Dead Girl Speaking

TWO: WILLA

► "There are certain things that must be fulfilled for my death, a check-list if you will. God, that sounded morbid, but it's true. My body has to be found, obviously, because my family will love the attention a dead relative warrants. If there's any evidence of foul play, it has to be hidden. It'll be hidden well, too, so you'll have to look hard. Lastly, there has to be dessert. The really fancy kind, just the way the Sinclairs like it."  ❚❚ 

According to the Sinclair family, red velvet was the most suitable flavour for funeral cake. Only God knows why they'd think such a thing when most of us couldn't even swallow the truth of Marlow's death, let alone a cake the colour of dried blood. Nonetheless, as I stood in front of a large glass table, the whole of which was thoroughly occupied by a wide variety of what the Sinclairs must have deemed as comfort food, I found myself itching for some of that awful cake just so I had something to fill the sudden void caused by my best friend's absence.

Beside me, a middle-aged couple tittered about a woman they saw wearing two mismatching shades of black. I fought the urge to whack each of them with a fork and settled for roughly brushing past them on my way to the door instead. Fuck the cake. If I spent another minute with the entirety of Marlow's family, I'd go certifiably insane.

Just as I stepped outside, I was met with the curious sight of a brown-haired boy meters ahead of me. He ran a hand through his hair with agitation, pacing a little in front of a black Chevy as he held a phone to his ear.

What was Casper Holmes doing here? Crashing funerals didn't seem to match his usual persona, but then again maybe he heard they were offering cake.

I sat on the steps before the front door, trying to figure out the reason for his presence without alerting him of mine. He seemed too enrapt in his own conversation to notice me anyway, so I allowed myself a few seconds of silent observation. I watched as he halted his pacing, his body suddenly tensed and frozen with his hand still at his head. He continued speaking, never seeming to stop until a minute or two had passed and he let out a sigh.

"So, who'd you just lie to?" My smooth voice interrupting the calm silence outside seemed to be a shock for both of us. I didn't really know Casper that well, I didn't think anybody did, but I would've done just about anything right then as long as it meant I didn't have to go back into that house. It was littered with unhappy strangers and even unhappier memories I didn't want to be reminded of.

His head whipped to me, still sat lazily with my elbows resting on my knees. "Who are you?"

I rolled my eyes. "If I caught you the first time you lied, do you really think I wouldn't catch the second? C'mon Holmes, give me some credit."

As he moved just the tiniest bit closer, I noticed the flash of a small smirk on his lips before it vanished into feigned indifference. "You can't fault a guy for trying."

"You underestimate me," I say as I stand up, brushing down the bottom of my black dress.

"You overestimate yourself," he retorts smoothly. It's almost impressive how unfazed he appears to be by my random meddling, but it doesn't make me any less sure that whatever he said on the phone was bullshit to the highest degree. "What makes you think I was lying?"

I quirked an eyebrow at the challenge in his eyes and took one step forward. "You stopped moving. You were completely rigid, undoubtedly preparing yourself for confrontation." I took another step. "Your hand was at your head, unconsciously protecting somewhere you're vulnerable." One more step, and we were now only a few feet apart. "You talked as if you were getting paid for each word, gave too much information. You pretended to have nothing to hide so they were more inclined to believe you."