Spookygirl - Paranormal Investigator by Jill Baguchinsky Read Free Book Online

feel like talking back.”
    Tim looked almost enthralled. “Is Dirk Reynolds really here?”
    “Number Forty-eight? Yeah, he’s over there with the other jocks. What happened to him?”
    “Car accident a couple of years ago. He was a junior when those guys up there were all freshmen; they’re juniors now. Do you really live in a funeral home?”
    I sighed. “Above, not in. My dad owns Addison Funeral Services, and we live in the apartment upstairs.”
    “Sweet. Maybe I can come over some time.”
    “Seriously, Timmy?” I tried to pay attention to my sketch.
    “It’s Tim. Not Timmy. But I’m changing it as soon as I turn eighteen, anyway. I’m going to be Gabriel Saint Rochester.”
    I paused, the point of my pencil pressed against the paper. “There’s no Saint Rochester.”
    “I know, but it sounds so cool.”
    “So why not use Rochester Saint Gabriel instead? At least there
was
a Saint Gabriel.”
    “Rochester Saint Gabriel…” He mulled it over. “Awesome. I can use that?”
    “Knock yourself out. But why do you want to be a Rochester instead of a Tim?”
    “It matches my nature,” he said somberly. I could tell he wanted me to ask what he meant by that, but I didn’t feel like it. “You should hang out with us soon.”
    “‘Us?’”
    “Me and my friends. They’d like you.”
    “Why?”
    “Well…we’re into the whole goth thing, too.”
    “I thought you were emo.”
    He looked a little put out.
    I shrugged. “Sorry. But no, I’m not goth.” I kind of hate it when people make assumptions like that. Just because I have black hair and pale skin and wear a lot of black and think about death a lot…Okay, I see where they get it. I’m not goth, though. I’m not emo, I’m not punk, I’m not scene, I’m not any of that. I’m just me, and I don’t like being stereotyped.
    “Oh. Well, my friends would like you anyway. And Isobel’s been kind of wanting to meet you, so if you’d let me introduce you, I could, you know, score some points…” His voice trailed off and he looked sort of embarrassed.
    I felt bad for the kid. Clearly he needed help upping his cool factor, and being pushed around by the jocks wasn’t doing him any favors. Plus, he did think seeing ghosts was cool.…
    “Fine,” I said. “Take me to your goths, Rochester Saint Gabriel.”
    It turned out Tim and I also had the same Chemistry class sixth period, so we walked there together. On the way, near a bank of lockers, Tim spotted a group of somber-lookingkids and dragged me over. Several of them nodded at him, but one tall girl—the only one who’d ignored the dress code and looked legitimately spooky—ignored him.
    Of course, she was the one he chose to address, which told me who she was even before he said her name. “Hi, Isobel,” he said, slightly hesitant.
    Instead of returning the greeting, she rolled her eyes and pursed her dark red lips. “What?”
    Tim took a step back as if he thought she might bite. She certainly looked capable of it—her pale skin and elaborate, dark eye makeup made her look almost vampiric, and she wore a corseted black dress that looked straight out of
Dracula
. She had long black hair and short bangs that were shot through with streaks of red, and her overly arched eyebrows might have left her looking constantly surprised if the rest of her expression weren’t so sour.
    “This, uh,” Tim stammered, “this is…”
    “I’m Violet Addison,” I said, to save his skin. It might’ve taken him all of sixth period to finish his sentence.
    Isobel’s eyes widened, and now she really did look surprised. “You’re the funeral home girl?”
    “That would be me.”
    “She talks to ghosts, too.” Tim threw in helpfully.
    Isobel looked extremely interested in this, but the warning bell rang, saving me from further explanation.
    “Gotta go!” I said, grabbing Tim’s sleeve and pulling him away. “See you around!”
    We made our way to chem, and I could tell Tim was