M.I.N.D. (12 page)

Then I think about Ethan, and I can't stop the tears. He was so hurt, so angry. But can I blame him? I'd just about come out and accused his sister of being a killer.

Too tired to change into PJs, I turn out the light. I fall asleep wearing his sweatshirt, the locket clasped in my hand, hot tears spilling onto my pillow.

The phone jolts me out of a dream and into wakefulness. It's morning, and sunlight is streaming in through the window. I glance at the caller ID. Leanne. I turn off the phone.

I recall my dream. It was about Amanda. We were on the riverbank and she was wearing that flowing red dress. She reached into the water and plucked out a rose, her fingers bleeding from the thorns. She handed it to me and it turned into a dove, its tiny heart pulsing in my palm. I tossed it into the air and it flew away.

I tell myself a dream is just a dream. Talking to Ethan was probably what triggered it. That and a few hefty gulps from Brendan's flask.

I change into PJs and climb back into bed. Ethan was right. Why should I care? I didn't know that little girl. People die in accidents all the time. My father's face flashes before my eyes. What's it to me if some random kid is dead?

Problem is, I can't stop thinking about it. I just know, somehow, that Amanda and that girl are connected.

Poor little Rose.

I pull my comforter up over my head. I don't want to think about Ethan or Amanda, or even my father. I feel myself drifting off again, and this time my sleep is dreamless.

***

I awake to Leanne yanking down my comforter. “Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead,” she says with far too much cheer. “It's almost eleven. You need to start working out or something. Why are you so tired? I'm the one who got in late last night.”

I look up at her and scowl. “Why are you here?”

“I'm helping you with your psych project. At least that's what I told your mother. It's the only way she'd let me see you, since you're grounded and all. I had to apologize for letting you talk me into going last night. It was kind of demeaning. Actually, I came by to make sure you're okay, since you're obviously ignoring my calls.”

I pull the covers back over my head. “Go away. I'm not talking to you.”

“Why are you so mad?” she says, pulling them down again.

“You called me this morning!”

“Is it my fault I couldn't get a signal?”

I snort. “Like there's no signal from the backseat of a car.”

She plants herself at the foot of my bed. “For your information, all we did was talk. Our whole future was at stake, but do you even care?”

“Your whole future is
always
at stake.”

“Look, I'm sorry. But I honestly thought you wanted some alone time with Ethan. I was doing you a favor.”

I sit up and reach for my phone, thinking maybe he called after I'd turned it off. Though how could he? I never gave him my number. I check anyway, but nada. Just four messages from Leanne. Sometimes I wonder why I even have a phone, since she's the only one who ever calls me, not counting my mother, who left eleven messages while I was at the river. I delete everything.

“Is that his?” Leanne asks, staring wide-eyed at the sweatshirt hooked over my bedpost. “Details, girl!”

I sigh, then recap the main events of the evening. How he made sure I was warm as we walked hand-in-hand to his car. How his lips felt on mine.

How I questioned him about the night of the carnival, particularly about the state Amanda was in when she got home. How I brought up the hit-and-run and ruined everything.

I don't tell her how I jumped into Josh and consequently experienced his accompanying parts. I don't think she'd appreciate how well I got to know him.

“Aha!” she says. “So you agree with me. You think Amanda was involved in that hit-and-run. Though accusing a guy's sister of being an accomplice to murder probably isn't the best way to keep him interested.”

I finger the locket around my neck. “I couldn't stop myself—I can't get it out of my mind. And I can't help how I feel. Or what I dream.” I tell her about the rose, how it turned into a dove and flew away. “I think it means something, but I can't figure out what.”

“It's like I said before. Your subconscious is trying to make sense of what she said to you on the bus.” She kicks off her shoes, then hugs her knees to her chest. “Or maybe it's a spiritual thing. Maybe there's something to this astral stuff after all.”

“How do you mean?” I ask suspiciously. Is this some alternate Leanne?

“Didn't you ever wonder where ideas come from? How all of a sudden they just pop into your head? Why do you think we call it inspiration? Spirits are always sending us messages, even after they've crossed over, but we're usually too busy to pay attention. Except in dreams. That's how they communicate best. Maybe Amanda is trying to reach you.”

Wow. In just a few days she's morphed from a total psychophobe to a wannabe ghost whisperer. “Your mother's pregnancy must have totally unhinged you,” I say. “Next thing I know, you'll be conducting séances.”

“Just because we don't understand something, it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. There could even be a scientific explanation. We just don't know it. Amanda could be trying to contact you from some kind of holding place. I mean, it takes nine months to come into the world, so it stands to reason that it takes time to leave it as well.”

My heart plummets. “You think she's going to die?”

“You have to admit, it doesn't look good. She's been in a coma for almost two weeks. Wherever she is, she's stuck. She can't get back to her body, and she can't progress to the next spiritual plane. I read that can happen when a soul is troubled.”

I nod slowly. “The hit-and-run.”

“The blood symbolizes her guilt. Her dress too, since red represents strong emotion. The rose, of course, symbolizes that little girl.” She grins. “Hey, I'm good at this.”

“And the dove?” I ask, amazed at this new Leanne.

She thinks for a moment. “That's a two-parter. Amanda is asking for your help. That's why she gave you the rose. It turned into a dove so it could fly back to the world. She wants you to uncover the truth. It's also a symbol for peace. She can't move on until she's at peace with herself.”

“But then she'll die for real,” I say morosely.

“She can't get back to her body anyway. If she could, she wouldn't need your help. She'd be able to 'fess up all on her own.”

“How am I supposed to uncover the truth? Just because I've seen every episode of CSI at least three times, it doesn't make me a detective.” Nervously, I fiddle with my pillow sham. I have a feeling where this is going, and I don't like it.

Say hello to the real ghost whisperer.

“You use your M.I.N.D.,” she spells out. “I made that up. It stands for Mental Invasive Neurological Disorder.”

“M.I.N.D.,” I repeat. “That's the lamest thing I ever heard. Besides, it makes me sound…challenged.”

“It's no lamer than the word
switshetshela
. But if it makes you feel better, don't think of it as a condition. Think of it as a gift. You're like Mozart or Einstein, only better.”

I roll my eyes. “I'm no genius, Leeny. Besides, I told you a thousand times, I can't read minds.”

“Yeah, I know. It's a body thing. And since Amanda is currently out of hers, that leaves Brendan. All you have to do is wait inside his head until he does something stupid. Like getting totally baked and bragging to his stoner friends about what happened. You'll be an eyewitness after the fact, though I'd omit the part about seeing through
his
eyes.”

“That's your plan? I hang around in his body indefinitely? What happens when my mother can't wake me up for school? Besides, even if it wasn't so ridiculous, which it totally is, you have the wrong guy. I told you, it was Zack who took her home from the carnival, not Brendan.”

“You don't know that,” she says. “You didn't actually hear him say it, did you?”

“No, but it's obvious. She ditched Brendan and Zack stepped in. They hooked up, Leeny. Who else would she leave with?” I shoot her an accusatory look. “If you hadn't abandoned me, you'd know for yourself. You would have heard the whole thing.”

“Can you please drop it? I said I was sorry, didn't I? You're so sensitive. Anyway, you probably misunderstood. You do that, you know. You make assumptions. And Zack was lying about hooking up. What you heard was him trying to pick a fight. And now you know why. He has the hots for Amanda.”

Yesterday a remark like that would have sent me weeping under the covers. Today, zilch. Oh, my heart still aches, only it's not for him. Sure, Ethan was mad, but did he have to be so mean?

“Boys are such jerks,” I say. “If Zack is so hot for Amanda, why did he make out with Stephanie in the cafeteria?”

“Because she was there? He's a guy, Cass.”

I frown. “A guy who could be a criminal. All the pieces fit, Leeny. He left with her, I'm sure of it. Except they didn't go home, not right away. They made a stop at the country club. He'd just been fired, and he had a grudge. Taking a car from under the nose of the valet would definitely give the place a rep.”

“Oh, please. People get fired all the time. It doesn't make them killers. He's not in jail, is he? The police never would have released him if they thought he was guilty.”

“Excuse me? Are you saying he was
arrested
?”

She pauses. “Not arrested, questioned. They talked to all the employees, even the fired ones. It was just routine. They even questioned Josh.”

“How do you know they questioned the fired ones?”

“I just do,” she snaps.

“You just do? What kind of answer is that?”

She blows out a breath. “Since you're so curious, the cops were asking about a cap. A skull-and-bones cap. They found it in the front seat of that car. Josh told them it was Zack's, which is why I didn't say anything before. I didn't want to have to listen to you go on and on about how my boyfriend ratted out the man of your dreams.”

“Well, I don't like him anymore, but that's so not the point. The guy I was crazy about was practically arrested and you're just mentioning it now?”

“I'll tell you what the point is,” she says, waving her finger in my face. “The point is, they let him go. Apparently the skull-and-bones thing is pretty common. It's a symbol for a lot of fraternities, a couple of sororities too. And don't forget the Bonesmen. You know, that secret society at Yale? Besides, it couldn't have been his cap. You said he was wearing it on the bus to Hartford. And what about last night? He was wearing it then too.”

“He could have bought a new one. For all we know, he could have a whole drawer full of them.” Like I said, I watch a lot of CSI.

“His DNA would be all over it,” she says triumphantly.

“Who says it's not? They can't force you to give them a sample if you haven't been arrested.” Though I can't blame her for not knowing this. Even CSI gets it wrong.

“I rest my case,” she says. “They didn't arrest him. And do you know why? Because he didn't do it. It was Brendan,” she insists. “Why do you think he was coming on to you? He thinks Amanda blabbed to you on the bus and now he's squirming. He's trying find out how much you know.”

“Why is it so hard to believe that Brendan likes me? Am I so ugly?”

“What, so now you're crushing on that scumbag?”

Ethan's face flashes in my mind. “What is the matter with you? Have you not been listening to anything?” Then I remember something Zack said, something about target practice, and I say, reluctantly, “Fine. Maybe Brendan
was
digging for information. Well, guess what? He's the one who shot out the principal's window. That's why he was squirming. He was worried that Amanda might have said something. And she did. But not to me. She told Zack.”

“Some psychic
you
are,” Leanne retorts. “You can't even see the truth when it's staring you in the face. What kind of nutcase kid goes shooting out windows?”

She's right about that. What kind of nutcase kid even
has
a gun? But it doesn't erase the fact that Amanda left with Zack that night, not Brendan.

I eye her warily. “Why are you bent on this vendetta against him anyway? Why is this whole thing so important to you?”

“I can ask you the same question. Just a few days ago you thought it was all bogus. Why is it suddenly so important to
you
?”

I don't answer. Truth is, I have no answer. Just a feeling.

A feeling and this stupid locket.

“I have to go,” she says abruptly, and jumps to her feet.

I sigh. “Leeny, take a pill. Just because we don't agree on this, you don't have to get all bent. I thought you were going to help me with my project.”

“I can't. Josh isn't working today, so we're going shopping for prom dresses.”

Of course they are. “I didn't realize they came in his size,” I say tersely.

Forget tablecloth. If Josh has his way, she'll end up in a nun's veil and habit.

***

I'll be home by 3. I made you lunch. Have a nice day. P.S. You're still grounded.

I pull the note off the fridge and crumple it into a ball. After forcing down a slice of sprouted rye bread topped with a suspicious-looking puree—it was either that or starve to death; it's not like there's any real food in the house—I go back upstairs, sit at my desk, and stare at my laptop. I still don't have a topic for my psych project. I think about what Leanne said about spirits and inspiration. Maybe I should buy a Ouija board. If ever I needed inspiration, it's now. I have to make my presentation on Monday.