Unraveling Isobel (12 page)

I thought quickly. “You know, I'd love to, because I'm
sure it's super fun and all, but I'd hate for people to be upset that I snuck onto the squad.” I gave a shrug like I was full of remorse and wanted nothing more than to prance about on the sidelines of various sporting events.

“Don't worry about it,” Nicole assured me. “I'll take care of everything. You're one of us now. No one bothers our group.”

“I guess I owe you,” I said slowly, giving her what I hoped looked like a sincere smile.

“I guess you do,” Nicole said with a wink.

Chapter 15

“
Y
ou have to give me a tour.” Nicole stood in the foyer next to me, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“There's not much to see. Bedrooms, kitchen, living room. The usual.” I could feel my face flush.

“Are you kidding me? Look at this place. It's like Buckingham Palace or something. My mom is going to freak out when she hears I've been in Morrigan. She's always wanted to see the inside of this place.”

Suddenly I wondered if it was even okay that I'd invited her over. It hadn't occurred to me to check with Dick, but maybe he was weird about having visitors in his house. Knowing Dick, he would have potential guests fill out some sort of application form, sign a waiver, complete a confidentiality agreement, or possibly take a qualifying quiz before they were let in the front
door. He'd probably also want them to demonstrate that their relatives came over on the
Mayflower
. After all, it wasn't inviting someone over to my house, it was inviting them to an
estate
.

Nicole sat down on the bottom step. “This must be exactly where the maid died in the twenties. She was found here in a puddle of blood with her eyes wide open.” Nicole ran her hand over the stair. For some reason, her fascination made me uncomfortable. It wasn't anything different from what I felt when I walked up the stairs, but it seemed like the kind of thing you shouldn't comment on. I think Miss Manners must have some sort of rule about how early you can bring up references to fatal accidents that happened in someone else's home.

“They say she was having an affair with the Wickhams' son.”

“What?” That tidbit hadn't made the local paper.

“That's why they killed her. She was pregnant and the Wickhams didn't want a lowly maid as the mother of their grandchildren. Apparently, the son was really in love with her. Real Romeo and Juliet stuff, a forbidden love.”

“So you think someone pushed her down the stairs?”

“That's what everyone says. There was a fight where the parents tried to pay her off, but when she wouldn't take the money, Mrs. Wickham snapped and pushed her. She broke her neck when she fell. Then they got away with the whole thing. They called it an accident and no one dared to question them. The butler found her in the morning lying at the bottom of the stairs. They say the blood never came out of the floorboards.”

I could feel my heart picking up speed, but I shook it off. “Well, you can report back, there isn't any blood and the floor is marble. Maybe they just didn't have Lysol with bleach back then.”

Nicole laughed and stood up. “Okay, fair enough. Let's go in the backyard, where we can jump around.”

“Look, about this cheerleading thing—”

“Hi, Nathaniel!” Nicole cut me off. She pushed her shoulders back and jutted one hip out. I looked up the stairs and watched him lope down. “Great place you've got here.”

“You know what they say, no place like home.”

Nicole burst into laughter as if he'd said the funniest thing ever known to man. She placed her hand on Nathaniel's forearm and leaned in. “You're wicked.”

“That's the rumor about town,” Nathaniel said, directing a meaningful look my way. Nicole gave another tinkling laugh. “What brings you to our humble abode?”

“What, your company isn't enough?”

If she kept laying it on so thick, I was going to gag. “Nicole gave me a ride home,” I said, interjecting myself into all the flying hormones in the room.

“I'm teaching Isobel some of the cheerleading routines.”

I felt like pounding my head on the wall. I didn't look at Nathaniel, because I knew if I did I'd want to smack the smirk right off his face.

“Cheerleading?” I heard the amusement in his voice.

“I haven't exactly agreed to join,” I said.

“But you have to! All the popular girls are on the squad,” Nicole insisted.

“Yeah, Isobel, all the popular girls are on the squad,” Nathaniel echoed. I could see his lip twitching as he tried to hold in a laugh.

“Nathaniel, are you one of those cheerleader haters?” Nicole put on a frowny face and leaned forward for maximum cleavage exposure. Nathaniel looked. Of course he looked. She practically was shaking her breasts in his face. If he wasn't careful, a wayward nipple was going to take out one of his eyes. Okay, so it would have been impossible for him not to notice. However, he didn't have to keep noticing. It was like his eyes had homing beacons on her boobs.

“Who could hate you?” Nathaniel answered, finally pulling his gaze away from her chest. I fought the urge to choke on all the cheesy lines floating around. I guess this was one type of reindeer game he was comfortable playing.

Nicole shoved him lightly, one of those pushes that's really just an excuse to touch a guy's arm.

“Well, I guess we'd better start that practice, huh?” My voice came out louder than I expected. Both Nathaniel and Nicole looked over at me in surprise.

“I wouldn't want to stand in the way of school spirit,” Nathaniel said. “You guys have fun.”

“You can watch us if you want,” Nicole invited in a purry voice.

“No, you can't.” The last thing I needed was Nathaniel watching me attempt one of my deformed cartwheels. Nicole scowled like a pouty child who'd been told that playtime was over.

“I've got calculus anyway,” Nathaniel said.

“Maybe next time?” Nicole asked.

“Wouldn't miss it.” Nathaniel ambled off to the kitchen. Nicole and I watched him walk away.

“So what was that?” I asked when I was sure he couldn't hear us.

“What do you mean?”

I raised one eyebrow in response.

“What? He's cute. He might be your brother, but you must have noticed.”

“He's my stepbrother.”

“Same thing. You have to invite me to spend the night some time. He's one I'd love to catch half-asleep,” Nicole said, licking her lips. An image of Nathaniel in his boxer shorts shot into my head. I forced it away on the off chance she could read minds.

“I'm not sure he's looking to date anyone,” I cautioned.

Nichole suddenly looked concerned. “It doesn't bother you that I like him, does it?”

“What? No, of course not.” But her suggestion made me blush.

“I mean, he's your brother. It's not like
you
could date him.”

I fought the urge to point out,
again,
that he was only my stepbrother.

“Plus, he's not really your type,” Nicole added.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Nicole's eyes widened and her mouth made a tiny Life Savers O. I had a feeling I knew exactly what she meant. He was out of my league.

“Oh, you know—I picture you liking the typical bad boy. A tattooed guy who wears a leather jacket and plays in a band.” Her hands waved around as if she was trying to distract me from what she was trying hard not to say, which was that I was too low rent for someone like Nathaniel. “Hey, before we practice, do you think you could show me the attic, where they locked up the crazy Mrs. Wickham way back when?”

I was getting a crystal-clear idea of why Nicole wanted to be my friend. It had less to do with her desire to be all Mother Teresa to the new kid and way more with seeing me as her all-access pass to Morrigan … and Nathaniel.

Chapter 16

I
was on a boat. The varnish on the wooden deck was hot from the sun; I could feel the heat through the soles of my feet. The air rushed by, smelling of salt and freshly washed cotton, but it was cold. I looked up. There was a green-and-white-striped sail pushing the boat forward as we cut a line through the white-tipped waves. I could see seagulls racing alongside, swooping up and down. There was a picnic set up on the deck of the boat. Deviled eggs, turkey sandwiches, a bunch of green grapes, and a pan of brownies cut into perfect squares. There was a single brownie resting on a napkin with a half-moon bite taken out of it.

It should have been an ideal scene. They put images like this on postcards. But instead of feeling relaxed, I felt panicked. My heart was racing and I couldn't get a breath.
Something was wrong. Very wrong. Then I placed it. There was no sound. Absolutely none. No snap of the sail in the wind or creak from the ropes in the metal cleats. The seagulls weren't making their barking laugh. I opened my mouth and screamed until my throat burned.

Not a sound.

She didn't say anything and she didn't touch me. I knew she was there, because I sensed her. I turned around slowly. She was standing at the back of the boat. Her long hair was blowing in the wind. She held out her arms as if she expected me to run into her embrace. She was bundled up with thick socks and a jacket. We stood there staring at each other for what seemed like forever. I said her name, Evelyn, but the sound never left my mouth. I took a step closer to her and she fell back, stiff as a board, off the boat. I raced to the edge and looked over. She was slowly sinking, her arms and legs out. Her hair was mixing with the strings of seaweed. She looked straight into my eyes. It seemed to me that she didn't look scared or panicked, but rather that she was somehow worried for me. She looked concerned and sad. I reached for her, but it was too far, and as the water soaked her clothes she began sinking faster. Then she was gone. Bubbles rose to the surface while I watched, helpless to do anything.

Suddenly her hands shot out of the water and grabbed me by the wrists. I tumbled into the ice-cold ocean. I opened my mouth and the water rushed in.

I woke up, barely able to choke off the scream that was about to rise from my throat. I sat straight up in bed. My T-shirt was stuck to me with sweat. I wanted to turn on the light, but I was terrified that if I pulled my hands out from under the covers, Evelyn's clammy hand would grab me. Or I could turn on the light and she would be standing by the window again. I took quick, shallow breaths, trying to pull my shit together. I never used to have nightmares. Or if I did they were the typical being naked while taking an exam type. The kind of bad dream where as soon as you wake up you know you're fine. Instead I was still shaking and couldn't get rid of the feeling that I was in trouble. What was I going to do, sit there terrified until morning?

Actually, staying awake wasn't a half-bad idea. I shot a look at the clock and saw it was two a.m. Four hours until six. That wasn't too bad, a measly four hours. Heck, once Anita and I waited outside a music store for nine hours for concert tickets. That was outside where there had been bums, and Anita was pretty sure she saw a rat by the Dumpster. It could have been rabid. If I could wait nine hours there, why wouldn't I be able to make it a lousy four hours comfy in my own bed? I would just sit right here until it started to get light. It's well known that things that go bump in the night can be under your bed, but they aren't allowed in. It's some sort of rule. As long as I stayed under the covers, nothing could touch me. Besides, now there were only three hours and fifty-eight minutes to go. The
time was practically flying by. I tried to distract myself by doing the times tables in my head.

I made it until the threes before a new problem, in addition to my possible haunting, came up. I had to pee. Three hours fifty-two minutes. I tried crossing my legs and thinking dry desert thoughts. I wasn't going to make it until six a.m. No way. That left me two choices: