The Death Of Me (Clearview Academy Book 1) Read online

  “I'm dead, it's a little worse than a tough situation.”

  “Okay,” he held his hands in front of him. “I just think that someone else would be able to help you better. I don't even know what you want from me.”

  “I just... I want to find out what happened to me. I want to know why I was in that alley. Someone must have put me there. Put my body there,” I corrected with a shiver. “Why would they do that?”

  Clark looked uncomfortable. “Do you remember,” he grimaced but then forged ahead. “Do you know how you died?”

  “No.”

  “You don't remember anything?”

  “I went to Jimmy's party and that's it.” I shifted my eyes away from him. Just because he could see me didn't make us friends, I wasn't about to tell him about me and Tyler's fight or about me being drunk. There were some things that Clark didn't need to know.

  “How would I know what happened to you? How would I be able to help?” He jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I wasn't at the party.”

  Of course he wasn't at the party. He was probably home getting high with all of his friends. “I don't think you missed much,” I sighed.

  “You don't even remember the party,” his nose scrunched up.

  “I don't know how much time I have, Clark. The Reaper will be back for me and then....” I let my voice fade away. I didn't really know what happened after she came. I only knew what I had to do now - that's the only thing I could concentrate on.

  “If you're a ghost,” Clark said slowly, “how come you look the same?”

  “I don't know.”

  “If I touched you, would my hand go through you?”

  “Don't touch me.” Ew.

  “I said if,” he rolled his eyes. “Why would I want to touch you, you're dead.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “We're wasting time here,” I snapped. “Are you going to help me?”

  “No.”

  “You know,” I leaned forward, towards him, “I can force you if I want to.”

  “Force me?”

  “Yeah, I can just go right into your body and use it however I want. There's nothing you can do to stop me.”

  Clark's forehead creased. “You would go into my body?”

  “It's been a weird morning, don't push me.”

  Chapter Four

  “Will... will your parents be home any time soon?” I glanced out the small window, it was completely dark outside and Clark's trailer was still quiet. I knew he didn't live here alone, so where was everyone?

  “I don't know,” he shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Were you wanting to talk to my dad?” he smirked.

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Clark sat up straight on the bed. He had been hunched over a notebook for what felt like hours. “Let's see if I got this right.”

  “I'm sure you do,” I whined.

  “You wanted my help, remember?” His eyes went briefly wide.

  “How is this helping?”

  He shook his head but refrained from commenting. “Tyler picked you up at seven,” he read off the paper. “And you got to the party around eight. But you don't know what you did for that whole hour?”

  “We drove to the party,” I told him again. “Jimmy lives way out of town.”

  “He lives on Oak Street,” Clark contradicted me.

  “He has a lake house; his family owns it. The party was out there.”

  “And it took you an hour to get there?”

  “It must have.” I couldn't exactly remember the drive to Jimmy's, but if it didn't take us the whole hour I wasn't going to tell Clark what we were probably doing.

  “And then you met up with your friends Nina and Billie?”

  “I already told you,” I smacked the bed impatiently, “I don't remember when I met up with them.”

  “But you do know they were there?”

  “Yes.”

  “So logically you would have met with them.”

  “I guess so.” Clark was so annoying. Why did we need a stupid timetable? “Will your parents get mad that I'm here?”

  “How would they know?”

  “Your dad can see me,” I reminded him.

  “My dad doesn't see much.” He took a deep breath and let it out quickly. “Let's just focus. You said you need to figure out what happened last night, the best way to do that is to retrace your steps.”

  “All right,” my nose scrunched up in disgust. “I was at the party by eight. With Nina and Billie. Tyler took me.”

  “What time did you leave the party?”

  “I don't know. Why do you keep asking me the same questions?”

  “Because you're the only one that can answer them.”

  “I wasn't the only one at the party.” I chewed on my lower lip.

  “You can't be asking me to go and talk to Nina and Billie.” He glared across the bed at me.

  I shrugged. It was the obvious solution, but he was right. They would laugh him right off their porch. And honestly, I couldn't blame them - I would do the same thing. “You could just let me use your body,” I suggested. “I'll do all the talking.”

  “But they'll be looking at my face.”

  “True.” My shoulders slumped in defeat. “I have an idea,” I perked up, “we could call them.”

  “And say what?”

  “Don't you have any girlfriends?” I mean, obviously he didn't have a girlfriend but maybe just a friend that was a girl. “What about that Cindy girl? The one dressed like a slut.”

  “Don't say that about her,” his eyes narrowed angrily. You don't even know her.”

  “But you do,” I pointed out, “she could call and talk to my friends for us.”

  “No, Clark shot down my idea. “They won't talk to her either. The hill twins aren't going to be any use to us.”

  “The hill twins,” I sputtered. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “What about your sister?” he asked, ignoring my outrage.

  “What about her?”

  “If I go and talk to her with you, maybe we can convince her that you're here. She would help.”

  “No,” I cringed way from his idea. “Lindsay wouldn't help even if she could see me herself.”

  “She's your sister.”

  “Doesn't matter. You don't have a sister so you wouldn't understand.”

  Clark glanced away. “Your parents then?”

  “Maybe...” It would be hard to convince them and he'd have to tell them I was dead first. “If we get desperate enough.”

  “Well,” Clark leaned back against the wall, “if we can't talk to anyone - the next best thing is to see your body.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye, probably just to make sure I wasn't going to freak out.

  I didn't.

  “Why would that help?”

  “We can see if there's any clues. And maybe by seeing it, your memories might come back.”

  “Okay,” I agreed slowly. “We can try.” It was a start and we had to start somewhere.

  “Do you think you can find it again?”

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “Alright then...” He glanced around awkwardly, not meeting my eyes. “Should we meet tomorrow morning?”

  “Meet?”

  “Yeah,” he nodded quickly, “you can come back here or I can go to your house.”

  “No,” I ran my tongue over my bottom lip, “can I just stay here tonight?”

  “Here? Like in my room?”

  My face felt hot. Was it possible for a ghost to blush? Was it possible for me to blush over Clark Daniels? “I can sleep in the living room.”

  “I'm against you staying here,” he was sure to point out, “but if you are then I'll take the living room.”

  I wanted to protest, I didn't want to sleep in Clark's bed. But I knew his dad could see me so I also didn't want to sleep in the living room. As much as I hated to admit it, I was grateful to Clark. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  “Yeah.” He scooted hi
mself off the edge of the bed and crossed the small room to the door. “I... guess I'll see you in the morning.”

  “Mmmm,” I grunted.

  It was hard to settle down after Clark left the room for his temporary bed on the couch. It didn't stink in there like I thought it would, but it was unfamiliar to me.

  The bed was lumpy. A spring jutted in to my back. I remembered what the Reaper had said to me before she left. You're half in this world and half out of this world. Some things you'll be able to touch and feel and some things you won't. There are no hard rules, just being here when you're dead already is against the rules. So be careful.

  In a vain attempt to get comfortable I rolled over to one side. On the low stand sitting beside Clark's bed were two framed pictures. One was clearly old - it was a woman with a baby sitting on her lap and a man standing next to them. I assumed that was Clark with his parents; they all looked happy. The other picture was Clark, as he was now. He had his arm draped around the girl next to him. She was pretty but I could tell she was awkward by the way she smiled.

  I turned my gaze to Clark. He was smiling wider than I'd ever seen him smile before. I didn't want to go all crazy and think he was attractive, but really Clark should try to smile more often I found myself thinking.

  “Oh my word,” I whispered. “What kind of thought is that?” Being dead was messing with my mind.

  Rubbing my hands roughly down my face, I sat up in the bed. I wasn't going to be able to sleep and there was no point in pretending otherwise.

  In life, I wasn't a person who cried easily. Not for real anyways. There were, of course, times when fake tears came in handy. Now wasn't one of those times. As bleak and alone as I felt, there were no tears in my eyes.

  A long time later, when the sun was starting to creep up in the sky, I made my way up the short hallway and into the living room where Clark slept. I didn't mind being alone, but I was anxious to get the day started.

  Clark's feet hung off the end of the short couch. His hand was cradled under his cheek. In sleep, the scowl was gone from his face - he actually looked peaceful. Not wanting to wake him up, I perched on the edge of the coffee table and waited.

  “UGH,” CLARK GROANED himself awake.

  “You're up?” I grinned wide down at him.

  “What?” He scrambled to sit up. “You're still here.” It wasn't a question, more of an accusation.

  “Of course I'm still here.”

  “What are you doing on the stand?”

  “I was waiting... for you to wake up.” I knew how lame I sounded so I didn't need to see his eyes narrow.

  “You were watching me sleep?”

  “No.” I swallowed past my unease. “I was just waiting.”

  “For how long?”

  “Long enough,” I rolled my eyes. “You snore when you sleep.”

  “I never realized how weird you were,” he grumbled, stumbling to his feet.

  “I'm ready whenever you are,” I called out to his retreating form.

  “The living still have to piss when they wake up,” he called back, over his shoulder. “Give me a sec.”

  Creepy Clark Daniels called me weird? Ugh, everything was so messed up.

  “You ready?” Clark asked a few minutes later, coming from the bathroom. He had changed his shirt but he still looked scruffy.

  “I've been ready.” I tried to keep the annoyance from my voice but I wasn't used to being kept waiting.

  “Let's ride.”

  “Are you going to say stupid stuff like that all day?” Grinding my back teeth together, I followed him out the front door.

  “Well Princess, I meant that literally.” He pointed several fingers to a motorcycle that was now parked in the driveway.

  “What is that?”

  “Do you really not know?” He cocked one eyebrow high on his forehead.

  “Do you know how to drive that thing?”

  “Of course. Have you ever ridden on one?”

  “No way.” We were a decent family and decent families had cars.

  “Today is your lucky day.” He swung his leg over the seat of the motorcycle. “Hop on,” he ordered lightly.

  “What if I fall off?”

  “You're already dead,” he reminded me. “What's the worst that could happen now?” Even if he was right, that didn't stop the thrill of fear that ran through me. “We're wasting daylight here Princess.”

  “Alright fine,” I growled. Moving quickly, I climbed onto the bike behind him. “Do you have a helmet?”

  “You don't need a helmet.”

  “Maybe not, but I'd still feel better if I had one.”

  “Don't have an extra one,” he shrugged.

  Thoroughly irritated, I wrapped my arms around Clark's waist.

  “You can hold on to me, you know? I'm not going to bite you or anything and it's not like I have some disease.”

  “I am holding on.” I gripped tighter to his shirt.

  Looking down, he put one of his hands over mine. “Your hand feels solid.”

  “What did I tell you about touching me?”

  “I can't feel you holding on to me though,” he continued absently, as if I hadn't said anything. “Weird.”

  Weird was one way of putting it. I could feel him just fine. “Let's just go.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed quickly. “Where are we headed?”

  “Do you know the old theater that burned down last summer?”

  “The one on Winston?”

  “I think so. Yeah. It was near there. In an alley, that's where I woke up.”

  Clark turned his head so I could see his profile. “I doubt you would have gone to that side of town by yourself.” His forehead wrinkled.

  I took a deep breath. “And I wouldn't have wrapped myself in a blanket and hid behind a dumpster either.”

  MY EYES SLID SLOWLY down the street; first left where a line of cars were parked, then right where a line of drab buildings stood. This place was dreary. Everything inside me wanted to bolt; why would anyone want to spend their time here?

  My nose scrunched as I watched a young woman waddling towards me and Clark. She was clearly a year pregnant – at least. What was she doing out here? She was risking serious deformities to that baby just by breathing in the putrid air.

  “This isn't the place,” Clark growled low in my ear, making the tiny hairs on my arm stand up straight.

  “How do you know?” I murmured back, unable to tear my eyes away from the woman.

  “We've been standing here for ten minutes.” Evidently, he was too irritated to remember to whisper.

  “It's been like thirty seconds,” I breathed out, still not looking at him.

  “Is this the place?”

  “I'm...not sure.” It looked like the same dirty street I had woken up in, but so did the last two places we'd stopped.

  “This is such a waste of time.” Behind me, Clark kicked at the sidewalk.

  “This is the place,” I realized suddenly.

  “What?” Clark came closer to my face. “How do you know?”

  I raised one arm and pointed to the single blue door that seemed out of place in the brick wall across from us. Above the door were the words “public bath”.

  “The bathroom? Do ghosts still pee?”

  “No, Clark.” He was close enough for me to jab my elbow into his stomach.

  “Ow, I felt that.”

  “I recognize that door. I went in there when I first... when I woke up.”

  “There's an alley right there,” he pointed out the obvious – not far from the bathroom. “Should we go look?”

  “Yeah.” We were already there anyways, might as well look. I was almost seventy-six percent sure that we wouldn't find a dead body back there; I mean – I was standing right next to Clark; how could I be dead? “We should at least check.”

  “Right.”

  Clark swept past me and led the way to the creepy alley where there may or may not be a dead body hiding behind
a dumpster. It was hard to say which one of us was more nervous.

  I stopped walking where the dark shadows began. My heart was hammering inside my chest at the sight of the bulky dumpster near the dirty wall. It was too dark to see anything clearly but I was pretty sure I could see something huddled behind it.

  That something was me.

  I knew without looking.

  “I see something,” Clark called out. He had gone ahead of me when I hesitated.

  “What is it?” I held my breath, waiting...

  “I can't really tell...but it looks like it might be a blanket of some sort.”

  “Is it...me?”

  “I don't know. It can't be though...”

  There was only way to know for certain.

  Squaring my shoulders, I hurried forward into the alley with Clark. “Oh my word,” I gasped.

  “Don't get all... girly on me.”

  He may have been trying to sound all gruff but I saw how pale he was in the shadows. “That's me,” I grabbed a hold of his arm. “I told you!”

  “All I see,” he held his arm out wide, “is a grubby old sleeping bag.”

  “I was wrapped in that.” In a way, I still was. “Open it up.”

  “Are you insane?” He took a step back. “I am not touching anything.”

  “Clark!”

  “Avery.” He widened his eyes dramatically at me.

  “How will we know if my body is really in there?”

  “We do what normal people do.”

  “Which is?”

  “We wait for the police to find it.”

  “Just peek in and see if it's me,” I ordered. Fear posed as impatience in my voice.

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Don't be such a wuss.”

  “I don't want any part of this.” He tried to push past me but the dumpster was in his way and he hit his shoulder hard on the unforgiving metal. The movement jostled the sleeping bag enough to let a lifeless arm flop out onto the concrete.

  “Is that...?”

  “Shit.” Clark's eyes were huge as he stared down at the heavily bruised and tattered arm.

  “That's my arm, Clark.”

  “How do you know?” he asked without opening his lips.

  “The bracelet,” I pointed down, “dad gave me that bracelet when I turned sixteen. Custom made.” My friends had been so jealous of the blue colored gem set inside a silver heart so I made sure to show it off whenever possible.