the Hotel Attesa’s lobby. And until all I was left with was porting sickness …
And the image of the hottest girl in school pushing David’s dirty blond hair out of his eyes.
Chapter 7
“ I CAN’T DO IT—NOT TO HER. SHE WAS THE LOVE of my life. We were together for too long to disrespect her in this way. It’s … it’s not fair. It’s not me .”
“Oh, but you can. She left you alone. And she’ll never be back. You can’t be lonely for the rest of your life. You deserve a chance at happiness. She’d want that for you. She loved you—she wouldn’t want you to sit here alone, unhappy forever, would she?”
“But this feels so wrong. I can’t. I won’t. I—I—I—… Oh, okay then …”
It was the morning after the day I died, and I was standing outside HHQ, the door slightly ajar. And I could hear a weird, muffled conversation going on inside. Between a man and a woman. Who sounded like they had a lot to discuss.
I slowly pushed the door open a few inches more.
I never—if I was stuck in the Attesa for a million years—expected to see the sight waiting for me on the other side.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” a male voice was saying. “I was upset. It was wrong. You caught me by surprise.”
Nancy was sitting with her legs tucked underneath her, as close to the TV screen as she could get, drinking in the conversation taking place between the actors on it like it was the first pumpkin latte of Halloween.
So that’s who was talking—some actors in a shitty TV drama. It seemed that, as well as being an ace detectress, Nancy was a soap-opera addict. Surely there was a Rule that forbade that kind of pointless vegging out, when you could be crime fighting?
“Uh-hum!” I coughed loudly. And totally not realistically. Nancy jumped so hard she hit her glasses on the screen. “What are you doing?” I asked sweetly. I was going to enjoy this.
“Um, I’m, I …,” she mumbled guiltily.
“It’s the, um, new episode of General Hospital ,” she said quietly. “It’s sort of my favorite show. I used to watch it every day after I’d finished my homework. I missed it when I came here. I inadvertently discovered this TV and if you, um, twiddle this knob”—she pointed at the largest of the rusty ones below the front of the screen—“it can pick up the Living’s daytime TV!”
“When you’re not crime solving, of course,” I said.
“Oh, of course ,” Nancy echoed solemnly.
“ General Hospital , hey? I’ve got some questionable TV habits myself, Nancy.” Don’t mention Gilmore Girls , don’t mention Gilmore Girls , or the fact it got so bad that in fifth grade you named your teddy Lorelai. “What does someone as smart as you see in a show like this?”
“I think Jason is kind of dreamy—” Nancy admitted.
“Jason? Is he still in it?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “Not that I’ve ever seen it either.” Damn, upper hand destroyed. I needed a subject change. Fast.
“Nancy,” I said as assertively as I could. “I’m going out. Alone.”
That shocked her out of her soap-induced coma. “Out? Alone? In the city? Charlotte, do you really think that’s wise after everything that happened yesterday?”
She pushed her hair behind her ear and her glasses did their wiggle thing. It was totally her nervous habit.
“I mean, first off you over-apparited up the Empire State—and by the way, I’ve checked the local news and there are no stories about a small dark-haired girl disappearing on top of the Empire State Building, so that’s a major relief.” Yeah, because it’s the kind of story that makes the evening news, right? Whoa, kid skips a line without paying in New York shocker. “Then you mind-pulled us into David’s bedroom —and you very nearly turned into an apparition there too. Imagine if he and that blond girl had seen you as a spirit! They’d be shouting about ghosts all over New York. And that wouldn’t help our investigation, would it?
And the image of the hottest girl in school pushing David’s dirty blond hair out of his eyes.
Chapter 7
“ I CAN’T DO IT—NOT TO HER. SHE WAS THE LOVE of my life. We were together for too long to disrespect her in this way. It’s … it’s not fair. It’s not me .”
“Oh, but you can. She left you alone. And she’ll never be back. You can’t be lonely for the rest of your life. You deserve a chance at happiness. She’d want that for you. She loved you—she wouldn’t want you to sit here alone, unhappy forever, would she?”
“But this feels so wrong. I can’t. I won’t. I—I—I—… Oh, okay then …”
It was the morning after the day I died, and I was standing outside HHQ, the door slightly ajar. And I could hear a weird, muffled conversation going on inside. Between a man and a woman. Who sounded like they had a lot to discuss.
I slowly pushed the door open a few inches more.
I never—if I was stuck in the Attesa for a million years—expected to see the sight waiting for me on the other side.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” a male voice was saying. “I was upset. It was wrong. You caught me by surprise.”
Nancy was sitting with her legs tucked underneath her, as close to the TV screen as she could get, drinking in the conversation taking place between the actors on it like it was the first pumpkin latte of Halloween.
So that’s who was talking—some actors in a shitty TV drama. It seemed that, as well as being an ace detectress, Nancy was a soap-opera addict. Surely there was a Rule that forbade that kind of pointless vegging out, when you could be crime fighting?
“Uh-hum!” I coughed loudly. And totally not realistically. Nancy jumped so hard she hit her glasses on the screen. “What are you doing?” I asked sweetly. I was going to enjoy this.
“Um, I’m, I …,” she mumbled guiltily.
“It’s the, um, new episode of General Hospital ,” she said quietly. “It’s sort of my favorite show. I used to watch it every day after I’d finished my homework. I missed it when I came here. I inadvertently discovered this TV and if you, um, twiddle this knob”—she pointed at the largest of the rusty ones below the front of the screen—“it can pick up the Living’s daytime TV!”
“When you’re not crime solving, of course,” I said.
“Oh, of course ,” Nancy echoed solemnly.
“ General Hospital , hey? I’ve got some questionable TV habits myself, Nancy.” Don’t mention Gilmore Girls , don’t mention Gilmore Girls , or the fact it got so bad that in fifth grade you named your teddy Lorelai. “What does someone as smart as you see in a show like this?”
“I think Jason is kind of dreamy—” Nancy admitted.
“Jason? Is he still in it?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “Not that I’ve ever seen it either.” Damn, upper hand destroyed. I needed a subject change. Fast.
“Nancy,” I said as assertively as I could. “I’m going out. Alone.”
That shocked her out of her soap-induced coma. “Out? Alone? In the city? Charlotte, do you really think that’s wise after everything that happened yesterday?”
She pushed her hair behind her ear and her glasses did their wiggle thing. It was totally her nervous habit.
“I mean, first off you over-apparited up the Empire State—and by the way, I’ve checked the local news and there are no stories about a small dark-haired girl disappearing on top of the Empire State Building, so that’s a major relief.” Yeah, because it’s the kind of story that makes the evening news, right? Whoa, kid skips a line without paying in New York shocker. “Then you mind-pulled us into David’s bedroom —and you very nearly turned into an apparition there too. Imagine if he and that blond girl had seen you as a spirit! They’d be shouting about ghosts all over New York. And that wouldn’t help our investigation, would it?
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