When I climbed into the Rambler at the end of the day, Doc was all over me. "Everybody's talking about it!" he cried, bouncing up and down on the seat. "Everybody saw it! You saved that guy's life! You saved Bryce Martinson's life!"
"I didn't save his life," I said, calmly twisting the rear view mirror so I could see how my hair looked. Perfect. Salt air definitely agrees with me.
"You did so. I saw that big chunk of wood. If that'd landed on his head, it've killed him! You saved him, Suze. You really did."
"Well." I rubbed a little gloss into my lips. "Maybe."
"God, you've only been at the Mission one day, and already you're the most popular girl in school!"
Doc was completely unable to contain himself. Sometimes I wondered whether Ritalin might have been the answer. Not that I didn't like the kid. In fact, I liked him best out of all of Andy's boys – which I realize is not saying much, but it's all I've got. It had been Doc who, just the night before, had come to me while I'd been trying to decide what to wear my first day at school and asked me, his face very pale, if I was sure I didn't want to trade bedrooms with him.
I'd looked at him like he was nuts. Doc had a nice room, and everything, but please. Give up my private bath and sea view? No way. Not even if it meant ridding myself of my unwanted roommate, Jesse, whom I hadn't actually heard from since I'd told him to get the hell out.
"What on earth makes you think I'd want to give up my room?" I asked him.
Doc shrugged. "Just that … well, this room's kinda creepy, don't you think?"
I stared at him. You should have seen my room just then. With the bedside lamp on, casting a cheerful pink glow over everything, and my CD player belting out Janet Jackson – loud enough that my mother had shouted twice for me to turn it down – creepy was the last thing anyone would have called my room. "Creepy?" I echoed, looking around. No sign of Jesse. No sign of anything at all undead. We were quite firmly in the realm of the living. "What's creepy about it?"
Doc pursed his lips. "Don't tell my dad," he said, "but I've been doing a lot of research into this house, and I've come to the conclusion – quite a definitive one – that it's haunted."
I blinked at his freckled little face, and saw that he was serious. Quite serious, as his next remark proved.
"Although modern scientists have, for the most part, debunked the majority of claims of paranormal activity in this country, there is still ample evidence that unexplained spectral phenomena exists in our world. My own personal investigation of this house was unsatisfactory insofar as traditional indications of a spiritual presence, such as the so-called cold spot. But there was nevertheless a very definite fluctuation of temperature in this room, Suze, leading me to believe that it was probably the scene of at least one incidence of great violence – perhaps even a murder – and that some remnant of the victim – call it the soul, if you will – still lurks here, perhaps in the vain hope of gaining justice for his untimely death."
I leaned against one of the posts of my bed-frame. I had to, or I might have fallen down. "Gee," I said, keeping my voice steady with an effort. "Way to make a girl feel welcome."
Doc looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said, the tips of his sticky-outy ears turning red. "I shouldn't have said anything. I did mention it to Jake and Brad, and they told me I was nuts. I probably am." He swallowed, bravely. "But I feel it's my duty, as a man, to offer to trade rooms with you. You see, I'm not afraid."
I smiled at him, my shock forgotten in a sudden rush of affection for him. I was really touched. You could see the offer had taken all the guts the little guy had. He really and truly believed my room was haunted, in spite of everything that science told him, and yet he'd been willing to sacrifice himself for my sake, out of some sort of inborn chivalry. You had to like the little guy. You really did.
"That's okay, Doc," I said, forgetting myself in a sudden burst of sentimentality and calling him by my own private nickname for him. "I think I can pretty much handle any paranormal phenomena that might occur around here."
He didn't seem to mind the new nickname, though. He said, obviously relieved, "Well, if you really don't mind – "
"No, it's okay. But let me ask you something." I lowered my voice, just in case Jesse was lurking around somewhere. "In all of your extensive research, did you ever come across the name of this poor slob whose soul is inhabiting my room?"
Doc shook his head. "Actually, I'm sure I could get it for you, if you really want it. I can look it up down at the library. They have all the newspapers ever printed in the area since the first press started running, shortly before this house was built. It's on microfiche, but I'm sure if I spend enough time looking – "
It seemed kind of wacky to me, some kid spending all his time in a dark library basement looking at microfiche, when a block or two away was this beautiful beach. But hey, to each his own, right?
"Cool," was all I said, however.
Now I could see that Doc's little crush on me was threatening to get blown all out of proportion. First I'd willingly volunteered to abide in a room rumored to be haunted, and then I'd gone and saved Bryce Martinson's life. What was I going to do next? Run a three-minute mile?
"Look," I said, as Sleepy struggled with the ignition, which apparently had a tendency not to work on the first try. "I just did what any of you would have done if you'd been standing nearby."
"Brad was standing nearby," Doc said, "and he didn't do anything."
Dopey said, "Jesus Christ, I didn't see the stupid beam, okay? If I'd seen it, I'd have pushed him out of the way, too. Christ!"
"Yeah, but you didn't see it. You were probably too busy looking at Kelly Prescott."
This earned Doc a hard slug on the arm. "Shuddup, David," Dopey said. "You don't know anything about it."
"All of you shut up," Sleepy said with uncharacteristic grumpiness. "I'll never get this damned car started if you all don't keep distracting me. Brad, stop hitting David, David stop yelling in my ear, and Suze, if you don't move your big head out of the mirror I'll never be able to see where the hell we're going. Damn, I can't wait till I get that Camaro!"