The Dead Girls Detective Agency by Suzy Cox Read Free Book Online Page B

seeing a ghost again this evening.”
    “You’re right, Lorna,” Nancy said. Possibly for the first time ever. She turned to me. “Seeing as you seem to be something of a star student, we’ll let you take the wheel. You can transport us out of here. Just think of somewhere you really want to be, or someone you have a strong emotional connection to. Think hard, then close your eyes and—if that demo was anything to go by—you should be able to port the three of us off the Empire State on your own. Lorna and I will travel with you.”
    They stood on either side of me to be sure we all ported together, making a circle with their arms, one wide enough to encompass but not touch me.
    “What if she’s hiding in the restroom? Have you checked in there?” security man 2 was asking. “They’re fast, teenagers. My grandson managed to sneak out to a bar when he came to stay with me last month. You can imagine how mad his mother was at me about that. Honestly, blink and they’re gone.”
    They had no idea. I looked at Nancy, then at Lorna. Nancy nodded, silently willing me to give it a go. Just as quickly as I could, please. I shut my eyes. Think of somewhere I really want to be. Or someone I have a strong connection with …
    I couldn’t help it. Much as I tried not to, of course I thought of him. The dizziness started, and I tried not to imagine the world around me whirling, spinning out of my control.
    Then it stopped. I opened my eyes. And there we were. Me and my new dead friends.
    In David’s bedroom.

Chapter 6
    “WHERE ARE WE?” LORNA WHISPERED, HER BLUE eyes wide. “This isn’t the Attesa. Where in Manhattan have you brought us to, Charlotte?”
    The one place I’d always wanted to see, but had never been allowed to go: my boyfriend’s bedroom. So just knowing where something was did give you enough information to port there. But while we were here, he—from what I could tell—was not.
    Phew?
    I sneaked a preliminary peek around. Blue walls. Matching dark blue comforter. Sun-bleached My Chemical Romance poster (of course). Bashed-up iPod charging in its dock. Acoustic guitar proudly displayed on a stand in the corner. Grime gathering on said guitar due to his move into band “management.” (Translation: He might have looked cute carrying a Strat, but playing-wise, he sucked.) Half a toy airplane suspended from the ceiling. Dirty sports socks on the floor.
    Typical teen-boy room.
    I’d imagined this particular one in my head a thousand times—when I’d finally be let in, what I’d say, how cool I’d be, all I’m not freaking out about this. I go into boys’ bedrooms all the time . It was beyond weird to finally be here. Especially considering all the other places I’d been in the last few hours.
    It felt familiar but super-strange too. As if I were standing onstage in the set of a play—and this was how some big-deal Broadway producer had imagined David’s room to be. Why was that? It had only been half a day since we’d seen each other—was I that removed from him already? Would I feel this way if I ported into my own home too?
    “Wherever it is, they need to fire their maid,” Nancy said.
    Slightly harsh, I thought. Until I caught sight of not one but three used cereal bowls on the windowsill—each growing various stages of mold. It was messy. But then it wasn’t like David had been expecting three ghost guests, was it? I’m sure he’d have gotten out the vacuum and thrown away that pizza box under his bed if he’d known.
    Oh, who was I kidding? David had never been a poster boy for neat. He always had ink stains on his hand, his shoelaces spent more time trailing on the sidewalk than keeping his sneakers on, and his locker? He’d be lucky to find a book among the wrappers, empty soda cans, and loose paper.
    Some days I’d stand down the hallway from his locker, just before class, watching as he threw book after book out of it—along with bits of paper, soccer shirts, his