Dead Girl Dancing (3 page)

Holding the pen between my fingers, I read the small print.

As the undersigned Temporary Lifer, I agree to abide by all existing and future rules incorporated in the Guidance Evaluation Manual and agree herewith to offer no allegations against the High Power and all its agencies
…
blah, blah, blah.

My grandmother must know a lot of lawyers on the other side, I thought as I skipped down to the part of the page where I signed my life away—an act I hoped wasn’t a bad pun.

“Great.” The diva snatched the paper and folded it over and over until it was so small that it vanished in her hand. A snap of her fingers and a book appeared, if you could call something no bigger than a Hershey’s bar a book. She shoved it at me. “Study this GEM and do not—I mean
do not under any circumstances
—break the rules.”

I nodded, a little uneasy but mostly curious as I palmed the tiny book. When I glanced back up, eager to ask about Grammy, Sharayah, and the many other questions troubling me, the diva was gone.

For a bewildered moment I just stood there, reeling with disappointment. Then, with a sigh, I went over to Sharayah’s desk to study the little book. The gold cover was blank except for three glittery letters: G-E-M. And when I flipped through the pages, they were all blank. But as I stared, a spot of black, like the tip of a pen, swirled at the center of a page, then curled into wavy lines to create a letter—
A
. Fascinated, I watched four more letters spell out
A
-
M
-
B
-
E
-
R
.

Talk about personalizing a book! Now the letters came faster, spilling like a vein of ink had been opened, pouring words onto the page to compose a short letter to me.

Amber,

Your role as a Temp Lifer is vital to your Host Soul as well as a beacon of redemption for all negativity and mistakes along your personal life path. Earthbounders require care and upkeep when they are in trauma mode. During the soul replacement, you will assume the Host Soul’s life with no interruptions. Your signature has been noted in the Hall of Records as your binding promise to abide by all regulations and obligations of this sacred mission. Adhere to each of the Nine Divine Rules; breaking any Rule could result in serious consequences.

The ink paused, and the page fluttered to a new page that was no longer empty. It included a single line:
Nine Divine Rules.

The page flipped again to show the first rule.

#1. Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans.

It would help to know Sharayah’s plans, I thought as the page flipped quickly to the next rule.

#2. Under no circumstances should you ever reveal your true identity.

Oops, blew that one already by telling Eli, I thought, with a glance at the broken phone. Less than an hour as a Temp Lifer and I’d already broken a rule. I hoped Grammy wouldn’t be mad.

The pages flipped faster now. I had to read quickly so I wouldn’t miss important information.

#3. Consult this manual with pertinent questions.

#4. Resist temptation; guide your Host to positive choices.

#5. If you become aware of Dark Lifers, retreat and report.

#6. Do not commit acts against your Host’s moral code.

#7. Respect your Host Body; no tattoos, hair dye, or piercings.

#8. Your time in a Host Body cannot exceed a full moon cycle.

#9. Guard your Host Body well. If your Body dies, so will you.

I reread the ninth rule a few times, my stomach knotting. Why make a rule like that unless it had actually happened? Had an unfortunate Temp Lifer died on the job and lost their real body as a penalty? Talk about on-the-job hazards! Taking over someone else’s life was way too dangerous. I wished I’d never made that stupid promise to Grammy. Did she know I’d already broken the second rule? Not that it was my fault, because I hadn’t even known about the rules when I’d called Eli. And to be honest, I didn’t regret breaking that rule. Even if I’d known it was forbidden, I probably would have called Eli. He deserved to know about his sister.

Still, rule-breaking made me uneasy … guilty. From now on, no matter what, I wouldn’t break any more rules. Whether I wanted this job or not, Eli, my grandmother and Sharayah were counting on me—and I couldn’t let them down.

I started to close the book when pages flipped as if caught up in a sudden wind, revealing a page with the most puzzling message yet:

Inquire here with pertinent questions regarding your Host Body.

Huh? What did that mean? How was I suppose to “inquire” and where exactly was “here”? I stared, waiting for further instructions, but there weren’t any. And when I flipped back to the beginning, everything I’d already read had vanished.

“Grammy,” I grumbled with a gaze up toward the semi-dark ceiling, “why are you making this so hard?”

Holding my breath, I half-expected to hear her reply, but all I heard was the increasing thump of my own heartbeat. And when I looked back down at the book, bold black ink spewed into words.

Your mission is only as hard as you make it.

I squinted down at the book, afraid that if I blinked these words would vanish, too. Then I must have blinked, because the page was empty again. But I was beginning to understand a little. This candy-bar-sized book was my connection to the other side.

“How am I supposed to help Sharayah?” I asked it.

Refer to Rule One.

“But the rules aren’t written down any more!” I argued.

#1. Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans.

“Sarcastic book, aren’t you?”

The page cleared itself of ink again—which was answer enough.

“Okay, this is starting to make sense. I ask you a question and you give me an answer. Will you tell me anything I ask?”

The book cover slammed shut.

“I take that as a no,” I said, frowning. “Can you at least tell me about Sharayah’s crisis? Does it have to do with the boyfriend Gabe, college, or all that money?”

I waited for an answer, the book cupped in my hands, only there was no flutter of reply.

“Come on,” I urged. “Open up again and write to me. I need to know about Sharayah’s problems. What am I supposed to do for her?”

The book flopped open and one word scrawled on the page.

Live.

Now that really told me a big fat page of nothing. I already knew I was supposed to live her life, at least temporarily. But did that mean I was supposed to sit around this dorm room until my temp time was up? Or did Sharayah have obligations like a job or homework? I didn’t want to hang around accomplishing nothing—I wanted to be Super Amber and solve all problems.

Okay, okay … so maybe solving problems might not technically be my job. But Sharayah obviously needed help or she wouldn’t have cut off her family and dumped her former roommate/best friend. There was also the money and the text threat. Why would Grammy say I was good at helping people if that’s not what she wanted me to do? And she must have had a good reason for choosing me for this mission. My knowing Eli couldn’t be the reason, because that was just awkward and complicated my assignment. So why choose me instead of an experienced Temp Lifer? Did I have a unique ability or talent that made me a good match for this job? I couldn’t think of anything.

I glanced at the clock, wondering if Eli was on his way. Even if he’d gotten a car immediately, the drive would take him at least two hours. I yawned, so exhausted and overwhelmed I could hardly think straight. A short rest would feel great. And when I awoke, Eli might be here.

Tossing the GEM into the black purse, I dug a pillow from a pile of clothes on the floor then curled up on Sharayah’s bed. Yawning again, I closed my eyes and slipped away into dreams.

Memories spun in kaleidoscope fragments, sweeping me back home to my family. In my living room, my little triplet sister Olive toddled after our cat Snowy, who leapt on a high shelf and transformed into a dog with a glowing collar—my (dead) dog Cola. Suddenly I was in a hospital with white walls and speckled linoleum floors, and Cola was running away. I had to catch him so he would take me to my grandmother, only he ran so fast, turning corners in a dizzy blur. I was racing on a treadmill, going nowhere. I thought I was alone until I glanced over my shoulder and saw a security guard with glowing gray hands—a Dark Lifer! He was coming closer, closer, his footsteps thudding with menace as shimmering gray fingers reached out and—

Suddenly my eyes jerked open.

I was instantly awake, panicked, but not because of my dream.

In the murky darkness, a shadowy figure loomed over the bed—watching me.

“Don’t touch me!” I shouted, jerking upright and pulling the pillow close to my chest.

“What’s your problem?” The shadow’s voice was female and annoyed. “Stop freaking out.”

“Stay back! Get away!”

“Rayah, it’s just me. Are you having another nightmare?”

There was a soft click and the bedside lamp flashed on, so bright I was momentarily blinded. When my vision cleared, I saw short, prickly pink hair and black kohl eyes. This girl was older than me—oops, scratch that—I mean, older than my real self, about the same age of Sharayah. She wore snug black jeans, a black leather aviator jacket over a neon-pink shirt, and dangling, barbed-wire earrings.

“You’re her … um … my roommate?” I asked, blinking away confusion.

“Are you high? Why else would I put up with you? It’s not the first time you’ve woke up screaming. Was it the ocean nightmare again?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Like that surprises me.” She chuckled, a silver stud on her tongue. “How much did you drink this time?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

“You are so bad. Didn’t you get any sleep? I left so you could have privacy in here last night, but I expected you to sleep some, too. You owe me, by the way, because the twin bed Sadie loaned me was as hard as concrete. So get your ass out of bed.”

“This early? We’re going out?” I frowned, wishing I knew her name and how to act toward her. Were we best friends or just casual roommates?

“Of course we’re going out! Your suitcase is already in the car. Did you fry all your brain cells?”

“I hope not,” I said seriously. My head spun like I’d been whirling upside down on a roller coaster and a bitter taste sickened my mouth.

“Pull yourself together, okay? I can’t believe you’re not even ready—unless that’s what you plan to wear. Hey, if you want to go in a shirt and thong, cool with me. Truckers will honk when they look down at our car.” She pried the pillow from my clasped hands then tugged on my arm. “Hurry up, Rayah.”

“I can’t … ” I shook off her grip. “I don’t feel well enough to go anywhere.”

“Just because you’re hung-over doesn’t mean we’re dumping our spring break plans. If this is about your ocean phobia, no one will make you get into the water. And need I remind you that leaving so early was
your
idea?”

“It was?”

“Don’t you remember anything?” She rolled her dark eyes. “You insisted we leave early because you were all paranoid about a stalker.”

“The stalker! You know about that?”

“Well, duh. You showed me the note.”

Note? I puzzled. Did that mean there had been other threats?

“Do you know who’s threatening me?” I asked her.

“How would I? The note wasn’t signed—besides, I think it’s a joke. I’m always threatening to kill you—especially when you don’t clean your half of the room or stink up the place with black herb tea. But I don’t really mean it. And I doubt anyone else does, either. Whoever sent the note is just trying to freak you out.”

“It’s working,” I said, hugging my shivery arms.

So there were at least two threats. I wanted to ask if there’d been any more but couldn’t without causing suspicion. My heart pounded and I felt fear rising. I could understand why Sharayah needed a life break away from her stalker. It was risky for me, though, because I couldn’t tell Sharayah’s friends from her enemies.

“Come on, Rayah, it’s already way later than we planned to leave and I’m starting to get pissed,” she added accusingly. “Don’t push me, okay? I was nice enough to stay with Sadie last night so you could have privacy with James. Now I find you’re not even ready and still wearing his shirt.”

“James?” I fingered the shirt. “That guy who left this … um … my boyfriend?”

“Ha, ha. Funny, Rayah,” the roommate said with a wry chuckle. “As if you’re ever serious with one guy. Sadie is waiting in the parking lot. Time to hit the road.”

“Road?” My stomach lurched.

“Screw your hangover, we’re leaving now.” She yanked me to my feet—she was surprisingly strong despite being almost a head shorter than me. “Sadie is doing the driving and you can sleep it off on the way. Let’s get out of here.”

“But I can’t go or I’ll miss seeing—” I cut off, realizing I’d said too much.

“Seeing who?” she asked icily.

“Um … it’s hard to explain.”

“Don’t tell me this has to do with that slacker James.” She folded her arms across her busty chest, narrowing her gaze as if daring me to cross her. “I warned you he was only after one thing, which he obviously got since you’re wearing his shirt.”

“This has nothing to do with him.” I had a sudden desire to rip off the shirt and take a shower. A long, hot, deep, body-cleaning shower.

“Then who?” she asked suspiciously. “Remember our Hands-off-Exes agreement. You better not be hitting on Kyle. Even though he’s a scumbag and I am so over him, it would be too weird to see you two together.”

“No, no! I mean … this isn’t anyone you know.”

“Then he can’t be very important, can he?” She smiled. “Let’s go.”

“I-I can’t! I have to stay and wait for—”

“Forget it! No guy is messing with our plans. We’re leaving now.”

“But I can’t go without at least leaving him a message!”

“Call him later.”

“My phone is broken.” I lifted the phone, shaking it so she could hear the rattle.

“Oops. I won’t even ask how that happened.” The roommate chuckled wickedly. “But no prob—you can use my phone.”

“Thanks. Where is it?” I held out my hand.

“In the car—where we’re gonna be in a few minutes.” Grabbing my hand, she yanked me toward the door. “We are leaving now.”

“Wait!”

“Sure, why don’t we wait?” she added with an ominous arch of her brow. “Let’s give your stalker plenty of time to find you. Maybe the note isn’t a joke. It could be the real deal and some psycho might really want to kill you.”

“Kill me?” I gulped.

“A note that says ‘I’ll watch you die’ isn’t exactly a love letter. But you must be braver than me. I can’t stop you if you’d rather wait around for your stalker than enjoy a fabulous vacation with your girlfriends.”

“Okay, I’ll go—but not wearing this.” It was hard to think clearly; all that was clear was fear. “I’ll change fast.”

“I bet you will.” Her smile was smug.

It was embarrassing to sway as I tried to walk, then stumbled around searching through three drawers before I found jeans that looked too long but fit great. Then I grabbed the first shirt I saw, something blue and long-sleeved. Relieved to take off the offensive James shirt, I tossed it aside and slipped into the blue top.

If only it were as easy to change out of this body and back to my own. Being my boyfriend’s sister was bad enough—but being a target of a psycho terrified me. I couldn’t exit the room fast enough. We made it down the hall and around a corner before I realized I didn’t have Sharayah’s purse—which held her ID, credit cards and the thick wad of cash.

“Oops! My purse!” I started to make a U-turn until Sharayah’s roommate gave me an icy look that stopped me cold.

“Stay right here,” she ordered. “I’ll get it.”

Reluctantly, I waited, glancing around nervously as if a stalker might pop out from a corner. I oozed relief when I saw pink hair and black leather.

She shoved the purse at me, then led me toward a set of stairs. I realized I was forgiven when she hooked her arm into mine and actually smiled. It was amazing how a simple smile made her face shine with a beauty I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Venice Beach, here we come,” she rang out cheerfully. “If there’s time, we might even hop over the border for some serious partying in Mexico.”

“Venice Beach? Mexico?” I repeated.

“That’s all we’ll manage in a week, although I’d love to hit Lake Havasu, too. I’ve always wanted to try some of that boat-to-boat partying,” she announced with a jazzy dance move. “Bring on the beach, booze and badass dudes—spring break begins now!”

Her tone was upbeat but underlined with a warning not to cause any problems, and I didn’t want to cross her anymore than I wanted to hang around and risk an attack from a stalker. Besides, if I didn’t go with her, I’d break GEM rule #1.

1. Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans.

Apparently, one of my obligations was a vacation of partying.

Sorry, Eli, I thought. I’ll call you later.

Then I left for spring break.

I followed Sharayah’s roommate (what was her name anyway?) down a steep stairway, then through a maze of dimly lit halls to double glass doors that led outside to the parking lot. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched and kept looking around, but never saw anyone. Still, my uneasiness lingered.

It was foggy out and eerie lamps glowing like demon eyes around the parking lot added a gloomy theme to my personal nightmare. As we moved through rows of vehicles, their hulky shapes reminded me of crouching monsters. I shivered, wrapping my arms around a too-tall body that was so thin I could feel my ribs.

I peered back at the shadowy dorm I’d just left; three stories of bricked housing surrounded by shrubs and walkways. It looked traditional yet modern, the kind of dorm I hoped to attend someday with my best friend. Alyce and I had toured half a dozen campuses together, dreaming about what we’d do once we graduated from high school to real life: share a dorm room, study together, and score prestigious internships. Alyce had a trust fund and (grades permitting) she could pick and choose her college. But until recently I doubted I’d even be able to afford night classes due to my family’s lack of finances, and I envisioned a future of flipping burgers at some dead-end job. Then a miracle had happened—I was offered a scholarship to a college of my choice.

But being here wasn’t my choice. This was not how I imagined college life, isolated without my real friends and stumbling around in the wrong body. The simple act of walking felt all wrong, my strides so jerky that when I stumbled, only a quick grab on a rail saved me from a nasty fall. Fortunately my roommate didn’t notice, or else assumed I was too wasted to walk straight … and maybe I was.

“What took you so long?” a petite girl with shiny jewels woven in her long brown braid asked, stepping away from the silver SUV she’d been leaning against. Gold bracelets jangled from her tiny wrists and she wore a designer chiffon blouse with a midnight-blue miniskirt and knee-high black boots.