Lee Nichols - Deception

DECEPTION

Copyright 2010 by Lee NicholsAll rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any formor by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by anyinformation storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published in the United States of America in June 2010
by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
E-book edition published in June 2010
www.bloomsburyteens.com

For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to
Permissions, Bloomsbury BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:

Nichols, Lee.

Deception : Haunting Emma / by Lee Nichols. 1st U.S. ed.

p. cm.

Summary: When seventeen-year-old Emma's antique-collector parents vanish and herbrother's college roommate shows up to become her guardian, he takes her from SanFrancisco to Boston, where she discovers that she is a powerful "ghostkeeper," which bothexplains troubling incidents from her past and presents difficult new dilemmas.

ISBN 978-1-59990-308-8 (hardcover) ISBN 978-1-59990-421-4 (paperback)

[1. Ghosts Fiction. 2. Supernatural Fiction. 3. Missing persons Fiction.

4. Interpersonal relations Fiction. 5. High schools Fiction. 6. Schools Fiction.

7. Boston (Mass.) Fiction.] I. Title. II. Title: Haunting Emma.

PZ7.N5412De 2010 [Fic] dc22 2009031191

ISBN 978-1-59990-562-4 (e-book)

DECEPTION

I couldnt see, couldnt breathe. Strapped to a chair underwater, I was shivering and my lungs burned. A moment before I blacked out, the chair rose through the icy darkness and broke the waters surface.

I gasped and coughed, but the instant I caught my breath, he plunged me under again, brought to the verge of drowning over and over.

Once more, Emma? he asked. Or will you answer me now?

I longed to tell him everything, to end the fear and stop the pain. Then the chair plunged again into the freezing water.

Six weeks ago, my parents disappeared.

Id left them at the San Francisco airport at seven in the evening, nervous and excited. These were their last words:

Dad: Theres money in the bank; use your ATM card. If you get in trouble He looked at me. Dont get in trouble. We have our cell phone. You can call us anytime.

Mom: You know a scarf isnt a jacket, Emma.

It was a chilly forty-eight degrees sometimes I wondered if San Francisco was really in California. Id worn a black sweater, black jeans, black boots, and a red embroidered pashmina my parents brought back from one of their many business trips. The scarf was wound tightly around my neck and shoulders.

Me: Thats really the last thing youre going to say to me?

Mom: A hat helps, too.

She fingered my short, choppy blond bob a haircut she hadnt approved looking like she was about to say more, but she hugged me instead.

I suppose if Id known they were going to vanish, I wouldve said I love you and Ill miss you. Instead, I left them at the curb and sputtered home in our ancient Volvo wagon, already planning my fall from grace: clubbing until 4:00 a.m., unsupervised shopping sprees, and maybe even a tattoo if I could come up with something good.

Hoping for inspiration, I paced our mausoleum of a house. Seriously, our coffee table was a stone sarcophagus; it was like we snacked off Nefertitis head. My parents were overly fond of the dead, or at least the possessions of the dead. They sold antiquities from a store below our apartment on Fillmore Street, and the apartment was filled with relics and icons. Even the sofa was 150 years old horsehair, dust mites, and all.

My family had owned the building for generations. I guess we were rich, despite the old car, my pathetic allowance, and public education. Why else would we have the high-tech security system for both the store and apartment, which required a thumbprint to get in? When we were younger, my brother, Max, and I pretended we were 007 agents. Now it was just an aggravation every time I left the house for a red-eye chai from the caf next door.

Youre probably wondering what kind of parents leave their seventeen-year-old home alone for God knows how long. Theyd said three weeks, but my parents didnt always stick to the plan this trip, in fact, was last minute. Still, I wasnt completely alone. They had exactly one employee, Susan, whod run the shop for the past ten years, and she was supposed to check on me every night.

Susans daughter, Abby, was my best friend emphasis on was . Two years older than me and two years younger than my brother, wed grown up together, hanging out after school, obsessing over guys and our mutual lack of nice fingernails. Abby and Max were always close; he even tutored her in French. And with our parents away so often, Susan became a surrogate mother to us.

Then, this summer, when Max was home from Harvard, I discovered him and Abby having The Affair.

Id just gotten back from the caf next door when I heard noises coming from Maxs room. Id barged in without knocking and discovered them which put a whole new spin on the French lessons.

It was more of Maxs skin than Id seen since I was a toddler, but Id blocked out a lot from my past; it was just one more image to add to the file. And they were both happier than Id ever seen either of them. For two months, things were great.

Then Max dumped her.

Abby was devastated, and there was nothing I could do except keep the Kleenex and chocolate flowing. I have no idea how Max took the breakup, or why he ended it, because the next day he left for his junior year abroad.

Now he was in Tibet or Timbuktu, someplace he could only be reached by yak. Which was so Max kind of cool, and kind of cold. Breaking hearts in California so he could bring safe drinking water to remote villages in Asia.

So I wasnt completely alone, because I still had Susan. Except Abby blamed me for the breakup, or at least I thought she did. I didnt really know because she hadnt talked to me since shed left for UC, Santa Barbara. And her mom was following suit.

While my parents thought me safe in Susans hands, she was acting like I was her daughters worst enemy. She definitely wouldnt be checking up on me as much as she usually did. A girl could get into a lot of trouble with so much freedom. I couldnt wait to get started.

But I wasnt exactly sure how. Clubbing wasnt the kind of thing you did alone, the shops were closed, and I was still debating the body art. So I lay alone in bed that night, with only my laptop for company. Instead of talking to actual humans, I messed around on Facebook. I caught up on how everyone was doing at college and stalked my current fixation, the painfully unobtainable Jared from school.

Then I e-mailed Max:

I imagine the yaks run on treadmills to create enough electricity for you to check your messages. Like a Buddhist episode of The Flintstones. Why did you dump Abby? You know you miss me.

Emma

My daily pleading senryu went to Abby. She never responded, but I was nothing if not tenacious:

My brother is a dickwad

While you rock Organic Chem

Talk to me?

Abby was doing premed at UCSB and worried about Organic Chemistry, so along with knocking Max, I figured Id send her positive energy. I wasnt sure question marks were technically allowed in senryu, but I found myself using them a lot. Probably because my life felt like one big question mark lately. Like how was I going to start enjoying my newfound freedom?