I Text Dead People Read online

  ALSO BY ROSE COOPER

  The Blogtastic! Novels

  Gossip from the Girls’ Room

  Rumors from the Boys’ Room

  Secrets from the Sleeping Bag

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Text and interior illustrations copyright © 2015 by Rose Cooper Cover art copyright © 2015 by Rose Cooper

  All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

  randomhousekids.com

  Educators and librarians, for a variety of teaching tools, visit us at RHTeachersLibrarians.com

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Cooper, Rose

  I text dead people / Rose Cooper. — First edition.

  pages cm

  Summary: “As if living in a creepy house on cemetery grounds weren’t horrible enough, Annabel accidentally becomes a guide that bridges the gap between the living and the dead with her cell phone. Which means she is pestered by the deceased 24/7. And until she helps them with their absurd unresolved issues and ridiculous requests, no one will be able to rest in peace”—Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-0-385-74391-4 (hc) — ISBN 978-0-375-99138-7 (glb) —

  ISBN 978-0-385-37321-0 (ebook) [1. Dead—Fiction. 2. Future life—Fiction. 3. Text messages (Cell phone systems)—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction.]

  I. Title.

  PZ7.C78768Iak 2015

  [Fic]—dc23

  2014020235

  eBook ISBN 9780385373210

  Cover design by Tamaye Perry

  eBook design adapted from printed book design by Stephanie Moss

  Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.

  v4.1

  a

  Contents

  Cover

  Also by Rose Cooper

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Anna

  Chapter 2: Anna

  Chapter 3: Lucy

  Chapter 4: Anna

  Chapter 5: Anna

  Chapter 6: Anna

  Chapter 7: Lucy

  Chapter 8: Anna

  Chapter 9: Anna

  Chapter 10: Anna

  Chapter 11: Lucy

  Chapter 12: Anna

  Chapter 13: Lucy

  Chapter 14: Anna

  Chapter 15: Anna

  Chapter 16: Anna

  Chapter 17: Anna

  Chapter 18: Lucy

  Chapter 19: Anna

  Chapter 20: Lucy

  Chapter 21: Anna

  Chapter 22: Lucy

  Chapter 23: Anna

  Chapter 24: Anna

  Chapter 25: Anna

  Chapter 26: Anna

  Chapter 27: Anna

  Chapter 28: Anna

  Chapter 29: Anna

  Chapter 30: Lucy

  Chapter 31: Anna

  Chapter 32: Lucy

  Chapter 33: Anna

  Chapter 34: Anna

  Chapter 35: Anna

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  TO MOM:

  Without you, I wouldn’t have these stories to tell, the courage to laugh about the experiences, or the strength to pursue my dreams. Also, I would never have taken those typing classes and my texting skills would be far less impressive.

  There’s no such thing as ghosts.

  Ghosts don’t exist.

  Annabel Craven tried to convince herself that there was no reason to be freaked. But then the wrought-iron gate slammed shut behind her with a loud clunk and she knew she wasn’t crazy.

  She definitely had a reason.

  Anna glanced back, shuddering slightly at the sight of the house looming behind her. Her house now. Maddsen Manor was run-down and creepy. Something seriously right out of a horror film. The dingy gray paint was flaked and peeling, and the windowpanes were smeared with grime and dirt. The backyard was overgrown with bushes, and brambles reached out like claws, ready to snatch anyone who dared walk too close. It looked like it had been abandoned for several years, not just a few months.

  Looking at it made Anna’s heart sink.

  When she and her mom had gotten the news that they’d inherited a mansion from her mom’s estranged uncle, Anna had thought it would mean leaving behind their cramped one-bedroom apartment, getting away from the bad memories and the awful luck that always seemed to follow them. She hadn’t realized their fresh start would include living in a small town where the dead outnumbered the living.

  Turning away, she forced herself to keep walking, her eyes darting nervously around the deserted graveyard. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. But that was impossible. The mansion was the only house on the dead-end street, and her mom had already left for work.

  Anna quickened her pace, not wanting to be late for her first day at her new school. She focused on the trees ahead, not allowing her gaze to stray to the tombstones on either side of the path. Or to that spooky statue on her right. Or the raven that had just landed on the statue’s hand.

  Focus.

  She never got creeped out like this. Never.

  Well, except when she was reading her horror novels. Or when she stayed up late watching Hitchcock movies. With the lights off. Because she was a risk taker like that. And she loved being scared.

  But that was different. That was intentional. And this was…this was real life.

  Dead people stay dead.

  Anna told herself she was being a baby. Winchester Cemetery wasn’t really haunted, despite the rumors she’d overheard. The girls in line in front of her at the discount store had been so involved in their conversation, they didn’t even notice Anna as they talked about the creepy old burial ground next to Mad Manor. “My brother totally saw a ghost there,” one of the girls had said. “That place is haunted for sure.”

  Anna had rolled her eyes. Just stories made up by bored people living in a tiny town.

  But a shiver ran down her spine now just the same. She plucked a leaf from her tangled hair and picked up her pace.

  Whose great idea was it to take a shortcut through the cemetery anyway? Oh, right. Hers. But she’d been at home in bed with all the lights on when she’d made that decision. It seemed pretty stupid now.

  Anna chewed on a fingernail. Her senses were picking up every little detail surrounding her, each setting her more on edge than the one before.

  The crunching of her sneakers on loose gravel.

  The scent of fresh-cut flowers on the graves.

  The light drops of rain.

  Her mom hadn’t mentioned anything about rain that morning. In fact, she’d told Anna to bring a sweater in case of wind. Anna had listened. She always did. She pulled the thin cardigan closer against her body.

  Then her foot hit a rock and she slipped, her wrist grazing the concrete pavement. She could feel the sting immediately, feel the warm blood welling up along her right arm and dripping to the ground. She sat up, ignoring the persistent pain, pulled an old tissue from her worn jeans pocket, and wrapped it snugly around her wrist.

  Suddenly the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickled and an unexplainable surge of panic ran through her. Something wasn’t right. That much she knew. She just couldn’t explain what it was.

  A flash of movement caught her eye from the dark fo
rest ahead. Almost as if someone was running.

  Annabel froze at the exact moment someone whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t move.”

  The male voice was silky smooth. Anna stood perfectly still, her muscles tensed and her eyes closed tightly. A new shiver ran down her backbone. Her mind began reeling with possible dangers.

  “Maybe dealing with you won’t be as difficult as I thought,” the guy said in that dangerously soft tone. Anna didn’t respond—couldn’t respond. His footsteps slid over leaves as he circled around until he stood directly in front of her.

  She flinched when his warm breath, reeking of garlic and cigarettes, hit her face. She forced her eyes to open. He was tall and lanky, with eyes as gray as the cloudy, miserable day. His face was gaunt, and his hair, wet from the raindrops, was so black that it had a blue tint. A wiry beard traced the sharp angles of his jaw, making him look older than the teenager he no doubt was. He stood perfectly straight, hands clasped behind him.

  Instinctively, Anna took a step back.

  His lips twisted into a half sneer.

  “What do you want?” Anna tried to keep her voice from shaking.

  “You have something that belongs to me.” His eyes wandered over her before settling on the messenger bag she held tightly against her body.

  “Um, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else,” she said carefully, watching the expression on his face as his eyes flashed.

  The rain picked up.

  “Annabel,” he breathed, venom filling his voice. The dull rumble of thunder was distant in the sky. “Don’t mess with me. Hand it over.”

  She stared at him, shocked. How did he know her name? She shook her head vigorously, stumbling back in panic and falling over a low headstone. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain, and backed farther away. “No,” she said. A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky at the exact moment she turned and ran.

  The rain pelted her face as she tore through the graveyard, the guy’s footsteps not far behind. The forest loomed closer. Anna had no idea what—or who—lurked inside. But at that moment, it was her best shot. She would take running into an unknown forest over a crazy guy any day.

  It was almost pitch black in the woods. Rain dripped from the drenched canopy above her. She zigzagged through the trees, looping around branches and hopping over rocks. Those years of dance classes were definitely paying off.

  She pushed through the thick undergrowth and shivered as more rain splattered her. The wind died down as she ran farther and farther into the forest.

  Out of breath, Anna slowed to a walk and stopped, turning in a circle. The only sound now was the pounding rain and her own heavy breathing. She didn’t think she was still being followed, but she wasn’t certain.

  Then it hit her.

  She was lost in the center of the forest, with no sense of direction. No clue which way was out. And no way of contacting her mom.

  Last week Anna had stupidly left her phone in the pocket of her University of Santa Cruz sweatshirt and thrown it in the wash. Of course her mom had chosen to use that occasion to teach her a lesson in responsibility. The only way Anna could get a new phone was to buy it herself.

  Anna swallowed her panic. At least she had ditched that creepy guy. And if she didn’t show up for school, the Academy would call her mom and she would come looking for her. Eventually.

  Up ahead she saw a glimmer of light through the trees. As she inched forward, Anna stumbled over a large root sticking out from an overgrown tree. This had to be a record for the most falls in one day. Her clumsiness had started right around the time her dance class ended, but this was bordering on loser status.

  She looked down and a glint of silver caught her eye. She reached under the root and pulled out…a phone. It was in a black, scuffed-up case, although the phone itself seemed in good condition. Not a scratch marred its slick surface; no fingerprints smudged the screen.

  Anna palmed the phone, turning it over several times. Who would leave this out here? And why?

  Suddenly she was overcome with relief. She could call for help!

  She punched the power button repeatedly. Nothing happened; the phone remained dark. Dread settled like a rock in the pit of her stomach. The battery was probably dead. Nothing ever went right for her; why would now be any different?

  She unzipped the small front pocket on her knockoff black messenger bag and slipped the phone in.

  When she reached the edge of the clearing, the light was gone. There was nothing but complete darkness. She pushed a branch out of the way, sending icy water droplets showering down on her skin.

  “Nice one, loser,” she muttered to herself as she hesitantly stepped into the clearing.

  A twig snapped to her right.

  Her heart fearfully thrummed in her chest. She took off at a sprint, everything blurring as she ran. Her lungs burned and her legs felt wobbly and weak. Operating on pure adrenaline, she kept going until she found her way out.

  Anna managed to make it to school ten minutes after the first bell. She didn’t even want to think about how bad she looked. That would require a whole other level of brain activity that she wasn’t even capable of at the moment.

  Anna trudged up to the entrance. Clumps of ivy and tendrilly green plants framed the archway. A bronze plate above the double doors read WINCHESTER ACADEMY. The place looked like some kind of exclusive private school, but it was the public school for all seventh through twelfth graders in Winchester Village.

  Anna sighed as she gripped the handle, which was cold and slick from the rain.

  “Here goes nothing.”

  She pushed the heavy door open, the warm air rushing to greet her as she stepped inside. The office was to her right. A tiny blond woman with small black-framed glasses was swallowed up behind a huge mahogany desk. When she saw Anna, she waved her over.

  “You must be Annabel. Come in and we’ll get you started.”

  That was both encouraging and dismaying. It was nice to be welcomed so warmly, but if they recognized every one of their students, how big could this school be?

  “Hi,” Anna said. She took off her soaking sweater and stood holding it awkwardly. The walls were decorated with certificates and plaques showing off just how spectacular this place was. The front office had a welcoming feel to it—leather couches against the walls, a small wood-burning fireplace to her left, and a built-in saltwater aquarium with LED mood lighting right next to the large frosted glass door with the words PRINCIPAL WOODMOORE on it in gold letters. So different from her school back in Sacramento, with its overgrown potted plants and hard plastic chairs in the lobby. But still, it had been her school.

  Anna couldn’t help but feel a little homesick. She reminded herself it was for the best.

  “I’m Mrs. Clover.” The high-pitched voice matched the secretary perfectly. “It’s great to see you’re finally here,” she said, her eyes flicking to the large wall clock.

  “There was this crazy guy at the cemetery. He tried to follow me, and—”

  Mrs. Clover waved her off. “I’m not interested in excuses.”

  Anna nodded, feeling a lump in her throat.

  As if just now getting a good look at Anna, Mrs. Clover scrunched her nose and dramatically placed her right hand over her chest. “Oh! You look like a drowned rat.”

  Annabel shrugged, chewing her bottom lip.

  “You might want to get yourself cleaned up before heading to your first class. You’re already late, so I doubt another few minutes will matter much.”

  After Mrs. Clover explained how to get to the girls’ room, she gave Anna a schedule along with a crisp laminated map of the school.

  “The last three classes of the day are your GATE sessions,” she explained.

  “GATE?”

  “Gifted and Talented Education. Your test score suggests you are at a level above most of your peers.” She raised her eyebrows as if she hardly believed it.

  Anna had forgotten ab
out the test. Before enrolling her as a student, Winchester Academy had insisted she take a placement exam.

  When she’d been handed the test, Anna had drawn a blank. She’d sat at a creaky wooden desk in a room by herself, reading the same questions over and over again, unable to concentrate.

  After thirty minutes, the instructor had come back into the room to check on her.

  “I’m almost done,” Anna had lied. Then she’d panicked and guessed on every question, randomly filling in the multiple-choice bubbles. If Anna hadn’t seen the letter of acceptance mailed to her mom, she wouldn’t have believed it.

  I’m accidentally gifted, Anna thought. How will I pull this off?

  “Good luck, Annabel.” Mrs. Clover gave her a tight-lipped smile, then turned her back, dismissing her as she began riffling through a stack of papers.

  In the girls’ room, Anna wiped her face with a paper towel and pulled her dull brown hair into a messy bun. She tried to dry her clothes with the hand dryer, but it was useless.

  Anna glanced down at her schedule. Her first class was Language Arts. According to the map, it was on the other side of the building. Great. As if her legs didn’t already feel like limp noodles.

  The teacher, Mr. Berkin, was a short, stocky man with slicked-back brown hair. He squinted at Anna as she opened the door to the classroom.

  “Uh, Annabel?”

  She wondered if he asked her that because he wasn’t sure of her name or because he couldn’t see her properly.

  “Yeah.” Anna’s voice squeaked. She cleared her throat, feeling the heat rush straight to her face.

  “Have a seat.” He gestured grandly at the desks in front of him, as if he were offering a prize.

  Anna headed toward the back, running a critical eye over the dozen students. They were all looking at her with great curiosity. She was willing to bet she was the most interesting thing to happen since the first McDonald’s had opened in the tiny town just the month before.

  “Hey,” she mumbled, giving the class her patented new-girl smile.

  A few students murmured back halfheartedly. A girl with vibrant red curly hair that fell in ringlets to her shoulders gave her a friendly wave.