Coma Girl: part 2 by Stephanie Bond Read Free Book Online Page B

chair and walked toward the window.
    “Yes, I have good news. The project is finished, I just need to find a way to get it to you.”
    I was glad to hear Sid had completed her school project in between handling the Coma Girl media.
    “I’ll get back to you when I work it out,” she said, then ended the call.
    When she came back to the chair, she was humming, so I assume the project had been weighing on her mind.
    “This time I’m putting yellow on your fingernails and blue on your toenails,” she sang.
    The door opened and I smelled Roberta’s sugary sweet presence.
    “Who are you?” Sidney asked.
    “I’m Roberta, Marigold’s roommate. Who are you?”
    “I’m Sidney, Marigold’s sister.”
    I can sense them sizing each other up and deciding they don’t like each other.
    “I brought her mail,” Roberta said.
    “Oh, you can just leave it, and I’ll go through it.”
    “No, actually, I like reading it to her, so I’ll come back another time.”
    “No, actually, that wasn’t a question,” Sidney said, and I imagined her smiling.
    I hear Roberta’s footsteps, then the sound of something being dropped on the floor—a bag of mail, I presume.
    “Thank you,” Sidney said. “Why are you carrying my sister’s purse?”
    “I’m not.”
    “Yes, you are. It’s a Chloé bag. I know because I bought it for her.”
    It’s true—Sid said she was tired of seeing me carry a backpack and for Christmas, had given me the purse. It was beautiful, but unpractical for all the crap I had to carry around. Still I liked opening my closet and seeing it there.
    “She gave it to me,” Roberta said. “I guess she didn’t like it.”
    Not true. Roberta has been shopping in my closet.
    “What did you say your name is?” Sid asked.
    “Roberta. I was talking on the phone to Marigold when the accident happened.”
    “No, she’d already hung up when the accident happened.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “But I know so,” Sid said firmly. “Thanks for stopping by.”
    “Don’t mention it,” Roberta said, her voice menacing.
    The door opened, then closed.
    And Sidney started humming again.
     
     

August 21, Sunday
     
     
    “WE’RE PLAYING THE NATIONALS AT HOME,” Jack Terry said. “I’m eternally optimistic.”
    Detective, give it up—even I know there will be no post-season.
    “Hey, I see you’re minus a roomie. When I heard on the news a comatose patient at Brady had woken up and started talking, I was sure it was you.”
    Sigh…
    “But I see you’ve decided to extend your nap a little longer. I brought pizza from Nancy’s and root beer. You’re missing out.”
    I heard the metallic click of a soda can opening.
    “Whoever painted your nails did a pretty terrible job. I’m a moron about stuff like that and even I can tell.”
    Hm… Sid is usually so particular. The encounter with Roberta must’ve distracted her.
    “Carlotta wears a pink color I like.”
    I wonder if he’s ever told her.
    “Guess I should’ve told her,” he muttered.
    Ah… past tense.
    “But hey, enough about me… I want to know about Esmerelda.”
    I froze. How did he know?
    He gave a little laugh through a mouthful of food. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a burlesque dancer.”
    It’s not as risqué as it sounds. I took a class, and we all had a recital of sorts. And okay, I performed in a handful of shows at small venues, but always incognito, ergo the stage name. Even Roberta doesn’t know—so how did Jack Terry find out?
    “I found the suitcase of costumes and a few handbills in the trunk of your car, and did a little investigating.”
    Oh, right. My family would freak out .
    “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it safe until you wake up. No one else has to know.”
    I owe him one. When I wake up, I’ll sign his girlfriend’s Coma Girl T-shirt, if she’s still in the picture.
    “Feels good in here. I can’t remember when we’ve had such a hot summer.”
    Sounds like a good day to be on the lake… in a