The Ghost and the Goth

Alona

I stalked to the end of the main hall, reaching the double glass doors, and stopped. I had no idea what to do or where to go next. Actually, to be honest, I was a bit surprised to find myself intact still. I hadn’t exactly been nice to Killian back there, but then again, I was fighting for the right. He hadn’t spent the last few hours hearing all the stories, seeing all the faces …

Look, I’m no soft touch for hard-luck stories. You make your own bad choices, you have to live (or not) with the consequences. But most of the people I’d talked to earlier were resigned to their fate. They’d come to talk to me after hearing rumors about Killian’s ability — the dead apparently love to gossip — on the slimmest possibility of hope. Some of them had been here for years, watching helplessly as everyone they’ve ever known or loved had moved on or spiraled into a half life of misery and regret.

Tricia, the girl who’d given me the pen and paper, had been stuck since 1988 (the leg warmers would have been a big clue even if she hadn’t told me). She’d chased after their family’s dog, Mooshi, when she went out into the street, but Tricia had slipped on an icy spot and hit her head. She’d died almost instantly. All she wanted now was to tell her “little” brother that it wasn’t his fault. He’d left the door open, just a crack, after he and Tricia had come home from school, and Mooshi had nosed her way out. He was only eight, and it was just a dumb mistake. But even now, he still blamed himself for Tricia’s death, their parents’ divorce, and every bad thing that had come after that. According to Tricia, he’d tried to kill himself twice.

We, Killian and I, could change that. We could tell Dave what his sister wanted him to know, helping both of them at once. And yeah, maybe it wouldn’t work every time. Maybe some of the spirits were deceiving themselves about what was really holding them here, but what about the one or two or five that weren’t?

A swirl of black in motion in the H-branch to the right caught my attention. I spun around, expecting to see Gloomy Gus coming to shred me for real this time. Instead, it was just Joonie emerging from the bathroom, her book bag clutched tightly to her chest. Her face was pale, except for around her eyes where it was red. She looked like she’d been crying.

Tucking her head down, Joonie scurried toward the library. I followed. Killian had said that there was no need to trail her. He knew her schedule on Fridays. He’d never bothered to explain it to me, though, so I’d have to do the detective work on my own. No problem. Wasn’t like I had anything else to do right now.

“Hey, Alona!” Creepy janitor guy waved to me with great cheer as I passed him once more mopping the carpet.

God, if Killian didn’t come through on at least some of those requests, my reputation was going to be shot all to pieces. I waved back and kept going, following Joonie through the library doors and to one of the computer stations against the wall.

With a nervous glance over her shoulder, she set her bag, now zipped, carefully on the floor next to her.

“Oh, good,” I told her. “Now you worry about who might see it.”

In a few clicks, she was on the Internet and then Google. Her search topics? Comas, ghosts, contacting the spirit world, and my personal favorite, reincarnation.

I snorted. No, Joonie wasn’t involved in this mess, not at all. I wished I could print it all out and show it to Killian. He’d never believe me otherwise, finding some other perfectly rational explanation for her behavior that did not include raising a really pissed-off spirit or whatever the heck Gus was.

The question was, why? Why would she go to such dangerous lengths? Her last stop on the Web provided one possible answer.

After a quick glance over her shoulder to check on the location of Mr. Mueller, the librarian, Joonie typed in a MySpace Web address. A bright pink page appeared on the monitor, along with the first few crashingly loud notes of some former American Idol pop song. While Joonie fumbled for the mouse to turn down the volume, I leaned in to take a better look. To my surprise, the girl in the profile photo looked vaguely familiar. Cute in that innocent farm girl kind of way. Straight, mousy brown hair pulled back in a ponytail (with some blond highlights and a decent cut, it would be acceptable), pale skin (hello, Mystic Tan?), and light brown eyes that would have been striking, if not pretty, with the right application of products. The little box that listed her vital stats put her at sixteen, possibly a sophomore, maybe a junior. That would explain why I didn’t know her, even though her page claimed she went to Groundsboro High.

I frowned. Why did I remember her face? Something niggled at the back of my brain but wouldn’t move forward into the light.

Joonie clicked to view her pictures, and as the images scrolled across the screen, one major piece of the puzzle dropped into place. A few vaguely out-of-focus pictures of a dog and a much too childlike bedroom with princess wallpaper passed by, and then I saw people I recognized: Joonie sticking her studded tongue out at the camera; Killian with his arm protectively around the girl as she stretched her arms out to take a portrait of the two of them together. Killian grinned into the camera, revealing those perfectly white and even teeth. I’d never seen him that happy. She wasn’t facing the camera, though. She’d tipped her head back to look up at him, adoration shining from her plain face.

My gaze snapped back up to the Web address. Lilslife. Lil. Lily. The one I’d been hearing so much about — this was her. She was — what? — Killian’s girlfriend? He said they were just friends; I heard him tell his sketchy psychiatrist that. But still …

An uncomfortable prickle started in my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself. It wasn’t jealousy, though. No. What was there to be jealous of here? A pseudo-goth guy and his plain-Jane maybe-girlfriend? Just because I’d never looked at anyone like that, not even Chris on our best days, and now it was too late because I was dead, and Killian had never smiled at me—

A loud sniffle from Joonie interrupted my thoughts. “I’m sorry, Lil. I’m trying,” she whispered. Her black eye makeup ran in streaks down her cheeks. She glanced back over her shoulder, checking on Mr. Mueller’s position, then turned back to face the computer, kissed the tip of her index finger, and pressed it against Lily’s mouth in the picture.

Whoa. What was going on here?

While I gaped at her, Joonie exited the browser and logged off the computer. She stood up, scooped her bag off the floor, and strode to the library door — her skull necklace clanking — with what appeared to be a renewed sense of purpose.

I, of course, followed, my thoughts all abuzz. If Lily was Killian’s girlfriend, Joonie sure had a strange way of showing it. I mean, seriously. I’m not afraid of gay people, guys or girls. I don’t think every lesbian in school wants me; I know they do, just like all the straight guys. But I also know that they aren’t going to trap me in the corner of the girls’ bathroom and try to convert me. Please, Alona Dare as a resident of Lesbos? I don’t think so. I like the male form a little too much for that. Plus, I hate flannel.

Joonie’s behavior was just … weird. Also, clearly, something had happened to this Lily chick. When they talked about her, it was in this hushed and holy tone. Was she dead? Then why had Joonie said something to Killian about visiting her in the hospital?

I followed Joonie around for the rest of the afternoon, ditching her only the few times when I saw Killian coming. He didn’t look happy with me. Too bad, so sad. The best part was that it had never been easier to avoid him. Not like he could call out after me, right?

Unfortunately, as far as Joonie was concerned, nothing else happened. No bathroom stall seances or blood sacrifices at her locker. Joonie went to class just like normal, or as close to normal as she could get, anyway. Until last hour.

Joonie hauled her bag up tighter on her shoulder and hurried into chemistry class. I frowned, my complete and utter boredom shattered by the small but odd behavior change. In my vast hours of experience with her, Joonie never hurried to anything, especially not a class. Her whole persona was based on an utter lack of caring about anything.

Which is total bullshit, of course. First of all, because she obviously cared about making people think she didn’t care about anything. But whatever.

I followed her, watching with amazement as she sat down at her lab table, pulled her chemistry book and