Free Whispers From the Grave by Leslie Rule Page A

as if she were there with me—talking to me.
    She was going to be killed. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.
    My stomach knotted as I turned the page, fully expecting to see more blank pages. I laughed with relief to see the pages crammed with Rita’s familiar flowing handwriting.
    Diary, sorry I didn’t write more in you yesterday. I was too mad. Would you believe Ben stood me up??? I risked getting grounded for the rest of my life to sneak out to see him and he didn’t even show up! I sat on our log for two hours, shivering because I didn’t bring my coat. (I thought Ben was going to keep me warm!)
    Well, I got madder by the minute. I finally gave up and headed for home. Somebody followed me! It was too dark to see who it was, but someone was definitely there. And it wasn’t little Chucky or any of the other neighborhood boys. I heard his footsteps, and when I looked back I got a glimpse of him before he ducked b ehind a tree! I couldn ’ t tell who it was, but he wasn’t a little kid. I had the eeriest feeling that whoever it was wanted to hurt me!
    The guy was twisted. Instead of meeting Rita he’d watched her from the shadows and then followed her home. You couldn’t get any weirder than that.
    Poor Rita! Obliviously in love. Never suspecting that Ben had such a horrible black spot on his soul. Was he so jealous of her that he would spy on her even while she waited for him ?
    I shivered, remembering the footsteps I’d heard on the beach. Was it Ben’s ghost, following me as he’d once followed Rita?
    Maybe he’s mistaken me for her, I thought and instantly chided myself. Like I told Suki, I don’t believe in ghosts. My imagination was rushing off with me again.
    I could not bear to come to the end of Rita’s story. As long as there were pages yet to read, she was still alive. At least, I could pretend she was still alive. By not finishing the diary, I could look forward to more conversations with her. Maybe the conversations were one-sided—with her doing all the talking and me doing all the listening. But I liked listening to her. And I felt somehow, if the tables were turned, she’d be just as glad to listen to me. She wouldn’t babble on and on like Suki does.
    I gently closed the diary, tucked it under my mattress, and began concentrating on the box of paper clips.
    Bending paper clips with your mind is quite a different thing than controlling moving dice. Though it was fun to give myself credit for affecting the dice, I didn’t entirely believe I’d really done anything. Despite what Dr. Grady said, I still thought it could have been a coincidence the dice landed on the numbers I’d concentrated on.
    I probably wouldn’t have even tried to bend those paper clips if it wasn’t for Kyle. I closed my eyes, relishing the memory of his kiss. When he brought me home after the tour of the lab, I’d hoped he’d kiss me again. I was so distracted I almost forgot the box of paper clips. He had reached over and touched my elbow as I climbed from the car. Handing me the box of paper clips, he’d said softly, “I know you can do it, Jenna.”
    It seemed important to him I help with this experiment. He was obviously proud of his grandfather. It made sense he’d want to see his grandfather’s work continued.
    I wanted Kyle to be pleased with me, to give him a reason to kiss me again! So I cleared my mind of all thoughts—even Kyle—and set the box on my bedside table and began concentrating.
    I imagined my mind had a pair of invisible hands. Hands that could reach from my skull and finger the metal paper clips. I visualized those hands caressing the metal, softening the clips with their warmth. Then I pictured the fingers of my mind gently bending the ends of the paper clips before twisting them into mad, pretzel-like shapes.
    I concentrated for half an hour, focusing so hard my head throbbed. Afterward I lay limp and drained on my bed, staring at the box and wishing I could open it to see