Chris Green - Only the Good Die Young

Boo World had more questions in it than even real life. All I knew for sure, though, was that the next time fake Dean appeared, I wouldn’t give him an inch. It seemed he needed me to come willingly every time he tried to get me to his lair.

Since I’d wasted enough time today, I sailed off to the Edgett mansion, even though fake Dean had warned me about Wendy’s camera pictures and how Gavin knew about them. We would see if Star Guy had been telling the truth about that, though, wouldn’t we?

When I arrived, Constanza the maid was standing in front of the guest cottage outside, unlocking the door. I guessed she lived there.

I swept over her head and she gasped, drawing her collar closer to her stout body. But I was already on my way up to the main roof and chimney, taking the passage down to the foyer fireplace and coming out into all that marble grandeur. I listened for a beat, and when I heard voices down the right-side hallway, I followed the sound.

I found three out of four Edgetts in the study, gathered around a pool table with balls scattered over the felt. A lone light cast illumination over the green as the rest of the room waited in dim relief. Noah was holding a cue stick, dressed in a school uniform like Wendy. Farah was in a pair of pink sweats, her dark hair in a sleek side ponytail, and she was wearing cute strappy pumps, which made no sense to me. Sweats were for working out, right?

Anyway, Gavin wasn’t here, but those books I’d seen in his dream last night sure were. They gave me the jeebs as the details rushed back.

Blood coming from his fingers over the chair… Elizabeth, walking into the room in her bathing suit, dropping a red-stained scarf to the floor…

“. . . so just leave it to Wendy to put him in another bad mood,” Noah was saying, lining up his next shot. His navy blue school tie was loose, his careless dark brown hair hanging over his forehead. His rosy-tan skin looked more flushed than it had the first time I’d seen him, like he’d been outside cutting class a lot.

As he cracked the cue ball into a solid one, putting it into a corner pocket, Wendy crossed her arms over her chest. Was it because she was fending off Noah’s comment or because I’d entered the room and she was cold?

“If you’re going to haunt,” Twyla the Unfriendly Ghost had told me, “commit to it . ”

So I wouldn’t fear that I was being too obvious with my presence. I was beyond that now.

Noah straightened up, then hunted down another solid ball. “What did you show Gavin that put him in such a funk, anyway, Wen?”

She fidgeted. “Nothing much.”

But I knew. The photos of me.

So fake Dean hadn’t been lying about that.

I swept thoughts of him aside to think about later as Farah sat half on the edge of the pool table. For some reason, she looked sad, even with her CoverGirl makeup job.

“Gavin just gets in these moods, Noah—you know that.”

Her adopted brother sent her an assessing glance, his mouth firming into a straight line as he took another shot on the table, then missed.

Wendy seemed to be in her own orbit, as usual, wandering toward the sliding glass doors that overlooked the glowing pool outside. But instead of shutting out her siblings, she opened herself up.

“I only showed him something that I thought he’d actually laugh at,” she said. “Pictures.”

Noah snorted, like he was trying too hard to be flip. “Were they of you? I’d laugh.”

“Shut up, Noah.”

“I’m just being honest. He’s your big brother, not Wendy’s Super Special Teenage Crush. Stop trying to impress him with your dumb arts and crafts. He couldn’t give a shit.”

Wendy glared at him. “You’re disgusting.”

He didn’t notice that Farah gave him a look that was just as taken aback before she straightened her face and rose from the table.

I followed her, positioning myself against the wall, spreading over an art deco painting so I could be in front of her and monitor her expressions. I thought I already had a good emotional bead on Wendy.

But my maneuver didn’t pay off, because all I got from Farah was blankness while she pretended to diagnose the sharp, colorful angles of the art.

Wendy had come back from the window to confront Noah. “You’re a real fuckroid sometimes. Why would you even say something like that?”

The kid shrugged. His whole demeanor had changed, his shoulders stiff, like he regretted going too far with his teasing but wasn’t about to admit it.

“God,” Wendy said. “This damned family. Sometimes I hate you guys.”

“That’s never obvious.” Back to normal, Noah went to put the cue stick back in its wall holder. “Maybe you should just trade us in, Wendy. Or maybe your real family will call from Beijing and want you back someday.”

“Maybe yours will ride across the border on a burro and pack you off.” She added something in Chinese, I think, and whatever it was, it sounded nasty.

As she rushed out of the room, she had a look on her face that told me she regretted what she’d said. Noah was back to regretting, too. But Farah?

She’d mentally checked out, probably so used to these arguments that she didn’t pay attention anymore.

As Noah came back to the table and shoved the rest of the pool balls into pockets, I wondered if Wendy would’ve carried through with describing to her siblings what’d been in those pictures she’d shown to Gavin.

Oh well.

Before Noah headed toward the door, he checked on Farah with a glance. When she didn’t acknowledge him, he stuffed his hands in his pockets, then went on his way, his hair hiding part of his eyes.

Farah rubbed her hands over her arms, still standing in front of me, clueless that she was looking at more than a painting. This might be a good time to try some empathy on her. I was feeling really strong tonight, thanks to the power surge I usually got whenever fake Dean touched me.

I eased away from the painting, and just before I reached out to touch Farah’s face, she pulled away, feeling my chill.

Then she shook her head, like she was telling herself it’d just been a gust of wind from a seal that needed replacing on a window, and ran from the room the best she could in those Charro pumps.

A burst of energy flew through me. Was it because of her fear?

Whatever, it felt good. Just like it used to feel to get a blast of adrenaline when I was in a close volleyball game.

Giving slow chase, I left the study behind. I didn’t like it in there anyway, mostly because of Gavin’s dream. But also because of how Wendy, Noah, and Farah had left the room with that dysfunctional vibe that seemed to be the hallmark of the Edgett family.

Where was Daddy when you needed him?

It occurred to me that I would have to find another computer to use, instead of Amanda Lee’s, if I wanted to research the man. Would a library have one?

Anyway, I’d see about that later. Right now, though, Farah was still close by.

Flying out of the room, I heard her down the hall, and as I passed the game room with all the high-tech equipment, I saw her pacing, her cell phone to her ear.

“James,” she said. “Please tell me you’re home. Call me right back. Or I’ll try you again, just in case you couldn’t get to the phone.”

She was leaving a message. I knew all about these new phones and how they worked, thanks to Amanda Lee.

After redialing, Farah paced, her fingers playing with her ponytail. Then a man’s faint voice came on the other end of the line. I focused my energy on James, hearing him loud and clear in the air. He sounded put out that Farah had called.

“What’re you doing right now?” she asked. “I need to see you so badly.”