Chapter Ten

The football game against Quail Hollow followed the pep rally. After the game, Ryan went off with the rest of the guys to celebrate. With all the excitement, I hadn't had any time alone with Ryan to tell him what I had found out about the identity of the dead girl, and the weekend ended without a call from him. Samantha seemed to think Ryan and I were locked down as a couple, but I had my doubts.

After my last class on Monday, I hurried to my locker to meet up with Ryan for a few minutes.

I wanted to catch him before the squad showed up to drag me off to the hospital. Not that I didn't want to visit Rachel. I did, but I didn't want to go with the whole squad, like I was some sort of creature who could travel only in a pack.

Visiting Rachel was a kind, considerate thing to do. So how was it that Samantha was the one who thought of it? She didn't have a kind bone in her body. Did she? Or maybe she was just visiting to make a withdrawal, like a selfish, soul-sucking fiend. Now that sounded more like the Samantha I knew.

I was going up the stairs, headed for my locker, when someone grabbed me and pulled me into the shadowy stairwell. I was not in the mood to become some vamp's dinner, so I put an elbow in the ribs of the person holding me.

"Daisy, it's me," Ryan said.

"You nearly scared the life out of me," I said. "You can't go creeping around, not when there's a vampire loose."

"Sorry, I didn't think," he said. It was darker in the stairwell and much more private. Or it would have been, except it was also already occupied by two freshmen who were pressed up against each other like they'd never heard of personal space.

"Beat it!" I said, and they scampered.

"Want to come over after school? We'll have the house to ourselves." Ryan pressed a kiss along the base of my neck and I shivered.

"I can't make it today," I told him. "Samantha asked the squad to visit Rachel in the hospital." And maybe I could poke around and find out something about Rachel's mysterious illness. If Samantha was sucking her soul, I wanted to put a stop to it.

"Sure," he said. "But I have tons of homework and I could use a little help with statistics."

"That's why you asked me to your house after school? You wanted help with your homework?" Ryan was a straight-A student.

He didn't say anything, and finally the light dawned.

"Ryan Mendez, you were trying to lure me to your house under false pretenses," I said.

"I just wanted to spend some time with you," he said. "Our first date was memorable, but we didn't get any time alone."

Date? I thought. The Black Opal fiasco was a real date? Obviously, it wasn't a very good one. Of course, an awful first date with Ryan was ten times better than a smooth date with anyone else.

"Drag," I said. "Samantha will have a conniption if I don't go to the hospital. And I'd really like to see Rachel."

"It's okay. There will be other nights."

I said, "There will, I promise."

"Is that the only reason you dragged me into the stairwell?" Ryan asked, moving closer and putting his hands around my waist.

I gave him a light punch on the arm. "You dragged me here, remember?"

"And now I remember why," he said softly before he kissed me.

A long moment later, I finally started to breathe again. "Ryan," I said, "Samantha is probably looking for me."

"So?" he said. He brushed a lock of hair back from my face.

"So she might see us," I said, panicking.

"She already knows we're going out," he said calmly. He cupped the back of my head to pull me in for another kiss.

"But you like her," I said.

"Of course I like her," he said. "She's Sean's girlfriend and Sean's my friend."

"No, you like her like her," I said. "You've had a huge crush on her since the second grade, you can't deny it."

"Daisy, that was years ago," he replied. "I also ate paste and wanted to be a fireman. I don't like Samantha Devereaux except as a friend."

"You don't?"

He kissed the side of my neck. "I. Like. You." Each word was punctuated by soft kisses. "Now please kiss me," he said.

Since he asked so nicely, I did. He did that nicely as well.

Several minutes later, I pulled myself out of his arms. "Ryan, I've got to go. The squad will be waiting."

I sprinted down the hall and then up the stairs to the main entrance. I grinned the whole way. Ryan liked me, not Samantha, not whoever else he'd been kissing in the morgue. He liked plain old Daisy Giordano.

I met Samantha and the rest of the squad coming downstairs as I was coming up. The smile disappeared from my face.

"Daisy, we've been looking everywhere for you," she snapped. "Did you forget about Rachel already?"

"No," I huffed, trying to catch my breath. "Weren't we going to meet in the parking lot?"

Samantha gave me a dead-eye stare but didn't say anything. I had a guilty feeling she knew what I'd been doing. A feeling that was confirmed when she handed me a tissue and whispered, "Your lipstick is smeared."

"Thanks." She was being nice to me and covering my butt besides. In Samantha's case, being dead was a definite improvement.

"Let's go!" she said. "Daisy, you can ride with me. I'll show you how to put on lipstick properly. We can't have our newest cheerleader looking like a bag lady."

Okay, maybe not that big of an improvement.

Samantha somehow managed to get me in her car alone. I knew it might not be the smartest thing to do—spend time alone with a possible vamp—but I didn't have many friends. And she had seemed genuinely surprised when Chelsea showed up at the pep rally. Samantha wasn't that good an actress. She certainly wasn't fooling me with her sudden friendliness. She was going to grill me about Ryan, I just knew it.

But she didn't.

"That was fun the other night," she said. "The hanging out together part, not the finding the unconscious girl part."

"It was fun," I said. Except for the part where she sat in the front and hogged Ryan.

"We should do it again sometime," she suggested.

Samantha and I had been best friends in sixth grade. At the time, I had trusted her more than anyone, even my sisters. I didn't trust her now.

"Why are you suddenly interested in being friends, Sam?" The nickname just slipped out. I hadn't called her that for a long time.

"Daisy, I know you're still mad at me about what happened, but it was a long time ago. People can change. I just want you to give me a chance."

She had her chance, I thought, but aloud I said, "We're on the same squad now. I can't promise that we'll ever be best friends, but I'll try to get along." And being on the squad would mean that I could keep a close eye on the dead Devereaux.

She seemed satisfied with my answer, and the talk turned to the upcoming homecoming dance.

The other girls were waiting for us in the hospital parking lot, holding a huge GET WELL SOON banner. Samantha's best friend, Jordan, had a distinct pout on her black-lipsticked face. She was probably sulking because Samantha hadn't let her ride in the car with us.

I trailed behind the group. I needed to do some digging and couldn't do it in a cluster of cheer. When we reached the elevators, I spotted a gift shop.

"I'm just going to buy Rachel some flowers," I said brightly. "I'll catch up with you upstairs. What's her room number?"

"Room 301," Samantha said. "Don't take too long."

I gave her an exasperated look. "We can't all visit her at the same time anyway. Hospital rules."

Actually, I had no idea if those were the rules, but I needed her off my back for a few minutes. What I was about to do was definitely against hospital rules, and I didn't need any witnesses.

Rose had undergone an appendectomy at this hospital last year. Not that big of a coincidence, since it was the only hospital in town, but I did learn my way around the place while she was there.

I ducked into the gift shop and grabbed a nice bouquet. Rachel was a good person and didn't deserve the weirdness that was happening to her. If Samantha was the reason for it, she was going to be sorry. Payback is a bitch.

I slipped out of the elevator on the third floor just in time to see a nurse shushing my squad as they turned the corner. The nurses' station was temporarily deserted.

In the station were rows of cubbyholes. I knew from Rose's time there that the patients' charts were kept there.

I hunkered down and hoped I wouldn't be spotted. The charts were labeled only with room numbers, so I scanned the rows of files quickly, searching for 301. It wasn't there.

I stood, took a quick look around the corridor. Still no sign of any nurses. I went back to the nurses' station and surveyed the files on the desk. There it was!

I heard footsteps just as I spotted Rachel's file. I couldn't get to it in time.

I had only a few seconds to whip around to the other side. "May I help you?" A woman's voice said pleasantly.

"I'm looking for Rachel King?" I said, trying to sound innocent.

"She's in room 301. Are you one of her cheerleader friends?" The woman asked.

I nodded.

"It is visiting hours, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until someone leaves. I'm stretching the rules as it is by allowing so many visitors at once."

"Is it all right if I wait here?"

"Certainly," she said. "There are a few chairs and some magazines right over there." She pointed to a tiny waiting area and I sat. I grabbed a magazine and thumbed through it while I tried to figure out my next move. For the next several minutes, I watched as people passed by—orderlies transporting patients, visitors, and even a doctor or two.

A bell went off somewhere and the nurse hurried down a corridor, but I couldn't make a move because the hallway was still clogged with people. A few minutes later, the traffic died down and the hallway was deserted. I kept an eye out for the desk nurse and casually ambled in the direction of the nurses' station. I reached over and grabbed Rachel's file, stuffed it under my shirt, and took off. My heart was pounding so hard it sounded like someone chasing me.

I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Until I exhaled deeply, I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath.

I flipped through Rachel's chart and realized that I had no idea what I was reading. I didn't speak medical. I grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and dug in my purse for something to write with. I scribbled down several words that seemed important and shoved the paper into my purse.

I took another deep breath and stuck the file back under my shirt. I grabbed my purse and left the bathroom.

From across the waiting room, I could see that the nurses' station was empty. I eased the folder from under my shirt and was about to put it back in its rightful place when I heard my name being spoken. Panic flooded my body. Busted. The folder whizzed across the room and landed on the desk.

I turned and saw Poppy.

My shoulders slumped with relief. "Poppy, thanks so much!"

"Thanks for what?"

I didn't know why she was being so modest. She'd just saved my butt by using her telekinesis. I dropped it, assuming that she just didn't want to talk about her powers in public or something, even though she'd never shown a sign of false modesty before now.

We both turned as we heard footsteps approaching.

"Don't say anything," I whispered. "I'll explain later."

It was the same nurse from before. "Some of the girls have left," she said. "So you can go visit your friend now."

I grabbed the flowers, and Poppy and I headed to Rachel's room.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her.

"Same as you," she said. "Visiting Rachel." It made sense. Rachel and Poppy both hung with the popular people, but I wasn't convinced. I raised an eyebrow.

"Okay," Poppy said in a whisper, "I was snooping, obviously, just like you were."

Rachel had a private room, which was decorated in peach and white. The spicy smell of the roses and lilies masked the antiseptic hospital odors.

Samantha was the only visitor left in the room. She'd pulled her chair up next to Rachel's bed and was whispering something in her ear when we walked in.

Rachel was lying in the bed, propped up with several pillows. There was an IV drip attached to her arm, and unidentifiable machines surrounded her. An uneaten dinner lay abandoned on the tray. She smiled when she saw us standing in the doorway.

I smiled back, but the sight of her made me want to cry. In the few days since I'd last seen her, her appearance had deteriorated. Rachel was naturally slender, but she'd lost weight she couldn't afford to lose. She looked ghastly, like one of the consumptive patients from Rose's science books. Her skin and lips were so pale she looked as though she'd been drained of blood. Her skin was almost translucent. The white streak in her hair had grown so wide it almost covered the entire crown of her head, which made her look my grandma's age.

She was barely recognizable as the Rachel we knew. It was as if the beauty had been sucked right out of her.

I focused my gaze on Samantha. "Where have you been?" she snapped.

"The nurse wouldn't let us come in," I said. "Too many visitors." I smiled at Rachel. "It seems you're as popular as ever."

Samantha frowned but didn't say anything else.

"I have had a lot of visitors," Rachel said in a weak voice. "Miss Foster, Nurse Phillips, and some of the other teachers from school stopped by." She saw the flowers, which lay forgotten in my hands. "Are those for me?"

When I nodded, she looked delighted. "They're lovely. Everyone has been so nice." She gestured toward the entire greenhouse of bouquets already in her room. That's when I saw the ankh bracelet on her thin wrist.

I said to Rachel, "I like your bracelet."

"Samantha gave it to me. Isn't it great?"

"Peachy," I said, narrowing my eyes at Samantha.

"Rachel is still part of the squad, Daisy," she said. "We're all wearing them." She looked pointedly at my wrist. "Everyone, it seems, except you."

"I forgot it at home," I said. I'm a terrible liar.

Sam glared at me.

Rachel looked distressed at our bickering, and I felt ashamed of myself about arguing in a hospital room.

"Next time we visit, we'll bring magazines," Poppy promised, just as I opened my mouth to apologize.

"Rachel's going to be out of here in no time," Samantha said. "Isn't that right, Rach?"

Rachel said weakly, "Yeah, sure." But she didn't sound very convinced. After a long silence, she added, "Poppy, magazines would be very thoughtful. I honestly don't know how long I'll be in here."

Time to do a little digging. "Has your doctor narrowed it down at all?"

Samantha changed the subject abruptly. "Did I tell you who the newest couple is?" She sent me death rays with her eyes, but I ignored the warning.

Rachel ignored Samantha's lame attempt at avoidance. "The doctors are stumped, Daisy," she said softly, "and it's getting worse." A tear ran down her cheek, but she smiled at me and I could see a glimmer of remaining beauty.

Samantha turned away, but not before I saw that she was weeping silently. And my normally chatty sister was completely silent.

As soon as I could speak, I said, "We'll do anything we can to help you. Anything."

Rachel's mom arrived, toting a big Tupperware container of food. "I hope you have an appetite tonight," she said to Rachel, "because I made all your favorites." She added, "She doesn't like the hospital food, and I can't say I blame her."

"We'd better go," I said. "Rachel, I'll see you soon."

I told Samantha I was riding home with Poppy and we said good- bye.

In the car on the way home, I dug through my purse, looking for a scrap of paper to write on, when the paper towel I'd scribbled on earlier fell out.

"What's that?" Poppy pointed to it.

"I jotted down a few notes from Rachel's chart, but I can't understand it," I admitted. A thought occurred to me. "Do we have time to stop at the library? Maybe we can find a medical dictionary."

As we left the hospital parking lot, a mint-condition pink 1957 Thunderbird convertible squealed out of the driveway and cut Poppy off as she started to make the turn. Poppy slammed on her brakes, and the driver honked her horn and sped past us.

"Learn to drive," Poppy shouted, but we were both a little shaken by the incident.

"It was a beautiful car, though," I said. "Dad would have loved it." My father had loved classic cars.

"Maybe not in pink," Poppy giggled. She sobered quickly and said, "I haven't heard you talk about Dad in a long time."

"I didn't have anything to say," I replied. My father had been a professor at UC Nightshade until his mysterious disappearance five years ago. The official version is that he died while doing some research in a forest in northern California. The unofficial version, which was talked about in hushed whispers all around town, was that he ran off with another woman, leaving behind his wife and three daughters.

My mother refused to believe either version and preferred to think he was still out there somewhere—alive, but unable to get back to us. This is one case where her psychic powers were useless. I think he just left us and never looked back. And that's why I never talked about my father.

"Mom's still looking for him, you know," Poppy said. "All those nights when she says she's working late? I think she's still trying to find Dad."

"Mom's a hopeless romantic," I said.

Poppy said softly, "Hopeful, Daisy. She's a hopeful romantic." I didn't know how Mom could still have hope after all these years. I know I didn't. I just wanted to survive my junior year.