Linda Singleton - Dead Girl in Love

“Ooh, Grammy is a rule breaker,” I said, smiling as I leaned back against black-laced pillows on Alyce’s bed. “I broke rules when I told you about my last TL assignment and didn’t want to do it again. Grammy did it for me this time, bless her.”

Eli laughed — a sound so nice and wonderful.

“So what’s it like being Alyce?” he asked.

“Weird.”

“Weird freaky or weird interesting?”

“Both. She’s taller than me and her hair is so long that I sit on it if I don’t remember to push it back. And living with Mrs. Perfetti is even weirder.” I told him about having to cook dinner, which made him laugh again.

“At least no one died of food poisoning,” he joked.

“Your confidence in me is underwhelming.”

“I’m just being honest — a trait I appreciate more than ever now that I’m living in the land of the fake and the famous.”

“Already tired of being a big Hollywood star?”

“I’m not a star.” His chuckle sounded tired. “This isn’t American Idol . It’s only shown on a cable channel that most people have never watched.”

“But you’re doing really well and might win. How cool is that?”

“It’s okay.” He said this casually, but underneath I could tell he was proud. “But if you need me, I’ll ditch it all and come home right now.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, warmed by his offer. “You stay there and have fun singing. If you win, I can be your entertainment agent.”

“You’d be great at it, but I’m not superstar material. This isn’t the career I imagined,” he admitted. “I’m more the guy who works in accounting or engineering, not the one standing on a stage with girls screaming my name like I was a rock star. Can you believe this little girl no older than ten pulled off my shoe?”

I laughed. “I hope your sock was clean.”

“You could try being a little sympathetic.”

“I could, but it wouldn’t be as fun.”

“This isn’t all fun, you know. My schedule is insane with almost no time for sleeping. It’s hard, too, being here without any friends or family.”

“Isn’t your sister still there?”

“Sharayah offered to stay but I knew she’d have more fun spending the rest of spring break with her friends, so I told her to go.”

Just the other day I’d been Sharayah. My brain buzzed with questions about what had happened to her after I left her body — but those could wait.

“My competitors are great and we get along fine,” Eli added. “Still, it’s not the same as when you were here. I miss you, Amber.”

“I feel the same way. It’s hard being in the wrong body without the people I care about.”

“I know what you mean. The loneliest place is when I’m in a crowd of strangers and I’d rather just be with you.”

I warmed deliciously from head to polished black toe nails. “I’d rather be with you, too. I don’t know why I volunteered to be a Temp Lifer.”

“Because you care about people. You really helped my sister and you’ll help Alyce, too.”

“I want to, but I don’t know what’s going on with Alyce. She’s been doing some odd stuff.”

“Considering she drapes herself in black and photographs gravestones, being odd is her normal. And I don’t mean that in a bad way,” he added quickly, as if worried I’d misunderstand. “I respect anyone who does their own thing and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”

“But maybe she does care,” I pointed out. “I keep thinking how upset she was the last time we talked. I hate myself for brushing her off.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. You had things going on, too, but now you’re helping out. Alyce couldn’t have a better friend. I should go.” Eli yawned. “They have me in a room with three other guys and they’ll be back soon. We have a photo shoot on the beach at six a.m. I have to pose like I’m surfing even though I’ve never surfed. It’s going to be another crazy day.”

“The perils of fame,” I said teasingly. “When will you be home?”

“If I get eliminated in the next round, I’ll be at school on Monday.”

I pressed my lips tight so I wouldn’t confess how I secretly hoped he’d be eliminated. I shouldn’t be so selfish. “I hope you win,” I told him.

“I’m not sure what I want. Winning would be cool, but it would mean missing school and going on a road tour.”

“You’ll get more of an education living life than studying about it.” But I may die from missing you too much , I thought.

“I’d rather be with you.”

“I feel the same way.”

“And it’s more than … well, Amber, I—”

“You what?” I asked breathlessly.

“That I … Amber, I think maybe … well … I love you.”

He spoke with such sincerity that tears blurred my eyes. I said those words back, and suddenly we were both talking excitedly, sharing thoughts and feelings and dreams. After a while, with the reluctance of a million aching hearts, I let him go.

Back to his Hollywood world of fame and fans.

To ward off self-pity, I kept replaying his “I love you” in my head. We’d only been together a few weeks and had never even kissed (at least not when I was in my real body), but I wanted to be with him so much. I could imagine his face and feel his touch. No denying it any longer — what I felt for Eli was like a giant blanket holding me warm and tight.

Love, love, love! His words had wings that flew me to a place happier than anywhere I’d ever been. I wanted to soak in his memory, lather myself in the hopes for our future, and sink into dreams for all the amazing things we’d do together. Once I returned to my real body, going out in public would be great, but staying in would be even better. We’d be a real couple, holding hands at school and sharing lunch and whispering sappy things just because we could. We’d talk, touch, and share until we were practically the same person.

This wonderful, fabulous, beyond-heaven emotion was too amazing to keep to myself. Love was the whole meaning of everything — the reason to breathe, a universal fabric uniting humanity, a solution to all the problems in the world. I only wished everyone I knew could feel this way, too.

Of course! I thought with a snap of my fingers. That was it!

The GEM said Alyce’s crisis was “love.” Maybe she was worried that I’d be too busy with Eli and she’d be left out. That wouldn’t happen, of course, but Alyce had kept her feelings to herself without giving me a chance to reassure her. She didn’t have many friends — maybe some casual “hey, how you doing?” friends in her classes, but only two real friends: Dustin and me.

What Alyce needed was a special someone all her own.

A boyfriend.

I could hardly sleep that night thinking up ways to introduce Alyce to L-O-V-E.

No hooking her up with a random guy. He’d have to be someone really amazing, who accepted her unique style and wasn’t easily intimidated by difficult mothers. He also needed to get along with Eli and me, too, so we could go on double dates.

Finding The Perfect Guy for Alyce would not be easy.

But I was up for the challenge, tossing and turning with whirling thoughts. I thought about the advice of a self-help book I had called Perfecting the Art of Perfection. The book advised accepting your imperfections; you’re only limited by your own expectations, so aim for the best. Still, none of my books offered practical methods for matchmaking, and I wondered if I should stop by a bookstore to search for one. Finally, at 5:20 a.m., I gave in to restlessness and got up.

Remembering how annoyed I’d been when Grammy wore the wrong kind of clothes for my body, I was true to Alyce’s creative spirit and slipped on a black ankle-length jacket over a dark-brown shirt, mid-length skirt, and knee-high, lace-up boots. As I turned toward the window to pick up Monkey Bag, my gaze drifted down to the front yard — to the driveway.