October Girls: Crystal & Bone (22 page)

Inside, Bob Dylan was nasally whining about rolling stones, and the chatter and electronic chirps sounded like a flock of birds at dawn. Invisibility muted her senses even further, as if she were underwater. It took more energy to move, too, and she wondered what would happen if her metaphysical battery gave out while she was stuck in the coffee shop.

But she made it to the table where Pettigrew, Dempsey, and Cindy were busy slamming mocha lattes. A stack of paper lay on the table, bound by brass brads. On the cover page, typed in all caps, were the words “THE HALLOWEENING.”

She couldn’t resist standing behind Pettigrew and sniffing that man-smell at the back of his neck. He shuddered and glanced around.

“She doesn’t know,” Cindy said. Her chair was uncomfortably close to Pettigrew’s and their knees were nearly touching.

“Don’t be too sure,” Pettigrew said. “She’s got her ways of finding stuff out.”

“You’re just paranoid.”

Bone wanted to claw out the diva’s ice-blue eyes.
Nobody’s allowed to steal my best friend’s guy. Except maybe me.

“You guys in or out?” Dempsey said. He waved his arm around the coffee shop. “Anybody in here would die to be in your shoes.”

“We’re in,” Cindy said, grabbing Pettigrew’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I can’t just go into this thing like a hog rooting for an acorn,’ Pettigrew said. “I got a job and a girlfriend—
ooof
.”

Cindy gave him a friendly elbow in the ribs that was buffered by that winning smile she probably practiced in the mirror every morning. Bone wanted to dump mocha all over that Ivory skin and wash the smugness away.

“Look, this thing is solid,” Dempsey said to Pettigrew. “I mean, it’s not only set, it’s set set. We’ve got it from my agent.”

Dempsey leaned forward with his mouth open and eyes wide, expecting his enthusiasm to be infectious. Though Cindy squirmed in her seat, Pettigrew was unfazed.

“Agent,” Dempsey said, repeating the magic word. “Dude, it’s golden.”

“Why me, then?” Pettigrew said. “If it’s such a big deal, why can’t you get Shia LeBeouf or that Pattinson guy?”

Good question
, Bone thought, wondering if she could stow away in Pettigrew’s luggage and head for Hollywood with him.

Dempsey frowned. “Because the agent said it had to be you. He thinks you’ve got this Billy Bob Thornton élan that’s going to be the next big thing. Cindy here is a no-brainer—”

In more ways than one. But she possesses all the other assets, right, Demps? So just skip it, okay?

As if heeding her unspoken words, Dempsey sat back and tapped his coffee mug. “The agent said it had to be you two or there was no deal.”

“What about my tow truck?” Pettigrew said, still dubious.

Cindy and Dempsey both rolled their eyes as if they’d been watching too many Jim Carrey movies. “You can buy a whole fleet of trucks,” Dempsey said. “And you can afford imports.”

Pettigrew’s jaw tensed. “Don’t be talking like that. I love my country.”

Dempsey held up his hands. “Sure, sure. But this is more than just money. It’s
art
.”

“Yeah,” Cindy said, still clinging to his hand. “You want to stick around this Hicksville town forever?”

“It ain’t so bad here.”

Especially compared to Darkmeet and the Graveyard of Second Chances.

Dempsey stood up as the music shifted over to twitchy Talking Heads. “Think about it. But the agent needs an answer, like, yesterday.”

As he strutted past with his chains jingling, Bone stuck out her leg to trip him. He passed right through her but his body heat sent shivers up her body. She took it as a hopeful sign.

Wilt Drumbowski glanced in their direction, and Bone wondered if he were one of those weird kids who could see ghosts. But apparently he was more interested in Dempsey. Maybe Wilt was working on a screenplay like every other writer in America.

Cindy made her move on Pettigrew, like a cat toying with a paralyzed mouse. “He’s got an agent,” she said.

Pettigrew pulled his hand free of her claw-like grasp. “Great, then why don’t you go play kissyface with
him
?”

Cindy purred a chuckle. “He’s obviously gay. I mean, leather and
chains
? In Parson’s Ford?”

Pettigrew’s brow furrowed as if he didn’t understand the concept. “See what happens when you get Hollywood fever?”

Bone moved closer to him, again digging the man-smell, which mingled with the scorched Sumatra and the artificial vanilla that wafted through the coffee shop. The sensations intensified, and she wondered if her prolonged exposure to the real world was reviving her.

Maybe if I hang around long enough, I can be a real girl again. And this time, I’ll do it right.

“Pet,”
she whispered in his ear, not sure how well her voice would carry.

He jerked upright, spilling his Java Junkie blend on the stack of paper. Cindy snatched the papers off the table, shrieking. “You big doofus! That’s
the script
. That’s my ticket to Sunset Boulevard.”

She wiped at it, but the brown stain had spread through the inner pages and left a splotch in the shape of Shrek’s head around THE HALLOWEENING. Pettigrew was a little dazed, as if the caffeine had kicked in all at once. Bone smiled to herself, though her cold lips felt like hibernating reptiles.

Still got the old spark, kid. Even dead, you can still make them jump.

“I gotta go,” Pettigrew said.

“Crystal’s got you on a short leash, huh?” Cindy said, clutching the script to her generous bosom and making sure he looked there. “But I can take you places she never even dreamed existed.”

“She’s okay,” Pettigrew said. “A little weird, but she got a good heart.”

Cindy leaned close, too close, making sure every kid in the coffee shop would be gossiping tomorrow about how Pettigrew was stepping out on Crystal Aldridge. “See how far ‘good’ gets you,” she whispered, giving his earlobe a tiny flick with her tongue.

Damn. That even made ME shiver, and I’m dead.

Bone, despite her jealousy, observed that Cindy was actually a pretty decent actress. She’d been practicing her entire life, fleshing out the role of Cindy Summerhill. She’d been chewing them up and spitting them out since kindergarten, and keeping all eyes on her at all times. Hollywood would be a cakewalk.

“See you on Halloween, Billy Bob,” she said, sashaying toward the door with a little extra motion in the ocean.

“Royce,” Pettigrew said.

Uh-oh. As much as I’d love to stay and play with Pettigrew, I guess I’d better warn Crystal.

On her way out the door, Bone stopped and pilfered some of the mocha-coated coffee beans. Most of the customers had turned their attention back to their videogames or had gathered heads to tell Cindy Summerhill fables. She could have sworn she heard a couple of them say “Royce.”

Only Wilt Drumbowski saw the collection of little brown dots floating out the door. His mouth fell open, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he shook his head and kept writing.

Good boy. There’s a copy of
The Bloodening
in your future.

“P
sst.
Wake up.”

Crystal shook her head. Roscoe. Had to be.

The bed squeaked as someone moved next to her, then the covers were yanked from her body. Eyes still closed, she reached for them, and her fingers closed on soft fabric.

But the fabric gave way and she clawed at it, shivering and trying to find purchase on the cool thread.

“Umm. That’s my face,” Bone said.

Crystal sat up, blinking. The only light was from the Stonehenge screensaver on her computer. In its bluish glow, Bone looked even deader than usual.

“Whu—what time is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Already?”

“Yep. Halloween. Or should I say
The Halloweening
?”

Crystal tried to shake the slumber from her shoulders, but The Sandman must have dumped a wet bucket of the stuff. “What are you doing out of Darkmeet this time of night?”

“I’m on a very special mission.”

“You’re wearing my blouse.”

“Cute, huh? But enough about me. How’s life?”

“You say that with such sarcasm. But things are just fine. Me and Pettigrew are probably Splitsville, Momma’s potions are all mixed up, Royce crawled out of the wall and is running loose in Parson’s Ford, and I’m about to start my period.”

“That’s
one
thing I don’t miss.”

“Plus I have to go to this stupid party or McMarkus will have me in for intensive counseling.”

“About that party…”

Crystal sat up, kicking the blankets away. The first glimmer of dawn leaked from the window, and somebody in the trailer park started a truck. Momma must have still been asleep, because the trailer didn’t smell of bacon. “No date, right? But in a way, it’s simpler, because I won’t have to accessorize.”

“Dempsey’s going.”

“If you think I’m asking Dempsey, you’re even dumber now than you were in kindergarten.”

“Not even to make Pettigrew jealous?”

Crystal licked the overnight ick from her teeth. “Pettigrew’s not going to be there.”

“You wish.”

“Criminey Christ on a lollipop stick, Bone. He didn’t like those kids when he was in school, and he sure could care less now that he’s graduated. Unless their cars break down.”

“That was before the movie deal came along.”

“He already told Dempsey no.”

“Cindy Summerhill got thrown in as a bonus.”

Cindy Summerhill. Money, breeding, hair style, a stack of Old Navy gift cards, prom-queen crown, cheerleader skirt, and an utter lack of morals. Every girl’s nightmare and every boy’s dream.

“What are you talking about?”

“That movie you guys watched. He got brainwashed.”

“He’d
have
to be brainwashed, if he dumped me for Cindy Summerhill.”

Bone glanced around, as if afraid something might be spying from the shadows. “It’s this Royce thing. They have a deal.”

“I know. Dempsey told me. Major studio interest.”

“Not a Hollywood deal. I mean a
real
deal.”

“What could be more real than Hollywood?”

“I shouldn’t be telling you.”

In the brightening natural light, Bone’s face looked gaunt and drawn, as if she hadn’t slept a wink in two years. At times Crystal forgot her best friend was dead, and then it would come rushing at her like a ghost train from a long, dark tunnel of the soul.

Like now, only without the steam whistle. “If it’s something you shouldn’t be telling me, then you should be telling me, know what I mean?”

Bone looked at her hands and sighed, then went nearly invisible, as if reluctant to speak. “They’ll kill me.”

“You’re already dead. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Staying dead.”

Crystal took Bone’s hand. The flesh was dirt-cool and her friend’s eyes were like the valley mist of a Blue Ridge Mountain morning. “Hey, I’m sticking with you through thick and thin. Best friends forever, right? And forever’s not over yet.”

Bone shut her eyes and nodded. A grim smile played about her lips. Then she steadied herself and continued.

“Royce is the front man. He gets established, and soon he’s on the tabloid covers, and his name will be on everyone’s lips. The darker side of fan worship. With a little power, he’s busting open the gate and every creepy critter in Darkmeet is going to come crawling and sliming over here. First Parson’s Ford and then the world.”

“That can’t happen. The Aldridges have been guarding the portal for centuries.”

“Umm, you forget that someone’s been playing trick or treat with the potions. And it’s Halloween. Coincidence?”

Crystal thought of Momma’s last two unsuccessful attempts at casting spells, including the fabulous forehead newt. “You have a point.”

“And you’re not exactly up to speed on this witchcraft stuff.”

“Gee, you’re as bad as Momma. Let’s see
you
try learning isosceles triangles, the capital of Uzbekistan, and the Tibetan Chant of the Cheese Moon all at the same time.”

“Not criticizing, just saying.”

Crystal was fully awake now. The Jiminez pit-bull mix three trailers down unleashed its morning howl, the unofficial rooster of Wellborn Trailer Park. Crystal was determined, once she mastered the arcane arts, to turn that loud-mouthed mutt into a goldfish. “Yeah. Momma says I’m not good enough to get found guilty in Salem.”

“None of this is an accident. It’s like they picked the perfect time to pull off the invasion.”

“Wait a second. Who are ‘they’ and what in the world do they need with the world? I thought Darkmeet had everything you could ever want, heaven without the harps and hell without the eternal stench of scorched barbecue?”

“They don’t have Milk Duds.”

“Candy? They’d go to all that trouble just for candy?”

“It’s a symbol, Crystal. Remember in Mrs. Loggerfeld’s English class when we had to read ‘Moby Dick’?”

“Nobody read it. It was too long and boring.”

“Yeah, but we all looked it up on the Internet. The whale is a symbol of an unfulfilled, impossible goal. Just like Milk Duds.”

“Dead people sit over there thinking about junk food?”

“It’s a desire. Wishing for something you can’t have.”

“Sort of like you and a steady boyfriend?”

Bone sighed. “I’m working on it.”

“Okay, save the world, and then get a boyfriend. Gotta have priorities here. Go on.”

“Dead people are jealous. Royce Dean wants to be James Dean, I want to be you, the Judge wants to be Quentin Tarantino—”

“Wait.
You
want to be
me
?”

“In, like, a symbolic sense. I’d never possess you, even if I could.”

Did Bone’s eyes just change color? I could have sworn I saw tiny flickers of red in them. Has she thought about possessing me? Maybe even TRIED it?

“I trust you, Bone.”
Mostly.

“You’d better, because I’m risking big trouble by telling you this. The plan was for me to come over and help Royce—that’s why I have my ‘Get out of jail free’ card going on.”