Dead Is So Last Year, Page 2

  Finding my father was practically all she had thought about since he'd been gone. Even when there were whispers that Rafe Giordano had just abandoned his family, Mom had never lost hope that he was alive and well and eager to get back to us. I hoped she was right.

  I snapped out of my momentary melancholy and got back to cheering up Poppy. "I have an idea," I said. "We should have a party!"

  Poppy gave me a horrified look. "Are you kidding?" she said. "Mom would kill us if we had a party while she's away. And she'd find out about it somehow. You know how people in Nightshade talk."

  There was a jangling of keys and the front door opened to admit our older sister, Rose, still clothed in the lab coat she wore to work. "Not to mention the fact that mom is psychic, geniuses," she said.

  She must have overheard our conversation. Or, she could have just read our minds. Rose didn't like to eavesdrop on other people's thoughts for no reason, but her telepathy was really strong, so it sometimes happened by accident.

  "I don't mean having a party here at the house," I said. "Let's have it at the beach."

  The beach wasn't too far from our house, and it was Poppy's favorite place to hang out in the summertime. If that didn't get a reaction, nothing would.

  "The beach?" She brightened for a minute, then deflated. "I don't have a bathing suit to wear."

  "But you have tons of suits," Rose said. "Plus all my hand-me-downs."

  Poppy's expression grew gloomier. "I'm tired of them all."

  Do something, Rose's voice said in my mind. I blew it. Okay, okay, I thought back. We've got to convince her to have this party. What are her favorite things?

  Talking on the phone, Rose replied. And shopping

  That's it!

  I glanced quickly at Poppy, but she didn't seem to notice that Rose and I were communicating nonverbally.

  "We'll take you shopping for a new suit," I said rashly. Shopping wasn't my favorite pastime, but Poppy had always come through for me in a wardrobe emergency.

  "Can we have a bonfire?" she asked.

  "Does that mean you'll show?"

  "I promise," she replied. "It will be good to spend some quality time with a bunch of our friends before everybody starts leaving for college." Like Rose, Poppy would be going to UC Nightshade, so she'd be staying in town.

  "Then a bonfire and a picnic," I said. "And all our friends will be there. It'll be fun." They'd be there if I had to drag every single one of them to the beach.

  Poppy got up and hunted for the cordless phone, which used to be permanently attached to her ear. "I'll call Candy. How about Saturday? That's enough time to plan an amazing party." In a moment, Poppy had wandered into the kitchen and was happily chattering away on the phone to her best friend.

  "A beach party is a good idea," Rose said. "I hope it gets her out of her funk."

  "So do I," I said. "How was your day?"

  Rose looked exhausted. "Long," she said, "but so interesting. I think I'm going to learn a lot from Dr. Franken this summer. She's a brilliant scientist. And she was friends with dad, you know."

  I stiffened. "No, I didn't know that," I said. "What's her area of study?"

  "Genetics," Rose said.

  "You mean like DNA and cloning and stuff?"

  "Well, she's not cloning anyone," Rose said. "That's a pretty sensitive issue. She was telling me that she and Dad had been collaborating before he—"

  Rose was cut off when Poppy bounded back into the living room. "Mom's on the phone," she announced, then put the phone on speaker mode.

  "Hi, Mom," we said in unison.

  "Hi, girls," she said.

  "How's Italy?" Rose asked.

  "About the same as when you left here yesterday," Mom said. She chuckled as she said it. Her case must be going well.

  I was glad she sounded happy. I was afraid she'd be lonely over there all by herself. But she was more worried about us, all alone in the house, even though we were old enough to take care of ourselves. After all, Rose was in college, Poppy had just graduated high school, and I'd be a senior at Nightshade High in the fall.

  Before hanging up, she asked if one of us could mail a certain notebook to her. She needed it to compare some old notes to the case she was working on now.

  "Ooh, the post office will be closed by the time I get out of the lab," Rose said.

  "I'll take care of it," I said quickly. I wanted to prove to Mom how responsible we were.

  "Thanks, Daisy," she said. "I knew I could count on you. Now, be careful, girls. Don't let any strangers in the house. I love you."

  Poppy nearly jumped out of her skin when the doorbell rang right after we hung up with Mom. "Who could that be?"

  Rose laughed. "It's probably just Nicholas." Nicholas Bone was Rose's boyfriend.

  "Or Ryan," I said. "He's coming over to watch movies."

  Poppy rolled her eyes as she went to answer the door. "You two and your werewolf boyfriends."

  It turned out to be Nicholas. I could understand what Rose saw in him. He was handsome: tall, with pale skin, reddish-brown hair, and brandy-colored eyes. His hair was the exact shade of our Irish setter, Sparky, who died of old age last year. Nicholas also was, as Poppy had mentioned, a werewolf.

  "Hi, Poppy," Nicholas said. "How are things going? Feeling any better?" Nicholas knew all about Poppy's unusual breakup; she had met Gage the ghost at Mort's Mortuary, which was the funeral home owned by Nicholas's father.

  Poppy shrugged and stepped aside for Rose, who was rushing toward the door, obviously thrilled to be reunited with her boyfriend. Nicholas's eyes sparkled when he saw her. It didn't seem to matter to him that she was still in her lab coat looking slightly disheveled. He still loved her.

  As Poppy and I snuck upstairs to give them some privacy, I couldn't help but wonder if Ryan loved me like that.

  I didn't know why I was stressing, except that Ryan was only getting better looking as time passed, and he was no slouch to begin with. It made me conscious that I was still plain old Daisy, okay-looking but certainly nothing special. I didn't have Elise Wilder's dangerous beauty or even the softer glamour of the rest of my own family.

  "Want me to do your makeup?" Poppy asked. "I may not have a date tonight, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't look stunning for yours."

  I nodded, then followed Poppy into the bathroom, where she rummaged around in her makeup bag until she found just the right shade of eye shadow. "This will make your eyes really pop," she said as she applied it. When Poppy was done working her magic, I had to admit I looked pretty great. I blinked at my reflection in the mirror. My blue eyes really stood out.

  "I don't even look like myself," I said, fluttering my mascaraed lashes. "Now I look like someone people expect to see with Ryan."

  "What are you talking about?" Poppy scoffed. "Daisy, you're beautiful even without makeup. And Ryan's crazy about you. You know that, right?"

  "Right."

  "So why would you say something like that?"

  I shrugged. "You should see him, Poppy," I said. "He's even more gorgeous than when we left."

  "So?"

  "So, I'm just ordinary Daisy Giordano."

  "Who he completely adores," Poppy responded. "And you are far from ordinary."

  My head knew that my sister was right. Ryan could have dated any girl in school and he chose me. Now, if I could only start to believe the "far from ordinary" part. It wasn't easy having a boyfriend who put the super in supernatural.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When the alarm rang bright and early the next morning, I almost rolled over and hit the snooze button. Jet lag was finally catching up with me, and I had stayed up too late watching movies with Ryan—well, mostly watching movies. But since I'd never seen the elusive Slim and I really did want a summer job, I forced my eyelids open and went downstairs to put on a pot of coffee. Coffee and good chocolate were the two things in life I found necessary to function properly.

  After a quick shower, I threw on what I thought
would be interview-appropriate clothing: navy cotton dress pants and a white shirt. I thought my usual summer flip-flops would be a little too casual, so I rooted through my closet until I found some closed-toe sandals. I braided my hair in a single plait and grabbed the keys. I didn't forget to bring along the notebook I had to send my mom, which I figured I'd mail after my interview.

  It was still dark out when I left the house. Main Street looked deserted, but you could never tell what might be lurking in the shadows in Nightshade. The lights were on at Slim's and the Donut Hole, the new donut shop across the street. My mouth watered, but there was no time to grab a quick sugar fix. I needed to get to my interview.

  I had my pick of parking spots, so I pulled into one right in front of Slim's. As I got out of the car, Mr. Krayson, my statistics teacher, exited the donut shop, stuffing donuts in his mouth as fast as he could.

  "Hi, Mr. Krayson," I called out. He didn't answer, or even act like he heard me, but continued to chew. Little chunks of jelly donuts sprayed everywhere, but he didn't seem to notice. Gross.

  I shrugged. He was always on a diet. Maybe he was embarrassed to be seen eating so many donuts.

  The door to Slim's was locked so I tapped on the glass. It opened, seemingly of its own volition. I stepped into an empty restaurant. I'd been there a million times, but the utter silence spooked me a little. Flo had said Slim would be here at five, but there was no sign of him.

  "Hello?" I said. "Is anybody here?" There was no reply.

  This was the weirdest job interview I'd ever been on. Granted, I'd never had a job interview before, but I was pretty sure there was supposed to be another person involved.

  I wandered into the back, getting a secret thrill from treading forbidden territory. I loved to cook, and Slim's spotless and orderly kitchen met with my full approval.

  There was a row of shiny knives on the counter, along with a cutting board. I stepped closer and examined the knives. They were Global knives, favorites with professional chefs. My hands itched to use them. I ran a finger along one of the blades. Honed to perfection.

  "Hello?" I said again, but there was still no answer. Slim's was due to open any minute and it looked like Slim had left in the middle of preparation. I washed my hands and decided I'd make a pot of coffee while I waited. The enormous vat of a coffeemaker was in the front wait station. Coffee and filters were already in the machine, so all I had to do was press a button.

  I snooped around some more and found a pan of cinnamon rolls proofing near the oven.

  They need to go in the oven soon, or they'll overproof. I had picked up a stray thought—which sometimes happened even when I wasn't trying to read someone's mind—and then looked around. I wasn't alone, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out where the person could be hiding.

  I checked the temperature and then slid them into the oven and set the timer.

  That finished, I went to check the coffee. It was ready, so I poured myself a cup, added lots of cream and sugar, and went back to the kitchen.

  Where was Slim? Was he hiding somewhere, watching my every move? It was spooking me out.

  The specials are veggie omelets and banana pancakes. Another hint from my mysterious observer, wherever he was. By now, I was almost sure that it was Slim who was my silent watcher.

  I could have chopped the veggies using my telepathic skills, especially since Poppy was always nagging me to practice, but I wanted to try out those knives. And besides, I had a sneaking suspicion a real cook might consider that cheating. A lot of people in Nightshade already knew I was psychic, but there was no need to advertise it. I'd do the work the old-fashioned way.

  The knives chopped like a dream, but I was careful. I'd stop working intermittently, to look over my shoulder. I could still sense a presence. Besides, I didn't want to get blood all over that pristine kitchen.

  When the vegetables were chopped, I washed my hands again, then started on the pancake batter. That finished, I wiped down the counters and cleaned all the utensils I'd used.

  I'd done as much as I could when the timer for the cinnamon rolls rang off. I found a couple of oven mitts and took the rolls out of the oven. I almost dropped the whole tray when a masculine voice said, "You're hired."

  I turned around, but there was nobody there.

  "I'm sorry," I said. "Did somebody say something?"

  "I said," the voice continued, "that you're hired. You're looking for a job, right?"

  Still no sign of anyone else on the premises. "Are you a ghost?"

  The voice sounded amused now. "Flo said you were an intelligent girl. I'm not a ghost."

  "Invisible?" I guessed again.

  "Very good," he said. Invisible hands clapped.

  "I'm Daisy," I said. "And you are...?"

  "Slim," the man said. "Not my real name, of course. Just one of Florence's little jokes. Griffin is my given name, but you can call me Slim. Everyone does."

  Florence? Flo's real name is Florence?

  "My younger sister has a somewhat unusual sense of humor," the voice continued. "Florence will be in shortly, but in the meantime, I expect Officer Denton and his lovely fiancé will be wanting their breakfast. Be a dear and let them in."

  Slim was Flo's brother? Nightshade really was full of secrets. Now that I thought about it, I didn't really know much about Flo, despite the fact that I'd been coming to Slim's for years.

  "Was this some sort of test?" I said as I set the cinnamon rolls on the counter. I felt relieved that I didn't have to answer a bunch of questions. I had been geared up for the What do you think are your greatest strengths? question.

  In reply, a ring of keys was tossed in the air. I caught it on reflex but then stood there, mouth agape, until Slim cleared his throat.

  I went to the front of the restaurant and found Officer Denton and his fiancé at the door, just as Slim had said they'd be.

  I unlocked the door and let them in. "Good morning, Daisy," Officer Denton said. "I didn't know you worked here."

  "I didn't, either," I said, under my breath.

  After I took their orders, I went to the kitchen, not sure what to do next.

  "Uh, I need two orders of banana pancakes, with pecans," I said to the air.

  "You'll find an order pad and some pens in that drawer," Slim said.

  "Which drawer?"

  "My apologies," Slim said. A second later, a knife floated into the air and then pointed in the general direction of the correct drawer.

  I grabbed the pad and wrote out the order, then hung it on the little wheel thingie I'd seen Flo use a million times before.

  Gradually, more people started to filter in. A couple of coffee drinkers at the counter I could handle, but when the booths started to fill up, I began to panic. But I didn't have time to worry as I ran around getting orange juice and coffee, taking orders, and generally losing my mind.

  Where was Flo? About ten seconds from meltdown, she strolled in.

  "Where have you been?" I panted.

  "Sorry," she said. "I was ... unavoidably detained. Did you work everything out with Slim?"

  "Not exactly," I replied. "He just told me I was hired, and pointed me toward the customers."

  "He must like you," she said.

  "Flo, a little service here," called one of the regulars.

  For the next hour and a half, I worked harder than I'd ever worked in my life. When the breakfast rush finally calmed down, I collapsed on a barstool at the counter.

  "Why don't you take a break, Daisy?" Flo said. "Have a soda or cup of coffee. I can handle it for now."

  "Thanks," I said. "I could use something to drink."

  "Coffee's on the house," Flo said, as she waved my money away.

  "I need to call my sisters," I said. "I told them I had an interview, but they're probably wondering where the heck I've been this whole time."

  I called home, but when the machine picked up, I just left a message.

  Then I took my caffeine and went to sit ou
tside for a few minutes. My feet hurt and I could feel a blister forming on my heel. I hadn't planned on working in the shoes I'd worn to my interview.

  I saw Miss McBennett, who worked at the post office and had to be nearly eighty. She was going into the donut shop. I waved, but she seemed to be in a hurry to get her donuts. Those donuts must be something—better than Krispy Kreme donuts, if that was even possible.

  Seeing Miss McBennett reminded me that I had to mail that package to my mom, so I told Flo I'd be right back and walked around the corner to the post office. Sitting there behind the counter was none other than ... Miss McBennett?

  How could that be? I was sure that it was her I'd seen not five minutes before, going into the Donut Hole. I didn't think an eighty-year-old woman—not even my grandma, who walked three miles every day—could make it there and back that quickly.

  "Daisy? Can I help you?" Miss McBennett asked, seeing me standing there with a confused look on my face. "Is something wrong?"

  I collected myself. "Didn't I just see you at the donut shop?"

  "Goodness, no," Miss McBennett said. "I didn't live this long by eating junk food. I've never been to that donut shop and I don't plan to go."

  "Oh. I guess it must have been someone who just looked a lot like you," I said. After mailing the package, I wanted to stop at the Donut Hole and see if the Miss McBennett look-alike was still there, but I figured I'd better get back to work.

  Turned out I didn't need to hurry. When I got back to Slim's, the place was nearly empty. I took a seat next to Flo at the counter.

  "What should I do next?"

  "Relax," she said. "Everything's under control for now."

  "What will my hours be?" I asked Flo.

  "We really need help on the weekends," she said. "But you might need to fill in during the week, too."

  Weekends? When would I see Ryan? He had practice almost every day, and if I had to work nights, I'd never see him.

  "Mornings or evenings?" I asked. I didn't have to say yes, I reminded myself.

  To my relief, Flo said, "Mornings, especially Saturdays. As early as you can get here. You'll be pitching in with whatever—waiting tables, kitchen prep, maybe even cooking."