White is for Magic by Laurie Faria Stolarz Read Free Book Online

PJ cackles. 'And who his next victim will be."
    "Who says it's a he?" Amber raises an eyebrow.
    "So true, my little sly one." PJ clinks his fork against Amber's chopsticks, toastlike.
    "What is wrong with you?" Drea pushes her tray away. "Was last year so long ago that you don't remember everything I went through?"
    "We all went through it," Amber corrects.
    "Okay, stop," I say, for Drea's sake. "That e-mail I got could just be some jerk trying to scare me after last year."
     
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    "He went through a lot of trouble," Amber says, "showing up in the boiler room and all. Writing
    'M for Murder' on the window."
    "I didn't say M was for murder." I look at Drea. She's got both hands pressed up against her forehead in headache mode.
    "Um, yes you did," Amber corrects.
    "Wasn't it you who thought all of that was a joke? A coincidence? The result of my being, quote unquote, 'funkified'?"
    "I still think you're funkified," Amber says. "But you have to admit, after that e-mail you got, this has ghost groupie written all over it. I'll bet you anything it's one of them, just dying for some cheap thrill. No pun intended."
    "I'll take some cheap thrill," PJ says, raising his hand.
    'All I know," I say, "is that I'm dreaming about people who are already dead. If you ask me, that's a lot safer than dreaming about people who are going to die."
    "I guess," Drea admits. She pulls her tray back and takes a bite of macaroni.
    I wish Amber had the common sense not to go blabbing about my business. Drea isn't ready to hear about weird email messages, not on top of boiler room breakins, weird graffiti, and recurring nightmares. Which is why I haven't said anything about the puking. Because I'm thinking the puking isn't just merely coincidental. I think it's my body's way of trying to tell me something. Like last year--when wetting the bed turned out to be my body's way of leading me to where I'd find Drea, tied up in a porta-john.
    54
    I glance over at Donna Tillings, sitting alone at the end of our table. Her once auburn-highlighted hair is now pulled back in a rubber band, the color faded to a cheerless brown--like one of the
    "before" pictures in a magazine. It's weird; she never would have ventured a lipstick within a ten-foot radius of us last year, and now she's sitting at our table, with a face probably as blanched as mine.
    Donna Tillings was Veronica Leeman's best friend--a class gossip to the core, the kind of girl only other bullies could stomach. After Veronica's death, she ended up shutting herself off from all her lemming friends. She took a couple weeks off to grieve, and instead of resuming old friendships when she returned, she tried to make new ones, tried to earn herself a fresh start.
    Only everyone who knew her knew they didn't like her. And for some reason, the influx of new students this year hasn't helped the situation any.
    I blink my stare away and instead attempt to eat some of today's cafeteria fare--gluey clumps of mac and cheese with a dusting of readymade breadcrumbs on top. I'm just about to scoop a forkful into my mouth when a couple hands land across my eyes from behind.
    It's Chad. I can smell him right away--the musky scent of his cologne mixed with the apple-butter soap I bought him as a just-because gift last month.
    "What are you doing here?" I can hear the excitement in my voice.
    Chad moves his hands away and scoots into the seat beside me. "I got your e-mail."
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55
    "You did?"
    He nods. "Thank you."
    "I shouldn't have freaked," I say.
    "No," he argues, "I should have told you I was coming instead of just showing up like that."
    "Aren't they the cutest?" Amber coos, referring to me and Chad. She tilts her head, all dreamylike.
    The interruption of her voice reminds me of where I am and who's here. I can feel Drea's eyes watching us, watching Chad tickling my side.
    "Hey Drea," he says, sensing my discomfort, I think.
    "Hi," she mumbles, really sticking it to that macaroni.
    "I should probably get back to