The Dead Girls Detective Agency (26 page)

“You don’t seriously think Brian is in any way responsible for my death?” I asked.

Nancy gave me her best have-I-taught-you-nothing? look. “I don’t know, Charlotte,” she said. “He was your very first boyfriend. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about him before. You said you didn’t have any exes …”

“OMG, I dated him for, like, a week when I was still a fetus! Plus he’s not an ex—he’s … Brian.”

A guy who was currently adding ketchup and mustard to his sugar sandwich.

“We still needed to know about him,” Nancy said. “What if he never got over you and couldn’t handle seeing you so happy with David every day?”

OMG. “Wait, he did say something strange yesterday,” I said, remembering. “When I was by the bleachers. He didn’t know I was there of course, but when Kristen was ragging on me, he made this super-weird comment about how he thought I was ‘smoking hot’ and he wished he could have told that to me.”

Lorna’s eyes grew wide. “I think he was totally still into you, Charlotte. What if he was so, like, consumed with jealousy and rage about you dating David that he pushed you under the F train? Like, if he couldn’t have you, then no one could. What if he’s secretly this
brilliant
criminal mind and he’s been plotting your murder every day since you spurned him when you were six? What if it’s made him hate all women, so now he’s stalking Kristen too? What if she’s next?”

We all looked over at Brian with a new respect.

He dropped his open sandwich on the floor, ketchup and butter side down, sighed, and put it back together again without even checking for floor fluff.

“Get a move on, slow butt,” Tess said. “Your Key may await.” She Jabbed David hard in the ass.

Hmmm, I wonder who taught her that trick?

I stumbled forward, tripped over a chair and just pulled up David’s body before he nose-dived into Drama Drew’s lunch. Alanna, who was sitting with him, raised her eyebrows at me in disgust. Who knew they were friends?

A couple of kids behind me giggled.

Whatever, I strode over to Brian’s table and manfully (I hoped) put my hand on one of the many empty chairs.

“Dude, is this seat free?” I asked.

Dude? Dude? Where had I gotten “dude” from? David may be male but he was not a stoner surfer. He did not say “dude.” Okay, so very occasionally he did, but it was one of those things about him that I tried to ignore. Like the fact he had a Kelly Clarkson album on his iPod.

I straightened up, coughed, and very deliberately looked at the chair and back at Brian again. I wasn’t asking twice. Guys did not beg.

“Sure,” Brian said. His voice was a lot lower than it had been in second grade. Which is down to something called puberty, Charlotte.

“Take a seat.” Brian pointed. “Why not?”

I sat. Right, now what? Just roll on in with a
stalked any good girls recently?
Which was Tess-level rude. And he had bought me a pack of Hershey’s Kisses as a present once. Thankfully instead of the real thing.

“So, dude,” I said. Must stop that. I was one testosterone hit away from grabbing my crotch and asking if he thought Megan Fox was “smoking” too. “I saw you at the cheerleading practice today. You a fan of the blues and yellows?”

“Ha!” Brian laughed and sprayed the table with a few choice pieces of the sugar, potato chip, and (yep, that looked like …) turkey sandwich he’d been eating.

Lorna made a dry-heaving noise.

“Of course I’m a fan, man, if you know what I mean.” He leaned over the table and nudged David in the ribs. “Just never thought there would be any point hanging out near women that fine”—he somehow made
fine
last for three syllables—“because they’d never be interested in someone like me. I’m hardly their type.”

Fair point.

“Thought I’d be stuck with the likes of
that
.” He pointed at Mina, who was heading, lunch tray in hand, in the direction of Ali’s table. “But since last Monday, well, a whole load of us back here are wondering whether all that’s changed,” Brian said sleazily.

Um … what?

“Dude … You are a Legend,” Brian said as he leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head. He was wearing a T-shirt with
Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog
emblazoned across the chest (along with a light splattering of sandwich juice). I silently thanked myself that I had no idea what that was.

“Seriously, we—every guy who dines in SS—salute you.” Brian belched.

“Hey, that’s really nice of you, man, but mind telling me why?” I asked. Maybe I was being slow, but what had David done to get such props?

“Why?
Why?
” Brian laughed. “It’s like the cheermeister doesn’t even know what he’s achieved,” he said to himself in awe under his breath.

Delighted he could shed some light, Brian straightened up to explain. “So we all thought you were just another pretentious loser.”

Good thing David couldn’t hear this because that would ouch.

“But recently we are
loving
your work,” Brian said, punching David’s arm. “You have gone from zero to hero, remedial to Romeo.”

Hey!

“Your girlfriend died, sorry about that, by the way. Charlotte was really cool—and definitely smoking—and you somehow persuaded the hottest girls in this school—in this
city
—to hook up with you. Respect does not even begin to cover it,” Brian said.

Oh my.

“So you were watching the cheerleaders yesterday because …,” I prompted.

“Because if someone like you can get three Tornadoes to date them, then there’s hope for the rest of us,” Brian said. “Seriously, ever since you’ve been walking around here looking all vulnerable, there’s been a sea change. It’s out with the meatheads who’ll get into a college just because they can throw a ball and in with
homo sensitivus
. Guys like us! Those women cannot get enough of you. Which means it’s only a matter of time before they can’t get enough of us too.”

And again, oh my.

“So you were hanging out at cheerleader training because you think the fact I’ve hooked up with a couple of hotties means you now have a chance with them too?”

“Freaking yes!”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Brian said in the most serious voice he could muster with a mouth full of sugar sandwich. “You’ve paved the way. You’re like Bill Gates with Windows One-point-Oh. Yesterday, I was in the science lab and Jamie didn’t pretend to barf when I asked if she needed help with her assignment. She actually
smiled
at me, dude. Do you have any idea what that means for geek-slash-hot girl relations? You should be knighted for services to guykind.”

And if that happened, Brian should be crowned Earl of Disillusion.

“Hey, well, I’m glad I helped,” I said, standing up.

“Sweet. Hey and, dude, we’re all going to vote for you for Scream King too. It’s the top story on my blog and Anthony over there tweeted the entire
Dungeon Master
group last night.” Brian actually winked at me. “It’s a slam dunk. You have to win. We’ve gone viral.”

“No, really, don’t do that,” I said. “I’m not the Halloween dance type.” And I really didn’t want David to be.

“Dude, you’re not getting this,” Brian said, exasperated. “None of us are the Halloween dance types—this is why we have to get you crowned. To make a point. Show those lax boys who’s boss.” He looked over at a group of jocks braving the October courtyard in their shorts. What was that supposed to prove anyway? They were, like, tougher than the weather? “Plus, they’ve booked the ballroom of that hotel uptown—what’s it called?—the Sedgwick. It’s going to be awesome—it’s where they filmed
Ghostbusters
, you know the scene where they catch the Slimer for the first time?”

Trust Brian to be the only person in my class to know that. I slowly walked David’s body out of the cafeteria and down the hall to his locker.

I could feel the other dead girls’ presences trailing behind me.

“We can cross Brian off the list too,” I said. “The only person he’s likely to stalk is Chris Pine at a
Star Trek
convention.”

I opened David’s locker and grabbed a pen. “Don’t forget about Shylock and Spencer,” I wrote on a piece of paper taped to the inside of the metal door. “And sorry about your head.”

“What are you doing?” Nancy asked. “That really is not necessary.”

“I know, I just feel …” I looked at my new friends—and Tess. “… like I need to get out of this boy now.”

I stepped back and jumped clear out of David’s body. He shuddered like a cartoon character who’d had a bucket of water thrown over him.

“Hey, David, it’s only October, man. If you’re so cold maybe you should start wearing more clothes,” Leon Clark, the lacrosse captain, said as he walked past with one of his jerk-off friends. All wearing shorts. Of course. “Or you could just man the hell up.” They belly laughed.

David looked around in confusion, like he’d just been woken up from a really deep sleep and even his mom couldn’t make it better. I guess the last thing he could remember was getting ready that morning—before I possessed him.

The bell rang and David jumped. He looked at the clock on the wall. Three p.m.

“What the …,” David said, suddenly realizing that he’d lost six and a half hours and stumbling slightly.

“Are you enjoying this as much as I am?” Tess asked. “Because if I were you, I would be squeezing every last drop of F-you out of the situation.”

David looked at his open locker—which he couldn’t remember getting to, much less opening—and started piling books out of his bag back into it. He was officially having a mind-freak of a day. He looked up to see the note about Shylock and Spencer, screwed up his eyes trying to make sense of everything, and ran his hand through his dirty blond hair. As he did, he touched his forehead and flinched, sucking in his breath in pain.

Yep, that would be the library-door injury. Oops.

He looked at the note again, rereading the line about his head. David hugged himself with his arms, then slammed his locker.

Like that would shut a door on the weirdness and make it melt away.

David stood, staring at the closed, gray, graffitied door for a few seconds more, then bolted down the corridor and out onto the street.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” I asked. Damn! There was definitely a hint of giving-a-crap in my voice. After all the stuff he’d pulled, why wasn’t I done with that?

“
Do you think he’ll be okay?
” Tess mimicked back at me. She rolled her eyes. “Feldman, just when I thought you were getting a backbone …”

“David will be fine,” Nancy cut in. “He’s going to be disoriented, sure. We have just stolen a day of his life. It’s way, way longer than a routine possession.”

“That is nothing compared to all the time you wasted on him, Charlotte, so don’t feel bad.” Lorna gave my shoulders a little squeeze. Did I mention that I loved her?

“He’ll just put it down to overtiredness or sunstroke,” Nancy added authoritatively.

“There is no sun today, Nancy. It’s raining out,” Lorna pointed out.

“Oh well.” Nancy shrugged and ported home.

As she did, a slight breeze blew up the hallway. A Halloween dance poster fell off the wall and dropped onto the floor in front of us with a swoosh.

“The dance is tomorrow night,” Lorna said. “October thirty-first: it’s almost your deathiversary.”

Great. Bring out the streamers and balloons.

Chapter 24

I PORTED BACK TO THE ATTESA STEPS, KNOWING
the others would have gone straight into HHQ. They’d probably assume I’d made the rookie mistake of misfiring myself and would catch up with them soon.

I wanted things that way. That was
my
plan.

I’d never been the Garbo gimme-space type (well, unless Mom was asking for a play-by-play of my day the second my schoolbag hit the floor). But right now, I just wanted a few minutes alone. Without Nancy instructing or Tess bitching or Lorna fussing with her hair.

I considered walking over into Washington Square, but from the Attesa steps, I could see there were a ton of dogs in the exercise run, excitedly yapping away. I had enough noise in my head. I didn’t need any more. Instead I sat down on the gray stone and tucked my knees up to my chin.

The more I tried to zone out, the more worried I felt. Before my death, my pulse would have been racing as I thought through everything. Fat chance of that now. Instead all I had left was this low-level panic, where I couldn’t pinpoint exactly which of the insanely hideous events of the last week was upsetting me the most.

It was like that feeling you have when you get to school and wonder if you’ve left your straightening irons on and they’re going to burn down your parents’ apartment, or if there’s a test you haven’t prepared for.

I let my head drop forward and massaged my temples with my fingers. Like that would help.

Through the window below, I could hear Nancy talking to Lorna. Well, more
at
than
to
. Even though I couldn’t make out whole sentences, the tone of Nancy’s voice told me everything I needed to know: She was debriefing her sidekick (she’d never talk to Tess like that), figuring out what conclusions they could draw from today, hypothesizing what the Agency should do next.

I could picture what each of them was doing without even peeking in. Lorna would be good-naturedly nodding along, but actually fantasizing about what she’d wear to a Halloween dance if she got the chance. Nancy would be writing
Brian
on the blackboard, then scholarly crossing his name out, then chewing on the end of a red piece of chalk.

And me? I was out here wondering what I was going to do with the rest of my death.

I’d seen enough bad cop shows. I knew that time was running out. The longer a murder went unsolved, the harder it became to crack. And I’d been dead five days and counting. By the time the trees in the park lost their leaves, I’d be nothing more than a cold case. Filed away by the Agency in one of Nancy’s dusty cabinets, while newer dead girls with solvable murders checked into the hotel—and, like Tess, I’d have to stand by and wonder what made them so special that they could find their Key when mine was missing.