Dead Is the New Black (10 page)

"Okay," Poppy said in a whisper, "I was snooping, obviously, just like you were."

Rachel had a private room, which was decorated in peach and white. The spicy smell of the roses and lilies masked the antiseptic hospital odors.

Samantha was the only visitor left in the room. She'd pulled her chair up next to Rachel's bed and was whispering something in her ear when we walked in.

Rachel was lying in the bed, propped up with several pillows. There was an IV drip attached to her arm, and unidentifiable machines surrounded her. An uneaten dinner lay abandoned on the tray. She smiled when she saw us standing in the doorway.

I smiled back, but the sight of her made me want to cry. In the few days since I'd last seen her, her appearance had deteriorated. Rachel was naturally slender, but she'd lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. She looked ghastly, like one of the consumptive patients from Rose's science books. Her skin and lips were so pale she looked as though she'd been drained of blood. Her skin was almost translucent. The white streak in her hair had grown so wide it almost covered the entire crown of her head, which made her look my grandma's age.

She was barely recognizable as the Rachel we knew. It was as if the beauty had been sucked right out of her.

I focused my gaze on Samantha. "Where have you been?" she snapped.

"The nurse wouldn't let us come in," I said. "Too many visitors." I smiled at Rachel. "It seems you're as popular as ever."

Samantha frowned but didn't say anything else.

"I have had a lot of visitors," Rachel said in a weak voice. "Miss Foster, Nurse Phillips, and some of the other teachers from school stopped by." She saw the flowers, which lay forgotten in my hands. "Are those for me?"

When I nodded, she looked delighted. "They're lovely. Everyone has been so nice." She gestured toward the entire greenhouse of bouquets already in her room. That's when I saw the ankh bracelet on her thin wrist.

I said to Rachel, "I like your bracelet."

"Samantha gave it to me. Isn't it great?"

"Peachy," I said, narrowing my eyes at Samantha.

"Rachel is still part of the squad, Daisy," she said. "We're all wearing them." She looked pointedly at my wrist. "Everyone, it seems, except you."

"I forgot it at home," I said. I'm a terrible liar.

Sam glared at me.

Rachel looked distressed at our bickering, and I felt ashamed of myself about arguing in a hospital room.

"Next time we visit, we'll bring magazines," Poppy promised, just as I opened my mouth to apologize.

"Rachel's going to be out of here in no time," Samantha said. "Isn't that right, Rach?"

Rachel said weakly, "Yeah, sure." But she didn't sound very convinced. After a long silence, she added, "Poppy, magazines would be very thoughtful. I honestly don't know how long I'll be in here."

Time to do a little digging. "Has your doctor narrowed it down at all?"

Samantha changed the subject abruptly. "Did I tell you who the newest couple is?" She sent me death rays with her eyes, but I ignored the warning.

Rachel ignored Samantha's lame attempt at avoidance. "The doctors are stumped, Daisy," she said softly, "and it's getting worse." A tear ran down her cheek, but she smiled at me and I could see a glimmer of remaining beauty.

Samantha turned away, but not before I saw that she was weeping silently. And my normally chatty sister was completely silent.

As soon as I could speak, I said, "We'll do anything we can to help you. Anything."

Rachel's mom arrived, toting a big Tupperware container of food. "I hope you have an appetite tonight," she said to Rachel, "because I made all your favorites." She added, "She doesn't like the hospital food, and I can't say I blame her."

"We'd better go," I said. "Rachel, I'll see you soon."

I told Samantha I was riding home with Poppy and we said good- bye.

In the car on the way home, I dug through my purse, looking for a scrap of paper to write on, when the paper towel I'd scribbled on earlier fell out.

"What's that?" Poppy pointed to it.

"I jotted down a few notes from Rachel's chart, but I can't understand it," I admitted. A thought occurred to me. "Do we have time to stop at the library? Maybe we can find a medical dictionary."

As we left the hospital parking lot, a mint-condition pink 1957 Thunderbird convertible squealed out of the driveway and cut Poppy off as she started to make the turn. Poppy slammed on her brakes, and the driver honked her horn and sped past us.

"Learn to drive," Poppy shouted, but we were both a little shaken by the incident.

"It was a beautiful car, though," I said. "Dad would have loved it." My father had loved classic cars.

"Maybe not in pink," Poppy giggled. She sobered quickly and said, "I haven't heard you talk about Dad in a long time."

"I didn't have anything to say," I replied. My father had been a professor at UC Nightshade until his mysterious disappearance five years ago. The official version is that he died while doing some research in a forest in northern California. The unofficial version, which was talked about in hushed whispers all around town, was that he ran off with another woman, leaving behind his wife and three daughters.

My mother refused to believe either version and preferred to think he was still out there somewhere—alive, but unable to get back to us. This is one case where her psychic powers were useless. I think he just left us and never looked back. And that's why I never talked about my father.

"Mom's still looking for him, you know," Poppy said. "All those nights when she says she's working late? I think she's still trying to find Dad."

"Mom's a hopeless romantic," I said.

Poppy said softly, "Hopeful, Daisy. She's a hopeful romantic." I didn't know how Mom could still have hope after all these years. I know I didn't. I just wanted to survive my junior year.

Chapter Eleven

That Friday evening, there was no football game, so I went with the rest of the squad to visit Rachel in the hospital again. Poppy came along to deliver the magazines she promised. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't doing any better. Poppy and I left the hospital saddened by her dire state.

Things seemed pretty grim between Ryan and me, too. We had planned to hang out that night, but for some reason he had never called.

"I need a pick-me-up," I said. "Want to go to Slim's?"

"Sounds good," said Poppy. "Why don't you call Rose and see if she wants to come along."

Rose was just getting out of her last class of the week when I reached her on her cell phone. She said she'd meet us at the diner.

Hanging with my sisters at the diner was way better than sitting home on a Friday night. A lot of Nightshade kids drove to Santa Cruz and hung out at the pier on the weekends, which meant Main Street was usually dead on Friday night. Tonight was no exception.

At Slim's, Flo sat at the counter, thumbing through a magazine. When we entered, the bell over the door jangled. I assumed its purpose was to alert Flo to the presence of customers, but it certainly didn't interrupt her reading.

Rose was already waiting for Poppy and me in our favorite booth, the one at the end by the big bay window.

Flo eventually meandered over to take our order. Tonight her shirt read, "I LIKE CHILDREN—FRIED."—W.C. FIELDS.

"I'm starving," Poppy said. "This was a great idea, Daisy. Comfort food is just what we need." She ordered a plate of chili fries and a chicken sandwich. Rose tried to order a salad, but we convinced her she needed a side of onion rings, too.

"Is there fresh coffee, Flo?" I asked. "I need coffee and a cheeseburger."

Flo ambled off to put in our order and then resumed her position at the counter.

"Coffee?" Rose said. "At this time of night? You'll never get to sleep." It was seven o'clock, tops.

"I won't be able to sleep anyway," I confessed gloomily. "I want to help Rachel, but I don't know how." I had been to the library a few times that week trying to interpret the information I had copied from Rachel's chart, but it was no use. I didn't even understand half of what I'd read.

"Oh, the sick cheerleader," Rose said. "How is she doing?"

"We went to see her again today," Poppy said. "She looked like she's at death's door."

"The doctors have run all sorts of tests and found nothing," I said. "Or at least that's what they're telling Rachel."

I sighed. I had been so determined to figure out Rachel's problem myself, but who was I kidding? Rose studied science at college, so she had a much better understanding of medical jargon than I did.

I dug through my purse, found the paper towel with my notes on it, and handed it to Rose. "Maybe this says different."

Rose looked over my notes. "Daisy, I won't ask you how you got this information," she said.

"Good. And I won't tell you," I replied.

She studied the scribbles for a few minutes.

"Well?" asked Poppy anxiously.

Rose shook her head. "They haven't been able to diagnose her with anything. They're stumped. Either Rachel's faking it or—"

"Or what?" Poppy and I said together.

"Or it's not natural at all. I think what's happening to Rachel is supernatural, and the best hospital in the world can't cure that."

"We do know that there's a psionic vampire in town," Poppy said. "What you heard at the council meeting confirmed it."

"How do we trap a supernatural villain?" I said.

We stared at each other. It was a question that none of us had an answer for.

I sighed and put my hands in my pockets. I was wearing the hoodie I'd worn the night Ryan and I snuck into the morgue. The night he'd kissed me for the first time.

My hand touched something metal—the bracelet Samantha had given me. I pulled it out of my pocket and laid it on the table.

"Rachel had on a bracelet just like that," Poppy observed.

"Samantha gave them to all the girls on the squad," I said. "I don't like wearing it, though. It gives me the creeps. The ankh has a connection to vampirism. Right, Rose?"

"It can also represent life," Rose said skeptically.

I looked at the bracelet, more confused then ever.

"Are you saying you think Samantha Devereaux is the psionic vampire?" Poppy asked under her breath.

"Sometimes I think she could be," I admitted. "What if she's using these bracelets as some kind of energy conductor or something? She's always making sure we're wearing them. Maybe they help her get her soul fix."

Rose and Poppy looked doubtful.

"The vamp has to be someone who has access to the cheerleaders," I continued. "She's the head cheerleader, so she definitely has the opportunity."

"But what's her motivation?" Rose asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Beauty? Popularity?"

"Samantha's always been beautiful," Rose replied.

"Plus, she's already the most popular girl in school," Poppy pointed out. "And she's only a junior!"

I finally gave up. I couldn't even convince my own sisters that Samantha could be our vamp. "Well, who else could it be?" I asked, but nobody had any answers.

Flo finally arrived with our food. I bit into my deliciously greasy cheeseburger.

Rose picked daintily at her salad, but I noticed she slathered the onion rings with barbeque sauce and ranch dressing.

I glanced out the window and noticed a couple walking toward the police station. There was something about the back of the guy that looked familiar. Long legs, broad shoulders, and a few rebellious curls caressing the back of his neck. It was Ryan. With another girl. I couldn't tell who she was, but she wore a black cowboy hat.

I pushed away my cheeseburger. I wasn't hungry any longer. But I was pretty pissed off. It looked like Ryan was taking some other girl to the morgue. From what Officer Denton had said, it wasn't the first time.

Flo pulled up a stool. "Nothing better to do tonight than hang out here?" she said.

Poppy replied, through a mouthful of chili fries, "This is it. What's new with you?"

Flo thought for a minute. "I got nothin'." She snapped her fingers. "Wait a minute!" She fished a quarter out of her pocket and handed it to me. "Go play the jukebox."

"It's still here? I assumed Slim would have traded it in by now." I wasn't really concentrating on the conversation, but instead stared out the window and willed Ryan to reappear.

Flo shrugged. "It kind of grows on you. Some people like not knowing what it'll play next. Although it doesn't do it for everybody."

It had worked for me before, so I figured it would do it again. Besides, you know what they say, music soothes the jealous girlfriend. So I got up, put a quarter in, and looked at the selections. "Flo, I've never heard of half of these songs."

I selected an old Green Day song but was prepared when a different song came on instead.

"Is this thing defective?" Poppy asked.

"Nope," Flo said. "I'm pretty sure it's doing it on purpose."

"What's the name of this song?" I asked Flo.

"This song is 'Heartbreaker' by Pat Benatar. It seems to be trying to tell you something."

Great. Now even inanimate objects were sending me mixed messages. The last thing I needed to hear was a song about a guy breaking some girl's heart.

The bell above the door jangled, and then Ryan walked in with a gorgeous redheaded girl. This time, I heard the jukebox's message loud and clear.

Chapter Twelve

Ryan and his companion were so engrossed in their conversation that they walked right by our booth before he saw us.

"Daisy, what are you doing here?" Ryan asked. I'd never noticed how shifty his green eyes were.

"Having dinner with my sisters," I said icily. "Heartbreaker" faded and then cut out.

"Oh," he said. "I thought you'd be out with the other cheerleaders."

"I'm not," I stated the obvious. Coldly.

"Oh," he said again.

Oh, indeed.

"You're Daisy?" the redhead squealed. Not exactly the greeting I was expecting. I gave Ryan a puzzled look.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she said. She slid into the booth and threw her arms around me.