• I never asked for dead people to show up in my life. I never wanted to become friends with a gothic ghost, nor had I planned on sharing my attic bedroom with deceased souls.
    Then I met Friday McCallister the Thirteenth.

    "Haley, I know you hate old buildings," my mom said sarcastically as she parked her silver Prius in an ancient gravel driveway, "but this is your new home. Try to at least act like you're happy to be here."
    I looked at the creepy old Victorian manor house that loomed ominously before us and groaned. It wasn't that I didn't like places like this; in fact, I loved the look of the house. I just missed my friends back in Miami.
    This is going to take some getting used to, I thought.
    I opened the shotgun door and stepped into the cloud-filtered sunlight, yanking my black Megadeth backpack out of the car. Why had my divorced mother wanted to move from sunny Florida to the suburbs of Amano? Nebraska was probably one of the last places on Earth I'd ever want to live. But I couldn't change it.
    At least I'd had a birthday party before I left. All my friends showed up at my 14th birthday celebration; goths, punks, emos, and all those other social rejects at my conservative school who wore skulls, dyed their hair, and rocked to Avenged Sevenfold.
    I walked through the front door and into a large entryway. It was gloomy, like the exterior of the house, and it was dirty, as if it hadn't been cleaned since Abe Lincoln was assassinated. I climbed the dust-coated cedar staircase to the second floor. There was a long hallway with six doors. Looking behind each one, I found the master bedroom, a library, another hallway, a closet, and a dumbwaiter.
    Behind the sixth door was another staircase, this one made of metal and spiraling upward. Almost certain of what I'd find, I grabbed the cold iron railing and crept into the darkness. At the top, there was still very little light. I searched the wall for a light switch, but instead found curtains covering the balcony door.
    Pulling the two pieces of canvas apart, I let sunlight into my attic bedroom. I turned and gaped at the walls.
    The last person that lived in this room had left everything behind, including a gothic canopy bed, a wardrobe full of clothes purchased at either Hot Topic or Spencer's Gifts, a collection of CDs by all of my favorite bands, and large posters of the artists behind the albums; Disturbed, Evanescence, Slayer, Marilyn Manson, and Metallica. I pinched my arm to make sure it wasn't a dream. This was the room I'd always wanted; creepy, filled with my kind of stuff, and in an attic.
    I sat down on the bed and pulled a black MacBook Pro out of my backpack. My friends were expecting an email by now. I signed into my Gmail, deleted the accumulated spam, and clicked on "Compose Mail."

    To: "Lexi" lexikay@gmail.com, "Andrew" gothicandrew1@gmail.com, "Danny" danny_fml@gmail.com, "Alex" alexanderdidwhat@gmail.com, "Sarah" metalheadsarah@gmail.com, "Maddi" maddi_lynn@gmail.com, "Renee" reneeslays_gh3@gmail.com, "Jake" rocker_jk@gmail.com

    Subject: First day in new house

    Hey guys!
    Creepy old house + awesome attic bedroom - my best friends = mixed emotions! I miss you all.
    I've set up a website just for us. We can post blogs, I.M. each other, and get updates on the Coffin Club interests. It's like Facebook, Gmail, and YouTube combined with a goth theme. I'll set up accounts tomorrow. The link is attached, so check it out!
    I love you all and hope you like the website. Call my cell sometime. I now have unlimited talk and text.
    - Haley Stoner
    halestone@gmail.com
    http://www.coffinclub.net/

    "Hales, you in there?" Mom called up the wrought-iron stairs. I sighed. "Yeah, Mom, just emailing the club." I stood up and slid down the banister. "Found my room. Wanna check it out?"
    Mom laughed. "I've seen it. I knew you'd like it. Take the boxes upstairs, okay?"
    I carried the three cardboard boxes upstairs one at a time. As I came up with the third box, I saw someone move near my bed. Setting the box down, I turned to see a gothic girl leaning against the bedposts.
    She was about my age and size. She had copper hair with black highlights, cadaverous skin, and grey eyes tinged with blue. But her sudden presence wasn't what scared me the most.
    I could see straight through her.