Informationen zum Autor Cameron Dokey is the author of nearly thirty young adult novels. Her other fairy tales include The Storyteller's Daughter , Sunlight and Shadow , and Golden . She has also written the #1 bestselling How Not to Spend Your Senior Year . She lives in Seattle, Washington, with her husband and four cats. Klappentext Rule #1: If at all possible, don't pretend to be something you're not. Specifically, don't play dead. Trust me on this one. I did it, so I should know. Jo O'Connor has spent her whole life moving around. When it comes to new schools, there's not a trick in the book about starting over that Jo doesn't know. But life is about to teach her a new trick: how to disappear entirely. Rule #2: Always expect the Spanish Inquisition, no matter what anyone else does. They have to move again. Now. This very night. Jo knows better than to argue. Her dad is the key witness in a major case against a big-time bad guy. But Jo just can't resist one last visit to the school where she's been so happy. All she wants is to say good-bye. That can't cause any problems, can it? Rule #3: Never assume you can predict the future. Now Jo's one last visit has landed her smack in the middle of a ghost story. Specifically, her own. By the time it's over, she'll have a whole new set of rules about what's real, what's make-believe, andmost of allwhat's important. Leseprobe Chapter One The story you are about to read is 100 percent true. No, honestly. Of course some things have been changed to protect the innocent. But you'd expect that. It's standard operating procedure when it comes to based-on-true-events stories. If this were a techno-thriller, I could say SOP. And I suppose I could anyway. Parts of my story are quite thrilling, though there really isn't anything particularly techno about them. Except for this one part where... Okay. Wait. I can't believe this is happening. I'm only a couple of paragraphs into this, and already I'm starting to tell things out of order. A thing which is pretty danged annoying, I must admit, though it does bring up an important question, which is as follows: Where does my 100-percent-true story truly start? I suppose you could say the whole thing started the day I was born. I'm thinking that's a bit extreme, though. As an alternative, I'm going to go with the third grade, which I think makes me about eight years old. I'm choosing this because that's the year my mom died, and my dad and I moved for the very first time. Actually let me rephrase that. This is an important point, and I need to make sure I get it just right. That's the year my mom was killed in a hit-and-run collision, and my dad and I moved for the very first time. Way back then, of course, I had no idea that these events were related, or that changing location on the spur of the moment was, paradoxically, about to become one of the most important constants in my life. Just how often did we move? Let me put it this way: To the best of my knowledge, I am the only person in the entire United States to have attended fourteen different elementary schools between the third and sixth grades. That's 3.5 schools a year, in case you're counting. The pace slowed down a little bit in junior high to 2.5 schools a year, then settled down to an even two for the years I was in high school. Except for senior year, of course, but I'll be explaining more about that in a moment. Why did we move so much? You're no doubt also wondering. The answer to this one is pretty simple. I don't know. Or, here's more of that getting-it-just-right thing again: I know now, but I didn't know at the time. I didn't even ask about it, to be completely honest. By the time I was old enough to question the way we lived, I was so used to the way Dad and I did things t...

Klappentext

Rule #1: If at all possible, don’t pretend to be something you’re not. Specifically, don’t play dead. Trust me on this one. I did it, so I should know.

Jo O’Connor has spent her whole life moving around. When it comes to new schools, there’s not a trick in the book about starting over that Jo doesn’t know. But life is about to teach her a new trick: how to disappear entirely.

Rule #2: Always expect the Spanish Inquisition, no matter what anyone else does.

They have to move again. Now. This very night. Jo knows better than to argue. Her dad is the key witness in a major case against a big-time bad guy. But Jo just can’t resist one last visit to the school where she’s been so happy. All she wants is to say good-bye. That can’t cause any problems, can it?

Rule #3: Never assume you can predict the future.

Now Jo’s one last visit has landed her smack in the middle of a ghost story. Specifically, her own. By the time it’s over, she’ll have a whole new set of rules about what’s real, what’s make-believe, and—most of all—what’s important.

Leseprobe
Chapter One

The story you are about to read is 100 percent true.

No, honestly.

Of course some things have been changed to protect the innocent. But you'd expect that. It's standard operating procedure when it comes to based-on-true-events stories. If this were a techno-thriller, I could say SOP. And I suppose I could anyway. Parts of my story are quite thrilling, though there really isn't anything particularly techno about them. Except for this one part where...

Okay. Wait.

I can't believe this is happening.

I'm only a couple of paragraphs into this, and already I'm starting to tell things out of order. A thing which is pretty danged annoying, I must admit, though it does bring up an important question, which is as follows:

Where does my 100-percent-true story truly start?

I suppose you could say the whole thing started the day I was born. I'm thinking that's a bit extreme, though. As an alternative, I'm going to go with the third grade, which I think makes me about eight years old. I'm choosing this because that's the year my mom died, and my dad and I moved for the very first time.

Actually let me rephrase that. This is an important point, and I need to make sure I get it just right.

That's the year my mom was killed in a hit-and-run collision, and my dad and I moved for the very first time.

Way back then, of course, I had no idea that these events were related, or that changing location on the spur of the moment was, paradoxically, about to become one of the most important constants in my life.

Just how often did we move? Let me put it this way: To the best of my knowledge, I am the only person in the entire United States to have attended fourteen different elementary schools between the third and sixth grades.

That's 3.5 schools a year, in case you're counting.

The pace slowed down a little bit in junior high to 2.5 schools a year, then settled down to an even two for the years I was in high school. Except for senior year, of course, but I'll be explaining more about that in a moment.

Why did we move so much? You're no doubt also wondering. The answer to this one is pretty simple.

I don't know.

Or, here's more of that getting-it-just-right thing again: I know now, but I didn't know at the time. I didn't even ask about it, to be completely honest. By the time I was old enough to question the way we lived, I was so used to the way Dad and I did things that I thought it was normal.

I did stop unpacking my suitcases after a while. This isn't nearly as weird as it sounds. You put your clothes away in dresser drawers. I put mine away in suitcases. In both cases, folding was involved. It also wasn't nearly as depressing as you might think. In fact, you can pretty much stop waiting for me to reveal my inner-trauma girl about this, because I simply haven't got one.

Over the years my dad and I developed a routine when it came t…