Page 97 of She’s a Doll

I was more exhausted than I thought possible, stretched, thinned, frayed, and faded. But I couldn’t leave her. I pushed back against the time stream, pushed with everything I had. Reluctantly, the world slowed, sharpened, and came into focus. When it did, Nicola was standing by her car. It was parked, doors hanging open, headlights spearing light into the trees. As time returned to normal, the glitchy, graphical noise hanging in the light resolved itself into insects. Fat, bumbling beetles, dust-colored moths, and a couple of long-limbed crickets with wings that hummed.

“. . . don’t understand,” Nicola was saying, voice dipping into my auditory range. “I don’t understand why she’s here. I . . .”

“You don’t understand?” Ginger stepped into the light, arms wrapped around her middle, eyes wide and shoulders shaking. It was the first time I’d seen her, really seen her, since I’d died. I hated that she was still beautiful. Hair a tangle of tight curls, cheeks pinked rose, and lips pert and perfect. “What are we doing here, Nicola?” she asked in a voice that teetered uncertainly upward, a question, but not one she sounded like she wanted to know the answer to. “Why is Kyle’s car here? Where is⁠—”

“Do you care?” Nicola asked. “Do you really care where he is after everything you heard tonight?”

“I . . . no, but . . .” Her gaze flicked to me and back to Nicola. “What’s that toy? Why does it have a phone? Where’s your friend? What’s going on?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“You owe me⁠—”

“No,” Nicola snapped. “No. I’m sorry, but I don’t owe you a thing. I’m tired, Ginger. I’m really tired. So, if it’s all right by you, I’m taking my weird, gross, spooky, lying doll and I’m going ho⁠—”

Hey.

She jerked in surprise. “Lu? You’re awake?”

I don’t sleep. I go f⁠—

“Who are you talking to?” Ginger asked. “God. Nicola. What have you done?”

“What have I done?” Nicola rounded back on Ginger. “I drove you hundreds of kilometers to talk to someone who told you exactly what I told you a year ago. I held your hand while you cried about it.”

Shame was etched into every line on Ginger’s face. Still, her eyes weren’t sticking on Nicola; they kept falling to me, then snapping back, uncertain and scared. I curled my legs up, hooking a couple into Nicola’s shirt, anchoring myself to her.

“Lu,” Nicola said, softly, pulling me around so I could see her better. Her cheeks were flushed beneath her freckles, her eyes bright. “I need to know. Is Kyle here? What happened to him?”

He’s gone.

“Gone?” There was a strange sort of intensity in her voice. “Gone where?”

I didn’t answer.

“You got him, didn’t you.” She said it not as a question but rather a realization, a revelation, the sort people have in church with their eyes closed and hands in the air. “You got him.”

“Nicola,” Ginger said. “Nicola, you’re scaring me.”

Nicola closed her eyes and took a deep breath that hitched and shivered in the back of her throat.

“Nicola?”

“I don’t want to scare you,” Nicola said, opening her eyes. “I don’t. I just . . . I can’t explain this, OK? I can’t⁠—”

“I need you to try.”

“No. No, I⁠—”

“Your friend called,” Ginger said. “We came here to look for them, and that’s my husband’s car. I know you hate him. I know that. I know why, and I know I let you down, but please, you have to tell me if⁠—”

“If I killed him?” Nicola asked. “That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it? You think I killed him.”

Ginger’s silence said it all.

“I’ve been with you all night, Ginger.”

“Who?” Ginger said. “Who called you? Who did we come here to see?”