Read Online Beyond the Grave by Mara Purnhagen - Free Book Online Page B

dressing, then sat across from Bliss at the table she’d chosen for us.
    It was the second week of September, and I was finally comfortable with my new routine. I attended two morning classes, came home for lunch and to walk Dante, then met up with Noah after school. When Dad was away at the care facility, I helped Shane with the DVD project, offering my opinion on scenes and searching our computer files for the original footage we’d taken a year earlier. We were more than halfway done.
    I’d even worked out a simple schedule with Avery. I texted her after English class, she texted after her Communications class, and we took turns calling every other night around nine. It wasn’t so bad. I knew all about her roommate’s loveof German techno music and how the dorm always smelled like onions and how Jared had decided to become vegan.
    â€œI love him, but every time I have a hamburger, he gives me a look,” she complained. “He can eat what he wants, so why can’t I eat what I want without feeling guilty?”
    Despite their differences in diet, they were still going strong, and I was happy for them.
    And Avery knew all about Trisha’s wedding plans and my classes and my walks with Dante, which I actually enjoyed, even if I was constantly on the lookout for the burgundy car. Nothing had changed so much that it couldn’t be put back the way it was, and for that I was grateful.
    I was also grateful that my late-night project was finally having some success. Encouraged by the two clear sentences I had recorded, I knew I had found positive energy. The helpful, non-evil kind that might bring me a step closer to making Mom better.
    Every night I spent an hour reaching out, and so far, I had captured five distinct EVPs, all of them assuring me, I will keep trying. The voice sounded female to me, and while most of the recordings were faint and garbled, it was enough for now to know that something was listening to me—and trying to respond.
    Happy that I was being helpful, I was able to concentrate more on my classes. My good mood carried me through the week, when I ran into Bliss outside the cafeteria and convinced her to have lunch with me. She hesitated at first, but finally gave in. I was determined to make her comfortable, to erase any of the suspicions she’d had about me in high school.
    â€œThis is fantastic,” I said as I stuffed a forkful of ranch-soaked goodness into my mouth.
    Bliss smiled and took a dainty bite of her own salad, which consisted of lettuce and a few sliced cucumbers.
    I pointed my fork in her direction. “No dressing? How can you eat plain lettuce like that?”
    â€œI like it this way,” she said. “Trust me. When you spend your entire elementary-school years being called Big Juicy you learn to enjoy things plain.”
    I almost choked on a slice of hard-boiled egg. “They called you Big Juicy?”
    Bliss shook her head. “It’s stupid, I know. I was a chunky kid, and one day in the fourth grade I made the unforgivable mistake of ordering a double cheeseburger at lunch, which wasn’t even on the menu. The nickname stuck.”
    â€œThat’s terrible.”
    â€œYeah, I was traumatized. But my grandfather was also heavy, and when I told him what had happened, we went on a diet together. We both lost weight. It was nice, actually.”
    â€œSounds like he was very supportive of you.”
    Bliss stared at her salad for a moment. “He was.”
    I didn’t know if that was my cue to say something encouraging, like, “I’m sure he still is.” I wasn’t good at sentiments like that, mainly because I didn’t believe that the dead lingered behind in order to watch over their loved ones. The silence between Bliss and I stretched for longer than was comfortable as I struggled to come up with something to say.
    â€œWell,” I began, “I’m sure he would be very