Poltergeeks Read Online Free PDF Page B

snapped off a length of white thread. I could hear the printer clunking away upstairs as I tied the opal to one end of the thread and laid it out beside the bowl. Moments later Marcus padded down the steps. He waved the map at me and threw me an awkward smile.
      "Crescent Ridge High's population of stunning females are boring and entirely predictable," he said. "I prefer girls with above-average intelligence – that's why I hang with you. The fact that you're about a thousand kinds of beautiful is a bonus."
      I snorted. "Yeah, that's me, a Maxim cover model waiting to happen."
      There was silence for about ten seconds as I waited for one of Marcus's trademark barbs about how bimbo reality TV stars and celebrity sex tapes aren't anything more than cheap PR stunts, but there was nothing. I shifted my gaze from the marble bowl and stared at Marcus. I continued staring for a very long moment because I honestly didn't know how to respond to his compliment. Did someone put him up to it? I narrowed my eyes as I studied his face and Marcus's thin smile immediately dissolved. He avoided my gaze, choosing instead to look down at the floor.
      "Did Marla Lavik pay you to say that, because if so you can inform her I'm going to tell everyone at school that she wears granny panties!" I said sourly.
      "No. Whatever… it doesn't matter," he replied, his face turning red.
      Damn. He was dead serious.
      I wanted to say something but I was struck dumb; partly out of the shock of anyone thinking I was actually beautiful, but mostly because I'd never known Marcus to be so candid about his feelings before. I mean, we're best friends for crying out loud! I just stood there with my mouth wide open and then I said, "Listen, Marcus, I…"
      "Never mind," he interrupted. "Let's just get back to the spell."
      "Good idea," I said, clearing my throat and returning to the worktable. I tried as hard as I could to put what had just happened out of my mind. The only problem was that my brain wasn't about to let that happen.
      Marcus thought I was beautiful? He couldn't seriously have feelings for me, could he? I mean, he's seen me barfing all over the place when I decided it was time for me to figure out why every adult in the Western Hemisphere thinks Bailey's Irish Cream is so awesome. He even held my head over the toilet while I begged God, my mother and all known religious deities for forgiveness in between hurls. He later deleted a stupid video I'd posted on YouTube where I was drunkenly belting out the world's most terrible version of Pink's So What into a wooden spoon. How could he seriously think I was beautiful after that?
      No. He couldn't have meant what he said in a romantic way. He was just being Marcus – always there, always willing to boost my spirits whenever I felt like I was the lowest form of life on the planet.
      "We need to see if there is any spell residue from the stuff I collected inside the shed," I said, bringing my mind back to the task at hand. "Measure about a third of a cup of that distilled water and pour it into the bowl, will you?"
      Marcus nodded and carefully poured distilled water into a beaker, and then dumped the whole thing into the bowl. I took a deep breath and drew on my magic, as I stirred the gunk from the shed into a fine grey paste.
      "That should do it," I said as I took the opal and dangled it into the goop.
      "What's the rock on a string for?" asked Marcus.
      "This spell is called the penndulata – it's a very basic locating spell that draws on the tiniest fragments of magical energy in an object. In a moment, I'm going to dangle it over the map of Calgary and wherever the goop I've slopped all over the opal drops on the map will point to places where either the former spirit has been or, if we're lucky, we might find a clue as to who pulled it from the other side."
      "Will it work?"
      I shrugged. "Hopefully. Maybe you might want to step back in case I