Death, Doom and Detention Page 11

  I was sound asleep, probably due to lack of oxygen from being cocooned, as Dad wiggled my chin with a fingertip. “Just like my father’s,” he said, and I couldn’t have explained the pride that welled inside me if I tried a thousand years. My incorporeal chest swelled with emotion.

  My parents were right there. Right in front of me. So close, I could almost touch them. I wanted so much to run to them, to thank them for everything. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but could I breathe here at all? In this place of void?

  I wanted to stand there forever and bask in their presence. It was like they were back. They were with me. But I had no way to pause the moment, and it slid forward despite my every desire to the contrary.

  Mom stopped her cooing and looked over at Dad. “We should tell her when she’s older.”

  I stepped closer. Tell me what?

  Dad gave her a sad look. “It’s not our secret to tell,” he said, shaking his head. “Besides, what good would it do her to know the truth? To know that he’s alive?”

  What? Who’s alive? What truth?

  “I think I have this thing figured out,” a man said, and just as Mom and Dad looked up, the bright light flashed and I was back on my bed, the picture in my hands, Brooke mumbling something about duty and how spying was a noble tradition. Just look at James Bond.

  THE VAGUENESS OF TRUTH

  But what were my parents talking about? What truth?

  “Mm-hm,” I said to Brooke, pretending to listen. I closed my eyes, placed my fingertips on the picture again, and concentrated. But just as before with Brooke’s, nothing happened. Maybe one shot was all I got. No replays or do-overs. I tried again and again, but nothing. Then I did as before with Cameron’s picture. I took a deep breath and relaxed. A coolness washed over me, starting from my fingertips and fanning out over my entire body. I felt the molecules of my existence fade, become translucent like watercolors. Then fog. Time slipped out from under my feet. The air rippled around me. And the curtain appeared. I reached forward. Pulled. And went through.

  Dad sat on the side of the bed and leaned over me to wiggle my chin. My mom cooed and swayed, just barely, back and forth. Beautiful and strangely elegant, like a princess. This time I tried to see more. To extract more from every word, every movement.

  “Just like my father’s.”

  The moment Dad said it, a sadness washed over my mom’s face. She looked almost pleadingly at Dad. “We should tell her when she’s older.”

  He looked down, shook his head in regret before refocusing on Mom. “It’s not our secret to tell. Besides, what good would it do her to know the truth? To know that he’s alive?”

  Mom bowed her head.

  “I think I have this thing figured out.” It sounded like Granddad, but I couldn’t be certain.

  Their dispositions changed as they smiled for the camera. After a quick flash, I was back in my room.

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “Of course,” I said before diving in again.

  I did this over and over, trying to discover something new, a clue, a hint of whom they were talking about. I found that I could manipulate my position. One time I was standing directly in front of them, and the next, I was standing by the window. It took some practice to get there. When I could control my thoughts more, when I could move without being thrown out of the picture, I walked to the window and turned around. Grandma stood pointing at something on the camera as Granddad, younger and leaner, shooed her away.

  “We should tell her when she’s older,” Mom said, and my grandparents exchanged glances—so quickly, I almost missed it.

  “It’s not our secret to tell. Besides, what good would it do her to know the truth? To know that he’s alive?”

  Granddad bit down, clearly bothered by something before saying, “I think I have this thing figured out.” He raised the camera, and a bright light suffused the area. Then once again, I was back in my room.

  They knew. Whatever it was, whatever secret my parents were talking about, my grandparents knew as well. And Mom referred to the secret, something they should tell me, right after Dad had mentioned his father. My dad’s parents died before I was born. Is that what they were talking about? Their deaths? Or maybe it was how they’d died. Maybe they didn’t want me to know. But they’d said he was alive. I bolted upright.

  “Brooke,” I whispered, not really sure why.

  “Lorelei,” she said in the same tone, strolling out of the bathroom in full pajama mode.

  I grabbed my pajamas and ducked into the bathroom. “You will not believe what happened.”

  “Let me guess: You went into a picture of your parents when you were born?”

  Peeking around the doorjamb, I said, “How did you know that?”

  She held up the picture.

  “Oh, right.” I went back to changing. “And I can do it over and over.”

  “The same picture?”

  “The same picture.”

  She hopped up and came into the bathroom to sit on the closed toilet. “Do you know what this means?” she asked, her voice filled with fascination.

  “Of course.” Then I thought about it. “Well, okay, no. Not really.”

  After blinking in thought a few times, she said, “Yeah, me neither.”

  “They had a secret.” I pulled my top over my head, then continued. “My parents.”

  “And you learned this by touching that picture?”

  “Yes. They were talking about it. About how someone was alive but they couldn’t tell me who.” I stopped and gazed at her point-blank. “I think my paternal grandfather is alive.”

  Brooke’s jaw dropped open. “I thought he was dead.”

  “So did I,” I said. “That’s what they told me, but they were talking about my chin and how it looked like my dad’s father’s and then—”

  “I love this place.” Glitch walked in, his mouth clearly full.

  Brooklyn stepped out of the bathroom. “Glitch, you need to knock.”

  “Hurry, close the door,” I said, rushing past him to do that very thing.

  He had a slice of pizza in each hand. “Why? What’s going on?”

  Brooklyn glanced at me, her eyes pleading. “Can I tell him? Please? I’ll do your algebra homework.”

  With a snort, I said, “I would let you kick him in the face for a free homework night. Deal.”

  “In the face?” he asked, his words muffled.

  “Lor has a new talent,” Brooke said.

  He swallowed hard, then eyed me. “Does it involve pole dancing?”

  “No.” She rolled her eyes. “Pay attention. Oh, my gosh, that smells so good.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Go get a piece. We’ll wait.”

  “No way.” She crossed her arms and refused to budge. “You’ll tell him.”

  “I won’t tell him.”

  “Yes, you will. I’ll just take one of his.”

  “Absolutely not,” he said, backing away as though facing a firing squad.

  Just then, a knock sounded at the door. Brooke answered it, and Cameron was standing on the other side.

  “Hey,” Brooklyn said, holding the door close to let him know he was not welcome at that moment in time. “So, are you still checking the perimeter?”

  He narrowed his eyes and looked past her. “I guess. Just checking in. Is everything okay?”

  “Wonderful.”

  When she continued to stare at him, smiling for effect, he nodded. “Okay. I’ll be outside. Close those blinds.”

  “You got it.” She shut the door, rushed over to close the blinds, then hurried back to the door before turning back to me with an accusing scowl on her face. Like I would risk getting my homework done for free.

  “What?” Glitch asked.

  “Nothing. Keep her busy until I come back. And don’t let her say anything. Anything!”

  “I cannot believe you don’t trust me,” I said, but she was gone. So I called out to her. “Bring me a piece!�
��

  Glitch sat at my desk, then yelled, “And bring me an orange soda!”

  “Me too!”

  I scooted onto the edge of my bed. “It’s like having room service.”

  “So, you gonna tell me or what?”

  I looked over at Glitch. He was holding a slice of pizza in one hand and checking his e-mail on my computer with the other.

  “Brooke would kill me.”

  He tossed an evil smirk over his shoulder.

  Before I could say anything, Brooklyn burst through the door, a pile of pizza in one hand and two orange sodas balanced in the other. “Did she say anything?” she asked.

  “My god, that was fast.”

  Glitch’s mouth formed a straight line of disappointment. “No, she didn’t.”

  “Perfect.” She handed me a slice and sat down to take a bite. After putting her pizza back onto her plate and wiping her hands on her napkin, she focused all her might on Boy Wonder.

  “Okay, Glitch, pay attention.”

  He turned from the computer and took another bite. “’Kay.”

  Brooke grinned in anticipation and said, “Lor can go into pictures.”

  He conjured a hesitant smile. “That’s great, Lor. I didn’t even know you wanted to act.”

  “What? No, not those kinds of pictures.” She waved at him, as though erasing his words. “Like, pictures. You know, photos.”

  “So you want to be a photographer?” he asked after taking a sip of soda.

  With all the flair and drama of a silent screen actress, Brooke plastered her hands over her eyes and threw herself across her bed.

  “A model?” he tried. “Aren’t you kind of short?”

  “For the love of pepperoni, make him shut up.”

  I laughed at her antics. “Brooke, you have to admit, it sounds a little far-fetched. You’re going to have to explain,” I said before taking a bite.

  “Fine.” She sat up and tried again. “Okay, Lor has the ability to touch a picture and go into it. She can see what was happening when that picture was taken. She can enter the scene, look around, hear what people said.”

  “But once the camera flashes,” I added, “I’m thrown out. I can see only the events that led up to that image in the photo.”

  Glitch sat staring at us. We let him take it all in. Absorb. “That’s kind of cool,” he said, his voice uncertain.

  “Kind of cool?” Brooke asked. “It’s the coolest thing ever. Well, okay, besides Jared being the Angel of Death. That was a tad cooler.”

  I glanced at her and we shrugged in agreement.

  “No, it is,” he said. “But what does it mean?”

  “That’s what we’d like to know,” Brooke said.

  “Have you told your grandparents?”

  “No, not yet. It’s all still in test phase. As soon as I know more, I’ll go to them.”

  “You said you’d go to them tomorrow,” Brooke said, accusing me with her eyes. “You pinkie swore.”

  “I will.”

  “Lor—”

  “Brooke—”

  “Can we get back to the picture thing?” Glitch asked, still absorbing. Wet newspaper was more absorbent.

  So we spent the next hour explaining everything and going into a couple of pictures to prove I could do it. Everyone was a skeptic. But Brooke brought out some pictures from our grade school days. I went into a couple and recounted what happened in each. I was getting better. I could manipulate my position, could see the environment outside the frame of the picture.

  Glitch didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t sure why this was any harder to believe than my having visions or Jared being the Angel of Death, but for some reason, he seemed to be having a difficult time with it.

  Then he asked, “What about digital images? You know, like a picture on a phone or a computer?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know. Let’s try it.”

  He brought up a picture on his cell phone of him riding his dirt bike in the mountains.

  “Who took this?” I asked.

  He grinned. “You tell me.”

  With a grimace of doubt, I touched the screen and concentrated. And just as before, I drifted forward, into the picture, into the scene, a curtain of pixels parting to let me inside. The shrill sound of his motorcycle as he kicked up an unnecessary amount of dirt hit me like a cannon blast. I covered my ears. Or at least, I felt like I covered my ears. No one else was around. Before I got cast out of the photo, I stepped to the side to see who was taking the picture, but his phone sat on a log. He’d propped it up and set the timer.

  A split second before the picture snapped, I looked past the camera and saw his dad standing in the distance.

  The light flashed bright and I was back. I blinked at him. “You took that picture. And really, must you stir up that much dirt?”

  His smile faded.

  “Wait, how did he take the—? Oh,” Brooke said. “Your phone has a timer?” She took it from me and started punching buttons.

  “Yeah, but how did you know?”

  “We just told you,” she said. Then she gaped at me. “He never listens.”

  He stared at her. “No, I know what you said, but … that’s amazing.”

  “Know what’s more amazing?” I asked, offering him a knowing grin. “Your dad was watching you that day.”

  His mouth fell open even farther. “How did you—?” He caught himself. “You’re right. He came out to watch me. I didn’t even know it until later.” Leaning back in the chair, he furrowed his brows in thought. “But what does this mean?”

  I breathed out a heavy sigh. “That’s just it. What does any of it mean? I can touch someone and get a vision. I can look at a picture and see what was happening. But honestly, in the grand scheme of things, what good do those things do anyone?”

  “Lor, you’re selling yourself short.” Brooke almost glared at me. “As usual.”

  “I’m not selling anything. It was sold to me. I had no choice.”

  After whining a bit longer, I told Glitch about the conversation my parents had when I was born.

  “And you think they were referring to your grandfather from your dad’s side?” he asked.

  “Who else? My dad said, ‘She has my father’s chin’ seconds before my mom said they should tell me when I was older. It has to be him. Which leads me to Plan A.”

  “Oh, crap,” Glitch said. “Whenever you guys start lettering your plans, trouble always follows. And by the time we get to Plan E—because every single plan before that has failed—all hell breaks loose.”

  “Does that mean you’re out?” Brooke asked, a knowing expression on her face.

  He snorted. “No way. I’m so in, it’s unreal. I just wanted you to know that if we make it to Plan E, I’m running. Far away. And possibly changing my name.”

  We laughed. “It’s not that bad,” I said to ease his mind. “I just know where the records are stored. As soon as my grandparents go to bed, I’m going to sneak down to the basement and get all the information I can on him. Surely, they’ll have something.”

  “Then we can do an Internet search,” Glitch said. “I can start now, actually. What was his name?”

  “I only know his nickname, what they called him.”

  “Oh.” Brooke looked disappointed. “That probably won’t help.”

  “You never know.” He turned the chair to face my computer again. “Okay, give it to me.”

  “Um, they called him Mac.”

  They both looked at me. “Seriously?” she said. “A guy with the last name of McAlister and they called him Mac? How bizarre.”

  “Well, I can at least use that to do a search. Do you know anything else? Like where he was from?”

  “I just know that he was from the Northeast. Possibly Maine. But they moved to New Mexico long before my dad met my mother.”

  “Okay, well, keep thinking.”

  Brooklyn checked the clock. “What time do your grandparents go to b
ed?”

  “Nine or ten, depending. We still have hours.” Then I grinned at her. “Plenty of time for you to do my algebra homework.”

  “I’ve already done the assignment. Why don’t you just copy mine?”

  With a gasp I said, “That’s cheating. Besides, that would require work on my part.” I handed her the homework sheet and a pencil. “Remember, try to write like me.”

  * * *

  “Lorelei?”

  I turned toward the voice and tried to swim to the surface of sleep.

  “Lorelei, wake up.”

  It was Cameron. I recognized his voice and the not-so-gentle nudging. Was I late for school?

  I pried open an eye. It was still dark outside, and the wind and rain had yet to let up. Surely there were special contingencies set aside for such mornings.

  Then I bolted upright. “I fell asleep!” I said, my gaze darting about the room. Brooke was asleep too, and Glitch was sprawled on the floor, his hand resting on a pillow where his head should have been. Poor guy. He couldn’t possibly be comfortable. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. We had a Plan A.”

  One corner of Cameron’s mouth lifted. “Your plans don’t always work out for the best. It’s probably good that you fell asleep.”

  The last thing I remembered was Brooke demonstrating the quadratic formula as she did my homework. Which would explain the sudden onset of narcolepsy.

  “Lorelei,” he said, his expression grave, “are you coherent?”

  After rubbing my eyes, I gave a weak, “Kind of. Are we late?”

  “No.” He took hold of my chin until I looked at him.

  My brows rose in alarm. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s back.”

  No further explanation was needed. I scrambled out of bed and hustled into my robe as Cameron went to nudge Brooklyn awake. No time for nudges.

  “Brooke!” I yelled, causing Cameron to jump a solid foot. I felt bad about that.

  “Do you want to wake up your grandparents?” he asked.

  He had a point. Before I could even question where Jared was, I kicked Glitch to wake him and tore out of the room, but Cameron grabbed hold of my arm.

  “He’s outside.”