The Screaming Season (6 page)

“Did Spider see her too?” I asked.

“No. He was texting Julie. Or trying to. Reception around here sucks.” He tried to smile. “I was so scared I nearly ran off the road.”

“You’ve been to too many séances,” I tossed off. Mandy was famous for them, pulling out all the stops with Ouija boards and candlelight. The irony was, she really could communicate with the dead.

“I haven’t been to a séance in forever,” he insisted, his expression solemn. Then he smiled tentatively at me. “Anyway, when you’re up for it, I thought we could get back to researching Dr. Abernathy and the lobotomies. Unless you’re done with that. Thanks to me.”

“I am done, but only because we’ve solved the mystery. He performed them, and he died.” I was sorry to lie to Troy, but the situation had gotten too strained. If I went off again—if
Celia
went off—he’d dump me for sure.

“Okay.” He sounded disappointed. I had a moment of doubt; what would we have in common if we didn’t keep looking into the buried history of Marlwood?
Mandy?

“What did your parents say about . . . ?” I gestured to his arm.

“I didn’t tell them. My mom’s at a retreat,” he said. “And my dad’s in the middle of some big merger deal.”

“What does your mom have to retreat from?” I asked, and he quirked the right side of his mouth.

“She’s always got something. Anyway, I told everybody I fell. Coach says I’m a klutz. We all covered for you. Mandy and Miles, too.”

“That was really nice of her,” I managed to say, even though I thought I might strangle on the words. Either she was covering her own butt or trying to show Troy what a great little gal she was. But for sure she didn’t have my best interests at heart. We had thrown down over Troy. Like he was a bone. Or a toy.

A possession.

He turned to go, and I was sorry that I’d pretty much told him to leave. But I knew I couldn’t take it back. That would make me look too eager. Did we always have to play games with guys?

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured. “I hope.”

I gave him a genuine smile, remembering when I’d phoned him at the crack of dawn and begged him to meet me. And he had. He must have thought I was pathetic, weeping and whiny. After that, he kept promising to break up with Mandy, even though I had never asked him to in the first place. Kept promising, and kept not doing it.

I felt a little pissed off.

My cell phone rang. We both jumped a foot and laughed.

“I’ll let you get that.” His voice was a bit strained. Jealousy? That would be nice.

He turned on his heel and waved over his shoulder. I gave him a wave back, and then he left the room. I looked at the caller ID. Heather. I took a deep breath. Okay.

It was time.

FIVE

I HEARD TROY talking in the hall to Ms. Simonet—her voice was sugar sweet; everyone liked Troy—as I connected to the call and put my phone to my ear.

“Oh, my God, you’re actually alive,” Heather said, aiming for funny, but sounding nervous. We hadn’t spoken since Christmas Eve. Which was, in part, why I had been avoiding calling her back.

“Lucky for you,” I said.

“Yeah, well, maybe.” After a beat, she said, “Hello,
fea
.”
Fea
meant “ugly” in Spanish. While the whole world felt obligated to call me “Linz,” she had remained an American original. I knew that by using it, she was trying very hard to relate to the me I had been before I joined Jane’s posse of evil.

Back in the day; that is, freshman year, we had mocked girls like Jane. Rolled our eyes in pity at all the effort Jane appeared to expend to stay at the top of the social heap—the right clothes, the right music, the right places to hang out. Funny thing was, once I was in, I discovered that for Jane, being number one was fairly effortless. The clothes, music, and loitering spots were right because that was what
she
wore and where
she
went, and not vice versa. Coolness was her reality bubble; trendiness was hers for the having. It was enough to make me believe in karma, or fate, like she’d paid for her good fortune by suffering in another life, and she was set. She never, ever fell from grace.

Then there was me, having not only fallen, but plummeted, and splatted on grace’s sidewalk. I was the one suffering in this life.

Still, I had acquired skills that had proven useful in keeping me alive at Marlwood . . . such as keeping a safe distance from Mandy. Never letting her get the upper hand when she dangled entrance to her clique as the price for my soul.
So
not interested.

But I was interested in having my best friend back.

“
Hola,
Martinez.” I kept my tone light.

“So, how you been?”

“Fine.” Lie, lie, lie. No, wait. That was true. Ever since my visit from Dr. Morehouse, I was verging on fine. Sporadic bursts of fritz out were nothing compared to what I used to be like.

“That was . . . terse,” she said.

“Isn’t that a nice change? Me, kind of quiet?”

“Huh.” She grunted. “Well.”

I waited. She’d been the one to call.

“I’m sorry about the movies,” she said. “I shouldn’t have just booted you out of the car. I should have talked to you. Listened—”

“It’s okay.”
It was too much to ask. I was too high maintenance. I still am.

“The thing is,” she went on, “I had a nightmare last night. It was
awful
. And I woke up everybody, and my mom just completely unloaded on me for my drama.”

“Sweet.”

“She’s going through menopause. But anyway, I thought about you and how, you know, that can just happen. Screaming without warning.”

“A nightmare,” I said slowly, tensing. Were they catching?

“What was it about?” “I don’t remember.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her.

“Listen, Riley talks about you all the time. And he’s not hanging out with the Jane-bots much.”

“Maybe he’ll become a human being someday,” I bit off. “But I’m not betting on it.”

“Guys do wild stuff. She was all,
you
know, ‘come and get it, baby.’ When . . . it happened. He’d been drinking.”

“Whatever.” I didn’t want to forgive him. Maybe I was being hard on him because I had almost forgotten that Troy still hadn’t broken up with Mandy. I’d managed to back-burner Troy’s semi-cheating because he had big blue eyes and he’d very gallantly excused my bad behavior.

“Are you supposed to report back to Riley what I say?” I asked her.

“Not officially.” She took a deep breath. “I miss you too, Lindsay. I’m so sorry I wasted the break. We could have hung out. My mom made the most rockin’ tamales.”

I loved her mother’s Christmas tamales.

“Why are you telling me this stuff about Riley?” I asked. “It’s not like I can do much of anything about it.”

“Text, yo.”

“He has to start it. And I’m not into long distance. I’m fourteen hours away.”

“Then come home.”

I hadn’t expected that. “It’s the second semester.
Yo.
”

“So? They’ll make you a study plan.” She hesitated. “I’ve just got this funny feeling. . .” Her voice trailed off.

“So which is it?” I said. “Riley misses me, you miss me, you’ve got a funny feeling?”

“Is it okay if he calls?”

“Did he ask you to ask me that?” In spite of myself, my voice rose, excited. My coolness was evaporating.

Wait a sec
.
I’m over him.

“No. I’m taking some initiative.”

“Why are you doing this, really?” I asked, and I couldn’t help smiling. It was nice to be wanted.

“Gotta go,” she said impishly. “Call when you can.”

We disconnected. It was all so complicated. I had left San Diego so I could leave San Diego. But it wasn’t like an old novel, where once you were gone, no one could find you. Nowadays, if Heathcliff had left Wuthering Heights, he and his great lost love Cathy would have texted.

Ms. Simonet came in with my iron supplement and commented on the change in me. She left me alone to do some of my mountains of homework. I flipped open my laptop to get to work, but I couldn’t help surfing the net first. The cell and internet reception in the mountains was very spotty, but the infirmary had an excellent signal. There wasn’t much online about the troubles at Marlwood. Kiyoko’s death was old news. Rose had sent me an animated e-card set to the tunes of “Send in the Clowns,” and the ruckus about her parents’ divorce was splashed everywhere. My parents had checked in a lot; I called them and spun the situation, as I was sure it had been spun before me. I was alternately miffed and relieved that they didn’t seem more worried about me.

Maybe they didn’t need to be. Maybe somehow, Dr. Morehouse had exorcised Celia, and I was finally free.

So maybe . . . I could leave. I stifled a giggle of joy. Oh, to be done with this. To be a normal girl, interested in free verse poetry, the cello, knitting, and guys.

Troy,
I thought, and then,
Riley
.

It was all so complicated.

A FEW HOURS later, while I was curled up in bed, there was a jaunty rap on my door. The door cracked open and a single eye peered in at me.

“Hail, eyeball of Miles,” I said, tensing. I knew he’d been by to see me before. I just hadn’t been fully conscious for the occasion.

“Hail, weirdness of you,” he replied, strolling in.

He was swathed in a really beautiful black overcoat and beneath it, a jet-black European-looking sort of suit, very slouchy and cool. He was wearing black leather gloves and loafers. The clothes were amazing. He had styled his platinum blond hair into his signature retro ducktail, and there was stubble on his cheeks. I couldn’t decide if he looked good or slagged, but that was my usual reaction to Miles. Just as I couldn’t decide if he frightened or repulsed me more.

“You’re not wearing your red thread. That way lies madness.” He pulled off his left glove and pushed up his sleeve, revealing the Kabbalah thread or whatever it was called. I’d lost the one Shayna had given me. After I lost my mind, Miles had wound a replacement around my wrist. As if it would really protect me from something.

“I think they were afraid I might saw my head off with it.” I shut my laptop and set it aside.

“You might have.”

“Thanks.”

He inclined his head. “I live to annoy you.” Cocked it to the side. “I thought sickbeds were for sick people.”

“I have pneumonia.”

“Some people will do anything to get out of classes.” He flopped down into the burgundy leather chair. I had on my mom’s sweatshirt but no bra. I wondered if he could tell. Probably not. Still, I felt a little weirded out.

He put a cigarette in his mouth.

“You can’t smoke in here,” I said. “Plus, you can’t smoke around me anywhere.”

“Oh, you’ve grown a pair.” He let the cigarette hang off his lip, but he didn’t light it.

“You’re just less scary than you used to be.” My voice cracked, giving the lie to my statement, and he grimaced sympathetically.

“Well, Mandy’s scarier, these days.” He leaned forward on his elbows and searched my face. There were circles under his eyes, and he was gaunt. “And I think you know something about that, scary girl.”

I swallowed. Hard. He was giving me a look that said,
You know exactly what I’m talking about.
Guilt and fear and maybe even a little bit of hope rose inside me. “Wh-what?” I croaked.

He smiled grimly. “Lindsay Anne, don’t even try to fake me out. I’m really smart, and as a former addict, I have mad lying skills the likes of which you can’t even begin to appreciate. No one lies better than me. So don’t embarrass us both. I need to know what’s wrong with my sister.”

“She’s a bitch,” I blurted without thinking.

“I
know
that.” He took off his other glove and flapped them back and forth, studying them. He traced the stitching with his fingertips. He had very long eyelashes, and he looked vulnerable. Younger. Not for the first time, I wondered if money delayed the growing-up portion of getting older.

“But . . . okay.” He dropped the gloves on the floor and sank his face into his hands. The overhead fluorescent light cast a halo in his hair, which I would have found laughable if I hadn’t been about to implode. Miles knew. How much, I didn’t know.

But he knew something.

I waited for Celia’s reaction. There was none. Had Dr. Morehouse fixed me? Was I done with her too? Could I just walk away? Maybe I didn’t need an ally. Maybe I just needed to pack. “Look, I know Mandy is your frenemy,” he said to the floor.

“Not even.”

“Okay, then I’m your frenemy.” He paused, still cradling his head. I said nothing. “You really aren’t going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Why should I? You got off on scaring me. You threatened me.”

“Not in so many words.” He lowered his hands and sat up straight. The cigarette still dangled from his mouth. “Okay, I did. I’m a creepy, stalkery jerk and I did get off on scaring you. But something is really wrong with Mandy.
Really
wrong.”