Okay, first off: thank yous to KnightMaria, Thundercloud48, Hannah Abby,
Angel of the Storms, and Iris, my reviewers. Keep it up! PLEASE!!
If you don't like it, REVIEW. If you do, REVIEW!! IF you see any plot mistakes, REVIEW!!! If you don't care either way, REVIEW!!!!!!! *hops up and down energetically* Okay. Bring on the plot!!
Haunted
Chapter 2
However, when I got home that afternoon, after a long delay waiting for Sleepy to finish flirting with one of the vapid cheerleader types that seem to be magnetically attracted to him, my life started looking up. For a while, anyway.
That was because there was something for me in my room. Well, technically a few somethings.
Beautiful, aromatic somethings.
A dozen red roses sat on my dressing table. Not quite as romantic as if, say, they'd been on bed, but still. I gave my nostrils a deep whiff of the sweet, flowery smell.
If a hundred elephants were tap-dancing on my lawn at the moment, I wouldn't have noticed. I was totally absorbed in the roses, and thoughts of who left them for me.
Jesse. JESSE gave me roses. Which was kind of surprising, considering that he hadn't shown much of an interest after he kissed me the last time. Well, the ONLY time. But still, all his pretending that it had never happened didn't really matter so much anymore, right? After all, he'd given me a dozen roses. Red roses. Beautiful, romantic red roses. I'd never gotten flowers from a guy, unless you counted the time when Dave, one of the kids on my old block in Brooklyn had swiped a petunia from Mrs. Goldstein's windowbox and tossed it at Gina, only it missed and hit me instead.
But whatever. I was still entitled to be a little excited at my first gift of roses from a guy, right?
I turned on a new CD of mine and danced around a bit with them, stopping only when the petals started flying off on some of my more vigorous whirls.
Of course, it didn't occur to me to wonder where he had gotten the roses. I was sort of still distracted until later that afternoon at dinner, when Doc was passing me a fajita. Which is just as well, I suppose. I mean, a girl's got to have some hopes of a love life, when she hasn't got one in reality.
I should have known something was up. My mom was suspiciously happy, and if my thoughts hadn't been upstairs with my roses, I would have seen it coming.
"So Suze, did you get the roses?" My mother looked excited. I looked at her in horror. Since when did she know about Jesse? For a fleeting second, I wondered irrationally if she was a mediator too.
But no. Thank God, no. She's just in the business of unwittingly dashing my dreams to shreds.
I picked up my napkin from the floor where it had fallen.
"Suze, don't look so surprised, for goodness sake. This boy, Paul Slater, came by earlier and asked me to give them to you, since you weren't here." My mom tried to play it cool, but you could tell she'd memorized their meeting word-for-word. I guess when moms go off the dating market they have to get romance somewhere. Even Andy seemed a bit excited. I guess you really couldn't blame them. After all, my last boyfriend had been a murderer. They had high hopes for this one. However, if they thought this one was any better, they had another think coming, considering I wasn't sure exactly what Paul Slater was. And they didn't even know about the whole me-not-only-seeing-dead-people-but-being-in-love-with-one-of-them thing. I mean, how much would that blow their minds?
Max chose this moment to lick some fajita crumbs off my hand, which lay by my side. As much as I find being licked by an animal who routinely sniffs its own crotch distasteful, I couldn't bring myself to move it yet. I was still in shock.
At least, until Dopey spoke up. I hadn't seen him since school. He had been at wrestling practice until Andy picked him up. But nowadays, he'll find any excuse to drive in Andy's new Mustang, which he bought to replace the Rambler. I think he thinks that being associated with a cool car will get him "chicks", as he eloquently puts it. Ever since Gina left he's been a bit testy with regards to relationships with the opposite sex. Including, apparently, mine.
"Yeah Suze, I heard about you and Paul." He smirked. "Did he give you those flowers as thanks for certain favors you've been giving him?" News, apparently, travels faster than light in the little town of Carmel-by-the- Sea.
I found my voice. And my temper. "Excuse me?" I said, quite civilly under the circumstances. I suppose he was finally giving me my comeuppance over constantly teasing him about Debbie Mancuso. As if I hadn't suffered enough, at the hands of a vicious batch of poison oak. But I must say, a blonde whose only thoughts were of the date she was going to bring to this weekend's beach cookout was drastically different from a guy whose only concern was over dates with um, death.
I was about to tell him just where he could stick his remarks when a different voice spoke up.
"Leave her alone." Doc, apparently, could sense my displeasure and was attempting to stick up for me. I glanced at him, surprised, and he managed a small grin, his braces flashing in the glow of the dining room lighting. I grinned back.
My surprise seemed to be shared by others sitting at the table.
"What?" Dopey, true to his nickname, seemed to be unable to find any other words to express his dismay at this turn of events. I had a feeling that Doc did not often vocalize his dissent directly to his older siblings. Although he might have had some choice words about the effect a good role model had on a developing child.
Dopey's eyes narrowed. "So much for sticking up for your siblings."
Doc raised his eyebrows. "She is my sibling." I was? Well, his step- sibling, anyway. But I was closest to him, of all my step-brothers. And lately, I was starting to think it wouldn't be such a bad thing to call him my brother. I mean, there's not much of a difference, is there?
Dopey seemed to think so. "Really?" he said nastily. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be that offended. That he didn't consider me a sister, that is. I mean, I didn't think of him as a brother. It was only fair.
However, his comment seemed to have the opposite effect on both my mother and Andy, who wasted no time giving him the don't-offend-the-step-family lecture and grounding him. And, Dopey was even more offended by the consequences of his statement, if his stomps upstairs and slamming of the door were any indication. This time, to my relief, Andy took away his speakers and CD's before he could annoy the whole house. This didn't stop him from using his weights, though. He'd be ripped in no time, if the double-timed noise of the barbells rising up and down was any indication.
My mom tried to waylay me in the kitchen as I made my escape to my room. I think she thought Dopey had deeply hurt my feelings or something. I tried to assure her that this was not the case, but I don't think she bought it.
"You didn't even finish your fajita," she said, a bit mournfully. I told her I'd have some later, after I finished kickboxing. She looked skeptical of this, but I'd edged my way out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she could reply.
I did kickbox, though, because I felt kinda guilty lying to her. Which is strange, I guess, considering more than half my life is a mystery to her. But, I have a feeling that at some point, she just went, "I don't want to know," because really, that's the only explanation I can come up with for her complete ignorance of such a large part of my existence, much as I pride myself on being able to keep it from her.
I have a feeling it's all for the best.
If you don't like it, REVIEW. If you do, REVIEW!! IF you see any plot mistakes, REVIEW!!! If you don't care either way, REVIEW!!!!!!! *hops up and down energetically* Okay. Bring on the plot!!
Haunted
Chapter 2
However, when I got home that afternoon, after a long delay waiting for Sleepy to finish flirting with one of the vapid cheerleader types that seem to be magnetically attracted to him, my life started looking up. For a while, anyway.
That was because there was something for me in my room. Well, technically a few somethings.
Beautiful, aromatic somethings.
A dozen red roses sat on my dressing table. Not quite as romantic as if, say, they'd been on bed, but still. I gave my nostrils a deep whiff of the sweet, flowery smell.
If a hundred elephants were tap-dancing on my lawn at the moment, I wouldn't have noticed. I was totally absorbed in the roses, and thoughts of who left them for me.
Jesse. JESSE gave me roses. Which was kind of surprising, considering that he hadn't shown much of an interest after he kissed me the last time. Well, the ONLY time. But still, all his pretending that it had never happened didn't really matter so much anymore, right? After all, he'd given me a dozen roses. Red roses. Beautiful, romantic red roses. I'd never gotten flowers from a guy, unless you counted the time when Dave, one of the kids on my old block in Brooklyn had swiped a petunia from Mrs. Goldstein's windowbox and tossed it at Gina, only it missed and hit me instead.
But whatever. I was still entitled to be a little excited at my first gift of roses from a guy, right?
I turned on a new CD of mine and danced around a bit with them, stopping only when the petals started flying off on some of my more vigorous whirls.
Of course, it didn't occur to me to wonder where he had gotten the roses. I was sort of still distracted until later that afternoon at dinner, when Doc was passing me a fajita. Which is just as well, I suppose. I mean, a girl's got to have some hopes of a love life, when she hasn't got one in reality.
I should have known something was up. My mom was suspiciously happy, and if my thoughts hadn't been upstairs with my roses, I would have seen it coming.
"So Suze, did you get the roses?" My mother looked excited. I looked at her in horror. Since when did she know about Jesse? For a fleeting second, I wondered irrationally if she was a mediator too.
But no. Thank God, no. She's just in the business of unwittingly dashing my dreams to shreds.
I picked up my napkin from the floor where it had fallen.
"Suze, don't look so surprised, for goodness sake. This boy, Paul Slater, came by earlier and asked me to give them to you, since you weren't here." My mom tried to play it cool, but you could tell she'd memorized their meeting word-for-word. I guess when moms go off the dating market they have to get romance somewhere. Even Andy seemed a bit excited. I guess you really couldn't blame them. After all, my last boyfriend had been a murderer. They had high hopes for this one. However, if they thought this one was any better, they had another think coming, considering I wasn't sure exactly what Paul Slater was. And they didn't even know about the whole me-not-only-seeing-dead-people-but-being-in-love-with-one-of-them thing. I mean, how much would that blow their minds?
Max chose this moment to lick some fajita crumbs off my hand, which lay by my side. As much as I find being licked by an animal who routinely sniffs its own crotch distasteful, I couldn't bring myself to move it yet. I was still in shock.
At least, until Dopey spoke up. I hadn't seen him since school. He had been at wrestling practice until Andy picked him up. But nowadays, he'll find any excuse to drive in Andy's new Mustang, which he bought to replace the Rambler. I think he thinks that being associated with a cool car will get him "chicks", as he eloquently puts it. Ever since Gina left he's been a bit testy with regards to relationships with the opposite sex. Including, apparently, mine.
"Yeah Suze, I heard about you and Paul." He smirked. "Did he give you those flowers as thanks for certain favors you've been giving him?" News, apparently, travels faster than light in the little town of Carmel-by-the- Sea.
I found my voice. And my temper. "Excuse me?" I said, quite civilly under the circumstances. I suppose he was finally giving me my comeuppance over constantly teasing him about Debbie Mancuso. As if I hadn't suffered enough, at the hands of a vicious batch of poison oak. But I must say, a blonde whose only thoughts were of the date she was going to bring to this weekend's beach cookout was drastically different from a guy whose only concern was over dates with um, death.
I was about to tell him just where he could stick his remarks when a different voice spoke up.
"Leave her alone." Doc, apparently, could sense my displeasure and was attempting to stick up for me. I glanced at him, surprised, and he managed a small grin, his braces flashing in the glow of the dining room lighting. I grinned back.
My surprise seemed to be shared by others sitting at the table.
"What?" Dopey, true to his nickname, seemed to be unable to find any other words to express his dismay at this turn of events. I had a feeling that Doc did not often vocalize his dissent directly to his older siblings. Although he might have had some choice words about the effect a good role model had on a developing child.
Dopey's eyes narrowed. "So much for sticking up for your siblings."
Doc raised his eyebrows. "She is my sibling." I was? Well, his step- sibling, anyway. But I was closest to him, of all my step-brothers. And lately, I was starting to think it wouldn't be such a bad thing to call him my brother. I mean, there's not much of a difference, is there?
Dopey seemed to think so. "Really?" he said nastily. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to be that offended. That he didn't consider me a sister, that is. I mean, I didn't think of him as a brother. It was only fair.
However, his comment seemed to have the opposite effect on both my mother and Andy, who wasted no time giving him the don't-offend-the-step-family lecture and grounding him. And, Dopey was even more offended by the consequences of his statement, if his stomps upstairs and slamming of the door were any indication. This time, to my relief, Andy took away his speakers and CD's before he could annoy the whole house. This didn't stop him from using his weights, though. He'd be ripped in no time, if the double-timed noise of the barbells rising up and down was any indication.
My mom tried to waylay me in the kitchen as I made my escape to my room. I think she thought Dopey had deeply hurt my feelings or something. I tried to assure her that this was not the case, but I don't think she bought it.
"You didn't even finish your fajita," she said, a bit mournfully. I told her I'd have some later, after I finished kickboxing. She looked skeptical of this, but I'd edged my way out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she could reply.
I did kickbox, though, because I felt kinda guilty lying to her. Which is strange, I guess, considering more than half my life is a mystery to her. But, I have a feeling that at some point, she just went, "I don't want to know," because really, that's the only explanation I can come up with for her complete ignorance of such a large part of my existence, much as I pride myself on being able to keep it from her.
I have a feeling it's all for the best.