But no purple notebook.
I understood why Alyce had to hide her important things, although it outraged me that her mother searched her room when she was at school. So Alyce would leave boring stuff out and hide the important stuff. To fool her mother, she’d framed a large photo of her father and hung it on the wall by a large picture window. The word “hate” was not vile enough for Mrs. Perfetti’s feelings for her ex-husband, so she would never touch his picture — which made it the perfect cover for hiding a hole in the wall.
As I reached for the framed photo, I caught a flash of movement through the window. Was someone out there?
Startled, I stared at the gap in the burgundy red curtains but saw nothing. Rubbing my forehead, I wondered if the migraine medication was messing with my mind. Then something moved outside again. Pressing my face against the cool glass, I peered out and saw only the gnarled oak branches and darkness mingled with my own (well, Alyce’s) reflection.
Nothing was lurking out there; must be the wind or my confused imagination, I told myself. Smiling a little at how easily I’d been scared, I started to turn away … then stopped.
Yes! Down in the front yard! Something or someone …
My hands shook as I reached for a wall switch and snapped off the light. With the room dark, I could look outside but no one could see me. Not that I really thought anyone was lurking out there. That would just be paranoid. I’d probably seen a large dog run through the yard.
The damp window pane felt cold against my cheek as I peered down into the dark front yard. There was still no porch light on, and the nearest street light was a house away, giving only enough light to shine a faint golden ray across the yard and driveway. It was hard to see anything except shadowy bushes and trees.
Then a shadow moved.
The silhouette of a man crouched down below my window. As he lifted his head, his face was illuminated. I drew back in shock.
I knew that face — although it wasn’t his own.
His real name was Gabe Deverau.
A Dark Lifer.
* * *
GEM Rule: Retreat and Report.
But as soon as I saw Gabe, he vanished in a blink of my imagination — leaving nothing outside except inky darkness. And I wondered if I was hallucinating. Grammy said being in a different body confused things; maybe I was having some kind of post-traumatic reaction after my experience with Gabe. When I’d first discovered he was a Dark Lifer, I was terrified. But I softened toward him after he confided how he’d been betrayed by his fiancée, his heart broken so deeply it carried through many long decades after his death, his bitterness binding him to Earth. He’d done bad stuff and I should despise him … yet I couldn’t. He was tortured, charming, poetic, tragic, and intriguing.
My eyes blurred as I stared, waiting to see him again but seeing nothing.
Finally I turned from the window, conflicted by my duty to report Gabe and an irrational desire to protect him. As if a Dark Lifer needed my protection! His survival skills had already protected him for over a century.
Unsure what to do, I reached into Monkey Bag for my GEM.
The book flipped to an empty page. Black ink bubbled, swirling into letters and words that invited me to ask a question.
“Will you give me a straight answer this time?”
Answers depend on perception.
“How about a simple yes or no?”
Truth is never simple.
I sighed, then waited till the black ink faded and the page was clear again.
“Was someone outside?” I asked the tiny book.
Yes.
I was almost more shocked to get a straight answer from GEM than by the actual answer. Still, I swallowed hard before asking the next question.
“Was it … was it Gabe?”
Refer to Rule #5.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
Report all suspicions.
“But I’m not sure what I saw.”
More black ink scrawled across the page, repeating the Nine Divine Rules:
#1. Follow through on your Host Body’s obligations and plans.
#2. Under no circumstances should you ever reveal your true identity.
#3. Consult this manual with pertinent questions.
#4. Resist temptation; guide your Host to positive choices.
#5. If you become aware of Dark Lifers, retreat and report.
#6. Do not commit acts against your Host’s moral code.
#7. Respect your Host Body; no tattoos, hair dye, or piercings.
#8. Your time in a Host Body cannot exceed a full moon cycle.
#9. Guard your Host Body well. If your Body dies, so will you.
The fifth rule was in bold, as if the GEM insisted I make an official report. But I’d feel silly if the DDT (Dark Disposal Team) popped in for a false alarm. The flash of a face wasn’t any more substantial than smoke, and without proof, I refused to call an alarm.
As I reached this decision, the words on the GEM vanished and offered a new blank page. I ignored the topic of Dark Lifers and asked about Alyce’s purple notebook.
Dark squiggly lines curved and shaded until there was a picture of a school locker, a big dent on the bottom corner and the number 281.
“That’s Alyce’s school locker,” I said.
Yes.
“She left the notebook there?”
Yes.
“Thanks,” I said not sure whether to be pleased or discouraged.
Getting into Alyce’s locker would be easy because I knew the combination, but it would not be so easy to get into the school over spring break. Security had been tightened a few years ago after repeated vandalism. Given the locked gates, high fences, surveillance cameras, and security guards, it was impossible to enter Halsey High.
Frustrated, I stared at the GEM even after the words vanished. So I couldn’t get the purple notebook — but I might not even need it. What if I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion? Maybe Alyce’s crisis had nothing to do with her trip to Green Briar. Temp Lifers only replaced people having emotional crises. The key to helping Alyce was figuring out why she’d needed a time-out from life.
So I asked the GEM, “What is Alyce’s crisis?”
An answer spiraled across the page in red flowery ink:
LOVE
I stared until the word faded to pink, then vanished. But it lingered in my head, pushing away thoughts of a stolen file and graveyards. I thought back to my last conversation with Alyce. She was having a meltdown, depressed and frantic as she begged me to come see her. “I need to talk,” was all she’d say for explanation. I told her I was hundreds of miles away and asked her what was wrong, but she said she’d only explain in person. Her tone had challenged me to prove my friendship, to drop everything and come right away. And I’d failed her.
At first I wasn’t too worried because it was normal for her to periodically shut everyone out, saying she was taking a “mentalscape” (her combination of the words “mental” and “escape.”) Although sometimes I sensed a sadness in her that was beyond my reach … like last Father’s Day, when I invited her to come along with my family to a movie and she made a snarky comment about sappy movies making her barf. Or when the freshman boy I’d welcomed with a Halsey Hospitality basket asked me to the Valentine’s Dance, and no one asked her. The guy was too young for me even if I’d been interested, so I’d skipped the dance and invited Alyce to sleep over at my house. We’d had a great time, but I’d noticed whenever the topic of the dance came up, Alyce changed the subject.