The Unquiet (44 page)

Annaliese pokes her nose up. “Liar.”

“Wanna bet? You’re so stupid. Why do you
think
he’s not here? We told you Monica’d get him back.”

Taking advantage of Annaliese’s palpable surprise, Joey catches her blouse. “Don’t touch me!” she screams, and punches Joey—POW! POW!—with
both
fists this time.

Joey, enraged, yanks her closer and then slams her forcefully against the wall of the stage. The sickening thump echoes. Air huffs out of her lungs.

Spellbound, I watch Annaliese slump to the floor.

Millie drops the camera. “What the hell’d you
do
?”

“I dunno,” Joey mumbles, dazed.

Millie bounds over. The two of them stand, face-to-face, over Annaliese’s motionless form. Blood from Joey’s nose drips onto her clothes.

He wipes his face with a frantic slash. “Is she okay? Can you tell?”

“I don’t know. She’s not moving.”

“Is … is she d-dead?”

“I don’t know!” Clutching her head, Millie stomps in
circles. “Omigod, you stupid shit. How could you let this happen?”

“She hit me. Twice,” Joey says plaintively. “It was a reflex, okay?” Then he regains his bravado. “Hey, this wasn’t
my
idea. It was you and Mo, remember?”

“We told you to kiss her! Maybe grab some tit!”

Silence. What are they thinking now? That not only is Annaliese dead, but she’s also covered with Joey’s DNA? I wonder if they can test for that yet. If so, he’s screwed. And I doubt he’ll go down alone.

Or maybe they’re thinking: If Annaliese
isn’t
dead, what happens to them when she wakes up?

I don’t know whose idea it is. I don’t see who makes the first move. But Joey, without a word, hoists Annaliese off the floor while Millie rushes ahead of him to open the tunnel door. Annaliese’s head strikes the wall as Joey maneuvers her limp body through the doorway. The hollow thump turns my stomach to stone.

The farther away from me they move, the more
I
can move. I guess Annaliese
wants
me to see what’s happening, but only from a certain distance. Wading through nonexistent sand, exactly the way I did at Nana’s wake, I trudge after them to the pool room.

I hear the splash as they dump Annaliese into the water.

“Chlorine kills evidence, I think,” Millie says nervously. “It’s, like, bleach or whatever.”

“No shit.” Joey stares at the water. “Um, what’re we gonna tell Mo?”

Millie folds his dissolving hand into her own. “Easy. She never showed up. We never saw her tonight.”

Then they’re gone. Just like that.

Annaliese stays behind, floating facedown. Lazy bubbles burble up through strands of her hair.

She drowned, they say. Which is true.

But only because Joey and Millie threw her into the water alive.

Around me, the atmosphere chills and darkens. My new blast of panic stifles all reason, and I bolt back out of the room, running like crazy. What happens if I keep going? Will I be stuck here forever?

Then what?

My toe kicks Millie’s camera, sending it spinning. With one swipe I gather the photographs from the edge of the stage—
no one can know!
—and, screaming senselessly, rip them to bits. I’m still tearing at them when that lethal grasp seizes me again, and hurtles me off into a stifling black fog.

Annaliese’s words stir the air.
“Luke promised he’d meet me there. He was going with me, now, not Monica. He dumped her for ME! And if he’d shown up like he said he would, I’d still be alive. But, nooo, he was with Monica. Like I was nothing. Nobody!”

Curled up on the floor, I rasp, “My mom didn’t do it. She never even knew what they did to you.”

“She knows now. Millie told her.”

“When?”

“
I guess when Millie couldn’t stand the guilt anymore,
” Annaliese snarls.
“She knows why Tasha died. And she knows why I did it.”

That day in the kitchen. Oh my God. No wonder Mom’s not speaking to Millie. “But you can’t blame
my
mom. Not when they lied to her.”

“Monica kept him away. It was her idea to take those pictures, to make him think I was hooking up with Joey. She wanted him back, but he wanted me instead. Me! He knew she was a bitch. That’s why he dumped her.”

“I want to go home,” I say miserably. That last unplanned trip through the air did me in. “I’ll tell them what really happened. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Nobody’ll believe you.”

“My mom will.”

Annaliese snorts, a peculiarly human sound.
“You think?”

Silence …

… silence …

… silence …

Then Mom calls, “Rinn?”

I push up with my good arm. I see her then, wrapped in the pale ghostly swirl that, seconds ago, was Annaliese. “Mom?” It can’t possibly be her. It’s one of Annaliese’s tricks.

But it’s Mom’s voice, soft and miserable. “Oh, Rinn. I loved you so much. After you left me, I couldn’t stop crying. I tried to stay busy, like everyone said. I tried so hard to remember the happy times, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t! Honey, you were my whole
life
.”

“What’re you talking about?” I ask numbly. “Mom, what—?”

“I miss you so much. Why did you leave me? Why?”

“I didn’t!” I scream. “I’m right here!”

“I couldn’t eat, or sleep. I couldn’t even play the piano. I tried, night after night, but nothing came out right. I lost my
music.” Mom’s voice cracks. She drops her face into her hands. “My music! The one thing I loved almost as much as I loved you.”

“Mom, you’re doing all that
now
. And I’m still alive!”

Annaliese scoffs.
“Oh, really? Are you sure? Or did they find you dead in that tub? Or … maybe dead on the floor with your boyfriend’s hands on your neck?”

Unthinking, I charge her—and slam into the fence. The thunder of the links deafen me as I scream incoherently at the hateful glow that’s no longer my mother. Annaliese drifts out of range with an uneasy laugh. Even with the fence between us, I think she fears my rage.

“My grandmother suffered when
I
died, too. I was HER whole life. She tried to find me, in here. But I was weak back then. I couldn’t reach her, not even when crazy Miss Prout tried to help her. So she killed herself. All she wanted was to see me again! And we did see each other, just for a second, and I was so, so happy! But I wasn’t strong enough to keep her here.”

“Yeah, well.” I rub my sore arm. “You look strong enough to me.”

“Ha! I am now. The rats worked for a while, but they’re harder to come by. That cat worked much better. The furnace helps, lots of energy there. Electricity, too, till Bennie got lazy and stopped changing the bulbs. But that’s all right, I found other ways. Easier ways.”

“Like what?” Though I already know.

“Human energy, stupid. Like talent. Like physical strength.”
She’s actually listing them like we’re in class or something.
“Compassion. Sense of humor. Willpower, that’s the easiest. Health, too. And lo-o-ove, of course.”
She draws the word out mockingly.
“You all give it up so easily. It’s pathetic, really.”

“We don’t give it up. You take it from us, because you’re evil.” I kick the fence. “And here I was, feeling sorry for you. I almost
liked
you for a minute. So, yes, I’m stupid.”

A surge of light shoots through her form, temporarily blinding me. I’m noticing now that the madder she gets, the brighter she glows, while the room itself grows colder than ever.
Sucking up energy
. What happens when she uses it up and there’s nothing left?

Or if someone
takes
it from her?

“Evil? Monica was evil! She couldn’t believe he wanted me instead. I wasn’t a cheerleader. I wasn’t pretty, or talented, or, or anything, really. But Luke liked me! And Monica couldn’t stand it, so she tortured me. She told lies about me and tried to turn people against me. But guess what? It didn’t work. You want to know why, Corrine? Because I was a nice person. Because people liked me.”

Before I can decide how to reply to this, Annaliese sighs. I know it’s a sigh because of the multicolored sparks that flitter about her face at her
whooshing
sound. Ghosts breathe? I bet they don’t mention that in
Spirit World
.

Impulsively I say, “I thought you couldn’t haunt people who take mind-altering drugs.”

“Haunt’s a stupid word.”

“It’s the only word I know. So, can you or can’t you?”

“Not usually. I never could touch Bennie. I didn’t know why till I figured it out with Miss Prout. That’s one of the things they never bother to tell you.”

“They? They who?”

“
Just … they
,” she says secretively.
“You don’t have to know who they are.”
She tosses her sparkly hair, another eerily human gesture.

“Then why can you ‘touch’ me now? I’m taking my meds.”

“Because you want me to. You opened that door, not me.”

“You’re so full of it.”

“C’mon, Corinne. People take drugs all the time to keep us out. Then people like you stop taking them, and let us back in again. Every time that happens we hang around longer.”

“Mental illness isn’t about ghosts! It’s a chemical imbalance. The drugs straighten it all out and, and—well, it’s an illness, that’s all. This is the twenty-first century, duh.”

A ghostly shrug.
“Whatever you say … Corrr-iiinne.”

She drifts here and there, like she now has more important things on her mind. Trails of color, an electrified rainbow, glimmer in her wake. She fades a bit when she rests and that worries me. What if she tires out and disappears and leaves me here forever? Somehow I’d rather see her angry than indifferent.

“So now what?” I prompt. “Are you finished killing people off? Are you just gonna hang around here and play with shadows? Howl at the moon? Knock over a
chair
?”

A spiral of light shoots up with her laughter.
“You liked that, huh?”

“Not really.”

Silence. I wait.

Then Annaliese muses, “
I think the rope might be a good way for Monica to go.
”

I clutch the fence. “You can’t have her.” No answer. “Do you hear me? I won’t let you take my mother!”

Her sardonic laughter rings, echoless.
“I don’t want your mother. It’s you I want. If I take YOU, I’ll get to Monica. Same way I got to Millie with Tasha, and Joey with Dino. I almost got Luke, too, that day with the horses.”
Another glittery sigh.
“Too bad you butted
in. Luke would never get over it! Neither would you, I bet. Pills. A razor. Whatever’s handy, I guess.”

“I’d never do that to my mom.”

“You tried it before.”

“That was different.”

“Different how?”

My arm hurts so bad it’s making me cranky. No,
she’s
making me cranky. I’m sick of talking to her.

Softly enticing, Annaliese continues.
“Why don’t you do it right now? You still have the razor blade, right? In your pocket?”
She delivers a ghostly smirk as I try to hide my surprise.
“Please. You’re so pathetically transparent.”

I switch tactics. “Look, why can’t you die for real and go
be
with your grandmother?”

“
I can’t reach her,
” is her sullen reply.

“Oh, really? Is that because she knows what a conniving bitch you are? Is that why she doesn’t want anything to
do
with you anymore?”

My words strike a chord. Enraged, Annaliese trembles; the floor vibrates, and I imagine it splitting under my feet. Her human form fades, disappearing into a dazzling white vortex. I start to shout “WAIT!” but stop as the radiance morphs into a different shape, one I recognize before it fully takes hold.

An old woman, her long gray hair haphazardly bunched on her head. Reading glasses dangle from a chain. She’s wearing a plaid nightgown and chenille robe—the same clothes Nana wore the night of the fire.

She floats unhurriedly along the tiles. The remnants of mist trailing beneath her on the floor lengthen and solidify to form perfect human feet.