Dead Girl in Love dg-3 Read online

Guess who’d stepped up for the job?

  “Grammy?” I asked uncertainly as I clicked the seat belt into place.

  She nodded. “Surprise, sweetie.”

  My voice. My face. My grandmother.

  “Yes,” she said cheerfully. “It really is me.”

  “Oh. My. God.”

  “My sentiments exactly. We have a lot to be thankful for,” Grammy Greta said with a reverent glance upward. “This is an amazing opportunity for both of us.”

  “Amazing. Definitely,” I said, feeling dizzy as I stared at myself. I should have expected this, especially since I’d agreed to the plan, but up close and in person it blew my mind. I could hardly believe it was happening. “You really are in my body.”

  “I promise to take good care of it until you return. Our assignments shouldn’t last for more than a few days, so relax and make the best of this experience.”

  “I don’t even know how to start my assignment.”

  “You’ve already started.”

  “I have? How?” I shook my head, even more confused. “By being chased out of a mortuary? I don’t know what’s going on with Alyce. Is there any way of contacting her? Where exactly is she?”

  “You know better than to ask those sorts of questions.” Grammy’s clipped tone slammed the door on my curiosity. “There isn’t much time. I need to get you home.”

  “Home would be great! I can’t wait to see everybody.” My relief was huge — mostly because I’d been dreading facing Alyce’s disagreeable mother. Mrs. Perfetti had this way of looking at me like I was a puddle of pee the cat left on her floor.

  “Sorry, sweetie, but you misunderstood.”

  “Can’t I go back home with you?”

  Grammy shook her curly head (well, my curly head actually, but if I started getting picky about pronouns I’d go crazy). “Don’t you remember the Nine Divine Rules for Temp Lifers?” she asked.

  I bit my lip, nodding.

  “Then you know the first rule: Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans. You’re Alyce now, not Amber. While you’re in Alyce’s body, her house is your home.”

  “But what if her house sucks? She doesn’t stay there much and would rather hang at my place. Bending the rules won’t hurt anything. We could tell everyone I’m … I mean, Alyce … is sleeping over with Amber.”

  “Did she make plans to sleep over tonight?”

  “Um … no.”

  “Well, then. You know what you have to do — the sooner the better.” Grammy glanced in the rearview mirror, furrowing her brow. “Delay could be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” I asked uneasily, still a little out of breath from all that running.

  “There are always risks.”

  “You mean … Dark Lifers?” I shivered, remembering my recent encounters with dark souls who refused to stay dead and hijacked living bodies. Except for a glowing grayness around their hands, they appeared like ordinary humans … until they reached out with predatory fingers and stole your energy.

  “I have no evidence for concern.” Grammy glanced over her shoulder. “Still, we must remain cautious.”

  “But you’re in charge of the Temp Lifer program — you should know everything.”

  “Not for this assignment. I can’t tell you much,” she added with a shrug, momentarily lifting her hands from the wheel — which spun wildly and sent the car careening toward a telephone pole.

  “Grammy!” I cried, clutching my seat. “Hands on the wheel!”

  “Relax. I have it completely under control.”

  She grabbed the wheel and jerked back into the right lane, giving me a determined smile. I had this flashback of myself showing similar confidence when I’d gotten lost driving, exaggerating how I had everything “under control” when inside my fears flapped like birds spinning blindly in a wind tunnel.

  Was Grammy nervous, too, and hiding it?

  “As I was saying … ” With only one hand on the wheel, she turned back to me. “Someone else is handling my job while I’m Earthbound, so I don’t have any upside information.”

  “Then how did you know I was in trouble?”

  “I received a short message with a map and a voice relay.”

  “What’s a voice relay?”

  “Unexplainable in Earth terms, but what matters is that I’ve been warned to hurry because of possible danger.”

  My heart jumped. “Danger?”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a routine cautionary message.” She glanced in the rearview mirror then back at me. “I haven’t seen anything unusual although I’ve had this prickly feeling, like I’m being watched. But my perceptions are clouded while I’m in a physical form. Until our assignments end, I’m human just like you.”

  Her words seemed like a bad pun considering that she was speaking through my voice. She wasn’t “just like me,” she was me. And I doubted I’d ever get used to the weirdness of body-swapping.

  We’d gone far enough now that Green Briar Mortuary was rapidly fading to a bad memory. We passed under a Spanish stucco archway into a subdivision where all the homes were mission-styled: stucco siding, square and rectangular, a few even rising up to bell towers. My grandmother made a sudden left, turning so sharply I banged my elbow on the door. After “ouch” and “sorry,” we didn’t say anything for blocks. I was lost in thoughts about my assignment, trying to guess why Alyce had broken into the mortuary. Was she looking for something? Hiding from someone? Checking sale prices on caskets?

  “You all right, sweetie?” Grammy patted my arm.

  “Define ‘all right.’” I stared at her. “I still can’t get used to you … I mean, me.”

  “Isn’t it a kick?” She chuckled. “It’s déjà vu, since I used to look a lot like you when I was a teen. Although it’s hard adjusting to the restrictions of a physical body — not being able to levitate or pass through solid objects. I got scratched trying to get inside this car without opening the door.” She pointed to a reddish scrape on her arm.

  “Grammy, be careful with my body. It may not be perfect, but it’s all I’ve got.”

  “No worries. I’ll get accustomed to gravity and solid matter soon. Look how fast I’ve adapted to driving.”

  “Speaking of which,” I said, frowning, “why are you driving?”

  “It’s faster than walking.”

  “I’m serious, Grammy. You don’t have a license and never learned to drive.”

  “What’s to learn?” She hit the gas pedal too sharply, jerking me forward. “I put the key in and twist. I figured out that the little D means drive. And the R means right.”

  “No! R is reverse!”

  “That explains a lot.” The car jerked back, then forward. “What’s this red button?”

  “Don’t touch! That’s for hazard lights!” I pulled at her arm. “Grammy, be careful. Mom will go ballistic if you dent her car.”

  “Your mother always did overreact. Luckily I’ll be around for a while to help her get organized and give her advice on raising the triplets.”

  “Heaven help her,” I murmured, remembering how I used to cover my ears with my hands whenever Mom and Grammy had one of their “rows,” as Grammy called it.

  “What did you say?” Grammy Greta asked.

  “That I think it would help if I drove.”

  “No time for that. I have to get back before Theresa — I mean, Mom—misses the car.”

  “Please tell me you didn’t take Mom’s car without asking permission.”

  “How else was I going to find you quickly?”

  I groaned, visualizing being grounded for the rest of the school year and probably all summer, too.

  A traffic light blinked from green to yellow and Grammy punched the brakes. This time I was prepared, grabbing tightly to the hand rest. I glanced with relief at the empty crosswalk, glad there weren’t any pedestrians for Grammy to run over.

  “I’m getting the hang of this driving gig,” she said with a smile that r
adiated her own quirky personality. “I always meant to learn to drive. I may still.”

  “Why bother? You’re already dead.”

  “Dead is such a misunderstood word.”

  “I was at your funeral.”

  “Do I look dead to you?”

  “No, you look like me and I look like Alyce, but we both know that’s not real.”

  “Being a Temp Lifer is a real and a solemn responsibility,” my grandmother said. “It’s not a game.”

  “I know, I know.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m hearing my voice and watching my lips speak to me. It’s all so freaky.”

  Grammy laughed. “Like that movie Freaky Friday.”

  “Worse. That was a comedy and what we’re going through is serious drama.”

  “You’re right — our assignments are serious. We must use paramount caution.”

  “Paramount caution?” I repeated, rolling my eyes. “Grammy, you cannot talk like that when you’re me.”

  “Talk like what? I’m not clear on your meaning; could you elaborate?”

  “No one elaborates at my age. Grammy, do you even hear yourself? You lecture me on how to behave, yet you’re not making any changes yourself. I mean, look at how you dressed. I didn’t even know I had a pair of nylons.”

  “I found these in your mother’s room.”

  “You snooped in Mom’s room?” I asked, horrified.

  “How else could I find something decent to wear? This dress was in the back of your closet. It’s a little tight but I think it looks nice.”

  “Nice as in boring and hideous,” I groaned. “There was a reason it was hidden in the back of my closet — it was a birthday gift from Aunt Suzanne.”

  “My Suzy always did have excellent fashion sense. But I thought you two didn’t get along.”

  “We don’t. I should have burned that dress.” I stuck out my tongue. “While you’re in my body, no more dresses and never, ever nylons. Wear jeans and T-shirts.”

  She blinked like this was a startling idea. “Well … I suppose you’re right.”

  “Yes, Gram, I am. Trust me on that.”

  “But outward appearance is a trivial preoccupation with no redeeming value.”

  “Grammy, you’re doing it again.”

  “Doing what?”

  I sighed. What was I thinking when I agreed to let Grammy take over my life? She hadn’t been young since the last millennium. This assignment was going to be a disaster. I never should have accepted it — yet I couldn’t abandon Alyce to an unknown Temp Lifer any more than I could leave ratty Monkey Bag in a mortuary.

  We had reached a familiar neighborhood with an eclectic blend of old homes. My high school was just two blocks to the left and if we kept going straight we’d run into Molly Brown Lane, where a right turn would take us to my house and a left to Alyce’s house.

  “Almost there.” I pressed my lips tight so I wouldn’t beg Grammy to turn around. But Grammy had always been strict when it came to rules — at least for other people. Her double standard made Mom crazy.

  She slowed to a jerky yield, then hit the gas (too hard) and turned on Alyce’s street. Just a few more blocks and we’d reach the Perfetti house.

  “Trust your instincts and you’ll sail through this assignment,” Grammy said, squeezing my hand. “You might even have fun.”

  I thought of my “fun” at the mortuary and shook my head firmly. “Doubtful.”

  “When did you become so negative?”

  “It’s called being realistic. So far this assignment has gone all wrong.”

  “Can’t you find anything positive to say?”

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t lose Monkey Bag,” I said, gesturing to the backpack now resting on the seat beside me.

  “Ah yes, that old ratty backpack.” Grammy smiled fondly. “Little Alyce used to carry it everywhere.”

  “She still does. If she has any important papers or lists, I’ll find them in this bag, which will really help me solve her problems.”

  “Solving problems isn’t your assignment.” Grammy wagged a finger at me warningly. “We had this discussion last time. Temp Lifers are merely stand-ins until their Host Body can return, strong enough to face their own problems.”

  “I did more than stand-in for Leah and Sharayah. I improved their lives.”

  “Not without complications. You were lucky.”

  Lucky? Is that what Grammy really thought? Sure, I’d made mistakes (knowingly and unknowingly) during my assignments, but they’d been successful nevertheless. I’d thought Grammy was proud of me … but maybe I was wrong. Was this assignment Grammy’s way of giving me another chance to prove myself?

  “Tell me more about my assignment,” I asked in my most businesslike tone.

  “You’ll find everything you need in there.” She pointed to the glove box.

  “Huh?” I raised my brows.

  “Look inside.”

  I popped the glove box open, expecting to find stuff like a car manual, maps, and Mom’s cell phone. Those things were there, but so was something small and wonderful that made me give a shout-out for joy.

  “The GEM! Thank you, Grammy!”

  “Not just any GEM.” She smiled. “The same one from your last assignment.”

  Almost reverently, I picked up the palm-sized book otherwise known as a Guidance Evaluation Manual. The plain gold book appeared boring, but it was a communicator to the other side with audio, video, and text connections. All I had to do was ask a question and the book would create its own answer.

  “Go ahead. Ask it anything,” Grammy told me.

  Eagerly, I opened the GEM to the first page. It was blank, but I expected that and knew what to do next.

  “Why was Alyce inside a coffin?” I asked the tiny book.

  A spot of black ink spread and stretched into words across the page.

  Hiding.

  Not very informative since I’d guessed that already. While the GEM was helpful, it also had a habit of giving annoying answers that led to more questions.

  “Why was she at the mortuary?” I tried again.

  Searching.

  “Searching for what?”

  The lost.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything,” I griped.

  While I was deciding what to ask next, pages flipped wildly as if caught up in a sudden storm. Then the book snapped shut like a slap in my face. When I tried to pry it open, the pages stubbornly stayed closed.

  “Open!” I ordered, shaking it.

  “It has a mind of its own,” Grammy said. “You can’t force it.”

  “Stupid book is giving me attitude.”

  “Don’t take it personally. The GEM is only a tool and not designed to solve your Host Soul’s problems. Personally, I find them annoying and won’t use one for my assignment.”

  “But your assignment is easy.” I glared at my traitorous GEM, then banished it inside the front pocket on Monkey Bag. “You already know all about me. And Mom is your daughter, so you know everything about her, too.”

  “Do you know everything about her?”

  I shrugged. “Mom is Mom. What else is there to know?”

  “I’m not really sure … yet,” Grammy said, with an odd expression that made me wonder what she was thinking.

  Before I could ask, she slammed the brakes and I was jerked forward, then back, like a crash test dummy until we came to a stop on the curb in front of a brown, L-shaped corner house that I knew too well.

  But the view through Alyce’s eyes distorted the familiar, so that everything I saw seemed different. It was as if I’d entered a foreign country with no knowledge of customs or language. Shadows were deepening with the setting sun, turning the ordinary into the ominous. The sprawling oak I’d climbed countless times to sneak into Alyce’s bedroom window stood there, starkly forbidding, its trunk a twisted grimace of pain, its limp leaves drooping like shadowy tears. A chilly breeze shivered its bony branches, which looked like arms waving me away.
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br />   Grammy Greta came around to meet me as I stepped out of the passenger door. “Sorry to leave you like this, but I can’t stay.”

  “I know … although I wish you could.” I bit my lip.

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Of course, I’m always fine, but … ” I swallowed hard. “Drive safely … Amber.”

  “I will … Alyce.” When she embraced me, I closed my eyes and, for a wonderful moment, I was hugging my silver-haired, soft, comfortable grandmother.

  Then she drove away, and I was alone.

  The sun was disappearing fast behind distant hills; it was the time most families prepared dinner. But there was no sound of voices from this house, only the soft jingle of a wind chime hanging over the front porch. The front yard was dark without a porch light, and the darkly draped windows were like eyes closed in sleep.

  Resisting the impulse to turn around, I walked up the front porch steps.

  Crimson flickered through slits in the drapes.

  And I smelled smoke.

  3

  When I walked into the house, candles flamed from the coffee table, countertops, and shelves. The scent of hot wax and swirling smoke clouded the room in a surreal fog. There was no sound from the TV — unusual, since Mrs. Perfetti continually watched CNN and other news channels.

  Then I saw her on the couch, lying motionless. I coughed, covering my mouth to block the smoke as I rushed over to her.

  “Mrs. Perfetti!” I gasped. Kneeling by her side, I checked for a pulse and — thank God! — found one. But she seemed to be in a deep sleep and didn’t even stir at my touch.

  I started blowing out candles, then heard a cough and rushed backed to Alyce’s mother. “Mrs. Per — I mean, Mom!” I cried, gently putting my hand under her shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Alyce?” She stirred, her eyelids fluttering open.

  “Do you need a doctor? I’ll call 911!”

  “No, no, no.” By the third “no” her voice was stronger, and she started to push herself up. “I’m fine.”

  “But you don’t look fine. And what’s with all these candles?”

  “Nothing wrong with enjoying candlelight.” She stood, smoothing her tousled hair from her face. She had the same brown eyes as Alyce, a deep dark chocolate that I’d always admired. But Mrs. Perfetti’s hooded eyes were shrouded in secrets.