This is Your Afterlife (8 page)

“Did you talk to him?” Charlie asks.

“I hardly knew him...then.” I know him much, much better now. “Plus, I was on the other side of the caf.”

Charlie scribbles something down and thumps the tip of his pen emphatically on the paper. He fixes a stare on me. The kind that makes an innocent person squirm. “You and Dan come here together?”

“No!” we say together with equal amounts of outrage.

Charlie's eyebrows practically hit his hairline. By now his gut must be screaming out to him—
These kids are hiding something!
“You arrived here separately.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Dan nod.

Charlie makes a huffy sound while he writes something down
.
I gaze at the water churning at the waterfall's base. Inside, I'm feeling just as turbulent.

Own up, Keira,
my conscience yells.
Tell him you're suddenly psychic and that Jimmy led you here. It's no big deal.

But it
is
a big deal. How could I expect anyone to take me seriously with a statement like that?

Footsteps tramp through the woods. Charlie takes his glare off of us as Jimmy's mom and dad arrive, looking weepy and weary. A sob rips from Mrs. Hawkins. The worst thing is seeing Jimmy's dad—a strong guy with a quarterback's build—crumple like a lost child. His cheerful tropical-print shirt looks horribly incongruous. It's obvious they dropped whatever they were doing in Hawaii and jumped on a plane. Dan races to comfort them.

Charlie heaves a sorrowful sigh. He takes a couple of steps before doubling back to me. “I know you've had some rough stuff happening at home with your grandmother and all. So is there anything you want to tell me about why you were
really
here?”

Heat spreads through my body. This is my cue to come clean, but the words won't come. Instead, I shake my head and stare at the ground.

“I have to go. We'll talk more later,” Charlie says to me in a low growl before turning to the Hawkins family.

I'm not sure if it's a threat or a promise. But I don't dwell on it for long. My heart splinters as Jimmy's mom clings to the body bag. Her grief seems to expand and fill the entire clearing. Little does she know her eldest son's holding onto her as hard as he can, but he still can't get close enough.

* * *

I drag myself out of bed when I hear Mom's car pull up. She'd worked another double shift. She's not the only one who was awake all night. Jimmy chose to spend time with his family. Totally understandable. He was where he belonged. Still, I feel restless without him. Lonely, even.

“It's Saturday morning. Why aren't you sleeping in like normal people?” Mom plants a kiss on my cheek when I enter the kitchen. She's dressed in PJs, which she usually gets into as soon as she gets home from work no matter what time.

“I'm not normal,” I say with a savagery that surprises even me, and slide onto a wooden chair.
I'm paranormal.

“Is this where I get to tease you about getting up on the wrong side of the bed?” she jokes, then she takes a good look at me. “Keira, what's wrong?”

Tears prickle my eyes. I drop my gaze so she won't notice. “Just thinking about Jimmy.”

Everyone, including my workaholic mother, knows who Jimmy is. Or was. And the town revolved around him for the past week.

“Such a terrible loss! His poor parents.” She frowns and stirs honey into her chamomile tea. “You were friends with his brother, right?”

“Dan. A long time ago.” I draw in a shuddery breath. “Although…Jimmy and me, at the very end, got kind of close.”

Mom stops stirring. “Close?”

“It's really hard to explain. He was in my bedroom and—”

She stands, upsetting her teacup and saucer. “He
died
in your bedroom?!”

“Shh! Not so loud,” I say, even though I know the neighbors are far enough away that they can't hear us. “It's not what you think.”

She paces, her bunny slippers squeaking over the tiles. “I don't even let you have boys in your room. And to have one
die
in there...!”

“He didn't die in my room. He got hurt at the waterhole somehow and then his ghost found his way to me.” I wait for my words to catch up to her.

Her jaw drops. She doesn't close her mouth for the longest time. I stand up to meet her watery gaze.

“Mom, he's a ghost and I saw him. Talked to him. He had no clue how he came to
be
a ghost.”

She frowns. “What do you mean, you talked to him? After he died?”

“Come on, Mom. You know it's possible.”

“No. I mean, yes. But communicating with spirits...that was Grandie's gift.” Mom eyes me with a mixture of envy and sadness. Many times she wished out loud that she inherited it, too. She'd use it for the greater good, like to pick winning Powerball numbers.

“You believe me, right? You don't think this is some kind of hallucination?”

She eyes me closely. “Do
you
think you're imagining things?”

“No, Mom. It's all too real.” I return her steady gaze.

She lets out a huge breath. “Wow, this is some big news. You've never been able to see spirits. Are you absolutely certain?”

Something inside me deflates. Jimmy practically bled on my bedroom floor. If there was just one person in the entire universe who I thought would believe me, I was sure it'd be Mom. Guess I was wrong. “You do think I'm delusional.”

She grabs my shoulders. “Not at all! You know I never thought that about my mother. Okay, her predictions never failed to freak me out. But I believed she had the gift. This is just... Now
you
have it? Out of the blue?”

“Trust me, I'm still getting used to seeing a real ghost.” I chew my lip. “There's something else, Mom.
Grandie
guided Jimmy to our house.”

“Jesus, Keira, why didn't you tell me?” Mom's voice rises an octave.

She and Grandie were close. Argued like hell's angels a lot of the time, but you always knew they'd make up by sunset. I know Mom would give her right arm
and
a leg for the chance to talk to her mother again.

“I didn't see her.” My chest pings with that familiar sense of loss. “But Jimmy described her, right down to her perfume. Mom, Grandie sent him to me for a reason.”

“Why couldn't Grandie help him herself?” Mom asks, echoing a thought that's been racing in my head for a while now. What if Grandie is trapped in limbo, unable to get that backstage pass into heaven...because she took her own life?

“I wish I knew.” I shake away morbid thoughts. Grandie led Jimmy to me. That has to mean she's okay.

If I look at the situation rationally, there's one big advantage I have over my grandmother—I'm alive. Now I'm a go-between for the living and the dead. The only one who can listen to Jimmy. And speak for him.

“Death has been hard for Jimmy. He freaked me out when he appeared with that awful gash in his head. But...I just felt so bad for him and I forgot all about being scared.” I look out the window at my old tree house clinging tenaciously to an elm. It strikes me that Jimmy's spirit is still gripping onto the physical world. When will it be time for him to let go?

Mom rubs goose bumps from her arms. “Is he...is he here now?”

“No, I left him with his family.” And I kind of miss him.

“Those poor people. They must be devastated. I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.” She squeezes me tight, and I hug her back even harder. “I bet they have so many questions.”

“So does Jimmy. He has no idea why he's dead. Can you imagine how confused he must be?”

“What do you think? You said he was at the waterhole. Did he drown?”

“Anything's possible. What I'm afraid of is that he might have committed suicide.” I can't verbalize the suspicions I have about Dan. Not until I talk to him. If I can pin him down long enough.

“What makes you say that?” It's a sensitive topic. Mom knows better than anyone about suicide. Both of us do.

“Football.” I grimace and fill her in on his injury. The one that
didn't
kill him.

“That'd be pretty tough to take.” She nods with understanding. “Did you notice any changes in his behavior over the past few weeks?”

“We were never that close,” I sigh. “But he was highly visible around school. He didn't seem depressed. He used to clown around a lot. Always happy.”

Mom's expression dims. “Honey, some people hide it really well. They don't want to worry anyone, especially if they've made peace with the decision.”

“So he could have been faking it.” I suck in a breath. “Wait, when he first appeared to me—as a ghost—he was mad about missing a game.”

Mom nods slowly. “Okay, that's interesting. He was still thinking of the future.”

I slap the table. “More importantly, he was mad about being dead. He
couldn't
have committed suicide. He was far too invested in staying alive.”

“Which leaves accidental death...” Mom says.

“Or murder.”

The word hangs in the air like a dirty gray, thunderous cloud.

Jimmy had everything—looks, brains, talent, money, popularity. Those were the things that drew people to him. They were also the things that make some people insanely jealous.

And if that's the case, everyone's a suspect in Jimmy's death. My stomach twists at the thought of including his brother as a suspect. The Dan Hawkins I used to know isn't capable of murder. He's sensitive and kind. Not cold-blooded and cruel.

Then again, maybe the Hawkins family isn't as picture-perfect as they seem. If it turns out Jimmy was killed by his own brother, I don't know what it would do to him.

Or to me.

The doorbell rings, breaking the thoughtful silence between Mom and me.

My stomach clenches. “That's got to be Deputy Charlie, I know it.”

Mom's eyes grow huge. She finger-combs her hair. “Charlie? You're expecting him? Why didn't you tell me?”

“I was kind of hoping he'd get totally swamped and forget he wanted to question me.”

“Charlie's like an elephant. He never forgets,” Mom says. Then she catches herself again. “Hold up, why would he want to talk to you?”

I clear my throat and talk fast. “Because I found Jimmy's body, remember? To be more accurate, Jimmy showed me. I didn't tell Charlie that's how I found the body.”

She flinches. “Meaning he suspects
you
have some kind of sinister involvement in all this.”

The doorbell rings again.

Squeezing my shoulders, she says, “You stay right here.
I'll
handle Charlie.”

Straight-backed, she marches to the front door in her pink, lamb-print pajamas.

My mother, my hero. I grin.

Keira!

I glance around the empty kitchen.

Keira!
Jimmy moans.

It sounds like he's outside. I wrench open the back door. Sure enough, there he is on the stoop, dripping unearthly blood and water. His face is a picture of intense panic, matching his voice.

“It happened again. I got lost. Walked around the dark for God knows how long. Somehow I ended up back at the waterhole. That was...that was just...hellish.”

“Oh, no,” I choke.

“That's not the worst part.” His skin bleaches to the color of bone. “I got zapped to the morgue. They were about to cut my chest open.”

“An autopsy?” I beckon Jimmy to come in. The thought of him wandering alone and then finding himself with some creepy morgue attendant fills me with ice. “No wonder you look so freaked out! How long have you been out here?”

He frowns. “Time's screwy when you're dead. I might have been standing here for days for all I know.”

“Next time, don't wait till you're invited in. It's not like you're a vampire or anything.”

Jimmy manages a weak smile to equal the strength of my joke. “I knew I could count on you to make me feel better.”

I quietly shut the door behind him. Muffled voices carry from the living room. One defensive and high-pitched, the other offensive, low and drawling.

“Who are
they
?” Jimmy asks.

“Mom and Deputy Charlie,” I whisper and glance at the door like Grim Reaper might be on the other side. “He's here to intimidate and interrogate.”

“You
were
acting really suspicious back in the woods. I would've dragged you to the station right then, if I were him.”

Remarkably, the water droplets and blood are starting to clear up. No towel necessary. His skin's looking brighter, too.

“If I tell Charlie I found your dead body only because your spirit led me to it, he'd never believe me.” I pace the kitchen. I chew my nails and taste bitter black lacquer.

“Just explain what happened. The whole truth and nothing but,” Jimmy says wearily. “No way am I gonna be stuck following you to prison.”

“Stuck? You're a freewheeling ghost. You can go anywhere you want.”

“Not really.” He frowns. “The two times we've been separated, I've gone into this dark, slimy tunnel. I couldn't go backwards. Only forwards. Before I knew it, I was back at the waterhole, dying all over again.”

My heart squeezes for him. This isn't what I imagined death would be like—a recurring nightmare. “We're tied together somehow.”

Nodding, he says, “Don't get me wrong, I like you and all, but is this the way it's going to be? Forever? This is my afterlife?”

“I wish I had an answer—”

My mom sweeps back into the kitchen. She's lost all that nostril-flaring defensiveness and her expression is kind of soft.

“What's happening? Does he want to question me?” I whisper to her. Jimmy gets comfortable against the counter, only to be virtually shoved aside when my mother rummages in a cupboard beside him. Mugs clatter together.