Truth or Dare . . (9 page)

“Leah!” Abby screamed as she recognized her friend. “What are you doing here?”

“Open up!” Leah yelled back, her voice muffled by the glass. “It's wet out!”

Abby unlocked the window and pushed it open. “You scared me to death!” she exclaimed. “Why were you hanging outside my window?”

“Because you wouldn't come to the door,” Leah replied as she climbed into the window. “I was ringing the doorbell for, like, five minutes.”

“The doorbell's broken,” Abby said. “Have you ever heard of knocking?”

Leah shrugged. “What's the big deal?” she said. “I figured you'd be in your room, and here you are.” Then
she glanced around Abby's bedroom. “Whoa. What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Abby said quickly as she felt her face grow hot. “Just—let's go down to the basement and watch TV or something.”

“Is that a
shrine
?” Leah asked incredulously as she walked over to Abby's dresser. She stared at Sara's picture, the rose petals, the gleaming lights. “Abby, did you make a
shrine
to Sara?”

“I don't want to—,” Abby began.

Leah looked concerned. “This has definitely gone too far. I think you're starting to get obsessed. What are you up to here?”

“Why should I tell you?” Abby shot back. “You'll just laugh.”

“No, I won't,” Leah said. “I promise.”

“I was trying to have a séance,” Abby admitted. “I wanted to make contact with Sara to help her get to the other side.”

Neither girl spoke for a moment.

“So you're really convinced that Sara's ghost has been bothering you?” Leah asked.

“It's the only explanation I can think of,” Abby
replied. “I did this research on the Internet, and everything that has happened can be explained as ‘paranormal phenomena.' That's the technical term, I mean. And I saw this one site that said spirits can have trouble moving on, especially if they weren't ready to die. So I . . .”

“Go on,” Leah said encouragingly.

Abby sighed. “If Sara's spirit hasn't been able to move on, then I want to help her,” she finished. “Go ahead. Laugh.”

But Leah looked at Abby without giggling or even smiling. “That's intense,” she finally said. “And you were going to hold a séance all by yourself? Weren't you scared?”

“Yeah,” Abby said. “But I figured it couldn't be any worse than everything else that's been going on. I felt like I had to do something, you know?”

“So what happened?” asked Leah.

“I had just gotten started when you came along and knocked on my window!” Abby exclaimed as she started to laugh. “I was asking for a sign, and then I heard this
tap, tap, tap
.”

Leah started laughing too. “No wonder you were so freaked out!” She got serious again. “You know what?” she asked. “Maybe
I'm
the sign. Maybe I'm the sign
that you need two people for a séance.”

Abby shook her head. “No, that's okay,” she said. “Besides, séances don't work unless everybody believes.”

“Come on, Abby!” Leah said. “You already got everything ready. And if Sara's spirit really is hanging around, it's a nice thing to do, helping her move on. Let's give it another try.”

“Okay,” Abby said slowly. “But no messing around. I don't want to do it unless we both take it seriously.”

“Absolutely,” Leah promised. “So, what do we do?”

Abby glanced at the printouts next to her bed. “We sit across from each other and hold hands,” she told Leah. “That's to make some sort of energy connection. And then we just think and talk about Sara, and all our memories of her, to channel her spirit.”

For several minutes the only sound in the room was Abby and Leah's quiet breathing. Then, with her eyes closed, Abby started speaking. “I remember Sara's first day at school,” she said in a quiet voice. “Everyone wanted to meet her. Everyone wanted to be her friend.”

“I remember when Sara read a poem that she wrote in English class,” Leah spoke up. “It was about the ocean, and it was amazing.”

A rumble of thunder sounded in the distance as
another storm approached. Rain started to fall again, harder and harder, the sound of the raindrops hitting the window like a message in a secret code. The wind moaned, low and lonely, as the shadows of quivering tree branches danced around Abby's room.

Abby knew that it was time to make contact.

“Sara, if you're there, I hope you can hear me,” she began. “I know you've been trying to reach me, and I want you to know something: You will never be forgotten, Sara. Not by your family, not by your friends, not by Jake. And not by me, even though I didn't get to know you very well. I know why you're angry. It's not fair that I'm here and you're not. It's not fair that Jake is taking me to the dance and not you. We both know that if you were still alive, he would have asked you.”

A jagged bolt of lightning illuminated the dark room, followed by an immediate clap of thunder that was so loud it made both girls jump. But Abby, her eyes still closed, pressed on.

“But you're not here, Sara. If you cared about Jake, and I know that you did, you would want him to go on with his life. That doesn't mean he'll forget you. But don't torture yourself by clinging to a life that's over, Sara. Move
on. Move on into the spirit world. Move on.”

Abby was quiet for a few moments, listening to the storm rage outside. Then, finally, she opened her eyes. To her surprise, Leah's eyes were tearing up. “Hey,” she said gently. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Leah said with a loud sniff. “I just—I felt so sad for her, all of a sudden. You're right, Abby. It's
not
fair.”

“No,” Abby said sadly. “It isn't.”

“Did you feel like Sara's spirit was here?” Leah asked. “I tried to believe, but I didn't feel anything that was, like, a ghost or anything.”

Abby shrugged. “I don't know,” she said. “But we did what we could.”

Ping!

“That was my computer!” Abby exclaimed as she laughed nervously. “Uh, I guess the séance is over.” She turned on the monitor and clicked on her e-mail. For a moment she didn't say a word.

“Anything interesting?” Leah asked as she pulled the cloth off Abby's mirror and started fixing her eye makeup.

“Leah?” Abby asked. Her voice was high and tight. “Can—can you come look at this?”

“Sure. What's up?” Leah asked. She peered over
Abby's shoulder at the computer screen. At the top of the e-mail window, the girls read:

“Whoa. What is that?” Leah asked slowly.

“It's—it's Sara's old e-mail address,” Abby stammered. “But this e-mail was just sent!”

“You'd better open it, Abby,” Leah said. When Abby hesitated, Leah reached forward and clicked on the e-mail. In an instant, it filled the whole computer screen.

PRESENT FOR JAKE IN YOUR TOP DRESSER DRAWER.

“Oh, no,” Abby whispered. “This séance was a terrible idea.”

“Maybe not,” Leah said hopefully. “I mean, maybe Sara had a message that she needed to give to Jake, and by contacting her you made that possible! Maybe now her spirit will be free to go to the other side!”

But Abby was filled with horrible dread. “I don't
think so, Leah,” she said. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

“Just go see what it is,” Leah encouraged her. “Just go see if there's even anything there.”

Abby walked over to her dresser, where Sara's picture stared back at her, still illuminated by the glowing lights. She pulled open the top drawer and looked inside.

Socks. Her bathing suit. Old T-shirts for sleeping in.

Nothing unexpected.

Nothing unusual.

Abby was so relieved she started to laugh. “Leah, there's nothing here—,” she began. But her voice trailed off when she saw it: the corner of a pale purple piece of paper. She didn't remember ever putting something like that in the drawer. She moved a pair of socks out of the way and found a carefully folded piece of paper with Jake's name on it, written in tiny, perfect letters.

“What do I do with this?” Abby asked anxiously. “Give it to Jake? What would I say? ‘Hey, Jake, I found this in my sock drawer and I think it's for you?'” She picked up the paper and suddenly caught a whiff of that strange, exotic flower again. “Do you smell that?” she asked Leah abruptly.

“Smell what?” Leah asked impatiently as she grabbed the paper out of Abby's hand. “I want to read it.”

“Maybe we shouldn't,” Abby wondered aloud. “It could just make things worse.”

But it was too late. Leah had already unfolded the paper. Abby watched her eyes move back and forth as she read whatever was written there.

“Well? What does it say?” Abby asked.

Leah crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it in the trash. “Never mind,” she said firmly. “It was stupid. It was nothing.”

“Forget that,” Abby said as she reached into the trash. “I want to know what it said!”

“Abby, don't—,” Leah began.

Abby smoothed out the wrinkled paper. She stood completely still as she stared at the note. The message on it wasn't long.

Truth time, Jake. What do you see in Abby? You can do better!

Abby inhaled sharply. She wanted to forget every word of the note, but she knew that the message was
burned into her memory forever. She stared into the dresser drawer so that Leah couldn't see the tears that filled her eyes.

“I'm so sorry. I wish I hadn't read it. I wish
you
hadn't read it,” Leah said miserably. “It was so mean. And so harsh. And totally not true! I never knew Sara was so mean. Abby? Abby? What's wrong? You look like you're going to pass out!”

Abby reached into the drawer, picked something up, and turned toward Leah. “There's something else in here,” she said, her voice hoarse.

Abby held out her hand to Leah and uncurled her fingers.

A lock of long red hair tied together with a purple bow gleamed in her palm.

“Gross!” Leah exclaimed, jumping back. “What is that?”

“It's hair,” Abby said with a shudder. “Red hair. Leah, if you can come up with a reasonable explanation for this, I'm dying to hear it.”

Leah just looked at her with wide eyes. “Abby, I don't know what to say,” she replied. “You . . . haven't started collecting other people's hair, have you?”

Abby turned away. “This isn't funny,” she said coldly. “Sorry if my sense of humor is failing me right now.”

“No,
I'm
sorry,” Leah replied as she stared at the floor. “I didn't mean for that to sound sarcastic. You need a totally supportive friend now more than ever, and I've been an epic fail in that department. This is all just very hard to believe.”

“Tell me about it.” Abby sighed. “It seems obvious, though, that Sara's . . . spirit has been here. She was probably here the night of my sleepover, too, when she moved my cell phone and turned it on and all that.”

Leah sighed too. “Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“I . . . never mind,” Leah said awkwardly. But there was something about the expression on her face that made Abby narrow her eyes and take a closer look at her friend.

“What is it?” Abby asked.

“Forget it,” Leah replied.

“Leah, if you don't tell me right now—,” Abby said, her temper starting to rise.

“Okay, okay, I have to confess something,” Leah said as she held up her hands. “At your sleepover, after everyone went to bed, I couldn't sleep, and I was wondering if Jake had texted you back. Maybe he had told you that Max mentioned me. So I got up and I, well, borrowed your cell. Just to see if Jake texted you again.”

“You went snooping around in my phone?” Abby cried.

“No! Not exactly. Well . . . kind of,” Leah admitted.
“I know, I know. I didn't have any right to do that. But I was really curious, and honestly, I didn't even know if you would tell me if he
did
text you again. You're so secretive sometimes.”

“I can't believe you did that,” Abby said. “It was
none
of your business. No wonder I'm secretive when you're always invading my privacy.”

“Ouch,” Leah said. “That was mean.”

“But true,” Abby said. “So did you send me that scary text message, too?”

“No!” exclaimed Leah, looking genuinely hurt. “Abby, I would never do something like that.”