Free Dead Girl Walking by Linda Joy Singleton Page A

bother—”
    “This is the Borden residence.”
    “Is it?” I sagged against the dresser with relief. “Can you put Mom on?”
    “Who? I don’t think I heard you right.” She sounded tired, as if I’d woken her from a nap.
    “My mother,” I said impatiently.
    “You have the incorrect number.”
    Ah ha! Now I knew that voice. The formal way she said “incorrect” rather than “wrong” triggered a pleasant memory of being little and playing wild animals with my cousin Zeke at a family wedding. Less pleasant was the memory of the six-hundred-dollar wedding cake we’d knocked off a table. My aunt never did forgive me, and neither did her oldest daughter—the bride.
    “Aunt Suzanne!” I cried, wondering what she was doing at my house, but not really caring because that wasn’t important. Connecting with someone from my family made me giddy with relief. “Could you get Mom or Dad for me? I really, really need them.”
    “Who is this?” she demanded sharply.
    “You know … Amber.”
    “Amber who?”
    “Borden, of course. Your niece. Come on, Aunt Suz, stop kidding around.”
    “I never kid around.” There was a pause, then my aunt spoke with brittle coolness. “I don’t know what sick game you’re indulging in, but if you ever have the audacity to call again, I’ll contact the police.”
    “But Aunt Suz … I mean … I’m sorry.” Instantly I realized my mistake. No wonder she didn’t recognize my voice. Not only did I look like someone else, but I sounded different, too. “Wait! Don’t hang up! You don’t understand. Let me explain!”
    “I have no intention of holding a conversation with someone with no consideration for a grieving family.”
    “I didn’t … I mean … grieving?”
    “Do you have any idea what the family is going through?”
    “No … I don’t. What’s … What’s going on?” I asked, gripping the phone tight and starting to tremble.
    “I’m not going to discuss personal issues with a stranger.”
    “But I’m not a stranger! I’m your … I mean, I’m a friend … yeah, I’m Amber’s friend Leah.” I thought fast. “We’re so close, we call each other’s parents Mom and Dad.”
    “Then you should know this is not a good time to call.”
    “Where’s Mo … Mrs. Borden? I really need to talk with her … uh … about Amber.”
    “My brother and his wife aren’t available. They’re at … at the hosp—” Her voice cracked and broke into sobs, which really shocked me because I hadn’t seen Aunt Suzanne cry since the cake incident, and that was from anger. This felt sad.
    “What hospital?” I asked in a small, scared voice.
    “Community Central. They’re with Amber … saying good-bye.”
    “Good-bye? You mean … Ohmygod!” I fell to my knees, squeezing the phone.
    “Didn’t you know? About the accident?” she asked in the kindest tone I’d ever heard from my stern aunt.
    “The mail truck?”
    “So you do know. It was so utterly senseless and tragic.”
    “But I’m … Amber’s going to be all right? Isn’t she?”
    There was no answer.
    I swallowed hard. “Is she … still …”
    “She’s alive … but in a coma,” my aunt finally said, her voice heavy with sorrow. “There’s no brain activity and she’s not expected to recover. Her body is being kept alive for the organ donation. But once that’s resolved, she’ll be … I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about this—”
    The phone went dead.

I listened to the dial tone for long minutes, my head spinning.
    Brain dead? Donating organs—from my body! What did they think? That I was dead?
    Well, I really would be if I didn’t stop them.
    I had to go to Community Central right away and rescue myself. If I could stand near my body maybe I would automatically revert back to myself. If that didn’t work, I’d concentrate real hard and pray to God and Grandma. There had to be some way to reverse this mix-up. And I had to do it before The-Body-That-Was-Formerly-Amber was