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“I can’t believe I let you talk me into living here. I should have known nowhere this old was safe. And this guy knew my name.”
That had never happened before.
Thomas visibly tensed. “He knew your name?”
I nodded, closing my eyes. Jack had also said he was here to see me. Thomas didn’t need to know that part.
“Em, I thought it stopped.”
My boarding school had been in Sedona, Arizona. Pioneers didn’t roll up on the town until the turn of the century, so it wasn’t real hard to tell the difference between an ancient Yavapai potter and, say, my gym teacher.
I had thought things were better, but now I wasn’t so sure. Unless their clothing was obviously from a different time period, I couldn’t always tell if people were part of the here and now or that window from the past. I had become a historical fashion guru, not because I loved clothes but because being able to identify attire from different decades was helpful. Women were easier to nail down, but with the exception of the butterfly collars and blue tuxedos of the 1970s, classic menswear spanned generations and posed a bigger problem.
I avoided any theme parks or museums where the employees dressed true to period. Complete nightmare. I also spent a lot of time trying not to touch people. Unless they happened to be wearing a hoopskirt. And they were standing in my way.
“It did stop. I thought it did,” I said.
At least until I flushed my meds.
My brother had walked a hard road with me. Keeping the grief locked away inside—both from losing my parents and the insanity of seeing people who weren’t really there—hadn’t been a good mental health choice. Hospitalization followed by a strong cocktail of medications to stop the “hallucinations” worked for a while. But last winter, tired of living in a zombielike fog, I took the plunge and weaned myself from the pharmaceuticals without telling anyone.
Even Thomas.
The visions slowly returned. Em the Zombie Girl was gone, but Em the Potentially Psychotic Girl wasn’t working out so well either. Now I was back to wondering if the people I spoke to on the street were real.
“I’m sorry, Em.”
I looked up at Thomas. “You have no reason to apologize.”
“I am the one who bought the building.” His eyebrows were puckered so close together it looked like a caterpillar was inching across his forehead.
“Well, hells bells, by all means change your occupation to coddle your freakish little sister.” I pushed myself away from the bookcase. “Like I haven’t caused enough trouble in your life already.”
“Don’t say that. You’re still going to come to the restaurant opening, aren’t you?” Thomas asked, anxiety evident in his expression. “Bring Lily.”
Since my feelings of guilt were already on the surface, it didn’t take much for Thomas to swing the decision to his advantage.
“We’ll be there.”
To avoid any more accidental freakiness, I went to Lily’s to get ready.
Most of the people I had grown up with avoided me like a cold sore. It all stemmed from the one key public event that got me committed. Long story short, I had a loud argument with a guy in the cafeteria at school about how rude he was to take my seat when I’d only left it to get a fork. I then proceeded to threaten to poke him with said fork.
No one else saw him.
In case the straight-up screaming argument with thin air wasn’t enough to convince the lunch crowd I’d gone over the edge, the hysterical laughing that followed did. It turned to blubbering when Lily wrapped her arm around my waist and hurried me to the bathroom.
Lily’d been my best friend since the day we met in third grade. She’s always accepted me for who I am, whatever that involves. I do the same for her. I wasn’t exaggerating when I told Thomas she was the only reason going back to school in Ivy Springs would be okay.
Lily and her grandmother lived in the apartment above their restaurant. Using the back entrance, I let myself in. I found her in the middle of her living room, stretching her long legs into a Pilates pose. It looked painful. I preferred to run—put in the earbuds and go, keeping my eyes focused on the ground and trying not to run through anybody—or to spar. I needed to find the nearest karate studio. Earning my brown belt before I left Arizona made me hungry to train for my black. And as a side benefit, ass kicking can be very relaxing.
“Hey, did you decide what you were wearing tonight?” I asked when she twisted her body in my direction.
“Don’t be mad.”
“If you aren’t going, it’s too late. I’m already mad.”
“Please?” She dropped to her knees and held her hands together like an orphan begging for more porridge. “I got called in to a night shoot. Some cavern wants stills for their Web site.”
