The Good Girl. Christy Barritt

drop $400 for a trendy new purse, all while forgoing paying her rent, so a house this normal seemed like it’d be the bane of her existence.

      She laughed, the sound carefree, just like Lana. “I know. It is, isn’t it? That’s why I decided it was perfect.”

      I stared at the white ceiling and remembered the threatening note. “Listen, there are a couple of things I need to tell you.”

      “Me, too. Tara, you’ll never believe this—Nate popped the question last night. We’re getting married!”

      A foreign emotion filled my chest. I realized I needed to react and forced out a congratulations. She went on and on about how he proposed and when they would get married. They’d probably have a perfect life together. Lots of children and laughter and love.

      That’s the way it worked for my sister. She never followed the rules. She lived for herself completely, and life had been all rainbows and blue skies.

      “Tara? You still there?”

      I snapped back to reality. “I’m really happy for you, Lana.”

      “Thanks, big sis. Listen, take care of Doggie Gaga for me. Nate and I might extend our vacation, make it more of an early honeymoon. Are you okay with that? I know we planned to spend some time together when I got back, but sometimes these things happen.”

      “I’ll be fine, Lana. Don’t worry about me.” Gaga jumped in my lap, and I stroked her soft white fur.

      “And don’t let the ghost scare you away.”

      I remembered the eerie messages I’d found and stiffened. “Ghost?”

      Lana laughed. “Yeah, there’s a rumor that a ghost haunts the place. That’s why I got the house at such a good price. Some woman died there or something. That’s what the story is, at least.”

      I swallowed, though my saliva didn’t want to go down. “Is that right?”

      “Crazy, isn’t it?”

      “Not so much, Lana.” I hugged Gaga to my chest. “Do you have any enemies?”

      “More than I can count. Why?” She said it without a care in the world. Nope, she didn’t give a second thought to what people said about her. Must be nice.

      I told her about the note and the message on the mirror.

      “Really?” She screeched, sounding fifty-percent excited and one-hundred-percent intrigued. “That’s crazy. Who would do that?”

      “I was hoping you could tell me that.”

      “I have no idea. It’s creepy.” She paused. “I have a couple of pretty sick friends. I’ll call them and make sure they’re not behind it. In the meantime, if you have any trouble, my friend Candy can help you out. She did pick you up from the airport, right?”

      “I did meet her.” I didn’t want to sound like a tattle-tale.

      “And there’s this guy named Mark I want you to meet. He’s super cute and just the RX you need right now.”

      “Not interested.” I picked some stray dog hair from my shirt and shook my head as if Lana could see me.

      “Oh, come on, Tara. One day, you’ll have to start dating again.”

      “Not really. Being single isn’t that bad. It beats subjecting myself to more heartache.” I mentally “amened” myself, even throwing in a “you got that right, sister.” Who needed actual friends when I had a whole choir in my head backing me up?

      “You picked a bad one, Tara. You’ve got to face that. Peter was no good. Don’t let him ruin your future.”

      Lana did not understand. At. All. “Call it what you want. I don’t think I can ever trust a man enough to have a relationship again.” Girl, we don’t blame you. We’d be the same way. I loved my mental choir.

      “Well, just in case you change your mind, I’ll call Mark and ask him to keep an eye on you.”

      “Lana...” I threatened.

      She laughed. “What?”

      “Don’t play matchmaker.”

      “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. Sometimes you’ve just got to let your hair down and live a little.”

      I couldn’t even argue with her. My mental chorus of support disappeared. “Maybe you’re right.”

      She gasped. “Are you admitting that I could quite possibly be on to something? This is a first. Listen, sis, I’ve gotta run. Give Gaga a big kiss for me.”

      I set the phone back on its cradle and stared at it. My sister...I shook my head and laughed. Could we be more opposite?

      Don’t let the ghost scare you away...

      My laugh faded. Ghosts? They weren’t real.

      Despite my logic, I really wished Lana hadn’t told me that.

      ~*~

      I yawned and pushed myself back into the couch. I’d wasted three hours flipping through TV stations, staring blankly at inanimate objects and otherwise feeling bored out of my mind. My sister subscribed to three magazines: Vogue, TV Guide, and the National Enquirer. None were really my thing. So, instead, my thoughts had done their daily replay of all of my mistakes, faults, and missteps—a nightly routine, it seemed. Some people counted sheep; I counted my mistakes one by one.

      Finally, I stood. It was time for bed, that dreaded time of night where sleep made you vulnerable to the world around you. Ever since I was young, darkness and nighttime had frightened me. Still, to this day, my fears could get the best of me, especially when I was alone. Fears over creeps and crime and home invasions. The events of today only made my fears more real. Someone had been inside my home. Would they come back?

      I turned off the light in the kitchen, then moved into the great room and tugged both lamps off. It was June, and I was too stubborn to turn the AC on. After all, I’d escaped the stifling heat in Florida, where opening the windows up made the house feel like a sauna. The weather here in Minnesota beckoned me to enjoy it. During the day, the house had felt perfect after I’d cracked the windows and let a gentle breeze roll through. Right now, the house was warm, but I didn’t dare keep any windows up. The thought of someone cutting the screen and sneaking inside as I slept was too vivid in my mind.

      Not that anyone could sneak up on me with these squeaky wooden floors, I comforted myself. The oak-stained planks might be beautiful as they stretched across the entire level, but they were old—original to the house maybe?—and every other step I took was announced with a squeak or a groan.

      The light from my bedroom illuminated my path. I cracked one window by my bed, only because there was a safety latch that allowed it to stay open a mere three inches. No one could fit through that opening. A crisp breeze crept inside.

      I stripped down to my underwear and a tank top, threw back the thick comforter, and crawled between the cool sheets. Once I was settled, I calmed myself by taking inventory of Lana’s bedroom decor. Lana had probably been thinking of a summery white when she decorated the monotone bedroom. It boasted an alabaster comforter on a silvery, metal bed, billowy ivory curtains, paintings of pasty white roses in pale frames, a snowy-colored rug on a light oak floor. The gang at HGTV would be proud of her overall look. To me, it was all...spooky, ghost-like.

      I ignored my shivers and hesitantly reached for the light by the bed. My fingers lingered on the twist. I held my breath, then turned the plastic knob and ducked under the sheet before I had time to stare the blackness in the face. My heart raced, and I listened for any suspicious sounds.

      A car zoomed past on the street outside. A dog barked. The alarm clock hummed on the nightstand. The house creaked. It was just settling, I told myself. Old houses did that.

      I’m still here.

      The