Spirits of Spring (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 4) (12 page)

The longer she talked, the louder and more annoying
Brooke’s voice grew until I finally had to say something. “Shh!
Ms. Wrong over there is going to throw the book at us any
second now. Literally.”

“Who? The librarian?” Brooke replied without lowering
her voice even a fraction of a decibel. “That’s my Aunt
Stephanie—she really isn’t as mean as everyone thinks she is.”

O-M-G.
Open mouth, insert well-heeled foot.
I knew
that Ms. Wright’s maiden name was Morgan but I never even
dreamed that she and Brooke might be related. I should have
realized that in a town this size,
everyone
was probably related
somewhere along the line.
Brooke was wrong, though—her
aunt was meaner than most people would ever guess. I knew
the truth about the things she did twenty years ago but I had to
keep it to myself and find a quick way to backpedal around my
faux pas.
And I had to find a way to do it with Clay sitting
beside
me,
laughing
even
harder
than
he
was
before.
Instinctively, I launched my foot into what was supposed to be
his shin in an effort to get him to stop.
Of course, my foot
instead sailed straight through him and into the leg of his chair.
Was I
ever
going to remember that he wasn’t alive? Once he
realized that I had meant to kick him and not the chair, he
laughed so hard that I was afraid that the table might start
moving. How would I explain
that
one to Brooke? On the other
hand, a good old fashioned table tipping would keep me from
having to apologize for insulting her aunt. Come on, Clay!
You
can do it—rattle that table just a little bit for me!
Please
?

I willed the table to move for about ten seconds but
when nothing happened, I gave up with a sigh.
It was time to
apologize to a girl I didn’t really like for a comment that I stood
behind one hundred percent. “Sorry, Brooke. I didn’t mean to
offend you,” I said as sincerely as I could manage.

“Oh, that’s okay—I know most people don’t like her.”
Brooke pointed to the last item on her detailed list of ideas.
“This is the part I’m really excited about! What do you think of
it?”

I took one look at the overly flowery script to which she
was drawing attention and did my best not to roll my eyes.
“Initiation ceremony,” it read. What did she think this was—a
coven? A sorority? Quickly, I reminded myself that in a few
short
months
I
would
be
leaving
this
school
forever.
Swallowing my control issues, I told her that it sounded like a
fun idea and that she should be in charge of it.
She got so
excited that I could swear I saw her eyes
actually
sparkle.

After enduring
a few more minutes
full of insane
initiation ceremony ideas, the bell mercifully rang.
Brooke
rattled off something about not wanting to be late for her first
period class and shot out of the library leaving me alone with
Clay. As I gathered up my books, I thought about his situation
and realized that I now had more information about how he
died than he did. Now that I knew that his death looked more
like a homicide than a suicide, maybe he would be more willing
to discuss moving on.

“So, Clay,” I said in a whisper, “If you’re not doing
anything after school, can you come over to my house? I have
some new information about your death.”

“Well, I
was
going to meet Casper for a quick game of
one on one before my date with that hot chick from
The Ring,
but I suppose I can reschedule for tomorrow,” Clay said with a
totally straight face before eventually cracking up again at my
expense. “Really, what kind of fascinating death do you think I
lead, Ruby?”

Mental face palm. It’s a good thing Clay wasn’t sensitive
about his situation because I certainly kept rubbing salt in his
metaphorical wounds. Why couldn’t I seem to remember that
he wasn’t alive? “Sorry! So I take it that you’re free to meet me
then?”

“Free, yes. Looking forward to talking about the night I
died, no. You know how I feel about that and nothing you have
to say could possibly change my mind on the subject.”

“Oh that’s where you’re wrong—I have one word for
you that will change everything,” I replied smugly. Unlike
Brooke, I was in no hurry to get to my World Cultures class and
was willing to risk tardiness just to mess with Clay’s mind for a
little bit.

He eyed me suspiciously for a moment as though he
was trying to decide whether or not I actually had something
interesting to tell him. “Fine, you win,” he said with an air of
exasperation, “What’s the word?”

I tried to drag the suspense out while I gathered my
things but I just couldn’t do it. I was about ready to burst. He’d
spent a year thinking that he committed suicide and I couldn’t
let him think it for a single second longer.

“Murder!” I blurted out sharply then clasped my hand
over my mouth. Ms. Wright bored holes straight through me
with her beady little eyes but said nothing. Apparently, she was
slightly afraid of me after finding out that I connected with her
long dead friend and revealed the part that she herself had
played in the events leading up to Garnet’s suicide. Not that I
could blame her, of course. I would be afraid of me, too. In fact,
some days I was still slightly afraid of myself. Why was I so
epically weird? There was no use pondering it—I would never
be normal but at least I could take advantage of those few
moments when it worked in my favor like this one. With an air
of confidence, I slung my bag over my shoulder and strolled
past her desk. Like. A. Boss.

With a look of sheer horror in his eyes, Clay blurted that
word right back at me. “Murder? Who did I kill and why do
you seem so excited about it?”

For about the hundredth time just this morning alone, I
offered him a giant eye roll—the kind that are so intense that it
feels like you are in danger of losing them forever somewhere
within the far reaches of their sockets. “No, dummy! You were
the victim not the perpetrator!”

While I was
pretty
certain
that he was
clueless
regarding the definition of the word
perpetrator
, he clearly
understood the first part of what I said.
His jaw dropped
visibly and it took him a while to respond. “Hol-ee hell! You
think somebody killed me? Who? And why?”

As I opened my mouth to answer him, the second bell
rang and I was still half a hallway away from where I needed to
be. “I can’t talk about it now. Go do whatever it is ghosts do
when they aren’t haunting me and we’ll talk about it later. I’m
late for my morning nap in World Cultures. I’ll call for you
when I’m ready to discuss the details.”

“Just like a woman—you drop a
major
bomb on me and
then tell me that I’ll have to wait until
you’re
ready to talk about
it!
Wow, Mason sure has his hands full with a little dominatrix
like you.” This time I was on the receiving end of a giant eye
roll. He shook his head, grinned, and disappeared.

Before heading in for my nap, I considered my new title
for just a moment.
Dominatrix.
I kind of liked the sound of
that. I cracked my imaginary whip into the spot where Clay had
been standing and smiled to myself. Feeling in charge of my life
was nice for a change. I could get used to that.

As soon as I got home, I went in search of Shelly.
The
sweet scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls led me to the
kitchen and
straight to
her.
Meeting
the Masons had a
profound
effect
on
my
life
and
not
just
in
the
friendship/relationship arena. Zach’s mom had managed to do
the impossible—teach my stepmother how to cook like a pro.
Seriously. It was hard to believe that less than a year ago she
was still finding a way to burn Spaghettios.
Those things were
gross enough to begin with but even worse once charred.
And
how long had it been since my last bowl of Lucky Charms? I
forgot all about sugary cereal once eggs and bacon found a
permanent home on my plate. Then I realized something—in a
few short months, I wouldn’t have Shelly cooking for me
anymore. Or doing my laundry, either. I knew for a fact that
Zach could keep us well fed but what about clean?
Chores
would have to be split 50-50 once we were living together so
laundry would probably fall on my shoulders.
And while I
didn’t think Zach would mind wearing pink shirts and
underwear every now and again, I was going to have to learn
how to keep my overly red wardrobe from tainting everything
he owned. Geez.
I used to think that living on our own was
going to be a nonstop date but reality was quickly setting in.
Growing up wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be.

But eggs and underwear would have to go on the back
burner for now, so to speak. What I really needed to do was
sell Shelly on the best idea
ever
. If I could convince her to go
along with it, my dad wouldn’t be able to tell us
both
no.
He
would be outnumbered and therefore his opinion would be
invalid.
Oh yes, I would be ranked with
Einstein
upon
completion of this plan.

“Shelly,” I said sweetly as though I were addressing the
Queen, “Those cinnamon rolls smell delicious!
Can I have one,
please?”

“Please?” she replied as she lovingly drizzled icing over
each one. “You’re either running a fever or you want
something—which is it?”

Okay, so I was a transparent genius. But I was still a
genius.
A genius dominatrix.
No more beating around the
bush—time to go in for the kill. “I have an idea that I hope
you’ll go along with. If you agree with me, you know Dad will
have no choice but to let me do what I want to do.
Are you on
board?”

“Well, it would help if I knew what your plan was. It
sounds like something major, though—something we should
discuss over a cinnamon roll and a cup of coffee, maybe?”

Coffee? I’d never been invited to coffee and a
discussion before. It made me seriously feel like her equal—
like an adult. Hell yeah, I wanted coffee! I nodded my head and
smiled before snatching two mugs from the cupboard. Shelly
dished out cinnamon rolls for us both as I poured our drinks.
My confidence was soaring and it was damn near intoxicating.

“So,” I said as I pulled off a bite and popped it into my
mouth, “I haven’t spent any of the money Giuseppe gave me but
I have a rather large purchase I would like to make and I need
your approval.”

Shelly cocked one eyebrow at me and took a drink
before replying. “This better not have anything to do with
shoes.”

I was
momentarily
offended by
her remark until I
remembered how I spent my entire first paycheck from my job
at Something Wick-ed. Boots—need I say more? It was fall and
I needed to make sure my feet stayed warm for the entire
winter.
Winter
seemed
to be lasting
forever here—much
longer than when we lived in Trinity.
My shopping spree
proved to be a stellar move on my part. Nope, not the least bit
impractical.

“It has absolutely nothing to do with shoes,” I said as I
began to contemplate the hundreds of new sandals that would
be hitting shelves any day now. “As a matter of fact, it isn’t
even about wanting to buy something for myself. I want to use
some of the money to help out someone who really needs it.”

“Yes,” I said, ignoring the sheer surprise she showed
regarding my magnanimous announcement. “I would like to
buy a new car—for Zach. He’s done so much for me and I know
how bad he needs one. He’s been fighting with his dad a lot
lately because of money and I want to help him out. Can I do
it?”

“The decision is entirely up to you, Ruby. That money is
yours and when it runs out, it runs out. Simple as that. You
need to pay attention to how much you spend and what you
spend it on. As long as you aren’t planning to drain your entire
account on some flashy sports car, another vehicle is definitely
a more sound investment than the infamous shoe shopping
spree you went on in September. It would be a very nice way to
thank him for everything but do you think he will accept your
offer?”

Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that. Zach was very
touchy when it came to financial issues. He visibly squirmed
every time I mentioned spending money on him. But we were
going to need two vehicles once we were out on our own—my
broken down Neon alone just wasn’t going to cut it. Zach and I
needed to have an adult discussion. He needed to realize that if
we were going to make things work, he would need to stop
letting his pride of idiocy get in the way. He had to start looking
at me not just as his girlfriend, but as his partner. Great.
More
grown up issues to have to deal with.

“I’ll find a way to make him accept it,” I said as I licked
the last drop of icing from the tip of my finger. “And I was
thinking
more along
the
lines
of
a
slightly used
SUV—
something practical, something that will be good for hauling all
of our stuff out to Ohio.” OMG. Did I just use the word
practical? It was like I opened
my
mouth but
my dad’s
words
spilled out.
Suddenly, I was
feeling
way
too responsible.
Maybe just one ridiculously expensive shoe purchase would
make me feel more like a kid again.