am so over him, it would be too weird to see you two together.”
“No, no! I mean … this isn’t anyone you know.”
“Then he can’t be very important, can he?” She smiled. “Let’s go.”
“I–I can’t! I have to stay and wait for—”
“Forget it! No guy is messing with our plans. We’re leaving now.”
“But I can’t go without at least leaving him a message!”
“Call him later.”
“My phone is broken.” I lifted the phone, shaking it so she could hear the rattle.
“Oops. I won’t even ask how that happened.” The roommate chuckled wickedly. “But no prob — you can use my phone.”
“Thanks. Where is it?” I held out my hand.
“In the car — where we’re gonna be in a few minutes.” Grabbing my hand, she yanked me toward the door. “We are leaving now.”
“Wait!”
“Sure, why don’t we wait?” she added with an ominous arch of her brow. “Let’s give your stalker plenty of time to find you. Maybe the note isn’t a joke. It could be the real deal and some psycho might really want to kill you.”
“Kill me?” I gulped.
“A note that says ‘I’ll watch you die’ isn’t exactly a love letter. But you must be braver than me. I can’t stop you if you’d rather wait around for your stalker than enjoy a fabulous vacation with your girlfriends.”
“Okay, I’ll go — but not wearing this.” It was hard to think clearly; all that was clear was fear. “I’ll change fast.”
“I bet you will.” Her smile was smug.
It was embarrassing to sway as I tried to walk, then stumbled around searching through three drawers before I found jeans that looked too long but fit great. Then I grabbed the first shirt I saw, something blue and long-sleeved. Relieved to take off the offensive James shirt, I tossed it aside and slipped into the blue top.
If only it were as easy to change out of this body and back to my own. Being my boyfriend’s sister was bad enough — but being a target of a psycho terrified me. I couldn’t exit the room fast enough. We made it down the hall and around a corner before I realized I didn’t have Sharayah’s purse — which held her ID, credit cards and the thick wad of cash.
“Oops! My purse!” I started to make a U-turn until Sharayah’s roommate gave me an icy look that stopped me cold.
“Stay right here,” she ordered. “I’ll get it.”
Reluctantly, I waited, glancing around nervously as if a stalker might pop out from a corner. I oozed relief when I saw pink hair and black leather.
She shoved the purse at me, then led me toward a set of stairs. I realized I was forgiven when she hooked
her arm into mine and actually smiled. It was amazing how a simple smile made her face shine with a beauty I hadn’t noticed until now.
“Venice Beach, here we come,” she rang out cheerfully. “If there’s time, we might even hop over the border for some serious partying in Mexico.”
“Venice Beach? Mexico?” I repeated.
“That’s all we’ll manage in a week, although I’d love to hit Lake Havasu, too. I’ve always wanted to try some of that boat-to-boat partying,” she announced with a jazzy dance move. “Bring on the beach, booze and badass dudes — spring break begins now!”
Her tone was upbeat but underlined with a warning not to cause any problems, and I didn’t want to cross her anymore than I wanted to hang around and risk an attack from a stalker. Besides, if I didn’t go with her, I’d break GEM rule #1.
1. Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans.
Apparently, one of my obligations was a vacation of partying.
Sorry, Eli, I thought. I’ll call you later.
Then I left for spring break.
* * *
I followed Sharayah’s roommate (what was her name anyway?) down a steep stairway, then through a maze of dimly lit halls to double glass doors that led outside to the parking lot. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched and kept looking around, but never saw anyone. Still, my uneasiness lingered.
It was foggy out and eerie lamps glowing like demon eyes around the parking lot added a gloomy theme to my personal nightmare. As we moved through rows of vehicles, their hulky shapes reminded me of crouching monsters. I shivered, wrapping my arms around a too-tall body that was so thin I could feel my ribs.
I peered back at the shadowy dorm I’d just left; three stories of bricked housing surrounded by shrubs and walkways. It looked traditional yet modern, the kind of dorm I hoped to attend someday with my best friend. Alyce and I had toured half a dozen campuses together, dreaming about what we’d do once we graduated from high school to real life: share a dorm room, study together, and score prestigious internships. Alyce had a trust fund and (grades permitting) she could pick and choose her college. But until recently I doubted I’d even be able to afford night classes due to my family’s lack of finances, and I envisioned a future of flipping burgers at some dead-end job. Then a miracle had happened — I was offered a scholarship to a college of my choice.
But being here wasn’t my choice. This was not how I imagined college life, isolated without my real friends and stumbling around in the wrong body. The simple act of walking felt all wrong, my strides so jerky that when I stumbled, only a quick grab on a rail saved me from a nasty fall. Fortunately my roommate didn’t notice, or else assumed I was too wasted to walk straight … and maybe I was.
“What took you so long?” a petite girl with shiny jewels woven in her long brown braid asked, stepping away from the silver SUV she’d been leaning against. Gold bracelets jangled from her tiny wrists and she wore a designer chiffon blouse with a midnight-blue miniskirt and knee-high black boots.
“Not my fault, Sadie. Blame Rayah.” The pink-haired roommate pointed an accusing finger at me. “She wasn’t dressed, then she whined that she had to wait for some new guy and just when we were finally out of the room, she wanted to go back for her purse.”
“How could you forget your purse?” The other girl, Sadie, looked at me like I’d committed a felony. “I don’t care how wasted I am, I’d never ever leave my purse.”
“I have it now.” I gripped the leather bag tightly, reassured to have this small connection to my new identity even though all the cash inside made me nervous. But that was the least of my worries. I had to contact Eli or think of a way to stall long enough for him to show up.
“I still need a phone.” I turned to the pink-haired girl. “You said I could use yours.”
She opened the back seat door and gestured for me to get inside. “Let’s wait till we’re on our way.”
“But it’s urgent. He doesn’t know I’m—”
“Don’t care. Don’t want to hear it.” The roommate shook her head. “All you’ve been doing is delaying and making excuses. You’re acting like some guy is more important than your best friends and this trip we’ve been planning for weeks.”
“I never meant that.”
“Then forget the guy for a while.”
Sadie glanced curiously at us. Her sharp features reminded me of a bird: not an ordinary sparrow, but a bright and exotic macaw, shining with shades of sapphire, cinnamon and sunset red. “Aren’t you being harsh, Mauve?” she asked the pink-haired girl. “If Rayah wants to call some dude, what’s the harm? Don’t be such a bitch.”
“Why not? I am one and proud of it.”
“Yeah — I saw it on a bumper sticker. Mauve: Campus Bitch.”
Mauve snorted. “You think you’re so funny.”
“Someone around here has to be.” Sadie’s car keys jangled as she slipped into the driver’s seat. “So who’s the new guy, Rayah?”
“Oh, it’s not like that!” I felt my face reddening. “I mean, he’s more like … um … a brother. But it’s important I call him … can I borrow your phone?”
“Don’t give it to her until we’re on the freeway and there’s no turning back, Sadie,” Mauve interrupted with an accusing look at me as she opened the door to the passenger side of the front seat. “She’s been acting all kinds of weird. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s more than a hangover. Rayah, is there something you’re not telling us?”
“Of course not.”
“Then get into the car.”
“Fine. Whatever.” I scooted into the back seat.
Sadie glanced at Mauve and then me with pinched lips. “You know what we need?”
“A phone,” I said.
“A new roommate,” Mauve said.
“Wrong.” With a big smile, Sadie slid into the car and reached for a bag. “Mocha lattes. Since you were taking so long, I ran over to Starbucks and got our usual.”
I inhaled a rich scent of coffee as I took the hot cup and pulled off the lid. But when I took a sip, I nearly spit it out. Whoa! Sharayah’s “usual” was strong enough to sober up a career drunk. I rarely drank coffee, and when I did I dumped in loads of cream and sugar. Stealthily, I put the lid back on and squeezed the cup into a holder.
“That should cure Rayah’s hangover. She really tied one on with James.” Mauve spoke his name in a mocking way. “When I got to the room, she was wearing his shirt.”
“And the partying begins,” Sadie said cheerfully as she fastened her seat belt. “Between you two, my Layaway List is growing fast. How would you rate James? Was he any good? Details, please.”
“Um … well … ” I blushed, having no idea how to answer this.
“That bad, huh? Next time you can teach him a few of your tricks.” Sadie said this in a tone that implied I had plenty of experience with guys.
My cheeks flamed and I was glad to be sitting in the back where they couldn’t see my face. In my real body, I’d kissed a total of four guys and had never gone farther than second base. I was so not experienced — definitely not enough to score anyone or teach them “tricks.” And I was pretty sure Sadie’s “Layaway List” had nothing to do with shopping for clothes at the mall.
Mentally, I started my own list of People to Avoid:
#1. James.
#2. The Stalker.
Posing as Sharayah might be easier away from the dorm. It was hard enough to fool Mauve and Sadie, but if I stayed on campus I’d run into more people who knew more about me than I knew about myself — which would be all kinds of awkward.
Still, leaving meant not seeing Eli. But maybe I could meet up with him later — if I could ever call him. Mauve continued to be a bitch about using her phone and warned Sadie not to loan me hers, either.
I needed a plan to delay leaving until Eli showed up. Anxiety made me nauseous, and I gripped my stomach … and then smiled.
Being sick �
�� perfect!
“Oooh,” I groaned with exaggerated drama.
Sadie whirled around to face me. “Rayah, you okay?”
“Ignore her and start the car,” Mauve snapped.
“I’m not feeling … ooh!” I covered my mouth and sagged forward.
“Drink your latte,” Mauve said. “That’ll sober you up.”
I shook my head, adding gagging sounds to my groans.
“Rayah, hold yourself together,” Sadie begged. “Don’t you dare hurl in my car!”
The weird thing was that once I thought about my stomach, I really did feel sick. Bile burned my throat. When I doubled over, moaning, I wasn’t faking it. My insides rebelled, roiling and pitching like a storm. Oh, no … no! I unfastened my seat belt, yanked open the door, and spewed on the pavement.
When I was able to lift my head I felt lighter and much, much better. I gulped in damp foggy air and avoided looking at the ground by glancing around the parking lot. A flash of light caught my attention in the opposite row of cars. An interior light glowed from a dark-colored compact car, spotlighting a girl in the driver’s seat with curly red hair and pale skin. Her gaze was fixed my way and she was staring directly — furiously — at me. Then the illumination faded, dimming slowly until the girl seemed to vanish in the fog.
But those angry eyes continued to burn in my memory, and while I didn’t personally know the redheaded girl, I was positive she knew — and hated — Sharayah.
4
“Are you done yet?” Mauve asked, stepping out of the car. She walked over, then glanced down at the ground and made a bitter face. “Eww, that’s so gross.” “Sorry.” I wobbled back into the car on rubbery legs and snapped my seat belt back on. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” “Ha!” Mauve snorted. “Try telling that to someone who hasn’t roomed with you for three months. But hey, it’s all in fun.” Fun? Getting sick and spewing in a parking lot was fun? Did Mauve really mean that or was she being sarcastic again? It was impossible to tell with Mauve (was that her real name, anyway, or an accessory to match her hair?). Her sarcasm didn’t faze me, though, not like the hatred from the red-haired girl. Who was she and what did she have against Sharayah? If facial expressions came with subtitles, hers would have read, “Die a painful death right now so I can laugh while you suffer.” I couldn’t get her twisted fury out of my head, and there was also this gnawing feeling … an odd sense of recognition, as if something inside my borrowed body remembered her with emotions of bitterness, fear, and guilt.
Dead Girl Dancing dg-2 Page 3