Free The Haunting of Sunshine Girl by Paige McKenzie Page B

crazy. One of our minds has invented memories of what happened last night.
    I close my eyes, willing myself to keep calm. Take a deep breath, Sunshine. The answer is right in front of you.
    Or on you, I think, looking down at my shirt. I hate chocolate syrup. I never, ever, ever put it on my ice cream. I like plain vanilla. Boring, just like Ashley says. Mom knows that. So there’s no way the stain on my shirt is syrup. It doesn’t even look like syrup; it looks like exactly what it is: a dried-out patch of rusty water.
    She’s the one with the made-up memories, not me.
    But now what? I can’t make her believe me. All my proof is gone: the scratches on the floor, the shards of glass in the sink from the mirror above. I should have gotten my camera last night, should have taken pictures. In my terror I guess it never occurred to me that I might need more evidence. I thoughtshe finally believed me; that was the one part of the night that wasn’t scary. I actually felt better, even with everything going on, knowing she was finally on my side.
    I need some time to think. To figure this out. Alone.
    So I say, “You’re right. I’m just moving too slowly this morning. You should get going without me. I can walk to school.”
    â€œYou’re sure?”
    I nod.
    â€œAll right,” she says, pressing her hands against her thighs, pushing herself up to stand. She leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I know you’re having a tough time adjusting, Sunshine. Maybe . . . I don’t know. Maybe if things aren’t better for you in a few months, we should consider moving back to Austin.”
    Her voice sounds so sad when she says it that I shake my head. “I’ll be all right,” I say, and I don’t watch her walk down the stairs. Instead, I turn around and head for my room, closing the door shut behind me before I collapse onto the floor in a little ball, hugging my knees to the chest.
    That’s the first time I’ve ever lied to my mother.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    A Good Old-Fashioned Haunting
    I take my time getting dressed, even though it means I’m missing first period, the first time I’ve ever cut a class. It’s turning into a day full of firsts. Ashley would be so proud of me, doing normal teenage things like lying to my mom and ditching. That is, she would be proud of me if she knew, but she doesn’t know because she hasn’t answered any of my texts. I didn’t go so far as to say it was an emergency, because then she might have called my mom, and that wouldn’t do me any good. So I just said I really, really, really, really needed to talk. I was kind of hoping she’d think it was about that hot guy (how she refers to Nolan) and call back right away, but so far, no such luck.
    Before I walk out the door I check my phone to find out the outside temperature: it’s in the fifties, supposedly going up to the sixties. There’s a chance of rain this afternoon, but what else is new? “I’m going to need a scarf,” I say out loud, wonderingwho is left in this house to hear me. Is the little girl gone? She couldn’t have been killed last night, not if she was already dead, but maybe she was . . . I don’t know, destroyed or something? Just the thought makes me shudder.
    I run up the stairs and into my room, searching for my favorite blue-owl scarf. That’s when I notice the checkerboard, right where it was when I got home from school yesterday, on the bed I didn’t sleep in last night.
    â€œI guess there’s one way to figure out if you’re still here,” I say sadly. I lean down over the board and slide one of the black checkers forward. I should be hoping that when I get back home later the checkers won’t have moved. If they’re just as I left them, then maybe ghost girl is gone. But part of me hopes I’ll come home to a countermove instead.
    â€œFreak,” I mutter to