Dead Girl in Love (11 page)

“I’ll find it with GPS,” Zachary said, pulling out his BlackBerry. “My car is right over there, so I can get you there quick. It’s not far. Come on.”

I didn’t need to be asked twice, and followed Zachary to his car.

When we reached the insurance company, it was dark except for a light in the lobby where a petite woman with black hair piled on her head peered through a crack in the door. As soon as she saw me, she waved frantically for me to come in.

Before Zachary could offer to come with me, I thanked him for the ride and said I needed to do this alone. But suddenly, he switched to this macho attitude and insisted on coming in. I didn’t have the energy or time to argue, so I took off through the door and hoped he wouldn’t follow.

No such luck.

The woman, Edna, recognized me immediately, which felt weird since we’d never met. “Alyce, hurry!” she exclaimed, taking my arm.

“Where?” I asked.

“My office,” she said, in a tone that hinted I should know where she meant. But I didn’t, so I hurried to keep up with her. Behind me, I was aware of Zachary following, which probably wasn’t a good idea. But I’d deal with him later.

I followed Edna away from the lobby doors and down a side hall. When we reached the end of the hall, she turned and opened the last door.

At first all I saw was a typical office, with a desk, shelves stacked with files and books, and metal cabinets.

“Where’s my mother?” I asked, looking around but seeing only an empty desk chair and some papers and random objects scattered on the floor.

Edna pointed underneath the desk, and that’s when I saw Mrs. Perfetti huddled into a ball. Her hair, usually held back in a tidy bun, was loose and tangled around her wide-eyed face.

“Alyce!” she cried shrilly. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I moved closer, bending toward her.

“They might get you! Come under here or they’ll find you!”

I glanced uncertainly at Edna, who just shook her head at me. “Mrs … Mom, what’s going on?”

“Shssh!”
She put her finger to her lips. “Don’t speak too loud, you never know who’s listening. They’re watching and now they’ll get you too, like last time. Hurry and hide with me! I won’t let them take you!” Her voice rose hysterically.

I glanced around, for a moment expecting a Dark Lifer to grab me with shiny gray hands. But I only saw Alyce’s mother, Edna, and Zachary.

Zachary came up behind me and whispered. “Is she on drugs?”

“No!” I said, a bit too sharply because I felt guilty for wondering the same thing.

“Then what’s wrong with her?” he asked.

“She’s had some panic attacks before, but nothing like this,” Edna said. “One minute she was fine, helping a nice young family open an account, then suddenly she rushed out of the room and locked herself in the bathroom. I calmed her down enough to get her to come in here, but that was over an hour ago. If she doesn’t get herself together quick, I’m calling 911.”

“Please don’t!” I cried, glancing anxiously at Alyce’s mother, who was rocking back and forth in a pitiful ball underneath the desk. I had no idea what to do, but I knew Alyce would never abandon her mother. So I said that I’d handle this. Then I reached out a hand to Mrs. Perfetti. “Everything will be okay,” I told her. “I’ve come to take you home.”

“Home?” She blinked.

“Yes. Just take my hand.”

She shifted her legs, rising slowly to grasp my fingers. Her hand felt so warm and small in mine that I felt strangely protective toward her.

But suddenly she jerked away, her hands flying to her chest.

“No!” she screamed at me. “Keep away!”

“What’s wrong?” I cried.

“Evil is here with us!” She turned chalk pale and stared at me with terrified eyes. “He’ll steal your soul and take you away!”

“Don’t be afraid. You’re completely safe,” I said in my calmest voice.

“But you’re not! You can’t trust him!” Mrs. Perfetti rose her arm like a sword with sharp accusation and aimed it directly at Zachary. “He’s the devil!”

Zachary may be a lot of things … but the devil?

This was so absurd, I almost laughed—until I saw Zachary’s scowl and realized that he was
not
amused. There was nothing else to do but end the date ASAP, so I told Zachary to leave. I expected him to argue, or at least ask if I needed a ride back to my car, but sadly, no. He’d had enough—too much, in fact—and I couldn’t blame him.

My first date as “Alyce” was a total failure.

Her mother wasn’t the same “Mrs. Perfetti” I knew and avoided. Her eyes had an unfocused glaze and she spoke all whispery, like a little girl. When I asked for her car keys, she obediently handed them over.

Then I turned to Edna. “I’ll take her home now. Thanks so much … you’ve been great to my mother. She’s lucky to have a loyal friend like you.”

“I am her friend, but … ” Edna’s wrinkles deepened as if she was struggling with her own emotions. “But it’s hard when she gets like this. Please convince her to see someone. To get help.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, although I wasn’t sure what kind of help she needed—a doctor, a shrink, or an exorcist?

I’d known Alyce more than half my life, yet had never seen her mother so out of control. I mean, Mrs. Perfetti was all about control—from the spare cleanliness of her house to the tight leash on her daughter—yet according to Edna, this wasn’t the first time she’d gone freaky. What was going on? Was it some sort of mental breakdown? Or was Zachary’s guess right and Mrs. Perfetti had a drug problem? That would explain the paranoia and devil hallucinations. I didn’t think she was an alcoholic, because she preferred tea to wine and I hadn’t smelled liquor on her breath. Then there was another possibility—darker and scary.

I led Mrs. Perfetti out to her car because no way could she drive—not when she kept murmuring about “the devil” and moving like a zombie. I hated to leave Junkmobile on a downtown street, but it was more important to get Alyce’s mother safely home. I could get the car later.

Mrs. Perfetti fell asleep on the drive, and I had to lead her by the hand into the house like I was the adult and she was the child. Seriously weird. After years avoiding any contact with Alyce’s mother, I was now her caretaker. I eased her onto the couch and handed her the remote control. I hoped she’d fall asleep watching CNN so I could go back to my room and consult the GEM.

“Alyce, what’s for dinner?”

I stopped mid-step, turning back toward the couch with a sinking feeling. “Um … dinner?”

“Can you heat up tomato soup and grill a tuna melt for me?”

Her request wasn’t issued in the commanding tone from last night; she was still using a whiny, little-girl voice—like she was literally someone else. I didn’t want to believe there were supernatural reasons, yet I found myself staring at her suspiciously, searching for telltale grayness around her hands or fingernails. But I couldn’t find any hint of a Dark resident lurking inside her, only a sadness that lingered around her like a gloomy fog.

As I smoothed mayonnaise on wheat bread and slapped on cheese, I kept sneaking peeks into the living room, puzzling over Alyce’s mother. She’d turned on the TV, but instead of flipping to CNN, she watched the cartoon channel. Not really watching, though, since her gaze was fixed on the closed window blinds.

Sighing, I flipped the sandwich over, worrying that I couldn’t handle this Temp Life assignment. Finding a boyfriend for Alyce seemed simple enough and while the gallery had been a little boring, I’d sensed a connection between Alyce and Zachary. I’d even started to imagine Eli and I double dating with Alyce and Zachary. But Alyce couldn’t exactly date someone her mother thought was the devil. Either Mrs. Perfetti was completely off her rocker with hallucinations or she could see something that no one else could … was Zachary a Dark Lifer, too?

But I’d touched his hand, and there wasn’t any gray glow or tingling heat. Maybe I was the one hallucinating, imagining that Dark Lifers were everywhere. Besides, from what Edna said, Mrs. Perfetti’s problems had been going on for a while, and this wasn’t the first time Alyce had had to come for her mother. It was just the first time I’d known about it.

Bending to turn off the stove, I caught my reflection in the glass oven door. “Who are you, Alyce?” I whispered sadly. “Did I ever really know you?”

There wasn’t an answer, although my stomach did grumble. But it would have to wait a little longer. I placed the tuna melt on a dish, the cheesy smell making my stomach growl louder.

The cartoons were still on, and Mrs. Perfetti seemed mesmerized by Bart Simpson mouthing off to his sister Lisa. When I set her plate on the coffee table, she smiled up at me in a vague way, gesturing that I should sit beside her.

I shook my head. “I have other things to do.”

“Don’t leave me … please.” She pointed to the windows. “They’re out there, waiting to take you away.”

“No one is going to take me away.”

“They already did.” She looked at me with a strange expression. “Who are you?”

Ohmygod, how could I handle this? She was completely crazy!

“You know who I am,” I said softly. “I’m your daughter.”

“No, no! My baby girl is … is gone.”

“I’m right here.”

She put her hands over her face as if she hadn’t heard me. “Don’t lie to me … why does everyone lie to me? Doesn’t anyone understand that I just want her back … where is she? Why can’t I find her?”

With an anguished cry she jumped off the couch, jarring the coffee table so some soup spilled. Her feet pounded down the hall, then stopped. A door slammed. I guessed she’d gone into her bedroom. Now what was I supposed to do? If I left her alone, she might hurt herself. Nervously I went down the hall, pausing at her door. It was slightly ajar and, through the crack, I saw her lying with her face buried in a pillow, her shoulders quaking with sobs.

“Are you okay?” I called out.

No answer.

“Can I get you anything?”

I heard a muffled, “Go away!”

Shutting the door, I gave myself a big fat red
F
for Failure.

I was totally in over my head as a Temp Lifer—and as Alyce’s best friend. I should stop now before I messed up everything. I owed it to Alyce, her mother, my family and the entire Temp Life program to quit my assignment. Grammy could replace me with someone experienced. Before I lost my nerve, I went into Alyce’s bedroom to call my grandmother.

The phone flashed with messages. A missed call from Grammy and texts from Eli, Dustin, and Jessica Bradley. Jessica? What did Ms. Popularity-Plus want with Alyce, anyway? Curious, I read the text:

Re: basket club mtg. Mon-lunch. c ya!

Huh? I was President of the Halsey Hospitality Club and hadn’t scheduled a meeting on Monday. But knowing Jessica, a new member of what she fondly called the “Basket Club,” I wasn’t surprised to see her taking over. Jessica was a do-gooder with more fashion sense than common sense. It had been her idea to celebrate my (assumed) death by holding a canned food drive/memorial service. She clearly had a big future as a corporate pirate, stealing companies with a sweet smile and worthwhile goals.

I deleted Jessica’s message, then read Eli’s text:

My songs r 4 u. Luv E.

I read this over and over, loving him, missing him, wishing he were with me instead of singing duets with the Showmance Bitch. I nearly made the huge mistake of calling him back, until I realized he’d want to know everything and I couldn’t tell him about Gabe. So I sent a text (too private to repeat) and signed it
Luv A.

Then I clicked on Dustin’s text:

How’d it go?

This question struck me as so ridiculous that I laughed out loud. As if my date was a normal evening that ended with a kiss, not with a crazy mom calling my date the devil. It would take hours to describe my disastrous night and I didn’t have the energy to go into that now. So I replied with a symbol of a frowning face.

Problems?
he texted back.

I sent three frowning faces this time. Then I added
TTYL,
sure he’d understand that I wasn’t ready to talk yet. I’d fill in him tomorrow. He might not know it yet, but he was going to drive me downtown to collect Junkmobile.

Then I stared down at a missed call message from Grammy. No text or voicemail, so I didn’t know why she’d called. I wanted to call her, yet dreaded it, too. While she always knew the right things to say so I felt better, talking to her would be tricky because of my promise to Gabe. You’d think arranging a meeting between them would be easy. Far from it! Grammy would be angry that I’d broken serious Dark Lifer rules.

Instead of calling Grammy, I shut off the phone.

Why did everything have to be so complicated? I sank on the bed and hugged a pillow to my chest. Guilt and confusion swamped me like a tidal wave. And I missed Alyce sooo much. I could look at her face in the mirror but I couldn’t talk to my very best friend, and that made me feel more alone than ever.

She’ll come back sooner if you do your job, I reminded myself. So with a firm resolve to ditch the self-pity, I shifted into action mode. Planning is what I’d always done to keep myself focused and not dwell on sad emotions. I’d find a notebook and create a plan of action. Things always seemed clearer when I could strategize a solution on paper. Alyce, on the other hand, channeled her emotions into creative brilliance: amazing gift baskets, photographs, paintings. But even with those outlets, she’d spiraled into a crisis—a crisis about “love,” according to the GEM. Maybe I was going about this all wrong. What if her crisis wasn’t about romantic love but about her love for her mother—her unpredictable, unstable mother?

I dug into Monkey Bag and pulled out the GEM. Staring down at the tiny book, I flipped to a random blank page.

“Would a boyfriend for Alyce solve her crisis?”

No.

“No? But when I asked what her problem was before, you said it was love.”

There are many different loves.

“Does that mean I should go out with a different guy?”

Find the missing.

“What’s missing for me is a GEM that gives helpful answers. I went to all the trouble of going out with Zachary because of what you told me. And now there’s the drama with Alyce’s mother. What’s wrong with her, anyway?”

A broken heart begins a chain of sorrow.

“Am I supposed to help Alyce’s mother, too?”

Hope cannot be restored until the lost is found.

“The lost WHAT? You said that before and it still doesn’t make any sense. What am I supposed to find?”

Not what—who,
the smart-ass book corrected.

“Okay then.” Grinding my teeth and reminding myself I was talking to a tiny book, not a real person, I tried another question. “Can you tell me
who
is lost?”

Yes.

“Then do it! Tell me who’s lost!” I cried, losing my temper. “No more confusing answers. I want a name and I want it now.”

SAM.

“And who the hell is Sam?”

Four-letter words are rude.

The book slammed shut.

Just great
, I thought, tossing the worthless bundle of pages on the bedroom floor. Stupid book had too much attitude. Twice in one night, I’d heard the name Sam. It was puzzling enough to see it signed on a painting I knew Alyce had painted, but according to the snarky GEM, Sam was a person who was lost. Yeah, like that made sense.

What would happen if I marched into Mrs. Perfetti’s room and asked about Sam? Would she tell me the truth? Or would that only upset her?

Determined, I left Alyce’s room and went to her mother’s closed door. Leaning my head against the wood, I listened for sounds but heard nothing. Slowly I turned the knob and peeked inside. Mrs. Perfetti was sound asleep.

Still, I was stomping angry at the unfairness of having an assignment without knowing all the circumstances. Why wasn’t I given more information before being thrust into Alyce’s body? When I’d complained about this, Grammy said my job wasn’t to solve Alyce’s problem, only to live her life so she could ultimately solve her own problem.

Humph! If Alyce could solve her own problem, neither of us would be in this mess. So it was up to me to tackle her problems. Only how could I without knowing more? I had a feeling Sam was the key to Alyce’s crisis.