Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras and sees when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her paranorm...
Up in the dusty, hot attic I'm searching for the trunk Julia says contains dresses from her starlet days in Hollywood. Without windows, it's quite dim in this unfinished part of the house. The attic is a room of organized clutter with old pictures, a worn dressmaker's form, and boxes of Christmas decorations randomly strewn in the storage space. Tucked in the corner near the floor vent, I see an old trunk. A weather beaten Luis Vuitton steamer trunk to be exact. It would seem during her youth that Julia spared no expense to travel in style. The designer trunk is bulky, but still in vogue in this day and age. I'm startled when Donna suddenly steps out of the wall to join me. She settles on the trunk, arms crossed and swings her legs in an agitated manner. She looks at me with daggers in her eyes. "Why won't you help catch the other killer instead of rooting around in this dirty attic!"
I purposefully ignore her telepathic shouting and open the steamer trunk. The lid passes right through her body.
What the heck should I say to Donna?
I rack my brain. I'm not going to go to the police after nearly being killed by Harlan. Finally, I try being honest with her. "I want to be a normal girl and go to the Homecoming dance." I say out loud.
If I really wanted to be free of this disgruntled ghost, I could try to exorcise her out of the house with sage. I frown. I don't want to do this because she saved my life. She needs help, not to to be vanquished. She was a demanding bully in real life bur now she's a languishing spirit. I feel sorry for her because no one else can hear her. Momentarily, I stop looking through the trunk and I try speaking directly to her with all my heart. "Honestly Donna, I don't think finding the accomplice of who killed you is going to make you feel better." She stands up and angrily starts pacing.
I look back in the trunk, letting her absorb my words. Moving a feathered boa aside, I see a satin and gold lame dress. I sigh in disappointment. It's beautiful, but even with hemming this wouldn't be my style. Besides it smells like old moth balls. A loud bang startles me as a cloud of dust plumes off the floor and makes me sneeze. Donna stands there smirking at me with my mother's diary lying at her feet. It must have been tucked up in the rafters. Sheholds mygaze, knowing she has my full attention. I stand up rubbing my hands together to remove the feeling of invisible dust on them. "Thank you," I whisper. Bending over, I pick up the leather covered book and see the heavily bound tome requires a key.
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