Dead Girl Dancing (23 page)

“That’s sweet of you, but I don’t mind waiting.” She waved her hand a bit helplessly. “Although it’s getting so warm and I’m—” Her voice broke off and her feet buckled.

We both moved to help but Eli reached her first, cradling her in his arms so she didn’t fall. He grabbed a water bottle, twisted it open and held it up to her mouth. “Take a sip,” he encouraged gently.

“That’s better … but, ooh … everything is spinning.” She stood up and took a step forward then swayed.

“You need medical attention,” Eli said firmly. “I’ll talk to the guards and see if there’s a medic nearby.”

“Gracious, no. I don’t want anyone fussing over me. I’ll be fine if I just take a moment in the ladies’ room.”

“I’ll take you there,” Eli offered.

She shooed him away. “Young men have no place going near a ladies’ room. I’ll be fine.”

But it was obvious by the way she wobbled that she couldn’t make it two feet on her own.

“I’ll take you,” I offered.

“You can’t leave now,” Eli protested.

“This won’t take long, and you can hold my place for me. The restroom isn’t far and I can get back before the line moves.” Not giving Eli a chance to argue, I stood and took the frail woman by the arm.

She moved surprisingly quickly once we neared the restroom. When I reached for the door, I frowned at an
out of service
sign hanging on the knob. “Oh, no. We’ll have to find another place.”

“Don’t mind that,” she said, pushing the door open. “I was here earlier and it works just fine.” Then she wobbled, and I lunged forward to keep her from falling.

The bathroom seemed to be in working order: no leaking faucets or overflowing toilets. I led the woman to a stall. She leaned against the door and reached into her shoulder bag.

“I’m going to go now,” I said as I turned around.

“No, you aren’t. You’re staying here with me.” She whipped something gray out of her bag and aimed it at me.

A stun gun.

As I stared in astonishment, she reached up and yanked off her gray wig. Shining red curls tumbled down over her not-so-old shoulders.

Too shocked to think, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “What is it with you and bathrooms?”

“It was the only place to get you alone.”

“I can’t believe you followed me over four hundred miles! Are you obsessed or something? What’s this all about?” I was trying to stall her while I gauged the distance between the door and her gun hand, considering my chances for rushing her. I was taller than she was by at least six inches, but she was wider and probably stronger. I could run faster … but not faster than her trigger finger.

“No sudden moves.” She kept the gun aimed at me. “I don’t want to use this, but I will if you don’t do exactly what I say.”

I nodded, fear creeping up my spine. “What do you want?”

“My best friend back the way she used to be,” she said with a weary sigh. “Sharayah, this is an intervention.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Shari,” the redhead continued, so miserably that even though she held the stun gun, I felt a little sorry for her.

Best friend? I remembered Eli telling me how Sharayah dumped all her friends, even her closest friend since childhood.

“Hannah?” I guessed.

“I followed you hundreds of miles and borrowed my mother’s Taser just to get you alone.” She wiped tears from her eyes with her free hand. “I even went to this funky Taser party with my mom to learn how to use this. I’m not kidding around, Shari, I will stun you if that’s what it takes to keep you here.”

“But I have to get back to the audition. I was almost to the front of the line and there isn’t much time left before—” I hesitated, realizing this wasn’t the time or place to explain about Temp Lifers. “Anyway, this competition is really important.”

“Other things are more important … like our friendship.”

“Hannah, I know you’re a wonderful friend, but I really need to go back to Eli. Can’t we just meet after the competition?”

“To hell with the goddamned competition!” Then she blushed, as if ashamed by her outburst. “See how crazy you make me? I almost never swear because of how we think it’s so demeaning. Remember when we found that Shakespearean-insult website and went around saying stuff like ‘thou crusty beef-witted canker blossom’ and ‘thou poisonous fly-bitten fustilarian’? We mocked other kids who only repeated the same boring swear words. But you’ve changed … I can’t believe what I’ve been hearing about you.”

That’s for sure, I thought ruefully. I nodded to show her I was ashamed, then subtly took a step closer to the door.

“Stop!” she ordered, with a steady aim of the gun. “I’m way serious about this intervention.”

“I have to g—”

“Don’t interrupt! I’ve gone through hell because of you, and the least you can do is give me fifteen freaking minutes of your time. I don’t want to hear any more arguments. Be quiet and listen until we’re done … or else.” She pushed the gun closer to me.

I lifted my hands in surrender. “I’ll stay,” I promised.

She exhaled so deeply that the faux wrinkles on her face relaxed. Now that I could see her close up, I was embarrassed that I’d been fooled by the grandma act. Her reddish-brown lashes curled over large chocolate eyes that were glistening with emotion. But her full lips were pressed together with determination as she kept a steady grip on the gun.

“You have to do what I say.” She reached behind her for a cheerful blue beach bag and pulled out a small blanket. She tossed it on the floor and told me to spread it out, then sit down.

Impressed with how far she’d gone to help a friend—and not wanting to give her any reason to try out that Taser—I obediently sat down. Hannah’s granny skirt flared out on the blanket as she sat down across from me, keeping her gun hand lifted while she grabbed the straps of her bag and swung it between us.

“This is how this works.” She spoke with determination. “You sit still and look at what I have to show you. No interruptions.”

“But what about Eli? He’ll worry when I don’t come back.”

“I’ll take care of him.” She withdrew a phone from her bag, then flipped it open with her pink-frosted thumbnail. It was a smooth move, actually, since her other hand continued to hold the gun. I couldn’t help but be impressed with her multitasking skills.

Except I was more anxious about what she was going to do. I watched uneasily while she punched a button and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Hey, Eli,” she said in a casual tone. “Yeah, it’s Hannah … I know, it is a surprise … actually, that’s why I’m calling.” The gun wiggled as she laughed. “She’s here with me, it’s a coincidence but we just ran into other … Calm down, she’s fine, but she’s having severe stage fright so I’m giving her a pep talk. She says for you to go ahead and she’ll join you soon.” Abruptly, Hannah hung up.

“All done,” she told me, smiling. I noticed that as she put her phone away, she hit the
off
button.

“So now what?” I asked warily.

“The intervention begins.” She used the butt end of the gun to gesture to her beach bag. “We’ll start with our sixth-grade science trip.”

When she started pulling out scrapbooks and photo albums, I began to think Hannah’s bag was a bottomless pit. She had each of her many books organized with labels for the year and for the events. The blue album showed Hannah and Sharayah, age eleven, grinning as they paddled canoes and trudged on hikes at science camp. It was cute how they both wore pigtails and similar clothes, and even their poses were alike as they goofed for the camera.

Seeing them together made me think of Alyce and miss her more than ever. We’d never shared science camp (well, I’d gone, but even in elementary school Alyce shunned social events), but we did camp out once in a house that was rumored to be haunted. We hadn’t met any ghosts but we scared each other by telling stories all night.

Album by album, I went back down Sharayah’s memory lane. Sharayah and Hannah had been so close that I began to understand Hannah’s motivation in bringing me here. And her resourcefulness was amazing. I mean, the “closed” sign on the bathroom was brilliant. No one would come in to disturb us.

Including Eli.

My mind wandered while she pointed to a picture of a golden, long-haired puppy that Sharayah had given her as a birthday gift when she turned sixteen. But each minute we reminisced diminished my hopes of winning the
Voice Choice
competition. I was running out of time—in more ways than one. The clock on my body switch was ticking, too. I wasn’t wearing a watch so I didn’t know the exact time, but I’d glanced at Eli’s watch before I left him and it was almost three.

The body switch could happen soon.

Grammy had said that once it started, there was no stopping the process.

“Hannah, I’ve seen enough photos,” I said as I closed a book from third grade. “I appreciate all you’ve done, and it’s worked. This was exactly what I needed to get my head together. You’re a great friend.”

“That’s not what you said when you moved out of our dorm. You cut me off like I was a stranger,” she said with a sniff. “That was just cruel.”

“I’m really sorry. But I wasn’t myself—it was like I was possessed by a demon,” I added for dramatic effect. Sharayah probably wasn’t the dramatic type, but it always worked for me. “I was horrible, and you’re the best friend in the universe not to give up on me. I can never thank you enough.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Absolutely. I want to be friends again.”

“Oh, Shari, that’s what I was hoping you’d say.” Her whole demeanor changed and she lowered her hand—but still held on to the gun. “I was sure all I needed to do was get you to listen to me and remember the good times.”

“You were right,” I assured. “Your intervention was a success. Since we’re done here, I really need to get back to the contest.”

“Why?” She wrinkled her brow.

“To show the judges what an amazing voice I have. Don’t you want me to be a singing star?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Um … no.”

“Come off it, Shari. You’re the most private person I know. You’ve never sung in public! You’re always teasing Eli about his secret passion for karaoke. And you never, ever brag about having a good voice.”

“So singing isn’t my dream?” I asked.

“Duh. You can’t stand pop tarts like Britney. You want to be a doctor.” She frowned at me. “Maybe you really have been taken over by a demon. But I won’t give up on you. I still have three photo albums and the scrapbook for the secret club we made when we were in third grade.”

She eyed me suspiciously and lifted the Taser.

Then, with steely determination, she picked up yet another photo album.

While she turned pages and reminded me of a trip to Lake Tahoe and a wild ride on a snowmobile, my hands started to itch. The itch heated up into a strange warmth that spread through my arms. I glanced down and had to swallow a gasp when I saw my fingers glowing. And the rest of me felt weird, too. My thoughts swam in a fog and I felt numb all over, as if I was disconnecting from my body.

Sharayah’s body.

What time was it? I tried to ask Hannah, panicked when I couldn’t hear my voice. Sounds echoed all around me, as if I were being swept along a dark tunnel.

It was happening, I realized. What I’d wished for desperately, yet dreaded, too. I was leaving Sharayah and returning home. Only I wasn’t ready yet. I sent my thoughts out to Grammy, begging for more time because I hadn’t made Sharayah a star. I hadn’t said good-bye to Eli, either. It was all happening too fast, out of control, swirling dark colors mingling with a sense of rushing movement.

Then I felt myself stop.

A jolt as if I’d crashed into a wall.

And when I opened my eyes and looked around, I realized the “wall” wasn’t made of brick or concrete—it was made of flesh, blood, and curly brown hair.

I was Amber again.