Rule Five: We can appear to the Living when it helps our investigation. Not just because we feel like it. And not when …”
Blah blah blah. I’d stopped listening to her. I was really starting to like Nancy but sometimes she could drone on more than the previews before a new movie. My brain had skidded onto another subject already. And it was Nancy’s fault. “That blond girl.” Kristen. Eww. Even thinking her name made me want to punch a wall. Which would have been pointless seeing as my hand would just have gone straight through it.
I got that ghosts don’t sleep. But even if I was still alive, there was no way I would have gotten three seconds of shut-eye last night. I’d had something of “a day,” as my grandmother would say. If you triple “a day” by a trillion billion percent. And that does not lead to calm thoughts when the sun goes down.
Death, haunting lessons, extreme dizziness, the Empire incident. I’m not saying they paled in insignificance at the sight of that heinous head cheerleader preying on David in his moment of weakness and need, but it did not help. And that was before I even let myself miss my mom and dad.
I had a horrible feeling death was about to get worse before it got better.
All night I lay on my new bed in the Hotel Attesa and thought way too much. Not about what was going to happen to me now or how I’d get my Key but about everything—and everyone—I’d lost. Who hated me enough to commit murder? To push me in front of a speeding subway train, just to get me out of the way?
And out of the way for what?
By the time I heard the morning cabs honking outside, I still had no answers. It wasn’t like I was the kind of girl who made enemies—or friends—easily. Who was bothered enough about me to want me dead? All I knew was that I had to get out of the Attesa and do something. And when I said “out” what I meant was “check up on David and the evil cheerwhore.”
“Basically, Charlotte, it’s a bad idea. I know you’re new, but even you can see that.” Nancy was pleading now. Her green eyes all big and pleeease at me. Despite the fact that the General Hospital couple on-screen were now having a major fight—oh! another male character had come in brandishing a gun—Nancy hadn’t even noticed. That’s how serious she was about my stay-put-iness.
Whatever. I was serious too. My mind was made up.
“Look, the way I see it,” I said, “I may be here for some time, so the sooner I get a handle on the Rules, the better.” I patted my blazer pocket where my copy was kept, as if somehow having it on my person meant the wisdom would seep into my body and make me Nancy-smart. “And that includes when to apparite and when not to.”
One look at her face told me my argument was going nowhere. It was a shame Nancy would never have kids. If her daughter had ever tried the I-only-missed-my-ten-p.m.-curfew-because-I-was-studying-at-Carly’s-house line, Nancy would have seen right through it.
Time to change tack.
“I thought a lot during the night and I’ve realized what the trigger is that makes me apparite: It’s thinking about how much I miss David,” I said.
Nancy gave me her special mom-face again. Man, did she have it down. Did she practice it in the mirror before every new ghost came in for instruction?
“Like, on the observation deck,” I said, “I was thinking about David and boom! I went all pink and visible and glowy. Then in his bedroom, when I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to be upset about me? Glow city.”
“Yes, that’s very perceptive of you, Charlotte,” Nancy said, going to pat my hand. I pulled mine away. “But with the greatest respect, you may know what your trigger is, but unless you can control it—control thinking about David in that way—then it’s no help.” She sighed. “Look, you haven’t even been dead for twenty-four hours yet.” I might not have known the difference between a proton and an electron in the
Blah blah blah. I’d stopped listening to her. I was really starting to like Nancy but sometimes she could drone on more than the previews before a new movie. My brain had skidded onto another subject already. And it was Nancy’s fault. “That blond girl.” Kristen. Eww. Even thinking her name made me want to punch a wall. Which would have been pointless seeing as my hand would just have gone straight through it.
I got that ghosts don’t sleep. But even if I was still alive, there was no way I would have gotten three seconds of shut-eye last night. I’d had something of “a day,” as my grandmother would say. If you triple “a day” by a trillion billion percent. And that does not lead to calm thoughts when the sun goes down.
Death, haunting lessons, extreme dizziness, the Empire incident. I’m not saying they paled in insignificance at the sight of that heinous head cheerleader preying on David in his moment of weakness and need, but it did not help. And that was before I even let myself miss my mom and dad.
I had a horrible feeling death was about to get worse before it got better.
All night I lay on my new bed in the Hotel Attesa and thought way too much. Not about what was going to happen to me now or how I’d get my Key but about everything—and everyone—I’d lost. Who hated me enough to commit murder? To push me in front of a speeding subway train, just to get me out of the way?
And out of the way for what?
By the time I heard the morning cabs honking outside, I still had no answers. It wasn’t like I was the kind of girl who made enemies—or friends—easily. Who was bothered enough about me to want me dead? All I knew was that I had to get out of the Attesa and do something. And when I said “out” what I meant was “check up on David and the evil cheerwhore.”
“Basically, Charlotte, it’s a bad idea. I know you’re new, but even you can see that.” Nancy was pleading now. Her green eyes all big and pleeease at me. Despite the fact that the General Hospital couple on-screen were now having a major fight—oh! another male character had come in brandishing a gun—Nancy hadn’t even noticed. That’s how serious she was about my stay-put-iness.
Whatever. I was serious too. My mind was made up.
“Look, the way I see it,” I said, “I may be here for some time, so the sooner I get a handle on the Rules, the better.” I patted my blazer pocket where my copy was kept, as if somehow having it on my person meant the wisdom would seep into my body and make me Nancy-smart. “And that includes when to apparite and when not to.”
One look at her face told me my argument was going nowhere. It was a shame Nancy would never have kids. If her daughter had ever tried the I-only-missed-my-ten-p.m.-curfew-because-I-was-studying-at-Carly’s-house line, Nancy would have seen right through it.
Time to change tack.
“I thought a lot during the night and I’ve realized what the trigger is that makes me apparite: It’s thinking about how much I miss David,” I said.
Nancy gave me her special mom-face again. Man, did she have it down. Did she practice it in the mirror before every new ghost came in for instruction?
“Like, on the observation deck,” I said, “I was thinking about David and boom! I went all pink and visible and glowy. Then in his bedroom, when I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to be upset about me? Glow city.”
“Yes, that’s very perceptive of you, Charlotte,” Nancy said, going to pat my hand. I pulled mine away. “But with the greatest respect, you may know what your trigger is, but unless you can control it—control thinking about David in that way—then it’s no help.” She sighed. “Look, you haven’t even been dead for twenty-four hours yet.” I might not have known the difference between a proton and an electron in the
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