Of course, there is the little issue of the dead girl I saw. I try to conjure her face, but I was so focused on the hole in her chest, I didn’t look at her carefully. But the million-dollar question is: Was that something that did happen, or something that will happen?
You never know with Remy. She showed me a vision of Grandma Miller collapsing in her hospital room hours before the blood clot lodged in her brain and killed her. But our cat Pumpkin had been missing for two days before Remy dropped the catnip mouse on my pillow in the middle of the night and showed me his body flattened on the road a few blocks away.
Ari stops in front of a painting and waves her hand dismissively at the princess with large emerald eyes surrounded by butterflies. “This is one of Luke’s new paintings.” She shakes her head. “I’ve got a bunch of his old pieces in my room. I’ll show you, and then you tell me if you think he should be holed up here working on fairy-tale floozies!”
“Uh, okay,” I say, thinking Luke’s painting is a gazillion times better than the stuff hanging in her stepmother’s office and wondering if she’s implying that she’s going to invite me over to her house. We walk toward the front entrance and I wonder if Ari lives in the Tudor mansion up on the mountain above the park.
“He lives with his grandmother,” she continues, “but she’s too busy scamming tourists with her tarot cards and crystal crap that she doesn’t care he’s totally blowing it.” She shakes her head again and scowls. “Have you seen that purple house at the end of the outlet strip?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s kinda hard to miss,” I say. You can’t go into town without driving by the lilac Victorian with the AMADOR’S PSYCHIC READINGS sign sitting in an overgrown yard filled with hundreds of lawn ornaments.
I’ve been tempted to go there on more than one occasion, hoping they could help me with Remy—help her move on to wherever it is she should’ve gone. But when I asked Nicki a few years ago if she thought they were legit, she laughed so hard she spewed the lemon water she was drinking across her kitchen table. When she finally got herself together, she said that anyone with more than twenty lawn gnomes in their yard was most definitely a psycho, not a psychic.
“Well, that’s Luke’s house, if you can believe it,” Ari says, wrinkling her nose. “And his grandmother is too wrapped up reading tea leaves to notice that’s he’s given up painting!”
“Well, technically he is still painting,” I say, not sure why I’m feeling an overpowering urge to stick up for him. “Maybe this is just what he needs to be doing right now— you know, like Picasso had his blue period; maybe this is Luke’s plywood period.”
Ari throws her hands up—my attempt at lightening the mood is obviously a bust. “Oh, please! Do you really consider Sleeping Beauty laid out snoring by the crapper art?”
“I guess not, but I did see Rapunzel’s tower on my way in; it was really good,” I add, knowing I’m pushing it, as she’s made it abundantly clear Luke Amador is a subject she’s very passionate about.
She turns to me with narrowed eyes.
Here it comes.
“Luke isn’t just ‘really good.’ Luke is someday-people-will-pay-big-bucks-for-his-work amazing. If I can get him out of this freaking park! I told my dad not to hire him, but everyone felt so bad for him after his sister disappeared last …” Ari pauses like she’s suddenly realized she’s said too much.
“Was that Luke’s sister on the posters that were up last summer?” I ask. “The girl with blond hair like yours?” She didn’t go to my school so at the time I didn’t give it much thought. I certainly didn’t think she’d still be missing a year later, though.
Ari nods. “They never found her, and he took it hard.”
“Yeah, I bet he did.” I know firsthand how hard losing a sister is. “Do they have any clues or leads?”
“Nothing. She disappeared without a trace. But maybe you’re right, maybe this is what he needs to be doing—for now.”
Ari starts walking quickly down the hall, and I rush to keep up with her. She gives me a quick look. “So what were you and Luke talking about before? It looked like I interrupted a moment.”
Ah, now I get it. Ari has it bad for Luke, the feeling isn’t mutual, and she’s worried I was moving in on him. Given my own boyfriend troubles, I’d laugh out loud if it wasn’t for the fact that the “moment” she interrupted was preceded by a vision of some girl splayed out on the ground with her heart inexplicably missing. But I’ve had years of practice keeping my emotions in check and pretending everything’s okay, so I easily push the image out of my head and carry on.
“Oh, he was just asking me what brought me to the Land of Enchantment. I was trying to decide if I should admit I’m here so I can keep an eye on my boyfriend and his best friend, Samantha.”
After all the lies I’ve told today, it feels good that this is at least a half truth.
Ari’s shoulders relax, and I figure she’s relieved to hear that not only do I have a boyfriend but also I can relate to how she’s feeling.
“Samantha?”
“Yeah, Samantha—an overly perky, four-foot-eleven, sports-loving cheerleader who recently told my boyfriend she thinks he’s her soul mate. Couple the confession with the fact that they spend just about all their free time together and I’m feeling a little paranoid.”
“Oh my God! What kind of a person does that?” Ari asks, a look of outrage on her face.
“Samantha Lee Darling does. Well, after a few too many beers, that is.”
“Ew, even her name is perky! You just say the word and I’ll make sure they’re working at opposite ends of the park all summer. Or”—she gives me a sly smile—“I can go one better and have her assigned to the rides most likely to induce vomiting. Mopping up puke all day will definitely take the perky factor down a few notches.”
As much as I want to take her up on the offer, I decide to at least pretend I’ve still got some dignity. “Thanks, but you know what? If my being here isn’t going to stop them from hooking up, nothing will, right?”
“I guess, but I bet you can hold your own against Miss Perky.”
A clap of thunder shakes the windows and I jump. We near the doors to the parking lot just as the rain hits full force. Nicki would never make me ride in a car during a storm like this, but the airways in my lungs start to constrict just seeing the water pooling around her car. The clouds are whipping by at top speed. These storms never last long, but I know how dangerous they can be.
“Shit,” Ari says. “Let’s wait a few minutes until it passes.”
I nod and reach into my purse for my inhaler.
Ari’s phone starts playing “When You Wish Upon a Star.” She takes it out of the holster clipped to her belt and scowls. “Damn, it’s Patty.” She hits a button and puts it up to her ear. “Yeah?” She shakes her head and exhales loudly. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have it done until tomorrow. Well, I’m doing something now.” Ari rolls her eyes. “No, you don’t have to call Daddy. I’ll do it!”
She hangs up and groans. “‘I guess I’ll just have to call your father and have him tell payroll to cancel this week’s check since you’re too busy doing nothing to earn it,’” she says, doing a dead-on imitation of her stepmother. “I could kill my father for marrying that witch and making my life a living hell! The summer I was ten she made me scrub toilets in the park so I could learn to ‘appreciate’ all the employees’ hard work! Do you know many toilets we have?”
“Uh, a lot?”
“Sixty-five and I’ve cleaned each and every one of them.” She hands me her phone. “Put your number in. I’ll give you a call tonight and you can tell me what Nicki’s singing, okay?”
“Okay,” I say, punching it in, “but sometimes she doesn’t pick a song until the last minute.”
“Maybe you guys can come over sometime. I go to White Cliff Academy and most of my friends—besides Luke—summer elsewhere, so I’m stuck here in la-la land with nothing to do but obey Patty’s every com
mand.”
“Sure, that’d be great,” I say, thinking Luke’s family must be raking in the dough reading tarot cards if they can afford to send him to White Cliff.
Ari’s phone starts playing “When You Wish Upon a Star” again. “Oh my freaking God,” she mutters as she takes it from me. She pushes a button and yells, “I’m coming already!” She rolls her eyes as she clicks the phone off and shoves it back into its holster. “I’ll call you.”
“Great.”
She turns the corner, and I take a hit of my inhaler. I count to ten and exhale as I open the door to the parking lot. Running toward Nicki’s car I wonder how long it’ll take me to bike from my house to Luke’s so we can finish our conversation.
THREE
Slamming the car door shut, I’m relieved to see Nicki’s taken the keys out of the ignition and left them on the dashboard—her way of letting me know she’ll wait for me to say when it’s time to leave.
“Well?” Nicki says as she turns her off iPod. “Are you gainfully employed?”
I hold up my information packet. “Yup, and I met a friend of yours.”
Nicki raises one eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Arianna Roy.”
“Ari Roy works here?” She shakes her head. “I never in a million years would’ve thought she’d be slumming it in the Land of Misogyny.”
“Oh, please!”
“Sorry,” she continues. “Land of Enchantment isn’t just about stereotypically helpless women in need of rescue— there’s Hansel and Gretel’s Haunted Forest, which is more of a celebration of child abuse and cannibalism, and the petting zoo in Mother Goose’s Family Fun Farm, which is all E. coli, all the time!”
I have to laugh. Nicki has never gotten over falling into a huge pile of crap at the Fun Farm during her first and last visit to the park when she was four. “Actually, according to Ari’s father—the owner of the park—they take great pride in the sanitary conditions at the farm, which I sincerely hope I’m never assigned to work at. I don’t care how fast the poop is scooped, when it’s ninety-five degrees out, that goat and pig crap is gonna smell worse than the rotting pile of gym clothes and half-eaten sandwiches lying at the bottom of Cooper Summerfield’s locker!”
Nicki waves her hand in front of her nose. “Oh, God, I’m having an olfactory flashback to last Friday. Figures our lockers get the afternoon sun—all that sweat and stink just marinates in the heat. Who knows what exciting odor du jour Cooper will subject us to senior year?” She shakes her fist in the air. “Damn you alphabetical order.”
Blue sky shows through some of the clouds shredding in the wind, and I hand Nicki her keys. “Maybe we could sneak one of those air sanitizers into his locker,” I say as I pull the seat belt across my chest.
Nicki starts the ignition and backs up. “I still can’t believe Ari kept quiet about the fact that she’s the heir to the Land of Enchantment for the two years we’ve been in the chorus. Not that we talk too often—Ari’s a little too hot and cold for me, so I try to avoid her.”
I nod. “Yeah, I experienced some of Ari’s many moods today, but you know, she’s had a rough life.”
“Rough life? Her dad owns a freaking amusement park—which explains why she goes to White Cliff and drives a Mercedes!”
“Uh, if money equaled happy, the rehabs in Hollywood would be out of business. And anyway, would you be bragging about being the heir apparent to the Land of Enchantment?”
“No!”
“See? And she’s got a father who, in my opinion, has an extremely unhealthy obsession with fairy tales. Add a wacko stepmother to the mix and I think a rough life applies.”
Nicki tilts her head from side to side as if considering whether she thinks Ari has racked up enough teen angst points to agree with me. “I guess. And it couldn’t have been easy after Kayla checked out.”
“Huh?”
“Kayla was in the chorus—decent alto—she was Ari’s BFF until she went missing last year.”
“Oh my God,” I say slowly. “I think I met Kayla’s brother at the park today.”
“Hot guy—curly black hair, fabulous biceps?”
I nod. “That’s Luke.”
“He used to pick them up after practice sometimes,” she says as a smile breaks out on her face. “He’s got the dark, brooding thing down pat, that’s for damn sure.”
“Yes, he does,” I say with a little too much enthusiasm.
Nicki gives me a quick look, and my cheeks flush. I turn away from her to watch the scenery out the window.
“Is someone forgetting she has a boyfriend?”
“Since when does having a boyfriend mean you can’t appreciate a good-looking guy?”
“It doesn’t, but the way Ari was always hanging on him, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had her name forcibly tattooed on his ass. If you want to keep your fabulous new job, I’d be careful about admiring him so openly.”
A shiver runs through me as Remy’s “Be careful, Meggy” echoes in my head. “Um,” I choke out, “don’t worry about it. Ari’s pretty much guaranteed that Ryan and I will be working side by side with no Luke in sight.”
I decide not to tell Nicki I’m planning to visit Luke the first chance I get. She’s 100 percent grounded in a reality that isn’t haunted by ghosts. There’s no way she’d believe I just want to see Luke to talk about my dead sister and the Stephen King–like vision she showed me.
I look back out the window and roll my eyes. Not only does Nicki not believe in ghosts but in second grade, after I told her about Remy coming back, she went home and told her mom, who told my mom. That got me four months of drawing pictures of my family with my stupid therapist until she was convinced I’d faced the truth about what happened to Remy and Dad.
Like their empty places at the kitchen table didn’t scream the truth every day.
At least Nicki was apologetic. Mom just increased my visits to Dr. Macardo and checked out of my life a little bit more. Talk about needing therapy.
“So what was Kayla like?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.
“She was nice, kind of quiet.” Nicki shrugs. “She let Ari do most of the talking. They did have a couple of catfights, which I attributed to Ari being genetically predisposed to bitchiness. The weird thing was that shortly after Kayla went missing, Ari showed up at practice with her hair bleached just like Kayla’s.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, until then Ari’s hair was closer to your color. At least she’s got the money to maintain it. You know how much it drives me crazy when people let their roots get out of control. I did overhear a couple of the older chorus members saying it was probably Ari’s way of keeping Kayla’s memory alive, but I never bought that. I just think something about her is off.”
“Well, you probably won’t be too psyched to hear she wants to hang out with us this summer. She’s also planning on calling me tonight to find out what you’re singing for the audition.”
“Oh, God. Don’t get involved with her, Meg, our lives have enough drama.”
“It might be fun to see how the Mercedes crowd lives, and it’s not like I’ll be able to avoid her at the park.”
“Whatever, just leave me out of the equation, okay?”
We turn the corner onto my street and I see Mom’s car in the driveway. “Do you want to come in and see how the new routine went?”
Nicki shakes her head as she parks in front of my house. “I should practice my song. Tell your new BFF I’m singing ‘Moments in the Woods.’”
“Ari was surprised to hear you were actually practicing. She said you’re a shoo-in.”
“Well, that was surprisingly nice of her to say, but with the new director you never know how it’ll go—I don’t want to get cocky.”
“Hey, I’m bringing Ryan to visit my dad this afternoon.”
She raises her eyebrows. “Really?”
“I know we haven’t been going out that long, but Ryan asked about him—something Jason never did t
he entire six months we were together. Anyway, it’s Fergus’s therapy dog visit today at the nursing home, so I asked Ryan if he wanted to go. I made it sound like it was more about entertaining the residents—something he can get service hours for—and then I casually mentioned he could meet my dad too.” I smile. “He said he’d love to meet him.”
“That’s cool,” Nicki says. “And God knows those little old ladies will love having Ryan there.”
“That reminds me. Mr. Archulata keeps asking when you’re coming back.”
Nicki snorts. “The guy who felt me up? He’s the reason I’m staying away!”
I laugh. “Well, maybe he was looking for something a little more exciting than dragging his oxygen tank around.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll come with you next month, but this time you can sit with him and listen to his endless war stories.”
I open the car door. “It’s a deal! Good luck tomorrow, and thanks for the ride.”
Nicki waves as she pulls away. I head up the front porch and hear Olivia Newton-John’s “Hopelessly Devoted to You” coming from the open basement window. Poor Fergus. If Mom’s putting him through his paces right after the competition, it means the new routine wasn’t as ready as she’d hoped.
I grab a dog biscuit from the bowl on the kitchen counter and walk down the basement stairs. Mom’s still in costume, and she’s singing along to the CD. Fergus has his eyes glued to her, watching for hand commands. She turns to the slow beat of the song and twirls her finger in the air.
“No, spin!” Mom yells as Fergus rolls on his back.
“Fergie!” I call out. Fergus freezes for a second, and then hops up and runs over to me. I make a fist and he sits. “Say hello.”
Fergus sneezes and then gives me a deep, gravelly Scooby-Doo “Rello.”
I toss him the biscuit and turn to see Mom staring at me, hands on her hips, obviously pissed I’ve interrupted them.
“Didn’t go well?” I ask.