Читать книгу Life After Theft - Aprilynne Pike - Страница 8

AS SHE’D PROMISED, KIMBERLEE WAS waiting for me after school, just inside the front doors. “Finally,” she muttered.

I pushed open the door and instinctively held it a few seconds to let Kimberlee out. She snickered as she walked by. “Holding the door for your imaginary friend?”

“That’s only an insult to yourself.”

She tossed her hair. “Whatever. Where’s your car?” she asked.

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. A black BMW Z4 con- vertible was my mom’s idea of a good, sensible car. Something about them lasting forever? I turned to Kimberlee. “This way.”

I headed to the farthest end of the lot, where almost no one parked. The spaces on both sides of my Z4 were empty. That was worth the walk.

Kimberlee stroked her fingers along the black hood as though she could actually feel something. “I saw this yesterday when I followed you home,” she said, as if following people home was completely normal. “Daddy’s?”

I put my shades on as I pressed the unlock button on my keychain. “Nope. She’s all mine. Kimberlee, meet Halle.”

“Halle?”

It’s not that I’m embarrassed that I named my car, but, well, it’s kind of personal.

Kimberlee stood outside the door. After almost thirty seconds I rolled down the window. “You coming?”

“I thought you were going to open the door for me.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to do stuff like that for my imaginary friend.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She slipped through the door and settled in the seat.

I stared at her, everything I’d learned in physics screaming that this made no sense. “Why don’t you fall through the bottom of the car?” I finally asked.

“I don’t know,” she said testily. “Why don’t you?”

I shook my head and put the key in the ignition.

“Should I put on my seat belt?”

“Can you?”

That shut her up.

“Come on, why Halle?”

Okay, not completely. “Not telling you.”

“Spill!”

I didn’t have the stamina for another battle of wills with Kimberlee. “I named her after Halle Berry. She played Storm in the X-Men movies.”

“You’re such a nerd. Why her?”

I could feel my face getting hot. “Well, you know . . . ’cause she’s hot. And black. And my car is hot, and black.”

Kimberlee smirked. “So you want to ride her all over town?”

“What? No, it’s a compliment! Like naming a boat! I just—it’s just a stupid . . . Forget I said anything. Can we just drop it now?”

“Whatever you say, Grand Wizard.”

I shook my head and started the car. She was just baiting me. Again. How did I keep walking into her traps?

“You drive like my grandma,” Kimberlee said after a few minutes of inching along.

“You think that’s an insult? Try harder.” I knew what this car could do. The first week I got it I took a trip to Vegas and made it from Phoenix to the Hoover Dam in just over two hours. My car is fast. And I admit, I roared into school moving pretty quick yesterday, but then I realized the kids here all drive like they’re on crack. Seriously. So after a near miss with a red Miata, I’d decided that slower was better.

At least until I got out of the parking lot.

Kimberlee pointed me down several streets, each wider and more stately than the last, until I pulled up in front of a huge white mansion.

“Whoa, sweet.” Our house was supernice, but this was the kind of house you see on the home-design shows my mom watches. The feature homes.

“Turn down that little road over there. It’ll take you to the beach,” Kimberlee said, clearly not impressed.

“Are you sure nobody’s going to arrest me for being here?” Because I was most definitely not sure.

“Nah. There’s a gate. I’ll tell you the code.”

I pulled onto the drive on the right side of the house and stopped next to a keypad.

“Eight-six-four-two-two, star.”

I punched in the numbers, then my finger hovered over the star. I closed my eyes and pushed, expecting flashing lights and cops with their guns drawn. I could almost hear the megaphone. Step out of your car with your hands up! But all I actually heard was the quiet whir of the gate sliding open. So far, so good.

The road sloped sharply before ending in a ten-space parking lot in front of a gorgeous white beach, surrounded on both sides by tall cliffs. “Whoa!” I said as I climbed out of my car, feeling more like I was on a movie set than what was essentially someone’s backyard.

Kimberlee glared at the foamy green waves. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t share your enthusiasm.”

“Why? ’Cause you died here?”

“Let’s just get to the cave.”

“You’re reading my mind.”

She stayed a few feet ahead of me as we trekked across the sand.

She didn’t leave footprints.

“This whole ghost thing is still freaking me out,” I said, my eyes fixed on her feet.

“Yeah,” she said without looking back. “Took me about a month to really get a handle on it, too.”

Great.

When we reached what looked like the face of a mini- cliff, she took two running steps and jumped, then basically floated into the cave.

I was stuck ten feet below. “You suck,” I shouted.

“Wimp. There are handholds all the way up. That’s how I did it when I was alive.”

I found a ledge for my foot and stepped up to reach for one with my arms. In a few seconds I had four limbs on little ledges and was sure I looked like a bug clinging to the wall for dear life—all of three feet above a sandy beach. I looked up to Kimberlee for help. She was staring out at the sea. A gust of wind made her skirt flutter suddenly, giving me an eyeful. I froze, lost my balance, and slid down the rock. Or, more accurately, fell sprawling into the sand.

“Perv,” Kimberlee said with a sinister laugh that made me remember that wind couldn’t touch her clothes. Only Kimberlee had any effect on Kimberlee’s clothes.

“Don’t do that again,” I said darkly. At least not while I’m clinging to the side of a cliff. Without looking at Kimberlee I started to climb again, more carefully this time. It took me about three tries and at least ten minutes, but I made it. I peered back down at the beach. The climb looked a lot shorter from up top. “Okay,” I said as I scrambled to my feet. “Where’s the stuff?”

She tilted her head to the back of the cave. I turned and blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, my jaw dropped.

There must have been a hundred boxes stacked in the back of the cave, which was way deeper than I’d expected. “A few things? A few things! Are you insane?” My voice echoed through the cave, repeating my words back to me.

“Jeff . . .” Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“This is ridiculous. You lied to me.”

“I did not.”

“No one in their right mind would ever classify this as ‘a few things.’ You lied to get me up here and hoped you could just flutter your eyes and it would be all better. Well, it’s not.” I backed away from the massive pile of boxes. “I’m not doing this.”

“Jeff . . .”

“I should call the cops,” I said as I backed away. No way could I return all this stuff on my own, not in any reasonable amount of time. “I’ll bet they could—”

“No!” Kimberlee shouted, running after me. “They’d just confiscate it all. Then I’d be stuck here forever! Jeff, please.”

“No. I’m leaving,” I said, as much to myself as to Kimberlee, “and I am not coming back.” I looked over the edge and tried to find the handholds I had used climbing up. It’s only ten feet. Just jump! I let myself down as far as I could while holding on to the ledge, then tried to fall slowly. My feet hit the sand a moment before my ass did. My tailbone stung, but at least I was out of the klepto cave. I looked over at my car and forced myself to walk calmly instead of running—which would probably make me fall and look like an idiot.

Again.

Kimberlee was right beside me. “They’re organized,” she pleaded. “It’ll be easy. A bag for each person. The boxes are sorted by category. A couple of trips and we’ll be done.”

By category? “A couple of trips? A couple of trips? Maybe if I had a semi. That,” I said pointing up at the cave, “is a lot of stuff, Kimberlee. You have a problem.”

“Had.”

“What?”

She shrugged. “Can’t do it anymore, can I?” She laughed shakily for a few seconds before falling silent.

“Real funny,” I scoffed. I ducked into my car and slammed the door before she could say anything else. As I drove I stared at Kimberlee in the rearview mirror until the road curved and cut her out of sight. As soon as I got out of her cul-de-sac, I stomped my foot on the gas and drove home as fast as I dared.

How the hell was I going to get out of this?

When I got to the house, Mom was gone, but Tina—our housekeeper—was washing down countertops and a good smell was coming from the oven.

“Ah, Jeff, there you are,” Tina said. “Your mother is at a taping and your father is on a conference call. You know, the ones your mother keeps telling him to stop taking. I have to take off as soon as I pull the muffins out of the oven. Healthy ones—don’t tell your father. Tell him they are cupcakes and he will eat them.” Tina had only been with us for two weeks, but she was already determined to make my dad into a health-food junkie—clandestinely, of course, though her methods were hardly James Bond.

I slumped down on the counter and let my backpack slip to the floor.

“You look awful.”

Thanks, Tina.

“Bad day?”

Actually, Tina, it was swell. I saw this girl—of course, she’s totally untouchable, for me, anyway. Oh, and there’s this other girl—she’s untouchable, too, for everyone! But she’s all mine, whether I want her or not.

“Just long,” I said with a shrug. “Lots of homework.”

She reached up and patted my head in a way that was comforting in spite of the awkward grandmotherliness of it. “You’ll get it all done. You’re a smart boy.”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling a little. “I better go upstairs and get to work.”

But rather than start on my homework, I fired up my Xbox. After what I’d just seen, I deserved to chill out a little. I played GTA for about an hour and imagined everything my car ran into was Kimberlee, or one of her boxes of stolen stuff. I kept looking over my shoulder, expecting to see her or hear one of her smart-ass comments, but all I heard was the cathartic symphony of gunfire and people screaming.

Why was this whole ghost thing happening to me? Kimberlee said I was the first person to see her—ever. Nothing in my life was all that special. I certainly wasn’t special.

Maybe it was something about Santa Monica. In the three weeks since we’d moved here my life had turned upside down. My mom was on TV, my dad was a retired workaholic who couldn’t keep his fingers out of the old business, and I had a ghost. And a housekeeper. A year ago, any of those things would have sounded like a joke. Getting them all at once—well, who could blame me if I needed some time to adjust? But last time I checked, seeing ghosts wasn’t a symptom of homesickness or stress.

I did have to give Santa Monica points for the redhead I’d spotted at school, though. Serafina, Kimberlee had said. Man, she was gorgeous. But I couldn’t even think about her for more than a few seconds before coming back to the same humongous problem that suddenly overshadowed every aspect of my life.

Kimberlee.

I wondered if Santa Monica had any good exorcists.