Almost Dead (Dead, #1) (17 page)

Before I realize it
, there are plenty of cars whizzing by. Too bad I can’t hear a single one of them. It would help if, you know, I could flag one of them down for assistance instead of being invisible. It would also be helpful if I could ask someone for directions, because for whatever reason, my memory of home is starting to fade.

Oh, this can’t be good.

Hurry up, Laney
, I tell myself, although it probably won’t help. By the time I arrive at my house, I may not even know who I am. That would suck: walking around my front lawn like a zombie, all straight-arms and drool. Thinking of myself in that way makes me pick up my pace. I tear up the road in a sprint, not bothering to look back. My house is just a few streets ahead. I know it is. At least I remember that much.

Turning the corner,
brief flashes of memories catch me off-guard. The street sign temporarily shows its colors—a green background with white lettering—as I recall riding in a car and glancing up at it from the backseat. Mom and Dad are chatting in the front, while Mia stares out her window. God, that was so long ago.

And just as quickly as the
memory happens, the street sign returns to gray. My skin chills, every hair standing on end. That was just too weird.

Shaking my head, I continue down the street. The houses, the cars
…everything is déjà vu to me. It’s like sensing that I’m familiar with someone, or have been to a place before. Nothing’s really set in stone, but the hazy memories still lurk around the edges of my mind, resembling the fog in Lichburn—constantly there but easily forgotten.

Actually, that sounds like the motto for Flora’s life.

Now that I see my house, I notice Mia’s car parked in the driveway. This would’ve never been a good sign before the accident; she used to drink away whatever fake sorrow she created in her mind. Like, really? Save that for a school play or something. But right now, I kinda need my sister to realize I’m haunting her. How often can someone come back from a near-death experience and say they spooked their family or friends? Not often. Whether they actually believe me or not once I return is a different story.

I hesitate at the front door
, my hand reaching for the knob, ready to turn it an sto pan>

“
All right, loser, get up. We have work to do,” I say, causing Flora to jump out of her skin. Well, okay, not her skin,
skin
—we don’t have that luxury at the moment—but she pretty much hits the ceiling.

“You scared the shit out of me,” she re
plies.

Obviously
. I want to roll my eyes but decide it’s better to contain myself. “We’re wasting time. Maybe you don’t want to live, but I can’t say I share the same feelings. I actually have a place in this world, and I’m making a name for myself, so you’re either with me or against me. I could care less either way.”

“Wait—
we can hear each other? I figured we’d just listen to static for the remainder of our trip, making this ten times more difficult.”

“Well, apparently there’s a lot we weren’t told about the Shadowlands
, thanks to Sara. She forgot to mention we can’t hear anything in our world, or that we have to listen to this horrible background noise.”

“I know, right? It sucks.”

Now that I have a front-row seat to the shattered glass all over my living room floor, I cringe at what my mom’s going to say. Collecting fine crystal was a hobby for her. That, and stuffing her face with German chocolate in between yoga sessions. That’s about it, though. What can I say? My mom really wasn’t born with any special talents. I guess I got all of my skills from my dad. Why have I never thought about this before?

I pinch the
bridge of my nose and ask, “Do I even want to know what happened?” Turning on my heel, I lock eyes with Flora, but she hasn’t moved.

“Um, I might’ve gone
a little bit overboard.” She separates her index finger and thumb by a short amount.

“Ya think?”

“I tried messing with Mia, and it worked,” she says.

I glance around, realizing I haven’
t seen my sister at all. “Where is she now?”

“
After she fainted, she grabbed her purse and fled.” Flora shrugs. “So, who knows?”

Gritting my teeth
, I articulate, “Well, that’s just great.”

“Got any other ideas? Because I’m fresh out of them. Mine don’t work.”

Allowing my head to fall back, I close my eyes. “No, Flora, I don’t have any ideas. I just got here.” Except for Chase. He’s the only other one I can think of, unless I want to attempt one of my friend’s houses, but I’ll be willing to bet none of them are home.

“Then I don’t know what to tell you.
We’re screwed, I guess.”

My head returns to its normal position, and I take a deep breath.
“So, that’s it? You’ve given up? Wow, someone alert the media. Flora Mackey has sold out and surrendered her life.”

That’s just
fantastic. Now, I’ll have to complete the rest of this journey on my own. My frustration with Flora right now has been elevated to a Category Done-With-Her. I mean, she acts like this kick-ass girl, but then she turns out to be a coward.

Whatever.
She can stay here while I find somebody who won’t run from me. Chase, baby, here I come.

H
onestly, the longer a person stays in the Shadowlands, the closer they are to Alzheimer’s. There are memories I’m trying to summon, but it’s like my brain won’t let me, or it just can’t seem to find what I’m looking for. It reminds me of a bad internet connection, while simultaneously trying to surf the web—broken and disconnected. And a pain in the ass.

Ugh.
I need to get out of this place before I turn into a slobbering lump of uselessness.

Chase’s house is on the other side of town. Okay, it’s not
that
far, but it seems that way when a person is walking through an alternate dimension. I don’t even know what day it is anymore, so I can’t guarantee he’ll be home. It’s just that…he’s the closest thing I have to salvation right now, and I desperately need a knight in shining armor.

By the time I make it to Chase’s subdivision—and it was quite the workout, since I jogged the whole way—my mind second guesses whether this is the correct street.
It’s like one minute the memory is there, and the next it’s gone. I might be near his house, but I might also be two blocks away. I’m ready to grab a fistful of hair and pull, honestly. Okay, maybe not; my parents have spent too much money on hot oil treatments to let my beautiful tresses go to waste.

Luckily for me, my brain doesn’t decide to fold in on itself before Chase’s house comes into view.
Elation tugs at my heart and flips my stomach upside down. I nearly cry, but none of that pity-party crap Flora pulled at my house.

My feet jerk to a sudden stop when I see a car that I don’
t recognize in the driveway. There’s only one way to find out who it belongs to. vidth=that I doI focus my energy from head to toe as I glide through the front door. Nobody’s in view immediately, so I check out the rest of the first level, and then move on to the basement. I don’t want to believe the mental image that’s floating around the back of my head, the one that might be mine and Chase’s doom. The one where I catch him in bed with another girl because he’s frustrated with me. No, I won’t think about that. I’ll think about something else. Maybe if I’m lucky, my brain will forget the idea altogether.

Now who’s being dramatic?

But when nobody turns up downstairs or in the basement, that leaves one option: upstairs. Either Chase’s room or the media room. Since his bedroom is on the way to the media room, I stop by there first. Closing my eyes, I step through the doorway…and see that it’s empty. Whew! I can almost breathe a sigh of relief.
Almost.
That doesn’t mean Chase is off the hook, though.

It’s weird, feeling the hardwood flooring underneath my feet. I figured nothing would be the same once I was
here, like I’d float everywhere I go. There are so many questions I want to ask Sara, and now I can’t. Like, why does it take energy to pick something up and throw it across a room but walking on a solid surface requires none? I don’t understand this dimension. To be honest, I don’t think I ever will. Nothing makes sense in the afterlife.

With each new step, the fear in my mind grows worse and worse, until I stand in front of the door to the miniature theater Chase’s parents built.
My heart pounds against my chest as dread rushes through me. One peek is all it’ll take. Working up enough courage, I poke my head inside.

H
e’s not here...

What the hell? Where else can he possibly be?

“Have you checked outside?”

I whirl around so quickly, I nearly trip. Flora. What is she doing here?

“No,” I respond. “I was going to check there next.” Okay, I wasn’t, but she doesn’t need to know that; my pride is too valuable.

But Flora being Flora, she sees right through me. (And I don’t mean literally, because
that doesn’t even happen when you’re a ghost.) “Right,” she says, with a smirk.

Narrowing my eyes at her, I ask, “How did you find Chase’s house
?”

She snorts. “I stalked you
. I’m the freak, remember?”

“Oh,
trust me, I haven’t forgotten.”

Breezing past her, I march downstairs and through the living room, which has white French doors leading outside.
Taking a deep breath, I reach for the knob and focus my energy, actually imagining I twist and then tug. It works. At first, though, I don’t see anything except the pool—which is covered this time of year—the Jacuzzi, and the hammock suspended between {ndejusttwo trees (they never put that thing away for the winter). Movement near the side of the house catches my gaze. Closing my eyes, I sigh and bite my bottom lip. I can do this. I’ll march myself over there and at least try to figure out what’s going on.

Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, I wander
to the area next to the house. Chase and another girl are together. Okay, maybe not together,
together
—they’re about three feet apart—but they are in a conversation. Actually, judging their body language, they seem to be arguing. They throw their hands around wildly, Chase’s eyebrows rise and fall, and both cross their arms as they take turns pointing fingers.

What’
s this disagreement about? I’d give anything to hear what they’re saying.

“Who is she?” Flora asks, as if it’s any of her business. Seriously, why is she still here?

Setting my arrogance aside once again, and because I want to know the answer to that question, too, I tread over to where Chase and the girl stand, so I can get a better look.

“Hilary?” I
shriek, like she can hear me and will react. Up until now, I’ve only seen her backside.

“A friend of yours?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Although, I’m not sure where that clunker in my driveway came from. The Hilary I know doesn’t drive a piece of shit from 1982. Was she trying to be secretive when coming over here? I mean, why else would her mode of transportation be completely different from the Mercedes she drives to school?

Then
the whole scene plays out in my head, like I’m watching a movie: she and Chase have been sleeping together for awhile now. Secret meet-ups. Stolen kisses. Sext messages.

Chase and I have had our
fair share of problems in the past, and most of them are sexual in nature. So what if I’m a little vain and don’t want to kiss him without ruining my lipstick? So what if I don’t want his hands all over me in the hallways at school for everyone to see? So what if I don’t want to touch his deep-V diver after a manicure? That doesn’t give him the right to see other girls. If he dislikes me that much, then he should just break up with me.