The Spirit House (10 page)

Lynette was sitting in her car in front of our house, the motor turned off. I looked in through the driver's seat window. Her face was an ugly pink from the sunlamp she'd been using to try to get rid of her pimples. “Hi. What's happening?” I said.

“Same as usual.” She paused to blow her nose. “Bia always drops off his books and changes clothes right after school.” She sneezed, grabbing for another tissue. “Oh, this
cold!
” she moaned. “Don't get too close, Julie. I'd feel
terrible
if I gave it to you.” I hurried inside.

And found Bia in the front hallway, going through the mail.

12

I moved toward him, really angry now. “What are you looking for in the mail, Bia? What are you afraid is coming? What don't you want anybody else to see?”

“Not making sense, Julie,” he said, calmly putting down the envelopes and moving past me toward the door.

His casual dismissal of me was infuriating. “You're lying!” I shouted at his back. I had caught him in the act, and he still refused to admit it. His lying to me now was an insult. Did he think I was a complete idiot? The words spilled out, beyond my control. “You're lying, and you're
not
going to get away with it! You're looking for a letter from the
real
Thamrongsak, aren't you!”

His head jerked back around as though he had been slapped. He stared at me, his chin lifted, his lips pressed tightly together. I could see the veins on his neck. “Be careful, Julie,” he said slowly. “Do not want anything happen to you. Be very careful.” He held my eyes for a long moment. Then he stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

I stood without moving, the silence of the house swelling around me. I had just told Bia what I suspected about him. And nobody else was home. What if Bia didn't drive away with Lynette? I couldn't lock him out; he had his own key.

I dropped my books and looked quickly through the envelopes, just in case he
did
come right back in. There was nothing unusual, of course. If there had been, Bia had already found and taken it.

My anger returned.
He's
not
going to get away with it!
I swore to myself, and rushed up the stairs to Mom's study.

I half expected the letter and the photo from Thamrongsak to be missing, but they were still where I had left them the day of Bia's arrival. I was familiar with Bia's handwriting now; I
might
be able to prove that this letter had been written by somebody else.

I studied the photo. Bia was thinner than when he'd arrived, as thin as the boy in the picture. And now that I knew him better, it was clear to me that this was not a photo of Bia. I could see that Thamrongsak's face was shorter and wider, with a different bone structure. His nose was flatter than Bia's, his chin less prominent. And Thamrongsak was squinting—the way people who need glasses squint when they don't have them.

Thamrongsak was probably too poor to afford glasses. I stared at his scrawny, homely face. And I was ashamed.
I
hadn't wanted Thamrongsak to come, out of pure selfishness, because he was funny-looking and not cool. I had been very relieved when this handsome and slippery impostor showed up—
he
wouldn't jeopardize my precious status! I was almost as bad as Bia.

But not quite. I hadn't wanted Thamrongsak to come, but I hadn't done anything to prevent it. And Bia must have. He had succeeded in taking Thamrongsak's place, and he had fooled everybody except me.

Maybe not everybody. There was also the spirit.

The spirit seemed to be working against Bia. And he was afraid of her. For weeks he'd been making a big effort to appease her. Was it possible that there was some connection between the spirit and whatever it was Bia had done to Thamrongsak?

I thought back. As soon as Dominic had presented Bia with the spirit house, the phone call from Thailand had come—and Bia's personality had changed. Suddenly he was nervous, and hostile toward me.

And the very next Monday he had started going through the mail.

The phone call
had
to have some connection with the letter he was looking for. I puzzled over it. The person on the phone had asked for Thamrongsak. But Thamrongsak's family must know he hadn't come here; they wouldn't call asking for him. So who would?

Maybe somebody who was in on the scheme, who knew Bia was pretending to be Thamrongsak. The call must have been from a cohort of Bia's. Telling him what? Telling him something that resulted in him going through the mail, looking for a letter that he didn't want us to see—probably because it would expose him. And who would want to expose Bia? Thamrongsak's family, of course. Maybe they had found out what he had done and had written to us about him. And Bia's friend knew it, and called to warn him to be on the lookout for the letter. That made sense. The more I thought about it, the more sure I was.

But what if he had already found and disposed of the incriminating letter? What if he succeeded in pacifying the spirit with gifts and prayer? It was intolerable that Bia might still get away with it. Not for one more minute would I be tricked into helping him! I couldn't wait to tell him to do his homework himself tonight. What would he do then? His charming manner wouldn't keep the teachers from flunking him. Whatever he had learned about computers wouldn't help him when I told Mom and Dad and Mrs. Keating and everybody else the truth.

What was I waiting for? It was clear to me that he was not the boy in the photo, and that his handwriting was different from Thamrongsak's. And I had more evidence now—I'd caught him going through the mail. I accused him, and he threatened me. Why shouldn't I start telling people about him right this minute? I rushed to my room and dialed Gloria's number.

She answered on the first ring. “Oh … hi, Julie,” she whispered, so faintly I could barely hear her.

“What's the matter with your voice?”

“It's this stupid laryngitis,” Gloria squeaked miserably. “It just won't go away. And I've got this facial mask on. It makes it kind of hard to move my lips. I'm
praying
it might do something about these hideous pimples. It's so
unfair
. As soon as I meet Bia, I break out worse than I ever did in my life. I feel like one big wound.” She sighed, and then cackled weakly. “Well, at least
Lynette's
skin is just as bad as mine; I have that to be thankful for. Anyway, was there something you wanted to tell me?”

I didn't want to tell her now. “I have to go,” I said, as another piece of the pattern fell into place. I hung up slowly.

Gloria and Lynette had suddenly developed ferocious pimples; my skin was clearer than it had ever been. Gloria and Lynette were sick a lot and not sleeping well; I was full of energy, in great shape, sleeping like a baby. Gloria and Lynette were being hassled by teachers and parents; everyone was treating
me
like Miss Perfection.

Gloria and Lynette were going out with Bia; I was his enemy.

It hit me like a punch in the stomach, and I sank down onto my bed. The logic was irrefutable. The spirit was Bia's enemy, doing whatever she could to punish him. And hurting his friends would be just one more effective way for her to get at him. It would add to Bia's troubles to see those he cared about suffering. It would also eventually drive everyone away from him, once they figured out how unhealthy it was to be his friend—and how rewarding to be his enemy.

Telling me I was boring, up in his room, wasn't enough. But three days later, he had said I was his enemy, in so many words, right outside the spirit house. And ever since I had been blessed with every imaginable gift—looks, health, grades, popularity. The pattern was so clear that it no longer seemed at all crazy to believe in the spirit; it seemed crazy not to. So wasn't it my duty to warn Gloria and Lynette to steer clear of Bia, before even worse things started happening to them?

I shook my head and groaned. They'd never believe me. Neither would I, in their position. If I wanted to protect Gloria and Lynette, the way to do it wasn't to tell them a spirit was out to get them. If it seemed that they really were in danger, I would have to find some other way to separate them from Bia.

From out on the street, I heard the sound of Lynette's car starting up and driving away.

What was Bia feeling? Was he at all guilty? Obviously he didn't feel guilty enough to leave Gloria and Lynette alone. A decent person would have dropped them as soon as he saw how the spirit was punishing them because of him. Instead, he was just letting it happen.

But why should he worry about Gloria and Lynette if he hadn't worried about Thamrongsak? I thought of Thamrongsak's letter and felt another wave of compassion for him. I got up and looked at it again. “I work always very hard at my studies and my job after school. But many times I am crying, because still no chance for a better life, as my family are so poor. Now, because of your help, I can have hope.…”

The words blurred; I couldn't go on reading it. I wiped my eyes and picked up the photo. It seemed to me now that there was an expression of sad bafflement on Thamrongsak's face. What had happened to him was so unfair!

I dropped the photo on Mom's desk and went back and stretched out miserably on my bed. I couldn't help feeling partly responsible for his misfortune. I hadn't
done
anything to hurt him, but I had
hoped
something would happen to prevent him from coming—mainly because I was afraid of what people like Mark and Gloria and Lynette would think of him.

Was there any way to help him? I didn't know what Bia had done to him. But if Thamrongsak were still alive and well, proving Bia was an impostor might give him another chance. So why hadn't I told Gloria that Bia was a fake? Partly because I had realized that the photo and letter from Thamrongsak still wouldn't be enough evidence to convince her. And what would be enough? The letter Bia was trying to snatch was what would do it—if he hadn't found it already.

But if he hadn't, he would now be even more determined to get his hands on it, after what I said to him in the hallway. Why hadn't I kept my mouth shut? I actually accused him of looking for a letter from the real Thamrongsak! He'd make sure I never found it.

And he'd try to stop me from telling anybody what I knew.

I felt my heart pounding in my neck, really scared now. I remembered the strength in Bia's hand when he grabbed me outside the spirit house, and the startling malice of what he said to me that night. I thought of the grim, steely expression on his face a few minutes ago when he warned me in his soft voice to be careful.

He was praying to the spirit often, burning incense; I was sure he had given her his lighter. If he got the spirit on his side, I'd be in a whole lot of trouble. And Bia would do whatever was necessary to keep me quiet. He didn't have much compunction. He had coolly stolen Thamrongsak's only chance. He wasn't bothered by what was happening to Gloria and Lynette—and he supposedly
liked
them. He didn't like me.

And I had just let him know how dangerous I was to him. What was to stop him from unleashing the spirit's hatefulness against me? The spirit was being good to me now. But I had made no bargain with her to protect me. When would the spirit start after me? As soon as Bia paid her enough, that's when.

Wind rattled the window. But I thought I heard another sound too. Was it a footstep, or just a normal creak? Was I really alone in the house? Maybe Bia hadn't driven away with Lynette, but just talked to her for a while and then came back inside when she left. I wanted to call out, to see if he was there, but I felt paralyzed. He was my enemy. His whole future depended on shutting me up.

Dominic. Maybe I could get him on my side, tell him what I had figured out. He might pay more attention to the evidence I had than Gloria would. Once he knew what was going on, how could he refuse to help me?

And maybe he already knew more than I realized. I had asked the spirit to let Dominic find out the truth about Bia. And now I knew how effective the spirit could be. Maybe she had arranged things so that Dominic had information I didn't. Together we might be able to put the whole story together and come up with solid, airtight proof. Once everybody else knew the truth about Bia, I'd be a lot safer.

But first I would have to find some way to get Dominic alone, where there was no chance Bia could overhear us. That wouldn't be easy. Dominic and I hardly ever saw each other anymore. Bia would be suspicious if we sneaked off alone.

But if we weren't at home, how could Bia know? I was pretty sure Dominic was at the junior high computer room right now, and it was still early. Mark would drop everything to drive me there as soon as I asked him to. And I wanted to get out of the house. I didn't like not knowing if Bia was here or not.

I quietly closed the door of my room and called Mark. “Pick me up right away. I need a ride to the junior high,” I told him.

Mark laughed. “You think I'm your chauffeur? Forget it!” He hung up.

I stared at the phone. What was the matter with Mark? I hadn't done anything to make him angry at me. But there wasn't time to worry about it now. I had to get out of here and talk to Dominic. I could walk to the junior high.

The house was so dark that it seemed much later than midafternoon. A storm must be coming. Out in the dim hallway, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched, I peered cautiously through the open doorway into Bia's room. He wasn't there. I stood still, listening. There were no footsteps upstairs or down, no sound of computer or TV. If Bia
hadn't
left with Lynette, he was being unusually quiet. Was he spying on me, or hoping to catch me by surprise? I had to get out of here fast.

I hurried to the bathroom and turned on the light for a quick look at my hair. It was a mess. I grabbed the brush. But I couldn't seem to make my hair look right. Was it because my hand was so shaky? Why was I wasting my time like this? I was only going to see Dominic. I threw down the brush. And then I suddenly leaned forward, staring into the mirror.