Free Whispers From the Grave by Leslie Rule

open-minded scientists than myself prefer to study matter that they can get a grip on, so to speak—things with melting points and measurements that react predictably with the world around them. I’m getting way ahead of myself. Let me just say that as we’ve learned more about telekinetic forces, we’ve also learned it’s time to throw out some of the scientific theories we’ve lived by for so long.”
    He was rattling on and on, as if to distract me from asking about my sister. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. “These other people with PK that you mentioned?”
    “Yes?”
    “Some of them were pretty talented,” I said, fishing for information. “They were talented like my sister !”
    Dr. Grady smiled slyly. “Is that a question or a statement?”
    “A question. Do I have a sister?”
    “Jenna, there are some questions I am not at liberty to answer. It’s not that I have a problem with you knowing the facts. It’s simply not my place to divulge certain things to you.”
    His secrecy was annoying. “ Whose place is it to divulge these things?” I snapped, surprising myself with my anger.
    Dr. Grady seemed unfazed, and Kyle was staring at his shoes. Did Kyle know? Did he know about my mysterious sister?
    “I suggest,” Dr. Grady said slowly, “that you have a talk with your mother.”

8
    Apparently mom was the only person “at liberty” to tell me the truth. As usual, she was lying down with one of her migraines when I got home. It wasn’t very nice of me, but I stomped around slamming doors when I realized she was avoiding me again. She doesn’t have a headache! I told myself. She just wants to keep me in the dark!
    Despite my anger, a chill crept over me. Whatever she was hiding must be pretty horrible because everyone acted so strangely whenever I tried to get answers. Why did Mom keep lying to me about my sister? Did something terrible happen? Was my sister dead? Why didn’t I remember her?
    Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know the truth. I decided to let Mom sleep and slipped quietly up the stairs to the sanctuary of my room. But my room no longer seemed like an escape from the awful things in the world. For it was here I had learned of Rita’s murder. And it was here I would finish her story.
    I was afraid to open the diary, afraid to come to the end of her life. I placed the musty diary on the window seat beside me, wondering what secrets it held.
    Did she know? Did she have any hint at all of what Ben was going to do to her?
    My fingers brushed the withered cover. The red vinyl had cracked and flaked off in places, revealing faded cardboard. Cardboard.
    Is that what Ben was? A cardboard character as one-dimensional as a paper doll? No depth. No love. Only a smiling face with nothing behind it.
    Nothing behind it but a violent, murderous streak!
    Suddenly, I had to know. I had to know if she had any inkling—if it was really possible to be so deluded by love that you would put your heart in the hands of a killer.
    I knew reading Rita’s words would no longer be enjoyable. It was painful knowing there were no happy endings for the girl so much like me. But reading her diary was the only way to get the answers to the disturbing questions crowding my mind. Hands shaking, I opened the diary and began reading where I’d left off.
    Dear Diary,
    Tonight I’m sneaking out of the house to be with Ben. I’m going to stuff pillows under my blanket so it looks like I’m there in case Mom peeks in. Then I’m g oing to crawl out the window and climb down the tree. Grounded or not, I need to see him. I need his arms around me again! We’re meeting on the beach. Diary, I’ll fill you in on all the details when I get home.
    The rest of the page was blank. Devastatingly blank. “Oh, Rita! Be careful !”I whispered. "Don't let him hurt you!"
    It was like reading a book where someone has told you the outcome. Yet, as I read Rita’s words they sounded so immediate. It was almost