Meg Cabot - Shadowland

Cee Cee shot Adam a warning look, then looked at me. "How are you getting along with your new stepbrothers, Suze?"

I tore my eyes away from the setting sun. "All right, I guess. Does Do – I mean, Brad really take steroids?"

Adam said, "I shouldn't have mentioned that. I'm sorry. I'm sure he doesn't. All those guys on the wrestling team, though – they scare me. And they're so homophobic ... well, you can't help wondering about their sexual orientation. I mean, they all think I'm gay, but you wouldn't catch me in a pair of tights grabbing at some other guy's inner thigh."

I felt a need to apologize for my stepbrother, and did so, adding, "I'm not so sure he's gay. He got very excited when Kelly Prescott called the other night and invited us to her pool party on Saturday."

Adam whistled, and Cee Cee said unexpectedly, "Well, well, well. Are you sure this blanket is good enough for you? Maybe you would prefer a cashmere beach blanket. That's what Kelly and all her friends sit on."

I blinked at them, realizing I'd just committed a faux pas. "Oh, I'm sorry. Kelly didn't invite you guys? But I just assumed she was inviting all the sophomores."

"Certainly not," Cee Cee said with a sniff. "Just the sophomores with status, which Adam and I definitely lack."

"But you," I said, "are the editor of the school paper."

"Right," Adam said. "Translate that into dork and you'll have an idea why we've never been invited to any of Princess Kelly's pool parties."

"Oh," I said. I was quiet for a minute, listening to the waves. Then I said, "Well, it's not like I was planning on going."

"You weren't?" Cee Cee's eyes bugged out behind her glasses.

"No. At first because I had a date with Bryce, which is off now. But now because ... well, if you guys aren't going, who would I talk to?"

Cee Cee leaned back on the blanket. "Suze," she said. "Have you ever considered running for class VP?"

I laughed. "Oh, right. I'm the new kid, remember?"

"Yeah," Adam said. "But there's something about you. I saw real leadership potential in the way you trounced Debbie Mancuso yesterday. Guys always admire girls who look as if any minute they might punch another girl in the mouth. We just can't help it." He shrugged. "Maybe it's in the genes."

"Well," I said with a laugh. "I'll certainly take it under advisement. I did hear a rumor Kelly was planning on blowing the entire class budget on some kind of dance – "

"Right." Cee Cee nodded. "She does that every year. The stupid spring dance. It's so boring. I mean, if you don't have a boyfriend, what is the point? There's nothing to do there but dance."

"Wait," Adam said. "Remember that time we brought the water balloons?"

"Well," Cee Cee amended. "Okay, that year was fun."

"I was kind of thinking," I heard myself saying, "that something like this might be better. You know. A cookout at the beach. Maybe a couple of them."

"Hey," Adam said. "Yeah! And a bonfire! The pyro in me has always wanted to do a bonfire on the beach."

Cee Cee said, "Totally. That's totally what we should do. Suze, you've got to run for VP."

Holy smoke, what had I done? I didn't want to be sophomore class VP! I didn't want to get involved! I had no school spirit – I had no opinion on anything! What was I doing? Had I lost my mind?

"Oh, look," Adam said, pointing suddenly at the sun. "There it goes."

The great orange ball seemed to sink into the sea as it began its slow descent below the horizon. I didn't see any splashing or steam, but I could have sworn I heard it hit the water's surface.

"There goes the sun," Cee Cee sang softly.

"Da da da da da," Adam said.

"There goes the sun." I joined in.

Okay, I have to admit, it was kind of childish, sitting there singing, watching the sun go down. But it was also kind of fun. Back in New York, we used to sit in the park and watch the undercover cops arrest drug dealers. But that wasn't anywhere near as nice as this, singing happily on a beach as the sun went down.

Something strange was happening. I wasn't sure what it was.

"And I say," the three of us sang, "it's all right!"

And, strangely enough, at that moment, I actually believed it would be. All right, I mean.

And that's when I realized what was happening:

I was fitting in. Me, Susannah Simon, mediator. I was fitting in somewhere for the first time in my life.

And I was happy about it. Really happy. I actually believed, just then, that everything was going to be all right.

Boy, was I ever in denial.

CHAPTER 17

My alarm went off at midnight. I didn't hit the snooze button. I turned it off, clapped my hands to turn on the bedside lamp, rolled over, and stared at the canopy over my bed.

This was it. D-day. Or E-day, I should have called it.

I'd been so tired after dinner, I knew I'd never make it without a nap. I told my mother I was going upstairs to do homework, and then I'd lain down with the intention of sacking out for a few hours. Back in our old place in Brooklyn, this wouldn't have been a problem. My mom would have left me alone like I asked. But in the Ackerman household, the words I want to be alone were apparently completely meaningless. And not because the place is crawling with ghosts, either. No, it was the living who kept on bugging me for a change.

First it was Dopey. When I'd sat down to another gourmet dinner, immaculately prepared by my new stepfather, an interrogation of sorts had begun because I had ended up not getting home until after six. There was the usual "Where were you?" from my mother (even though I'd so conscientiously left her that explanatory message). Then a "Did you have fun?" from Andy. And then there was a "Who'd you go with?" from, of all people, Doc. And when I said, "Adam McTavish and Cee Cee Webb," Dopey actually snorted disgustedly and, chewing on a meatball, said, "Christ. The class freaks."

Andy said, "Hey. Watch it."

"Well, jeez, Dad," Dopey said. "One's a freakin' albino and the other's a fag."

This earned him a very hard wallop on the head from his father, who also grounded him for a week. Meaning, I couldn't help pointing out to Dopey later as we were clearing our plates from the table, that he would be unable to attend Kelly Prescott's pool party, which, by the way, I – Queen of the Freaks – had gotten him invited to.

"Too bad, bubby," I said, giving Dopey a sympathetic pat on the cheek.

He slapped my hand away. "Yeah?" he said. "Well, at least nobody'll be callin' me a fag hag tomorrow."

"Oh, sweetie," I said. I reached out and tweaked the cheek I'd just patted. "You'll never have to worry about people calling you that. They call you much worse things."

He hit my hand again, his fury apparently so great, it rendered him temporarily speechless.

"Promise me you'll never change," I begged him. "You're so adorable just the way you are."

Dopey called me a very bad name just as his father entered the kitchen with the remains of the salad.

Andy grounded him for another week, and then sent him to his room. To show his unhappiness with this turn of events, Dopey put on the Beastie Boys and played them at such high decibels that sleep was impossible for me... at least until Andy came up and took away Dopey's speakers. Then everything got very quiet, and I was just about to doze off when someone tapped at my door. It was Doc.

"Um," he said, glancing nervously past me, into the darkness of my room – the "haunted" room of the house. "Is this a good time to, um, talk about the things I found out? About the house, I mean? And the people who died here?"

"People? In the plural sense?"

"Oh, sure," Doc said. "I was able to find a surprising amount of documentation listing the crimes committed in this house, many of which involved murder of varying degrees. Because it was a boarding house, there were any number of transient residents, most of whom were on their way home after striking it rich in the gold rush farther up state. Many of them were killed in their sleep and their gold absconded, some thought by the owners of the establishment, but most likely it was by other residents – "