down over black yoga pants. Her hair fell in loose strands around her face, tied in a single ponytail.
Her skin was paler than I remembered. When she smiled at me, I could see tiny, blue veins pulsing in her temples.
She limped badly as she led the way to the front stairs. I realized she was still not fully recovered from her accident.
I wanted to ask her a million questions about it. What were she and Lewis doing at the wreck of the Fear Mansion? How could they ever fall into such a deep hole? Why were they there so late at night?
The questions could wait. Maybe Jamie didnât even remember the answers.
I followed her up the front stairway. âDana, you have the whole attic to yourself,â she said. âItâs very cozy. I think youâll like it. Is that a hamster in there? Better keep him away from my mom. Sheâs allergic to all kinds of animals. Whatâs his name?â
âHammy,â I said. âClever, huh?â
She laughed. âHow did you ever come up with that?â
We were both breathless by the time we dropped the suitcases to the floor in my new attic room. I set the hamster cage down on a table in front of the window. Gazing out, I could see the long, front lawn with its two flower beds, empty now since it was November. Two tall, old trees stood on both sides of the driveway, mostly bare except for a few clumps of dead, brown leaves.
Jamie lifted one of the suitcases onto the narrow bed against the wall. âSorry about your mom,â she said.
âYeah, sorry,â I muttered. âSorry, sorry, sorry.â
She wasnât expecting me to be so bitter. I could see the shock on her face.
âSuch a bad year for our family,â she said softly. âFirst, cousin Cindy died, then your mom. How is your dad doing? Your mom died so suddenly. He must still be in shock.â
âHow should I know?â I asked. My voice trembled. I didnât want it to. I wanted to sound calm and controlled. But sometimes I just canât hold in my anger.
âHe wonât talk to me,â I said. âHe canât deal with me, I guess.â
Jamie put a hand on my shoulder. âJust because he sent you to live here . . . â
âHe didnât want me!â I cried. âHe didnât want me to live with him. My mom dies. So he sends me off to a cousin I havenât seen in seven years. How should that make me feel? You tell me, Jamie. How should I feel about that?â
I was talking through gritted teeth. I looked down and saw my hands coiled into tight, red fists.
Jamie took a step back. Her face went even paler. I could see she was surprised. She studied me for a long moment.
âDana, youâre scaring me,â she said. âIâm serious. You look so angry, like you could kill someone.â
Kill someone?
No way. What a strange thing to say.
Did I really look like that?
Kill someone?
Me?
7
It was an excellent party. Jamie had the music cranked up. And the dining room table was loaded down with pepperoni and onion pizzas and long submarine sandwiches.
No beer. Jamieâs parents were home. But everyone seemed to be having a good time, anyway.
Danny, Jamieâs seven-year-old brother, printed out a banner on his computer: WELCOME, DANA âeach letter in a different color. It was strung up over the piano.
Danny is a cool little guy. He has short, blond hair and bright, blue eyes, and a killer smile, even with two front teeth missing. Tonight, he had a fake tattoo of a dragon on one cheek.
Everyone was making a fuss over him. Oneof Jamieâs friends was trying to teach him how to dance. But he kept stomping down on her feet. He thought that was a riot. Each time he did it, he giggled like a fiend.
The first two guys I bumped into at Jamieâs party were Nate and Shark. Iâd met them a few nights before at the bar everyone goes to late at night.
Shark told me his real name is Bart Sharkman but