Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife Read Online Free PDF Page A

Emos I’d known at school were notoriously unstable, but no one I knew had tried to kill themselves. I wondered whether she’d actually meant to die or intended it to be a cry for attention. Did I dare ask?
    In the end, I bottled it and changed the subject. ‘What gives with the live ones? Do they come here to find out stuff from their dead loved ones?’
    Hep snapped her bubble gum, looking bored. ‘Yeah. The mediums here are really good. Dead people come from miles around but hardly any of them get a word in. The psychics get tired out really fast when everyone shouts at once.’
    Her relentless chewing fascinated me. ‘Did you have that gum when you died?’
    She blew another bubble, nodding. ‘Cola-flavoured Hubba Bubba. Not that it’s got much flavour left after a year.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Where did you find Droopy? Helooks like he doesn’t get out much.’
    Something about the way she said it made me think she wasn’t as dismissive as she was trying to make out. ‘Jeremy? He’s all right, for an old bloke. He’s the reason I’m here.’
    She kicked at a stone with a heavy Doc Marten boot. It bounced away into the road. ‘Can he see anyone else?’
    ‘Not so far. He thinks the church is half empty.’ I watched as she took aim at a discarded Coke can. Realisation dawned. ‘You just kicked that stone!’
    Hep scowled. ‘Yeah? There’s no law against it.’
    Excitement fizzed inside me. ‘You can touch things. How do you do that?’
    ‘Blimey, you really are a newbie, aren’t you?’ A grin split her pale face. She was much less scary when she smiled. ‘It’s easy. Pull up a chair and I’ll show you how it’s done.’

Chapter 5
    If you’ve ever watched a supposed ghost documentary, you’ll know there’s more than one flavour of ghost. Some are the standard
Scooby Doo
spooks, who wave their arms around and moan all the time. Then there are those who choose to spend eternity nicking anything that isn’t nailed down and hiding it so they can watch the living tear their hair out looking for their stuff. I once blamed my missing RE homework on ghostly goings-on. It earned me a detention and an appointment with the Deputy Head.
    Hep wasn’t either of those. She was a poltergeist, the kind who loved to throw things. I suppose as an Emo she must have been pretty close to the emotional edge when she was alive, so it made perfect sense that her feelings still ran high after death. Whatever the reason, Hep was oneangry spectre, and she’d learned how to channel that fury to move things around, often violently.
    ‘The secret is to focus completely on what you want to move,’ she advised as I prodded without success at a fast food carton on the ground. ‘If you really want it, you can make bits of yourself solid long enough to manipulate things. It’s easier if you draw on a strong emotion.’
    I imagined a disembodied finger floating in front of me. ‘Doesn’t that freak out the living?’
    She threw me a level look. ‘Obviously we can’t be seen or the entire world would believe in ghosts. Now, imagine your finger is a flick-knife and the stone is your worst enemy.’
    ‘Are you always this bloodthirsty?’ Lying flat out on the pavement with my tongue sticking out with concentration, I could just imagine what my old school bully would say if she could see me now. Something devastatingly witty, no doubt.
    A sneering giggle floated through the air. ‘Down in the gutter with the other crap, Hep? Or should I call you Rosemary?’
    I frowned and pushed myself up. Who the flip was Rosemary?
    ‘My name is Hepzibah,’ Hep spat, her tone reaching new depths of surliness. ‘Anyway, I’m surprised you can see who you’re talking to with your head stuck so far up your arse.’
    I turned round. In front of me was the most gorgeous pair of turquoise sandals. My gaze travelled upwards to a sickeningly pretty blonde straight out of an American teen comedy. She was flanked on either side by a