The guys around me chuckled nervously, but I was lost.

After a few seconds Sera smiled awkwardly and grabbed the edges of her tray. “I better—”

“Are you going to bring your boyfriend?” I asked, totally cutting her off. Yes, I am a desperate loser.

Everyone at the table fell silent.

“Do you have news for us?” the other Jewel said, leaning forward on her elbows with her eyes glinting.

“No,” Sera said flatly.

No?

No!

“What about that Mikhail guy?” I hedged.

Sera raised an eyebrow and looked at me in confusion. “Khail?”

“Yeah, the, uh . . . wrestler?” Everyone was looking at me now, and I wanted to disappear—melt right through the floor like Kimberlee could. Then, almost as one, they started laughing. Not social, polite laughing; serious you-got-Punk’d laughing.

And I had no clue why.

I must have started to look pitiful because Sera finally let me off the hook. “Khail’s my brother. We’re very close. But not that close,” she added sarcastically.

My candle of hope instantly relit. No, “candle” is far too tame; this was a torch, a bonfire, a shock-and-awe explosion of hope.

Kimberlee was dead meat.

Seven

KIMBERLEE DIDN’T SHOW UP again until after school, when she fell into step with me in the hallway—as if nothing had happened. “Are we going now?”

“You are in so much trouble,” I said quietly.

“What are you talking about?” she asked at full volume. I think she enjoyed being able to talk loud when I couldn’t.

I burst through the front doors into the crisp January air. A little chilly, but mostly a perfect, sunny day. Like pretty much every day in Santa Monica. I stayed silent until I let myself into my car and Kimberlee slid into the passenger seat.

“Open the top,” Kimberlee said. “It’s, like, sacrilege to keep the top up on a day like this.”

“Not till I’m finished,” I said.

“What’s your problem?”

“Sera and Mikhail?”

“What about them?”

She had so much nerve. “Sera and Mikhail Hewitt. I’ll give you a hint. They’re not married.”

She at least had the courtesy to look slightly abashed. Very slightly. “So?”

I glared at her.

“Okay, fine, I should have told you. Big deal.”

The glaring continued.

“What do you want me to do?” Kimberlee said, not apologetic in the least. “Are you gonna pop the top or what?”

“Not today,” I grumbled.

Kimberlee rolled her eyes. “Gimme a break. I just forgot.”

“You really expect me to believe you just forgot he was Sera’s brother?”

“Fine, I didn’t forget. But come on, it was funny! You should have seen the look on your face. Priceless.”

“You don’t understand. I like this girl, Kimberlee.” Like, a lot. Weirdly a lot.

“All the more reason for me to warn you off her. Really, Jeff, she’s totally untouchable.”

“What the hell does that mean? First you say she’s a slut, then you let me think she’s dating her brother, now she’s untouchable?”

“You may be ready to hand her your heart on a silver platter, but she won’t give it back. She’s cold.”

“Even if that did make any sense, why should I believe you? You lie as often as you tell the truth. More often, really,” I added, realizing the truth of it even as I said it.

“Well, believe me this time. She’s not the innocent angel she appears to be.”

“And you are?”

“You’re not getting involved with me, are you?” She raised her eyebrows. “Though you seem like the kind of guy who would try, if he could.”

I swear she had one more button done up last time I looked over.

“I’m at least as hot as she is. And my boobs are way bigger.” Another button was mysteriously gone.

I focused on the road and didn’t look again. “And fake, probably.”

“Hey, they don’t feel fake when you got ’em in your hands.”

I almost swerved off the road. “Are you serious?” My eyes involuntarily returned to her chest; they didn’t look fake.

Kimberlee smiled victoriously and rebuttoned her blouse.

I turned to face the road again, feeling like a total schmuck. She knew just how to play me and I fell right into it. Kimberlee, one—Jeff, zero.

Even though this was my second trip to the cave, I still felt like a trespasser. But at least I climbed the wall faster.

Sadly, the scenery hadn’t changed.

If not for the rough, rocky walls and floor, it could have been an office storage room. Lidded file-sized boxes were lined up in rows with one wide aisle down the middle and an odd code of numbers and letters I didn’t understand written in black Sharpie on each box. Off to the side was a stack of still-flat boxes in plastic wrapping, and I could imagine alive-Kimberlee buying—or, more likely, stealing—them in anticipation of more pilfered items.

It was kind of sick, really.

“I don’t get you,” I admitted as we sorted through boxes. Well, I sorted and she directed. Unfortunate drawback to working with ghosts: Only one of you can actually work. Luckily, Kimberlee was happily interpreting her weird code on the boxes, and the bags inside were neatly labeled with names and dates.