Free Dead Girl Dancing by Linda Joy Singleton Page B

is proud of the handcuff scar he got from his first time resisting arrest.” My anxiety eased with my laugh. I told Eli how Dustin thrived on political challenges and believed freedom could only come from chaos. “I don’t always agree with him,” I added fondly, “but I love him like a brother.”
    “Technically I’m your brother now,” Eli said wryly.
    “You don’t feel like a brother to me.”
    “Yeah, but hearing your voice, I keep thinking—that’s my sister.”
    “Only on the outside.”
    “I know … Still, it’ll be weird seeing you.”
    “Way weird.” I paused, wondering what kind of contact was allowed between siblings. Could I hold his hand? Hug him? Give him a “sisterly” kiss on the cheek? Damn, this was going to be so awkward. If talking to him made my hands sweat and my heart pound, what would happen when we were face-to-face?
    Before I could discuss any of this, he told me someone was at the door.
    “No worry,” he said a moment later. “It’s only Katelyn.”
    “Oh, goodie,” I said not-so-happily.
    “She’s grinning like she has good news.”
    “Oh?” I asked with new interest.
    “She’s waving a key. Got to go!”
    There was a click and the dial tone.
    Damn. What was going on with him? Sure, he got the key and that was good. But not so good was how excited he’d sounded about seeing Katelyn. He hadn’t even said good-bye. My emotions were live wires, sparking inside of me and short-circuiting my logical thinking ability. I wasn’t jealous. That would be ridiculous. But he was with her, not me, and that made me a little crazy. What I really needed was to talk. Not to just anyone, either, but to my BFF. I’d always told Alyce everything and going for so long without talking to her felt wrong. Like half of me was missing. She already knew that I had a habit of changing bodies, so she wouldn’t freak out if I told her what was going on. Sure, it would mean more rule-breaking, but I never kept anything from Alyce.
    Only when I called, her mother answered.
    “Who is this?” Mrs. Perfetti asked in her typical clipped, irritated tone.
    A simple yet impossible question to answer.
    “I’m … um … Harmony Furrson.” This was the name we gave to the pet hamster I’d had when I was seven. “I sit behind Alyce in algebra and need homework advice.”
    I added the part about algebra because (a) it was true—I did sit behind her in algebra and I hoped Alyce would pick up on that hint, and (b) her mother was militant when it came to homework, even locking Alyce in her room until she finished her assignments.
    “Alyce doesn’t have homework over spring vacation,” her mother said coolly.
    “It’s extra credit work.”
    “Then it can wait till school resumes.”
    “But it can’t wait—I really need to talk with her.”
    “Sorry. Alyce is unavailable.” Then she hung up.
    What was this? Hang up on Amber day? I wanted to call Alyce back but knew her mother never backed down when she got into one of her moods. So I dialed Dustin’s number—which wasn’t even breaking GEM rules since Eli had already told him about my body-swap.
    When Dustin realized who I was, he whooped like I was Publishers Clearing House calling with a million-dollar offer.
    “I was going to visit your body in the hospital but this is much better,” he said. “How’s everything going?”
    “Better since I figured out what I’m supposed to do in this body.”
    “What?”
    “Make Sharayah a singing star.”
    “Big job! How are you going to accomplish that?”
    “By finding an audition or contest that she—I mean, I—can enter, that happens soon and is close to Venice Beach. Can you help?”
    “Already on it.” I visualized him swiveling in his chair in front of several monitors. He didn’t have a bed in his bedroom, preferring a couch with a sleeping bag, conserving his minimal space for maximum strategizing. He called his room his “Headquarters.” He was as passionate about his quest