Spirits of Spring (The Haunting Ruby Series Book 4) (16 page)

For the most part, she just sat back and listened. She
interjected here and there for clarification and the occasional
“Oh my God, Ruby! Why didn’t you tell us what was going on?”
but she never once made me feel like a freak. I didn’t really
need her to—everyone else already did that job quite well for
me. I gave her every detail about Scarlet, Garnet, and Allison.
The one ghost I didn’t want discuss was Clay—the most
important one of all.
I lashed out at him in a moment of raw
anger. The old saying was true—you always hurt the ones you
love. While I didn’t love Clay in the same way I loved Zach, he
was definitely special to me. He deserved an apology. A
huge
apology. He was one of the best friends I’d ever had—until I
went totally cray-cray on him. Why did I
always
seem to do the
stupidest
things?

“So you were talking to someone in the car? Who was
it?” Shelly quickly cast a furtive glance over her shoulder. “And
are they here now?” she whispered.

“Whispering won’t really do you any good, Shelly.
They’re dead not deaf. And no, he isn’t here—and I certainly
don’t blame him. He didn’t deserve any of the things I said to
him. I wish I could take it all back.”

“Well, you can’t. I love you like my own daughter, Ruby,
but you don’t think before you act—or talk. You need to curb
that impulsiveness of yours before you really lose someone you
love—for good.”

She was right. She was totally right. All of the fights I
had with Zach were spurred by my impulsivity.
There went
that damned heart of mine, spouting out things before my brain
had a chance to censor them. As soon as I was done talking to
Shelly, I would have to tell Clay that I was sorry. Until then, at
least talking
about
him made me feel a little bit better.

So, I told her everything about him—from the day I first
saw him at Silver Lake, to the night he nearly gave me a heart
attack in the tunnels, to how he stayed with me during the time
Jonas was holding me captive. The more I talked about the time
we’d spent together—both good
and
bad—the worse I felt
about the things I’d said to him. I had to apologize and I had to
do it
now
.

I bolted out of my chair and headed for the grand
staircase—impulsively.
My conversation with Shelly was far
from over—we hadn’t even discussed the fact that I was never
setting foot back in that school again for as long as I lived. But
talking to Clay was the only thing on my mind. I couldn’t even
wrap my brain around everything else until that conversation
was over and done with.

“Clay!” I called out as I ran up the steps, “Are you ready
to race me again?” I looked around for him but found nothing.
“I hear you run like a girl,” I taunted to try to coax him out. Still
nothing. What about the bond we shared? When I wanted rid
of him—even just for the time being—he always seemed to be
lingering somewhere close by. Now, when I needed him most,
he was gone. And I felt alone.

I spent most of the day sitting in bed contemplating my
situation. What was I going to do? There was no way that I
could ever dare show my face in this town again. Ever. Zach
had saved me from countless dangers since I first moved to
Charlotte’s Grove but there was one thing he couldn’t save me
from—humiliation.

This was far worse than the locker room video incident.
Far. Worse. At least I was able to come up with a plausible
excuse for my behavior that day. But there was no way to talk
my way out of this. Lucas saw what happened that night in the
bell tower. Even if he couldn’t see Allison, he knew that she
was there. He knew that I wasn’t crazy. He knew that my
ability to see ghosts was real and not just all in my head. When
I told him my secret, he believed every word I said—I knew
that he did. But none of that mattered now. Even if I shouted it
from the roof tops, no one would want to hear my story. No
one would want to hear the truth. If I asked Zach and Rachel to
back me up on this, they would be branded as freaks, too.
I
couldn’t ask them to do something like that. Just being
associated with someone like me was damaging enough to their
reputations.
I had to find a way to hide until it was time to
leave for Pendleton.

My
phone buzzed with
an incoming
text just as
a
brilliant idea hit me. When I saw that the message was from
Zach, I got even more excited.
He was going to be just as
excited to hear my news as I was to tell it to him.
I barely
stopped to read what he said and certainly didn’t even attempt
to answer his questions. All I did was type two words and hit
send.

“Cyber school.” I was a super genius! It was the answer
to all of my prayers. If I had only thought of this as an option
way back when Misty filmed me in the shower, I could have
avoided the ugly incident in school today. And I never would
have said all of those mean things to Clay. I called his name
again but still nothing. Was he staying away because he hated
me?
Or was it possible that when I told him that I never
wanted to see him again, I somehow sent him away for good?
Was there a dark place somewhere, a place for those who
hadn’t moved on but were unwelcome on earth as well? Oh
Dear God I hope not! As soon as I got my response from Zach, I
was calling Rita to find out.

Was I sure? Umm…duh. Of course, I was sure! As long
as I finished high school in some manner, I didn’t think my dad
would care how I did it. It was the perfect plan. Fool. Proof. I
replied with a simple “yes” and immediately called Something
Wick-ed to get Rita’s opinion of Clay’s absence. Once I heard
her answer, I wished that I hadn’t.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Ruby, spirits are far more
human than any of the other entities you’ve faced. They can’t
feel physical pain, of course, but they have the same kind of
feelings and emotions that they had when they were still alive.
Clay isn’t in some dark purgatory right now—he’s staying away
from you because you hurt his feelings. I would bet that he is
still somewhere near you but keeping out of sight.
He may be
more sensitive than you realize—he may not want you to see
that he’s been crying.”

“Thanks, Rita—you just
made me feel a
whole
lot
better,” I said sarcastically.
Another wave of impulsiveness
struck and I added a quick, “Oh, and I quit,” before ending the
call.
Quickly, I turned off my phone and tossed it onto my bed.
In a fit of exasperation, I buried my head in my pillow and
screamed as loud as I could. WTF?
Could my day possibly get
any worse?
I wanted to scream until I went mute.
Then I
wanted to grab Misty by her flaxen extensions, throw her into a
shark tank, and watch patiently until she got her period. Who
was
I
kidding?
With my luck, she was on that birth control
where you only get your period once a year. Joke’s on Ruby yet
again. And besides, as far as I know, sharks aren’t cannibalistic.
Misty would be in there swimming gracefully with her own
kind while I sat there wondering why the karma bus kept
running
me
over instead of
her
.

So within a matter of a few hours, I’d decided to quit
school, quit my job, and I made a ghost cry. All of this because
Lucas couldn’t keep his damned mouth shut about the fact that
I could communicate with the dead. And in turn, all because
Misty wouldn’t give up on sinking her fangs into Zach. If it
weren’t for the fear that they would haunt me silly, I would add
them both to the list of those resting not so peacefully.
The
emotional strain was too much for me to take.
My fragile
teenage psyche had suffered enough trauma for one lifetime.
I
decided to do something drastic—take a nap.
I already felt as
broken down and useless as a nursing home patient so I might
as well sleep in the middle of the day like one, too.
But I still
wasn’t ready for that gross tapioca pudding old people liked to
eat. It was the stuff nightmares were made of.
That was the
last thought that floated through my brain before I fell asleep.
Cue the irony.

While I was smart enough to know that just thinking
about tapioca pudding wouldn’t
actually
give me nightmares, I
rationalized that it had to be the reason why I had the worst
dream I’d had in a long time. The dream was super vivid and I
woke up crying. I dreamed about the white dog again—the dog
I’d come to know as my subconscious mind’s symbolization of
Clay. The dog kept whining and prancing as it tried to find a
way to cross the river to be with me. Regardless of his feelings
for me, Clay understood that there was no way we could ever
be a couple, didn’t he? Maybe he did and that was the most
frustrating part for him—knowing that there was a line that he
could never cross no matter how hard he tried. I felt so bad for
the dog—for Clay—but there wasn’t anything I could do about
it. Even if I
did
feel the same way about him, I certainly wasn’t
going to pull a Juliet so that I could spend the rest of eternity
wandering the grounds of the Heaven’s Gate Cemetery with
him. No offense to love or anything, but I’d learned one thing
since Lee’s death—life
really does
go on after you
lose
someone.

My heart broke as I watched that dog howl and whine
as it frantically tried to find a safe place to cross the river. I
couldn’t take it anymore. I crept up to the red water’s edge
straight across the bank from it and knelt down with my knees
in the snow. The only thing I could do was try to talk to it and
make it understand that it couldn’t come to me and that I
couldn’t cross to meet it, either. Once down at the dog’s eye
level, I caught its gaze and held it there silently for a moment. It
had the prettiest eyes I’d ever seen in an animal—there was
clearly human intelligence behind them.
In a soft, soothing
voice, I spoke to it. And it listened to me.

“You can’t cross here. The river is
too
wide,
too
turbulent—you’ll be swept away in the current if you try. Stay
over there where it’s safe. Please!”

The dog threw its head back and released a howl that
any wolf would be proud of. As its cries resounded through the
still air, it became more of a guttural noise—one of physical
pain, not emotional. Then I saw it. Blood began to trickle down
from
the spot where its
heart would be.
There were no
wounds, no visible cause for the bleeding. I got up and ran, the
sound of its yelps growing ever fainter behind me.
Inside, I
knew that what I had just witnessed was that dog’s heart
breaking—literally.

My nap was anything but refreshing. I sat up and called
Clay’s name repeatedly as soon as I woke up, but saw no trace
of him. How long would he stay away? If that dream was an
accurate indicator of how he felt, he may never talk to me again.
Ever. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t mean to break his
heart.
If Rita was right and he was somewhere nearby, he
would already know just how sorry I was for the things I said to
him. I was sorry. Why wasn’t that enough for him? If he never
came back, I would have to find my own peace in the matter.
Why did I have to go and alienate one of the few friends I still
had left on the same day that I needed him the most? I gave
myself
the mother of all eye rolls and flopped back down on my
bed.

When I heard the sound of footsteps approaching the
attic, I assumed that it would be Shelly with a bowl full of pity
ice cream to make me feel better. Not the case at all.
Not only
did she not have any creamy goodness to try to coax me out of
my funk, she actually gave me something else to want to pity
myself for.

Great, just great. Hadn’t I already taken enough abuse
for one day? Reluctantly, I did as I was told and trudged down
the steps behind her. Slowly.

By the time I got to the second floor landing, I could see
my
father pacing
back and
forth
in
the foyer impatiently.
Suddenly, I questioned why Shelly asked me to put on shoes
before leaving the attic. Was it because she knew that he was
going to kill me instantly? Morticians probably had a difficult
time wedging shoes onto their clients’ cold, hard feet.
Was she
trying to do me one last dignity by allowing me to select my
choice of post-death footwear? She knew how much I loved my
shoe collection—and yes, I
did
think of it as a collection.
If
she’d only been less subtle about it, I would have given more
thought to what I put on. I was about to turn around and grab
my gray boots instead when my dad spotted me.

To the funeral home in my running shoes, apparently. I
took a deep breath and continued toward him. By the sounds
of things, he wanted to make this quick.
Hopefully at least
semi-painless was on the agenda, as well.

I walked down the rest of that staircase as though it
were The Green Mile. He looked furious. He looked even worse
than he did the night he caught Zach in bed with me. Worse
than the night
he
caught Lucas
and
I emerging
from
the
passageway in my closet. Shelly’s warning that lies had a way
of revealing themselves came to the forefront of my mind.
I
was about to take the wrath for months’ worth of mistruths. A
good offense was going to be my best defense.