The Dead and Buried (10 page)

The front door opened as more kids readied themselves to come in. I darted up to it and slammed and locked it closed.

Faye stomped over. “What are you doing?”

“You said no more than twenty people. No one else is coming in.”

Faye rolled her eyes. “Loosen up, Jade. I let you bring in Robot Girl and Killer Boy.”

Righteous anger burned through my veins. Who did she think she was? This was
my
house and
my
party. And though Faye had deluded herself into thinking she ruled the school, she certainly didn’t rule me. I didn’t know what kind of girl she was used to, but I cared more about my dignity than popularity. I swelled up with confidence and spoke firmly, “Faye, I’m going upstairs for a minute. When I come back, there’d better be ten less people in this house. If there aren’t, the whole party ends.”

I went straight up the stairs and didn’t look back, but enjoyed imagining the shocked expression on Faye’s face. I felt exhilarated after standing up for myself. But when I reached the landing, my elation evaporated. I never could cross the top step without thinking of Kayla.

My thoughts muddled again, I turned down the hallway. For some reason, I’d expected Donovan to be waiting in my room. But instead he was standing outside Colby’s closed door. The old Donovan was back — shoulders hunched, sad aura pulsing from him.

And as I stepped up to him, I realized why.

“This was her room, wasn’t it?” I said gently.

“Yeah,” he said, staring at Colby’s door. “She had framed black-and-white photos all over the walls. There was always a stack of fashion magazines three feet high on the floor next to her bed.” He looked at me quickly, then away again. “I imagine it’s different now.”

“Yeah, take all that away and replace it with Star Wars.”

Donovan gave me a curious look.

“It’s my little brother’s room,” I explained. What I didn’t say out loud was that now I knew why Kayla’s ghost appeared most often in there. Colby’s room had been hers.

Donovan turned away from the door and faced me. “Sorry about downstairs.”

“You’re not the one who needs to apologize,” I said. “And the party was kind of sucking, anyway. The only reason people even came was because this was Kayla’s house.” I groaned. “I can’t escape her.”

My hand flew to my mouth. Fantastic. Here he was mourning and I’d basically bad-mouthed and complained about the girl he was missing so much. Normally, I’d have more tact, but I felt so comfortable with Donovan that the truth kept slipping out before I could stop it.

I was about to apologize, but Donovan gazed into my eyes and said, “I know how that feels. When people see me, they don’t think, ‘There’s Donovan O’Mara.’ They think, ‘There’s the guy who may have killed Kayla Sloane.’”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “About your losing her.”

He shook his head. “I’d already lost her.”

I scrunched my forehead in confusion and he added, “The day she died, I came here to break up with her.”

The front door slammed so forcefully, the house shook. Raised yet muffled voices drifted upstairs. Then the door opened and shut again.

I clenched my jaw. “I have to go deal with this before they wake my brother up.” I gripped the banister tightly as I descended the stairs, mostly out of anger that my time with Donovan was interrupted.

When I reached the bottom, a girl with a horrified look on her face shouted, “I’m leaving, too,” as she tore out the front door, slamming it behind her.

What was going on?
I’d asked Faye to thin the crowd, not rile them up. I turned the corner into the living room and stopped short.

Less than twenty people remained now, but they were all clumped around the coffee table. The recessed lights in the ceiling had been turned off and the room was instead lit by candlelight.

“What’s happening?” I pushed myself through the crowd and gasped.

A Ouija board was centered on the coffee table. Faye sat cross-legged on the rug beside it. She placed the pointer on the board, then looked up at me, grinning wickedly.

“We’re going to contact the ghost of Kayla Sloane.”

T
he air held a mixture of almost-nauseous foreboding and palpable excitement. A few kids backed away, shaking their heads. But even more stepped forward, eyes wide with anticipation.

“No, you don’t mess with those things,” a guy said, pointing at the Ouija board like it was on fire. “My grandmother told me stories. Those things can open doorways.”

“It’s made from Hasbro,” Faye snapped. “Grow a pair.”

The crowd erupted into debate.

“What if it works?”

“Those things aren’t real.”

“Who brought all this stuff?”

“Who cares who brought it? Let’s do it!”

“This isn’t cool.”

“We shouldn’t do this.”

“It’s just for fun.”

Eventually all eyes turned to me. It was my house. I was the deciding factor.

The board was plastic. The top was just stickered on in a factory somewhere, not carved by a witch. I’d played with
a Ouija board in a barn back home once with Nicole and Elizabeth. Nothing had happened.

But things were different here. My house was haunted. I knew that. These kids didn’t. Maybe nothing would happen. Kayla had been quiet all night.

But she wasn’t gone.

And I wanted her gone.

Maybe we’d play with the board and nothing would happen. Or maybe — I felt a spark of hope — this could be the way to end it all. Kayla had trouble letting go of her life. That was obvious. Maybe all she needed was to communicate with her friends one last time. Have the good-bye she was never allowed before. This could be the answer I’d been looking for.

“Let’s do it,” I said with finality.

A gasp came from close behind me. I turned to see Kane, his eyes reflecting deep disappointment.

“This isn’t right,” he said, backing away.

I reached out for him, but the crowd closed the circle around me and all I saw was a glimpse of his back as he went out the door.

“So who wants to be on the pointer with me?” Faye asked.

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“I’ll do it,” Donovan said, stepping forward and surprising everyone. He eased himself down on the rug on the opposite side of the coffee table.

“We should have one more,” Faye said, looking right at me.

“Fine.” I sat cross-legged on the end corner and took a closer look at the board. It was in shades of brown, the alphabet
in the center, a row of numbers beneath that, and the words “YES” and “NO” in the upper corners.

“Okay,” Faye said, reveling in being in charge. “Put your hands on the planchette.”

Donovan and I complied. He looked intense, his mouth drawn tight. Faye shushed the room into silence and then said, “Are any spirits here with us tonight?”

Everyone, whether standing or sitting, was stiff, with eyes wide. The light from the candles flickered and distorted their faces.

The pointer began to inch its way across the board.

YES.

My breath was loud in my ears. I was shocked that the board had worked so quickly. It seemed almost too easy. I stared at Faye and Donovan, wondering if either of them was pushing the pointer.

Faye said, “Are you willing to communicate with us?”

The pointer slid back to the center of the board, then back up.

YES.

“What’s your name?” someone in the crowd called out.

Faye’s eyes cut to the talker, angry that her MC job had been snatched away, but immediately returned to the board as the pointer moved again. People called out the letters as the planchette stopped on each one.

“K! A!”

It wasn’t smooth. The pointer jerked a bit as it stopped and started between letters. I felt like I was being pulled along.

“Y!”

“Oh my God!”

“L! A!”

“It’s Kayla. She’s here,” Faye said.

But she wasn’t. I’d gotten to know when Kayla was in a room. I felt it in my bones. Something wasn’t right.

“You’re moving it,” Donovan shouted at Faye, and he pushed the planchette off the board.

Faye caught it before it fell to the floor. Then she laughed guiltily. “Come on,” she said. “It was funny.”

The crowd groaned. I gave Faye a look. All the other people here just wanted a bit of entertainment. But this wasn’t a game to me. I needed this. I wanted Kayla gone.

“Do it for real,” someone called.

Faye placed the pointer back in the center of the board. “I’ll stop.”

“No, you’re out,” Donovan said.

“No, I promise. I won’t push it again,” Faye insisted.

He inhaled deeply and looked at me. I nodded. Faye wouldn’t be stupid enough to fake it twice.

“Fine,” he relented.

“We each put our index finger on it this time,” Faye said. “Only one finger. A light touch. And we’ll know it’s not being pushed.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and returned one finger to the planchette.

“Is someone there, for real?” Faye asked.

Several long seconds passed. No one spoke, nothing moved. But the air seemed to thicken. I knew there were at least ten pairs of eyes on me, but I felt something larger looming around us. Something unseen but watching our every move. Waiting. Leaning forward with anticipation.

The pointer vibrated, sending a tingle up my finger. Faye paled and I knew she’d felt it, too. Donovan’s eyes widened. We all held our breath.

The pointer slid almost effortlessly.

YES.

“Is it you? Kayla?” Faye’s voice changed. She was no longer the loud leader.

The pointer doubled back, then returned.

YES.

The sudden fear in Faye’s eyes was unsettling. This was no joke anymore. The air morphed, felt almost alive and electric. The crowd quietly leaned closer. The candle flame flickered, making our shadows dance along the walls.

I flinched as the pointer began to move beneath my finger. No one had asked a question.

“Someone write down the letters,” Faye ordered.

I heard the rustling of a bunch of people pulling out their phones, the clicking as they transcribed.

IM

STILL

Too many people were calling out the letters at once. “Shut up,” Faye said tensely. I tuned out all the noise and concentrated
on spelling the words myself. The pointer slid to the next letter and the next.

HERE.

“I’m still here,” I translated.

Adrenaline surged through me. A small cry rang out from the crowd.

I tried to keep my voice even, unemotional. “Why haven’t you moved on?”

The pointer darted again, swiftly. I watched the letters intently.

DID NOT FALL.

A rush of breath came from the gathered crowd. I inhaled deeply through a twinge of anxiety.

“Then how did you die?” I asked. Faye was shocked into silence; she didn’t even seem to mind that I’d taken over.

The pointer slid around the glossy cardboard, stopping briefly between letters.

PUSHED.

“Who pushed you?” I asked. The tension rose in the air like a swelling wave.

“Stop!” Faye yelled. “This isn’t right. We have to stop.”

We pulled our hands away as Faye began to sob hysterically. Donovan frowned at his fingers like he’d touched something dirty. I wanted to keep going.

The pointer shuddered back to life and began to swirl slowly around the board.

With no one touching it.

Faye crab-walked backward, away from the table. Donovan
ducked his head underneath, looking for the trick. Searching for how this could be happening. I stayed completely still on the floor. I knew what was going on. Kayla was really here. Really talking to us.

DID NOT SEE WHO PUSHED ME.

“Was it Donovan?” a voice from the back of the crowd yelled.

A sort of vibration went through the room, a slight rumble coming from the floor and pulsating up the walls. I exchanged a horrified glance with Donovan — he’d felt it, too.

The pointer charged over to NO.

“How do you know it wasn’t Donovan if you didn’t see?” a skeptical voice said.

The pointer angrily shot off the board.

I choked out a cry as my throat tightened. The floor beneath me trembled and I clambered to my feet. Everyone jumped and twisted around, reaching for each other. The board itself was shaking. Energy swirled through the room like a tornado, rushing at all our faces. My breaths came fast and shallow, leaving me dizzy. The lights in the room that had been off turned on, almost impossibly bright. Static electricity charged through the air. Long hair lifted, short hair literally stood on end.

Donovan stared, mouth open. Faye raked her fingers down her cheeks. I had only one thought: run like hell. But I couldn’t move.

The light got brighter and brighter until the bulbs burst and shattering glass fell from the ceiling like rain. As hands and arms
rose up for protection, the candles blew out, plunging us into complete darkness. Screams of terror, male and female, echoed off the walls. The front door crashed open and people nearly trampled each other in an effort to get out.

My muscles ached. Burned to join the others and run from the house. But I fought against the instinct. I couldn’t leave Colby alone. I stayed, my feet bolted to the floor as the energy quaked around me. Then, the trembling that had started in the floor seemed to climb up the walls and in a vast whoosh rose up to the ceiling and disappeared. Like a door closed against the wind. It just … shut off.

My heart thumped so hard it hurt. I clutched at my chest, willing it to calm.

Silence fell over the house. But, in a sickening moment, I realized it shouldn’t have. Colby should have woken. He had to have heard the smashes, the screams. He himself should be screaming and terrified.

Something was wrong.

I ran up the stairs, taking two at a time, not even faltering at the top like I usually did. Colby’s door stood closed, as I’d left it. Was it really possible he hadn’t heard any of the commotion? I drew a deep breath and reached out for the knob. The brass was icy cold. It almost burned against my overheated skin. I turned the knob slowly until I heard the click of a release, then let the door slowly sway inward.

Colby’s night-light cast an orange glow over the room. I padded up to the side of the bed, my eyes focused on the lump
under the blankets. Colby’s whole body was covered, even his head. I reached out, grasping the comforter in my hand and slowly pulled it down to reveal Colby’s face. His mouth was open slightly. After a quick paranoid thought, I put my hand, palm out, under his chin. He was breathing. He seemed hot, which was no surprise, after being completely under that thick blanket. But he was fine.

I backed out of the room. Right into someone.

Clutching my heart, I turned to face Donovan. He stood waiting in the hallway. He hadn’t run like the others. He’d stayed.

“Everyone else is gone,” he said. He motioned to the bedroom. “Is your little brother all right?”

My throat was so tight and raw, I couldn’t speak. I only nodded.

Colby was safe. It was over.

My emotions released like a busted dam. Tears flowing, body shaking. Donovan pulled me into his arms and I collapsed willingly onto his chest, so thankful that he’d stayed behind.

We went downstairs. Donovan helped me sweep up the broken glass. I tossed all the cups and the half-eaten bags of food into the trash. I pointed Donovan toward where we kept our stepladder and lightbulbs, and he replaced each shattered one. I didn’t know what I would have done if he’d left me behind, too.

Neither of us spoke. Perhaps it was trauma that silenced us,
or not knowing where to start. Whatever the cause, it was an unspoken, mutually agreed-upon silence. Fix. Clean. Keep moving forward.

My thoughts wandered to the days ahead. Would all of us band together in silence like this? Or would tonight’s details be passed around school like any other party tale? Would we rush to compare notes or fear acknowledging what had happened? Would I even still go out with Kane tomorrow night? Tomorrow seemed so far in the future. I couldn’t even figure out what I was going to do in ten minutes.

After we’d finished cleaning up, I walked Donovan to the door. His tired eyes scanned my face for a moment, then he pulled me into a hug. I sucked in a long, slow breath. I didn’t want to let go of him and lose the comfort he brought me.

He released me with a kiss on the top of my head. “I’ll call you.”

The house felt terribly empty when he was gone. I reminded myself that empty was good.

I trudged back upstairs and stared at my bed, wondering how in the world I was going to sleep after tonight’s events. But as I burrowed under the covers, a complete and utter exhaustion washed over me like a wave and pulled me under. I felt no fear. Only the glimmer of hope that when the house shook and the lights burst it had been Kayla’s exit from this plane. Maybe, wherever she was now, she could get some peace.

I slipped into a mercifully dreamless sleep, only stirring when a shaft of icy air wafted over my face with a feathery
touch. Someone must have opened a window during the party. I only hoped it was open and not smashed. But I was too tired to get up and close it, wherever it was. Way too tired. I pulled the comforter higher and tighter, tucking it under my chin. But instead of getting warmer, I felt like a layer of ice was settling in around me like fog. I opened my eyes.

Colby stood beside the bed, his unblinking stare fixed on me.

I recoiled, startled by the sight of his face only inches from mine.

“What is it, buddy?” My voice wasn’t sleepy. A rush of adrenaline jump-started my whole system. Colby had never sleepwalked before, but that seemed like what he was doing now. Standing there, silent, unmoving, staring at me.

“Did you have a nightmare?” I asked.

Finally, movement. His head tilted slightly to the side. One word. “No.”

But it didn’t sound like Colby’s voice. Not at all.

“Colby?” My voice trembled.

He smiled. Slow and wide, his bright white baby teeth glistening in the murky gloom.

“No. Not Colby.”