Free Rain of the Ghosts by Greg Weisman Page A

same door she had immediately cracked open after intentionally slamming it shut for effect. (Being known as the family Drama Queen had its advantages.) She listened as her father offered to clean up the mess and heard Callahan decline.
    And she knew. He was connected to all of it. The armband. ’Bastian’s death. The Dark Man. The Eight. She had no idea how it all fit together. But she knew Callahan was in the middle of it.
    And she was almost right.

CHAPTER TEN
    IN BLACK AND WHITE
    That night there were no ghosts, no Eight, no Dark Man. Just the conviction that Callahan was responsible for it all. Having someone to blame was a great relief. Rain slept soundly.
    Then it was Sunday morning. One more day before school started. It was almost unimaginable that she should be expected to return to class after all that had happened. She looked out the window. Hazy. She took a shower and tried to summon up a song to play in her head. An instrument even. But nothing would stick. Everything was gray, inside and out. She took her time getting dressed, took even longer to dry, brush and braid her hair into its long, thick, black rope. She had a pretty good idea of what was waiting for her downstairs and was in no hurry to face it.
    Eventually, though …
    She entered the kitchen, wearing her standard uniform of shorts, t-shirt, deck shoes and no socks, and was surprised to see her father preparing breakfast. That wasn’t how labor was divided at the Nitaino. He silently watched her hesitant approach. Then he put down his spatula and held out a hand. “The key.”
    “I won’t use it again. There’s no point. He’s hidden the armband somewhere else.”
    Alonso frowned. That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. His hand didn’t move. “I’m not going to argue with you, Rain. Give me the key.”
    She took out her key chain and started to remove the master. Her voice slipped into a whine: “Great. How am I supposed to do my Sunday chores without it?”
    Alonso shoved the key in his pocket and spoke quietly as he fished around in it. “No chores for you today. Make sure you have everything you need for school tomorrow. Paper, notebooks. Pencils. Here.” He handed her a twenty-dollar bill. “I’m not expecting change.”
    She stared at him with mouth agape. This is my punishment? No chores and free money?
    He saw her reaction. “It’s been a difficult few days, Rain. Make sure you have your supplies. Then you can have the afternoon.”
    “Okay. Thanks.”
    She turned to go, turned back. “Where’s Mom?”
    “Upstairs. In ’Bastian’s room.”
    Rain flinched. “What’s she doing up there?”
    He shrugged.
    Rain nodded absently and left the kitchen. A heartbeat later, she poked her head back in and stared at him.
    “What?” he said.
    “Don’t ever die, okay?”
    “Okay, baby.”
    “Promise.”
    “Sure.”
    “Good.”
    She left again. He listened to her light footsteps dancing up the back stairs. Then he picked up the spatula.
    Rain peeked into her grandfather’s bedroom. Her mother was sitting on the bed surrounded by a half-dozen open cardboard boxes. Piles of clothes and old photographs were scattered everywhere.
    Rain hesitated at the threshold, another threshold. But this one she didn’t want to cross. He’s not here anymore.
    Iris idly unfolded a shirt from one pile and refolded it atop another. After a bit, she felt her daughter’s eyes. She lifted her head and smiled wistfully. “I’m just sorting through his things. I don’t know what to do with this room.”
    Rain winced. “Can’t we leave it as is?”
    “I’m not sure he’d like that. I just don’t know.”
    Rain considered that. What would he want? A museum? A pit stop for still more tourists?
    “Can I have his room?”
    Iris looked up again. Momentarily, Rain wondered who had spoken, who would make such an audacious request. It took seconds before she realized she had done it. Did she really want to live up here? Would he