“Nice,” I sneer. “Everyone knows Jimmy could still win games for the Wolves even at half-speed.”
“No, he couldn’t. He wasn’t invincible.” Sam spins a row of plastic soccer players in orange jerseys. “The last couple of games were hell on him. We won, sure. But the margins were tight. He tried his hardest, but I could see it was getting him down. He hated losing, and I hated seeing him try to push himself. All just to please his dad and the coach.”
“So you had to do something drastic.”
“I couldn’t see any other way.”
“What about pushing him off a cliff?” I say in a hard tone. He looks at me like I slapped him.
“What benefit would there be in killing my best friend? The article was enough. It should have been enough to give him a way off the team.” He shakes his head. “I’ve known Jimmy since kindergarten. He’s the last person I thought would commit suicide, but...everyone has their limits, you know? If he didn’t have the game, he didn’t have anything.”
We stay quiet for a while, both of us lost in our own thoughts. His breathing grows steadier, calmer.
“I’m sorry about what I did. With the article,” he says softly.
Sighing, I say, “It’ll never be published. No one has to know about the injury or the article for now. Except Dan.”
“But—”
“Jimmy blamed Dan for writing the piece. Dan deserves an apology from you, Mr. Anonymous.”
He shoots me a pained look, and then nods compliantly.
“Were you behind the anonymous text message, too? About Aimee?”
“You’re losing me.” Sam shakes his head and leans on the table. “Look, I get that you don’t trust me because of the article. But...I didn’t kill Jimmy. I bet your spooky cards will confirm that. Go on and get them. I’ll wait here.”
We stare at each other. The harsh light directly above his head makes him seem kind of menacing. Silently, I ask the universe—Grandie, in particular—for a little help in mind-reading. Some kind of sign.
Sam is the first to blink. His gaze flickers toward something behind me. A smile inches across his face.
“Hey, Mara,” he says, sounding a whole lot friendlier now.
I turn slowly, eyes wide. “Mara! I didn’t hear you come in.”
Honestly, she must be some kind of ninja to tread down here without making a bit of noise.
“I was going to call you and then I happened to see your car out front,” Mara says, smiling. Her eyes have an actual sparkle. It’s a far cry from the gloomy-girl image she’s been projecting.
When she says “car,” an image of keys pops into my head and I can’t get it out. I’m itching to return to my cards and meditate on the keys.
“You left the diner in a rush last night.”
She shrugs by way of apology. “My mom called and asked me to run an errand.”
“Oh.” She could have come to the restroom to find me. Good thing she didn’t, though. She would’ve seen me getting chummy with Aimee. “Thanks for picking up the check. I owe you.”
“Forget about it.” She glances around as Todd and Jake call out greetings.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” I ask.
“Our investigation on Jimmy.” She flashes another smile. Gesturing at my cards on the coffee table, she says, “Is the Mystic Madam doing tarot readings for the boys?”
I gather up the cards. “I’m done for now.”
Mara grabs hold of my arm. “Come with me. I have an idea.”
“Where are we going?” I’m not in the mood to chase Aimee, and I’m certain that’s exactly on Mara’s agenda.
“Jimmy’s bedroom.”
Chapter Twenty
“Why do I get the feeling you want me to perform a séance? Please promise me you won’t ask.”
“I promise. Wait in here,” Mara says outside a bedroom off the main hall. Her cheeks glow with excitement. “I’ll be right back.”
She pushes me inside and shuts the door. Her footsteps carry away out of earshot.
The first thing that strikes me about Jimmy’s room is not the poster gallery of pouting girls in various states of undress. Not the unmade bed that probably hasn’t been touched since the day Jimmy was killed. Not the altar of dirty laundry piled in a corner. What hits me is that the room is a snapshot of an interrupted life. A life on hold. The room is waiting for its rightful owner to return home, complete the picture.
Mara returns a few minutes later with a tray bearing two steaming bowls.
“Dan’s aunt said they can’t store any more donated food. I hope you like boeuf bourguignon. Made it myself,” she says, handing me a bowl of slushy brown stew.
We sit side by side on the wide windowsill. If the scorching porcelain bowl’s anything to go by, chances are her fancy stew’s hot enough to burn my taste buds off. Mara, a braver woman than I, takes a delicate sip.
I set down my bowl.
“Not hungry?
My stomach rumbles like a freight train. “I’m...just gonna let it cool down. Thanks, though.”
“Come on, just one morsel.” She smiles as I reluctantly ladle some into my mouth.
“That’sss h-hot,” I lisp, holding my tongue out to let the mountain air cool it down. Seems to work. “Apart from that, it’s tasty.”
“I’m glad you like it.” She puts down her bowl, too, and glides to the bed and sits down. Tipping her head back, almost rapturously, she closes her eyes. “I can feel Jimmy here.”
“I can smell him here.” I grimace at a large rug buried under abandoned socks, a couple of magazines, and horror of horrors, a jockstrap. All over my body, patches of skin start to itch. Jimmy really should have done his laundry more often. Or fumigated.
Mara’s eyes snap open. Tears brim. “I feel so empty without him.”
The painful twinge in my chest reminds me how much I miss Jimmy’s presence. He has come to mean much more to me than just an old crush. My heart breaks even more for Dan. His loss is much greater.
“I’m sure he appreciated what you guys shared over the years,” I say, sitting next to her on the very edge of the bed. An uncomfortable tingle buzzes on my tongue. That would be a sign of dying taste buds.
She gives me a sidelong glance and laughs. “I’m not sure he did. Since freshman year, his life revolved around playing ball and girls like Aimee.”
My senses sharpen at the sound of jealousy in her tone. She lies on her side and sniffs deeply. Seeing Mara getting cozy and practically orgasmic on Jimmy’s bed makes me feel a hundred kinds of discomfort.
It’s easy to see why Mara has it in for Aimee.
Mara had a thing for Jimmy. A full-blown and possibly unrequited thing for Jimmy. Did Jimmy know about it? Would he, like me, feel creeped out by Mara making herself at home in his room?
“Did you ever talk to him about that?”
Shaking her head, she clutches Jimmy’s pillow tight to her chest. Possibly imagining she was holding Jimmy. “I sneak in here sometimes.”
Choking, I say, “And do what? Try on his clothes?”
Her mouth curves downward. “Even before he died, I used to get in through the window. You wouldn’t believe how easy it is.”
More and more I’m suspecting not only was she jealous. She was obsessed. How else to explain breaking into someone’s house? Sleeping in his bed? It’s like a perverse retelling of Goldilocks.
“Now I come here for peace. I come here to feel closer to him.”
I look around at the mess. Jimmy’s spirit isn’t here. I can’t feel that hulking presence. Mara might feel like hanging out here is bringing her closer to Jimmy, but my first and second sight tells me it’s futile. He isn’t coming back.
My fingers close around a corner of Jimmy’s crumpled duvet. The itch has reached my eyes. It’s hard to focus on the geometric pattern printed on the fabric. “Um, I...I think we should get out of here. Mrs. Hawkins probably doesn’t want anyone touching Jimmy’s things.”
&
nbsp; “No. I’ve brought you here for a reason.” Abruptly, she sits up. “I want you to find real meaning.”
I scrub my eyes hard. Damn itch. It’s distracting me from Mara, who’s taking it upon herself to be my shrink. “About what? The meaning of life? Death?”
“Death,” she says, and a sudden chill brings a crop of goose bumps to my skin. Mara’s gaze is glued to me.
Coughing, I move off the bed. My chest feels congested. Funny, the last time I felt like this was when I tempted fate and ate a brownie. Fate delivered me straight into the cold arms of the emergency room.
But I haven’t touched chocolate since then. Didn’t let one tiny choc-chip-cookie crumb in my orbit. Maybe I’m having some kind of reaction to being in Jimmy’s room. I shouldn’t be in here, and this is the universe’s way of telling me I’m in the wrong place at the wrong time. That has to be it.
“Where are you going?” Mara asks. Her grip on my arm is surprisingly strong.
I cough again. A wheezy, hacking cough. It robs me of the strength to reclaim my arm. “To...get...water.”
“You’re choking,” she says in an oddly flat voice, like she’s making an observation but has no intention of intervening.
I suck in as much air as I can, but my nostrils, my throat, my entire upper body seizes. Doubling over, I sink to the floor and rest against the bed. Furious red welts rise on my bare arms. All the while, that infernal itch seems to burn me up from the inside. I want nothing more than to dive in the Hawkins’ pool and get some relief.
An allergic reaction.
The rash. The heat. The sensation of being smothered. Lungs feel like they’re filling with concrete. Oxygen—and life—is being squeezed out of me.
“My bag,” I wheeze. “Epi...EpiPen.”
Mara glances around casually. No sense of urgency at all. “I don’t see your bag anywhere.”
With a trembling finger, I point in the general direction of the basement.
She smiles. “You know what you need? More of that boeuf bourguignon. It’s got all kinds of benefits.”
What is the matter with her? I’m suffocating here and she wants to force-feed me her sloppy brown cure-all stew?
“Get my bag. Find Dan.” The act of speaking brings a round of fiery pain to my chest. I gasp and croak like a woman four times my age.
“Calm down. Everything will be okay. Believe it or not, I’m actually making this really easy for you.”
My foggy brain detects her words, but somehow they sound all wrong. There’s a sharp edge. And I know I’m not imagining the rough way she shoved a pillow behind my back. “Mara, please. Get help.”
“Don’t fight it,” she says. “It’ll all be over soon.”
Furiously, I shake my head. “You don’t understand!”
“I do. You’re having a bad reaction to chocolate.” She’s matter-of-fact, yet somehow bordering on crazy territory.
“I...didn’t h-have any!”
Mara kneels in front of me. Her solemn green eyes bore into mine.
“Shhh! Don’t fight it.” This time Mara really does sound like she’s trying to soothe me. She strokes my hair and I desperately want to crawl out of her reach, but I’m a frozen, helpless lump on the rug. “You’ll be uncomfortable for a few more minutes, and then you won’t have to worry about a thing. Promise.”
If I wasn’t scared before, I am now. Mara’s freaking me the hell out. There’s something very wrong, very disturbing here. She’s not here to help me. She’s here to hurt me.
“Dan! Dan!” My cries sound like pitiful mewls from a kitten in the middle of a violent thunderstorm. I can’t help the stream of tears pouring from my aching eyes. The gray fog deepens, and blackness descends as the last wisps of air leave my body.
But it’s not Dan who answers.
“I’m so sorry, Keira. It’s not supposed to be like this.” Jimmy’s voice echoes out of an abyss. “So sorry...so sorry...so sorry...”
A strangled sob jumps from my throat when I hear him. My vision now completely obscured, I swing my arms in the air around me, searching for Jimmy but finding nothingness.
No sounds. No smells.
No breath. No pulse.
Just one thought.
I’m dead.
Chapter Twenty-one
When I next open my eyes, I’m lying on a bed of needles. Pine needles. But they aren’t prickly or uncomfortable. Sunlight filters through the canopy, making dewdrops on the ferns glisten like diamonds. My fingers brush a frond. I let out a gasp when I realize I can see right through my shimmering, translucent hand.
“I’m a ghost,” I whisper. No longer fighting for air, fighting for life. The struggle is over. And heaven looks a helluva lot like Camberwell Forest.
Maybe I’ll have a better chance of finding Jimmy now that we’re both on the same realm.
“Come on in! The water’s gorgeous!” A voice calls out. It sounds close by. It sounds a lot like Mara’s. But lower. Sexier.
What’s she doing in heaven?
A cloud unmasks the sun, and the woods around us flood with light. My eyes catch a silvery flash in the distance.
The waterhole.
As soon as the thought leaps into my head, I’m there. Standing on the edge of the forest. Cool water swirls, gentle as a lullaby. Bright sunlight blinds me. I close my eyes, raise my face to the sky and relish the warmth.
The feeling doesn’t last long. Behind my lids, I sense shadows increasing. Opening my eyes, I find clouds gathering above. A splash in the water startles me.
Swimming in the waterhole is Mara. Her wet, shiny dark hair clings to her head. A mile-wide smile makes her as radiant as an angel. I’ve never seen her like this. Joyous. Carefree.
Naked.
What the hell have I stumbled into? She rolls onto her back and floats, flashing her naked breasts for the world to see. I catch sight of Jimmy on a rocky outcrop near the edge of the water. At his feet is a pile of what I presume are Mara’s clothes. Clouds part momentarily. With the sun streaming behind him, it looks like Jimmy’s wearing a halo.
My eyes dart from him to Mara. This is a totally private moment. I shouldn’t go bumbling into the clearing to say hi. Even though I’m just dying to throw my arms around Jimmy and tell him how happy I am to see him again.
But I do. I run up to him. Slam into him. Through him.
Momentum sends me hurtling toward a boulder on the other side of Jimmy. I barrel into it, and expect a bruised shoulder at the very least. I feel nothing. Mara’s still splashing happily in the water. She only has eyes for Jimmy.
“Jimmy?” I yell in a voice loud enough to carry over the roar of the falls. I did a hit’n’run on him and he didn’t flinch or look my way. Have our roles reversed? Is he now one of the living and I’m the invisible dead? “Hey, it’s me! Keira. Your friendly ghost whisperer!”
He ignores me, takes a step toward the water’s edge. Is he so focused on Mara’s boobs that he can’t see me?
“It’s getting late.” Jimmy glances pointedly at his watch, then looks over his shoulder at the trail that leads back to the parking lot.
Grinning slyly, Mara swims to the shore. “You once told me you wanted to be more spontaneous. Here’s your chance. Take your clothes off and jump in with me.”
This is not the shy, dignified Mara Tate, editor-in-chief from school. This Mara Tate sure knows how to let loose after hours. If red-blooded Jimmy doesn’t take Mara up on her offer, there has to be something really wrong.
His jaw clenches. “I don’t know. If this gets back to Aimee—”
“Oh, now you’re making excuses. Aimee shouldn’t factor into your decisions anymore.” She stands in the shallows, and Jimmy’s eyes go round at the sight of her topless self.
I reach Jimmy’s side. Neither he nor Mara acknowledges me. I’m really starting to doubt this is heaven. I would have thought Grandie and Grandpa would be the first people I’d see here, not Mara. She’s not even dead. Her belongings lie abandoned o
n the rocks. Who in their right mind would need their purse in heaven? Or their mobile phone? Schoolbooks? You can’t take it with you, that’s the old saying. So maybe…maybe I’m in some kind of parallel universe, where Jimmy’s still alive and Mara’s a nudist.
I tug a floral dress from his hands, wanting to throw it at Mara and tell her to get dressed already. No one should be subjected to such a tawdry scene within the first hours of death. My efforts are futile. Jimmy has control of all material things on this realm.
He dangles the dress at arm’s length and gestures for Mara to climb onto dry land. She does an impressive job of imitating Venus emerging from the water. Apparently she’s been hiding a supermodel physique underneath her usual anchorwoman attire.
Jimmy misses the whole spectacle, choosing to look away. This seems to be a far cry from their good ol’ pre-pubescent days when they frolicked like cherubs. Frowning, Mara slips the dress on. It clings to her dripping-wet body. Jimmy really must be made of strong stuff if that isn’t a turn-on for him.
“Look at me, I’m drenched!” Mara laughs, but Jimmy averts his gaze. She gestures at the top of the waterfall. “How about we go up there and watch the sunset till I’m dry?”
He nods, even though his face tells me he’d rather get going. “We should leave before it gets too dark, though.”
“Don’t tell me my big bad Wolf is scared of the boogeyman!” Mara strokes his hair and he tilts his head back slightly.
“Hell, no,” he scoffs, his face crimson with embarrassment. He inches away from her, but she closes up the space between them. I feel like a creepy voyeur. But I can’t bring myself to venture elsewhere. This is where I need to be right now. “I’ve got a meeting with a college scout tonight. Plus, it’s just not a whole lot of fun getting back through the woods when it’s pitch-black.”
He negotiates the slippery granite surrounding the waterfall. He finds the “staircase,” something God must have created especially for the high school students of Halverston. While the rock atop the falls makes a great diving platform—smooth and flat—it’s not a great idea to actually jump in because of submerged rocks. If you land head first in the wrong spot, it could be…fatal.
This is Your Afterlife Page 16