The Discovery (24 page)

Patrick hugs, kisses, then releases me, scootching me on my way to the stage.

My hands are shaking like a California quake and I'm sure my feet aren't touching the ground. Me? Seriously? Did he read that right? I'm psychic, but I didn't see that one coming at all. Not one inkling.

Up on the stage, I join Stephanie and Courtney and accept the sparkling banner from Kyle.

Wow, if these two are princesses, who in the world will be the queen?

I stand blinking at my fellow students who voted me onto the court. Me, the new girl. The freak. The psychic. The ghost girl. Staring at the sash around me, I finally feel like I fit in. Like I'm just Kendall.

"The moment you've been waiting for," Kyle announces. "This year's prom queen—rightly so—is Farah Lewis."

Everyone bursts into applause again, and I join in. Of course. Farah. That's a no-brainer.

Mr. and Mrs. Lewis hug each other on the side, still crying, only this time with joy over the love the student body has shown for their daughter.

Courtney, Stephanie, and I take the rhinestone crown and set it on the corner of the uniform portrait.

"Miss you, Farah," Courtney whispers.

"Me too," Stephanie echoes.

"Me three."

The band begins to play our school's alma mater as an air of sadness and nostalgia passes over the group. We all join in to sing together, a tribute to our fallen—but not forgotten—friend. So many people pass in and out of our lives; some will never know how they touched us. Footprints stay on our hearts, and we're better off having known them. It's all part of the discovery of life. Who we are. Where we fit. What our purpose is.

I smile out at Cel, Becca, and Patrick. Definitely imprints on my soul.

The song goes into the second verse, everyone doing his best to sing to our heavenly friend. Somehow, I don't think Farah would like our pitch.

But she'd definitely appreciate the efforts.

"M
ORE BISCUITS COMING OUT!
" Mom shouts to our filled-to-capacity dining room the morning after prom.

I'm still numb that I was an actual prom princess. The satin banner now hangs on the corner of my mirror in my room as a reminder that I've found a new home after all.

Cel and Becca slept over here with me—although there wasn't much snoozing, mostly giggling, girl talk, and dishing on our guys. Mom and Dad have let me host a huge breakfast for everyone on Sunday morning. Celia, Clay, Courtney, Ryan, Jim, Sean, Kyle, Stephanie, Becca, Dragon, Shelby-Nichole, Patrick, and I gather around, munching on homemade frittatas, fresh-cut fruit, grits—a Southern staple I've learned to love with some salt and butter—crispy bacon, bagels, cream cheese, and lox. Mom really outdid herself. She even squeezed fresh oranges to make juice for us. Now that's love.

Father Mass and Loreen are here helping out my parents, drinking coffee, and making sure no one's glass gets empty.

I've never seen Courtney Langdon eat this much food. "You've simply got to give me the recipe for this frittata, Mrs. Moorehead," she says, singing the praises of my mom's cooking.

A goofy smile spreads across my face as I look around the room at the friends I've made in such a short time. And now, I have an extended family with Aunt Andi and my continued quest to find Emily's parents. Thanks to the wonderful generosity of Oliver Bates, I'm going to get to go to Europe to further develop my psychic abilities, help families in distress, and possibly locate John Thomas and Anna Wynn Faulkner. It'll be the best summer evah, and oh yeah, I'll get to spend lots and lots and lots of time with Patrick too.

Could life
be
any better?

The phone rings off in the distance, and Dad calls me over to it.

"This is Kendall."

"Miss Ghost Huntress, this is James Pendergrass."

Ummm ... errr ... oh, crappity-crap! It's the haunted-sandwich man!

"Yes, sir, how can I help you?" I feel horrible that with everything that's been going on, I've totally blown off this guy and his problems. Who am I to say his sandwich isn't haunted? Although I do believe in the heart of my psychic abilities that this man needs mental help, not ghost busters.

"Well, Miss Moorehead, the haunted sandwich stole my car and totaled it. My insurance company won't pay for it because the sandwich wasn't on my policy."

Oh. My. God.

"I won't be needing any further help, though," he continues, "because the wreck seemed to have destroyed the haunted sandwich forever."

I cover the receiver to muffle my giggle. I just shake my head.

Yup. This is my life.

I finish with the call in time to hear the front doorbell ring. Mom scuttles off to answer it. Before the door opens, though, I'm blinded by a vision of someone with beautiful blond hair, straight white teeth, and a happy smile, standing next to another person who's frowning and scowling with ultra-blue eyes. I'm so enthralled by the turnout here today that I don't exactly add two and two together in my psychic mind.

I hear Mom welcome the new guests, but I don't dwell on it as I add more cantaloupe chunks onto my plate next to my toasted sesame bagel.

Then it happens.

My heart stops for a moment and then restarts like a ticking time bomb.

"Well, look who's here!" Mom shouts out.

I don't have to look because I know. Without a doubt.

A shrilling scream of happiness is followed by "Taaaaaaaaaaaaylor!"

My friend Taylor Tillson rushes into the dining room in all her blondness, hugging and air-kissing people on her way to me.

"Kendall!" She hugs me tightly and I do my best to squeeze back in my surprised state. "I just got in late last night. Mom is out of rehab and I told Dad that I wanted to come back to Radisson to help her out."

"That's fantastic," I say, so happy to see her perky face.

"Where's Patrick?" she asks with a cheeky grin. "I can't wait to meet him."

I reach into the crowd and tug him away from a convo with Dragon about rice rockets. "Patrick, this is—"

"Taylor Tillson," he says with a grin. "Kendall's told me all about you."

Tears fill my eyes as I watch my friend flit about the room as if she never left. "She's back," I murmur. Maybe she can go to Europe with us this summer. Of course, if Taylor's here in town, does that mean...

Before I can finish the thought, blue eyes slice over me as Jason follows in his sister's wake. Jim and Sean high-five him, but his eyes never leave mine. I'll admit that my body physically reacts with a pounding in my chest when I see him move through the room. Then the blue orbs shift to where mine and Patrick's fingers are entwined.

That's Jason Tillson,
Patrick says to me.

I gulp hard, knowing I don't need to respond.

Jason, still tall and gorgeous and able to make my treacherous heart take a roller-coaster dip, steps forward like an alpha dog. He sizes me up in one glance and then does the same to my boyfriend.

Patrick bows up a bit too, moving in front of me slightly to mark his territory.

"Hey, Jase," I manage to squeak out, trying to take the initiative, be the grownup, and be nice.

His face softens and his eyes shine happily. I can tell he wants to reach for me, but I must have that "don't go there" look on my face. Instead, he just smiles that award-winning modelesque grin that won me over in the first place so many months—and so much drama—ago.

Jason parts his lips and then says, ever so lazily, like nothing's changed between us, "Hey, Kendall. I'm back."

All I can think is:
Oh, crap.

To be continued
...

The thoughts and feelings described by Kendall and her friends are typical of those experienced by young people awakening to sensitive or psychic abilities.

Many of the events and situations encountered by Kendall and her team of paranormal investigators are based on events reported by real ghost hunters. Also, the equipment described in the book is standard in the field.

However, if you are a young person experiencing psychic phenomena, talk to an adult. And while real paranormal investigation is an exciting, interesting field, it is also a serious, sometimes even dangerous, undertaking. While I hope you are entertained by the Ghost Huntresses, please know that it's recommended that young people not attempt the investigative techniques described here without proper adult supervision.

The idea for Xander the Doll is loosely based on the Key West legend of Robert the Doll. For more information, check out
www.robertthedoll.org
.

Holy Eucharist information from
justus.anglican.org
.

Information on the Underground Railroad from
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Underground_Railroad
.