Krysta's Curse (8 page)

Was AJ right? Guys didn’t like skinny girls?
Looking down at my one wedge of half-eaten toast, I sighed. Maybe
my shaking limbs and the hollow ache in my stomach weren’t just due
to stress.

Maybe I should eat.

Reaching across the table, I grabbed a few
slices of bacon and put them on my plate.

AJ’s smile nearly stretched ear to ear.

I forced myself not to smile back. Though
she was trying to look out for me, I couldn’t shake the sting of
her words, comparing me to a skeleton. Sure I was a size one, but
I’d always thought skinny looked good on me.

Didn’t it?

****

“Hey.”

I saw him coming from several lockers away,
his eyes focused on me. My first thought was, ‘why?’ I mean, after
we shared probably the worst study session in history, why would he
want to speak to the poor, skinny chick again? I was expecting him
to ignore me until we got to chemistry and then to beg Mrs. Jackson
to give him a new partner.

“Hey.” I half-heartedly grinned and then
held in my breath while I waited for his response.

He cocked his head to the side. “You know we
still have a test this Friday.”

My jaw slackened and my tongue felt like a
lead- weight in my mouth as I struggled for something to say. Was
he hinting to study with me again? His nearness wasn’t helping my
brain function. He was wearing an unusual musk today and I could
almost feel the heat of it jump off his body and crawl up my flesh.
Inhaling deeper, I had to repress a sigh. His smell reminded me of
a pastry or a cinnamon cookie.

“Yeah,” I swallowed a nervous ball of
energy. “Two more days.”

One brow arched and his lip tilted in the
cutest smile ever. “Wanna study tonight?”

“Yes!” I blurted before biting on my lower
lip. I was acting way too eager.

Gawd, he must think I’m a total dork now.

Clearing my throat, I forced my voice to
sound much more casual, like I didn’t think Bryon Thomas was the
hottest guy in school. “I mean, where? I’m not staying at my
apartment anymore.”

His brows drew together. “Why not?”

“My dad thinks I’ll be safer at AJ’s.” I
shrugged, pretending it didn’t matter that Dad still refused to
allow me back home. This murder worked out to his advantage. Now he
could get drunk and have his little playthings come over any time
without the annoying teenager in the way.

“But they caught the guy.” Bryon’s comment
sounded way too much like a question.

He’d really think I was a loser if he knew
my own dad didn’t want me around.

“Yeah, I know.” I faked a smile. “But he
still wants me at her house until this all blows over.”

That wasn’t the total truth. After Dad found
out about my visit to the lake, he and Mrs. Dawson decided to
postpone my coming home indefinitely. Since he worked nights, they
were afraid I’d try it again. My apartment wasn’t much, but it was
still my home and I missed it.

“You can study at my house tonight.” Bryon’s
smile softened and a hint of sadness flashed in his pale blue gaze.
“My dad said it’s okay.”

I couldn’t repress the sigh of frustration
that escaped my lips. He still pitied me. Just like the other night
when he saw my rundown apartment and when I refused to order food.
He was probably only keeping me as a partner because he felt sorry
for me.

“All right.” Unable to look into his pitying
eyes, I spoke while playing with the frayed end on the strap of my
worn book bag. “I have to do a little research first.”

“For another class?”

“No, not really.” Keeping my gaze down, I
shook my head. “Just for a community service project.”

“I’ve never seen you at Student Council. I
didn’t know you did community service.”

“Neither did I,” I groaned, unable to
comprehend how I’d gotten stuck with grave recovery.

“So what’s the project?”

Looking into his direct gaze, I was relieved
to see the pity had washed away and he looked almost interested in
what I had to say. With wide eyes, he silently watched me while I
stumbled for the right words to say.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to explain.” How
was I supposed to tell him I was trying to ruin thousands of
teenagers’ lives by halting their fashion paradise?

All for who?

Oh yeah, the dead people who talk to me in
the toilet.

“Do you want to do the research at my
house?”

“Uhhh, maybe I’ll just use AJ’s computer
first and then I’ll come over.” The last thing I needed was Bryon
looking over my shoulder, asking questions like ‘Why does it matter
to you that there are grave sites on the mall property?’

“Okay.” He shrugged. “But if you need any
help, let me know. I need thirty community service hours this
semester for StuCo.”

Last time I checked, Student Council wasn’t
into doing community service for ghosts. The canned food drive this
Thanksgiving went to people who were destitute, not dead.

“I’ll keep you in mind.” I nodded, maybe way
too much, like I was trying to convince myself, as well as him,
that he could help me.

But he couldn’t.

In fact, I didn’t see how anyone could help
me. I was on my own with this problem, as well as a million
others.

AJ was right. It sucked to be me.

****

“What are you doing here?”

I’d opened AJ’s front door to see Sophie
clutching a briefcase to her chest, with her large, infectious
grin. One look into her smiling green eyes and I couldn’t help but
smile back.

That girl was way too perky. Something she
used to say about me only a few weeks ago.

As I opened the door wider, she practically
flew past me on a rush of air.

“Your negative thoughts were rattling my
brain all the way home on the bus today.” Tossing her briefcase on
the polished coffee table with a thud, she threw herself onto Mrs.
Dawson’s expensive, antique couch.

I cringed.

We couldn’t afford to have nice stuff at my
place, but I knew AJ’s mom would be mad if she saw Sophie
scratching her furniture. Good thing AJ was at a softball game and
her parents were watching her brother play tennis.

So I was left alone.

Well, with the exception of the butt-licking
dog, Patches. All he really did was sit by the front door and munch
on old butt mildew while he waited for his favorite family member,
Mrs. Dawson, to get home.

Staying here didn’t seem much different from
my apartment, so I didn’t understand why I couldn’t have gone back
home.

“Yeah, I’ve been upset lately.” Kneeling by
the coffee table, I carefully rubbed out a dirt smudge made by
Sophie’s grimy briefcase.

“As if I couldn’t tell.” Tossing her head
back, she rubbed her temples with dramatic sweeping motions. “My
head is throbbing from your negative energy.”

“Sorry to be ruining your life, too.” I
shrugged. “Oh, geez, there go your feelings again.” Sliding off the
couch, she kneeled beside me. Slanting a soft smile, she swept her
long chestnut hair behind one shoulder. “Look, I didn’t mean to
make you feel bad. I came to help you.”

“Help me?”

I was stunned by her offer. I mean, yeah,
Sophie was one of my two best friends, but I’d never really relied
on her for much help. There was that one time a few months ago when
she’d channeled the thoughts of my dead Grammy, but usually,
whenever I had a problem, I faced it alone. That was how I was
raised to deal with things.

Besides, she and AJ were different and I
didn’t think they totally understood me. Yeah, we all had freakish
gifts, but mine was way different. They had mind powers. I had a
curse.

They had something else I didn’t have.

A family.

They woke up to breakfast and came home to
dinner. They had parents to help them with homework. They went on
family vacations and had family gatherings.

Their home life was totally different than
mine.

Before, I didn’t mind, but, honestly, it was
beginning to bother me. Not that I didn’t want them to be happy. AJ
and Sophie were great friends, but I couldn’t help feeling that our
differences were drawing them closer together and pulling me
further away.

Maybe they didn’t notice as much because
their lives were so perfect, but I was beginning to feel more and
more like the outsider.

Krysta, the poor kid with the drunk
father.

“It would be so easy to pop into your head
right now. Your mind is screaming for me to read it.”

Gasping, I looked into Sophie’s hardened
stare. “Don’t you dare.” I was so absorbed in feeling sorry for
myself that I had momentarily forgotten my mind-reader friend was
kneeling beside me.

She narrowed her gaze. “Shut your brain off
before I go in.”

Sophie used to have difficulty turning her
mind reading ability on and off, but she was getting much better at
it. AJ made her promise she wouldn’t jump into our heads without
permission, but sometimes our bad moods still projected on Sophie,
making her depressed as well.

“I can’t help it.” I gnawed on my lower lip,
eating away the last remnants of shimmery moisturizing lip
gloss.

“I can tell.” She wagged a finger. “I’m
getting a really big sense of self-pity, Krysta.”

“Yeah, well, it sucks to be me right now.”
Without even thinking, I had coined AJ’s phrase as my new motto. It
fit my life pretty well.

“I brought my laptop.” Leaning over the
coffee table, she unzipped the big, dirt-stained bag and pulled out
her computer. “Do you want me to help you with your research?”

Before Sophie had arrived, I had been
staring at the empty Internet browser on AJ’s computer for over ten
minutes, not really knowing where to begin.

“Do you seriously want to help me stop a
mall?”

“Krysta, I’m not into clothes like you
are.”

Leaning closer, she squeezed my hand,
holding me with an earnest gaze. “The real question is…do
you
want to
stop it?”

All at once, the warmth from her touch
seeped into my bones, and for the first time in a while, I felt
like a living person really cared about me. Looking down at our
joined hands, my eyes filled with unshed tears.

The human contact was nice, something I had
been missing in my sucky life.

“I have to.” I said while pulling away,
afraid holding her hand would eventually turn me into a leaky water
hose and ruin my mascara. “My friends will lose their graves if I
don’t.”

“Do they really need a place to stay?”
Wrinkling her brow, Sophie tilted her head like Patches did
whenever he farted and didn’t know where the sound was coming from.
“I mean…they’re dead, aren’t they?”

“That’s not the point.” Fighting the urge to
throw my hands in the air, I clenched my fists at my sides. Ed’s
tantrums were threatening to rub off on me. “We’re desecrating
their burial site. People don’t stop having emotions after they
die.”

Choking on that last syllable, I turned away
from Sophie. The thought of Sunny’s hollow, aching eyes seared
through my memory. Her boyfriend’s betrayal was so painful her soul
fell into an empty void, a dark abyss.

“You know what, Krysta?” with barely a
whisper at my back, Sophie placed a hand on my shoulder.

“What?” A single tear slipped down my
cheek.

“You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks.” I was unable to say more.

For a long moment, we sat there in silence
while I swallowed the rising tide of emotion that threatened to
burst free.

Tapping me on the shoulder, Sophie cleared
her throat. “My mom told me something about the National Historic
Preservation Act. She said some cemeteries can be protected.”

Startled, I turned.

She was wearing a plastered on smile, the
kind friends use when they’re trying to cheer each other up.

“Some
cemeteries?” A spark of hope kindled in the
hollow of my chest.

“Yeah.” She nodded while toying with her
fingers. “They have to qualify first.”

“How do we do that?”

Sophie turned on her computer and plugged in
the little phone receptor. “Mom gave me the website to The National
Registry of Historic Places.”

“Let’s go there,” I squealed.

I’d never heard of this registry, but maybe
it could help me save my friends’ graves.

With a few clicks of her mouse, Sophie began
typing. “Okay,” she asked while reading though a lengthy checklist
on the screen, “did your ghosts die at least fifty years ago?”

Recalling Gertrude’s out-of-style bun and
shawl, I stifled a laugh. “Oh, yeah. They’re so last century.”

Keeping her eyes glued to the monitor,
Sophie scrolled down. “Are your ghosts famous, like Billy the Kid
or something?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. Ed was grumpy
enough. Maybe he was some kind of outlaw, but I needed to ask him
and their spirits were nowhere in sight.

At that moment, as if Sophie’s question had
summoned their spirits, Ed and Gertrude floated into the living
room.

“Hey!” I called up to them. “Are you guys
famous?”

“What?” Falling to her bottom, Sophie
scooted back toward the couch. “They’re here?” she squeaked while
pulling her knees to her chest.

“Please don’t pull an AJ on me.” I rolled my
eyes, holding in my laughter as my friend cowered in the corner
like a frightened mouse. “They’re not going to possess you or
anything.”

Ed scratched his beard while speaking
through a frown. “I don’t reckon we’re famous.”

Gertrude nudged him in the ribcage. “I won
twelve blue ribbons for my peach preserves.” Tilting her chin up,
Gertrude looked kind of cute for a dead old lady.

Ed nodded. “Gerty had the best jam in three
counties.”

“I don’t think jam counts, Ed,” I sighed.
“That doesn’t make you famous.”

Keeping her eyes focused on the ceiling
about two feet from where Ed and Gertrude were hovering, Sophie
scooted back to the coffee table and ducked behind her laptop. “Is
there a historic building on the site?” She scrolled down the
screen with a shaky hand.