ONCE THE FOOD WAS gathered up and pooled in the center of the bed, we surrounded our stash like children with Halloween candy."Ready for Hurricane Ruthie?" I smiled."Good name for her," he said. "Should be interesting to see what Conrad thinks. He's a bit unconventional himself.""Awesome!" I pulled out my phone. "I predict he and Ruthie will hit it off. Based, of course, on the phone call I overheard - you know, in my true dream that night I saw you talking to Conrad.""True dream. Good name for it." Zander dialed his friend first."Hey, Zan my man!" A friendly voice spilled out of Zander's phone. "How are those California vibrations?" He started singing Good Vibrations. It reminded me of the delicious pulse that Zander and I felt when we touched. Oh my gosh! He must have told his friend. My face heated up."Conrad!" Zander hurried to cut off the singing, which only dimmed a little. He held his phone up to his mouth and cleared his throat. "I want to introduce you to someone
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING about?" I asked."Tru," Ruthie said, her voice tinged with excitement. "You couldn't have aced your tests like you did most of last year in zombie mode, unless you have a super sensor. When I asked you how you did it, you said you picked the answers that felt right. I used to think you had some kind of ESP going on but you never seemed to hear me when I tried to speak to you with my mind."I didn't know what to be more shocked about, the fact that Ruthie believed I had some psychic power or that she tried to speak telepathically with me. "So," said Conrad with awe in his voice. "Are you saying Tru is some kind of lie detector?"I shook my head in denial but Ruthie kept going. "I think so. Maybe we can do a little supernatural true or false."Zander raised his eyebrows and tilted up one side of his mouth as if to say, "we might as well try.""I don't know, guys," I hesitated. "I don't think I can say for sure if something is true just like that." "Yes, you
"WAIT, GUYS. WHAT DOES 'cursed' even mean?" asked Ruthie. "Maybe it isn't so bad."Zander looked at me. I was starting to feel anxious. My sethian acquaintances included Conrad, Zander and his brother - and the Collector in a roundabout way. I had a pretty good idea who in that group might belong to the cursed category."I don't know," I said. "Maybe.""Well, if we get to vote, I vote that Zander's jerk face brother is cursed," said Ruthie. Zander scowled but didn't comment."I-I think we need more information," I said. "Before we get too upset about this cursed stuff."The silence coming from Conrad spoke volumes. His head must have been spinning. I wondered if now was the right time to tell Zander about his father, about him being the Collector, Dante's boss. "You're right," said Zander. "I say we let Conrad try and dig up something to support these ideas before deciding what to do with them." His face was pinched, like he was thinking too hard. I decided I couldn't accuse h
MONDAY MORNING, I KNEW something was wrong as soon as I walked into the kitchen. Dad stood in the middle of the room, his hands on his hips and scowling. What now? My stomach clenched. Had he somehow found out about Zander being in my bedroom last night?"What's wrong?" I asked.He pressed his lips together, staring at me like he'd never seen me before. Then with a grunt of disappointment, he ran his hands through his hair and pointed to the kitchen table. "Sit."With robotic movements, I settled into the nearest chair, burying my nervous hands under my bottom.Dad lowered himself into the chair across from me."Tru, I received a surprising phone call this morning. Can you guess who it might have been from?"With a loud swallow, I said, "No." Who tipped him off? Did a neighbor see Zander leave?Dad shook his head. "Tru, I think I've been too lenient with you since your mother ..." He broke off, unable to finish his sentence. "But not anymore," he rallied. Oh no! Would he keep
EVERYTHING THAT HAD HAPPENED to me was suddenly too much to handle. And now I was having a real panic attack."Tru, let's get going," Dad called from the hallway. I couldn't answer. I could barely breathe. Zander's anxious voice called to me from my phone. I wondered if he was feeling what I felt, like he had the night Dante dumped me in the cellar and I busted my ankle. I had to calm down, for Zander. My eyes bounced around the room landing on the beanbag chair. I thought about how cute and clumsy he'd been when he'd tried to get out of it. I thought about the sweet way Zander had apologized after we argued. I thought about the warm feeling that overcame me every time we touched. The black dots began to recede."Tru?" Dad stepped into the room. "Honey? Are you all right?"I could only nod my head. As I slowed my breathing, I realized that I was curled up on the floor in a fetal position. I didn't recall dropping down. I had just enough mental clarity to reach over and end my ca
THE POLICE STATION WASN'T like anything I would have imagined. Near the entrance, a circular driveway with lush green landscaping separated the building from an ordinary parking lot. A bowl-shaped water fountain with an abstract art design stood in the center of the grassy area. The building wasn't just the police station. It acted as City Hall, too, which might explain the beautiful landscaping. As we headed to the police department on the first floor, I was surprised by the lack of criminals being manhandled in handcuffs like I expected from my tv experience. Were it not for a couple of uniformed policemen heading out, it could have been mistaken for any other business. In fact, the reception area looked like a hotel lobby. We approached the sleek-looking front desk where a woman wearing a brown pantsuit was speaking into a phone. She had a pen sticking out of her gray-brown hair, which was pulled tight into in a bun at the base of her neck. I thought maybe this wouldn't be so
I TRIED TO STICK to the same story that I'd told Dad, shrugging off the Vulcan pinch idea like it was my best guess. By the time I was done, the cold metal chair had sucked all the warmth from my body. I rubbed my arms as I waited for the detective to respond. His black eyes bore into me like lasers as he took his time. The longer the silence stretched, the greater my anxiety grew. I finally leaned closer to Dad, needing his warmth and strength."Vulcan neck pinch, huh?" said the Detective Winchester finally. "That's a new one. Sure you don't want to change your story?" His obvious skepticism made my face redden.Dad cleared his throat and the detective's eyes shot toward him, narrowing."Okay," he gave in, leaning back in his seat. Dad nodded with approval. "What about Dante's car, Ms. Parker. Can you describe it to me?"I shrugged. "It was a Blue Suburu WRX, STI, I think. Leather trimmed upholstery."The detective's eyebrows shot up. "That's very specific." He leaned forward aga
THE DAY WASN'T EVEN half over before a shiny new number pad decorated the wall of our entry hall. Dad had a friend in the home security business who expedited the installation of the new alarm system. Tomorrow the installers would return to take care of the windows.Dad called in more than one favor. He also had a buddy who worked at the Santa Cruz police department's K-9 unit. They had a retired police dog who needed a home. They said he'd be great for home security. I texted fast and furiously with my friends. The news of our trip to the police station had already saturated the student body. To make matters worse, the homeroom teachers announced that the police were looking for Dante and asked the students to pass any information about him to the office or the school counselor. Rumors were flying about Dante's possible crimes, including the death of Mrs. Jackson. And since Bobby and "yours truly" were MIA at school, we were also at the heart of the gossip. Even Isaac had been pepp