Dead Air - Michelle Schusterman (the read aloud family txt) 📗

The outline of a boy. I had a photo of a real, actual ghost.

Wasting no time, I grabbed Dad’s laptop and plugged my camera in. Jess would bring the doctor up soon, but first I had a post to write.

Maybe Jamie and Hailey were right—with this photo, my blog could be the “something new” P2P needed to stay on the air.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE THING 2: BACK FOR BLOOD

From: EdieM@mymail.net

To: acciopancakes@mymail.net

Subject: Phone call?

Hi, KitKat,

I miss your voice! How’s everything? Want to chat tomorrow? Don’t worry about the time zone, you know I’m a night owl.

Love, Grandma

Sunlight streamed through the window, heating my face until I sat up and threw the covers off. In the bed next to me, Dad was chainsaw-snoring away. I glanced at the clock—almost eleven. I wondered what time the crew had finally finished.

Twenty minutes and one hot shower later, I stood in front of Oscar and Lidia’s door. Lifting my hand, I hesitated before knocking twice, very, very lightly.

“What are you doing?”

Startled, I swiveled around to see Oscar stepping off the elevator holding an armful of chip bags from the vending machines. “I, uh . . .” I felt flustered. Then I felt irritated for feeling flustered. “I wanted to see if Lidia was okay.”

“She’s sleeping right now.” Oscar stopped in front of the door, but made no move to take out his key. “She has this heart condition.”

I nodded. “Yeah, she told me.”

“Every once in a while she has these . . . seizures. She has pills for it, but it still happens.”

“Right.” I pressed my lips together, thinking. After a few seconds, Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor and gave me an expectant look. Sighing, I slid down the wall next to him and stretched my legs out. My stomach growled loudly. Oscar held out a bag of chips.

“Thanks.” I took it, eyeing him suspiciously. “Why are you being nice all of a sudden?”

“Because you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Oscar deadpanned, and I smiled despite myself.

“You have no idea.”

“Sure I do.” Oscar crammed several chips in his mouth. “Sonja.”

I gaped at him. “Wait—you saw her, too?”

Swallowing, Oscar shook his head. “You said Sonja. Last night, when you were on the floor in the cell. Everyone heard you.” He cleared his throat. “And I don’t think you think Aunt Lidia had a seizure. So what happened?”

I ripped open my bag, debating how much to tell him. Really, I shouldn’t have been confiding in him at all—we hadn’t gotten along from the moment we met. But as much as I hated to admit it, Roland was right about us being alike. Oscar didn’t believe in ghosts any more than I did. I had to tell someone what had really happened, and I wanted to tell someone who thought the same way I did.

I took a deep breath. “I saw her.”

“Sonja?”

“Yeah.” I stared at my chips. “She tried to put me in a cell, like she did with Mi Jin and Hailey. But when I took a picture of her, she, um . . . Look, I know this sounds insane, but one second she was Sonja and then she was Lidia.”

“Does she look like Sonja in the picture?”

“Nope, she looks like Lidia,” I admitted. “Right after I took the picture, Sonja sort of . . . um, stepped out of Lidia’s body, and disappeared.”

“Like she was possessed or something?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I glanced at him. “You don’t believe me, right?”

Oscar chewed slowly. “I believe you think you saw Sonja,” he said at last, and I almost laughed. That was exactly what I’d thought about Jamie and Hailey with the Ouija board. Pretty soon I’d be on my way to Planet Nutjob with half the fans in the forum.

“There’s something else.” I flicked a crumb off my shirt. “There was another ghost—the shape of a person next to her. A boy. You can see him in the photo.”

“A shape?” Oscar repeated. “What do you mean?”

Standing, I brushed off my legs. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

Half a minute later, we stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall to room 301. Oscar had already pulled Lidia’s key card from his pocket when I pointed ahead.

“Door’s open. Someone’s already in there.”

“Can’t you just get your dad’s laptop?” Oscar asked.

“And risk waking him up?” I made a face. “I’m trying to put the lecture off for as long as possible, thanks. Maybe whoever’s in there isn’t using the laptop.”

I pushed the door open a little, then all the way. The room was empty. Oscar and I glanced at each other, shrugged, and walked inside.

“Carlos? It’s Roland.”

At the sound of Roland’s voice, my heart leaped into my throat. I shoved Oscar into the bathroom just as Roland stepped into view over by the closet, cell phone pressed against his ear.

“What’s wrong with you?” Oscar hissed, and I flapped my hand at him to be quiet. I pushed the bathroom door closed, leaving it cracked so we could still hear Roland’s conversation as he paced the room.

“Look, I know it’s been a while, but I’m trying to get in touch with Emily and I was wondering if you . . .” There was a long pause, and Roland sighed. “I know, and I don’t blame you. I tried to . . . No, I really did, and . . . Carlos, would you just stop for a second and . . . That wasn’t how it . . . Okay, listen.”

Oscar and I glanced at each other. Roland was just outside the bathroom door.

“It’s going to happen again, Carlos.” His voice was low and dangerous. “The curse, or whatever you want to call it  . . . No, I’ll take care of that, believe me. I just need to find Emily. Look, I know you’re angry with me, but frankly, I don’t care. I need you to—” He stopped abruptly, then muttered an impressive string of swear words. A few seconds later I saw him through the crack, slipping his phone into his pocket on his way past the bathroom. I waited until I heard the door click closed before exhaling.

“You,” Oscar announced. “Are. Insane.”

“Possibly,” I