Ghost Huntress 5 - The Discovery by Marley Gibson

Author:Marley Gibson [Gibson, Marley]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt (www.hmhco.com)
Published: 2011-05-30T03:43:52+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

FARAH LEWIS'S TWISTED VOLKSWAGEN Jetta was found wrapped around the large elm tree at the corner of Exeter Street and Highway 16, just one mile from her house. It was next to the jackknifed semi that seems to have skidded over to her side of the road before ending up in the ditch.

From what the authorities can make out, in her rush to get home and pick up the correct cheerleader uniform, she didn't notice the truck taking its turn at the four-way stop. Too late, Farah swerved to miss the oncoming eighteen-wheeler. Her car skidded into the brush and hit the tree head on.

The paramedics pronounced the seventeen-year-old cheerleader and budding opera singer dead at the scene. Although it appeared that she had put her seat belt on, the police said it looked like it came undone at some point. She was thrown into the steering wheel, and it crushed her chest and snapped her neck.

The level of pain, hurt, confusion, and sadness I'm feeling is beyond devastating. I literally saw the wreck as it was occurring. As. It. Was. Happening. There was nothing I could have done to warn her or to stop it from happening. What the hell good are these psychic visions if I can't prevent horrible things from taking place?

I sit on my bed, numb from head to toe. Patrick is next to me, rubbing my back and shoulders, trying to soothe my ache.

I sip air into my lungs, no longer crying out in empathy from what Farah experienced in her last minutes. My tears stream down my face, wetting my black blouse in fat splotches.

"Get it out, Kendall." Patrick's voice is tender and caring.

"Poor Farah," I say in between sobs. "Poor, beautiful Farah with the voice of an angel. It's so not fair."

Patrick rubs my hair. "Now she can sing with the angels."

It's Monday morning and Radisson High School is closed due to the tragedy. Patrick got permission to skip school in Duluth so he could be here with me today. "I wasn't best friends with Farah, but she was a very nice person. She didn't deserve to die so young. I don't understand."

"There are things in this world people aren't meant to understand, Kendall. Even psychics like us."

Mom raps lightly on the door and I lift my eyes. "Celia and Becca are downstairs. Are you two ready to go?"

I stand and lean on my bureau. My eyes are bloodshot from three days of crying. There's really no use in trying to wear makeup when it'll just end up on the tissues I have crammed into my purse. I smooth my hand over my black skirt, one I borrowed from Mom. I reach into my jewelry box and pull out my Grandma Ethel's crystal necklace, feeling that I want a connection with the one other person I knew who died. Then I grab my sunglasses and perch them on my head.

Patrick follows me out the bedroom door and down the stairs to where Celia and Becca are waiting.

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