Where the Staircase Ends (3 page)

I couldn’t finish the sentence. Wasn’t I … what? My mind grappled for the answer but couldn’t find one.

It was the first day of school, first period. I was exactly where I was supposed to be. But why did I feel like I was just someplace else?

I stared at the door to my classroom, shaking my head in confusion.

Strange.
I took a hesitant step forward.

Maybe it was just nerves. I looked at the other kids milling around the classroom, their eyes flicking toward the door like they were waiting for someone. Last year, Sunny and I sat in the back row whenever there wasn’t assigned seating. We’d stack our bags and notebooks on the empty chairs around us until we’d decided who we wanted to sit by. This year, I only had two classes with Sunny, and so far things were playing out exactly as my nightmares predicted. The room was filled with faces I didn’t recognize and kids whose names I couldn’t remember, with the exception of Alana James who I intentionally ignored. Someone else had nabbed the back row and laid claim to the surrounding desks. There was no one for me to sit by. I picked at the polish on my left thumb, trying to look like I didn’t care.

“Are you lost?” Brandon Blakes came up behind, his barked words making me jump. I had the strangest sense of déjà-vu. “I think you must be lost. You do realize this is advanced chemistry, right?”

He sashayed closer to me, swishing in such a way that I thought of Sunny’s nickname for him:
douche fag
. I was never really sure about the latter part of the nickname, but he was undoubtedly the biggest douche I had ever met.

“Yes, Brandon, I realize this is
advanced
chemistry. I’m not lost,” I said in the biggest you’re-an-asshole
voice I could muster. Arguing with Brandon was not the way I wanted to start the school year, especially since he was probably going to be in most of my classes
now that the educational powers-that-be decided to dump me into almost all honors courses.

I started to move toward the opposite side of the room, but he scampered along after me, breathing like a steam engine. He wore a neatly pressed long-sleeved plaid button down tucked into his equally tidy pleat-waisted pants. If it wasn’t for his perfect posture and youthful face, he easily could’ve been mistaken for a forty-year-old man. A
prissy
forty-year-old man.

“Please tell me you’re not in this class,” he said, making no attempt to hide his contempt. He didn’t like me because I was Sunny’s best friend, and he hated Sunny about as much as anyone could hate another person. Not that I could blame him.
Douche fag
caught on pretty quickly.

I shrugged my backpack off my shoulder and racked my brain for a response that would remedy the situation. Just because I was in his world now didn’t mean I was going to let him act like a jerk all year long.

He continued to yip at me, saying something about how the educational system was really going to hell if they were letting people like me into the advanced classes. I was about to tell him where he could shove his unwanted opinions when Justin Cobb walked up and placed his hand on Brandon’s shoulder.

“It’s barely eight thirty,” Justin said, giving Brandon’s shoulder a squeeze. “How could Taylor have already done something to piss you off?” He used his grip to steer Brandon to the opposite end of the classroom and press him into an empty desk, not in a mean or violent way, but in a way that let Brandon know who was in control of the situation. “How about at least letting her get settled before you start harassing her? No need to make her feel unwelcome on the first day.”

Brandon looked slightly stunned, blinking up at Justin while color rushed into his cheeks, but apparently the message was received because he didn’t shoot me his usual stink eye.

I must’ve looked like a fish standing there with my mouth hanging open. Before I could even mumble a thank you, Justin shot me the smallest of winks followed by a sly, knowing smile as he slid into a desk in the back of the room. Then he crossed his arms over his chest, stretched his legs out in front of him, and closed his eyes, as though he was settling in for his morning nap now that the damsel (me) had been rescued by the prince (him).

There was a desk open next to him, but I didn’t want to come off like a stalker. Instead, I claimed the desk caddy-corner to his so I could watch him without being obvious, which was a smart move because once I started looking at him it was hard to look away. I mostly saw Justin at parties or after school by the water tower, where all the smokers hung out. I never got a good look at him because his face was typically hidden under the brim of a baseball cap, but hats were verboten inside school walls according to the hallway Gestapo, so this was the first opportunity I had to really look at Justin close up. I finally saw what all of the fuss was about.

There was the obvious stuff, like his height and the lean muscles that fought against the fabric of his T-shirt. But up close I could see the way his dark eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, which were dusted with the tiniest hint of freckles barely visible against his tanned skin. There was something endearing in the way his dark hair held the slight shape of the hat he’d worn earlier that morning, the disheveled locks begging to have a hand smooth them back into place. But the thing that made me want to keep looking was his grin—an open parenthesis stretching across his face. Even when sleeping, the corners of his mouth stayed tipped up in his Mona Lisa mystery smile, as though life was a happy joke and he was the only one in on the punch line. I wanted in on the joke. I wanted in on the joke in a bad way.

Maybe the year wouldn’t be quite so heinous after all.

Mrs. Polk was explaining how to turn scientific observations into hypotheses when her eyes narrowed on Justin’s napping form.

“Excuse me, Mr. Cobb,” she said, crossing the classroom to rap her hand against the plywood surface of his desk. Her skin strained against her too-tight bun, making her look like a hawk ready to snatch its prey. “I realize this is the first day of class so you’re not familiar with my rules, but I don’t take kindly to anyone sleeping in my class. We’re here to learn, Mr. Cobb, and if you’re not going to listen, then I suggest you head to the principal's office to see how he feels about your little classroom nap.”

The class watched curiously as Justin opened his eyes slowly to meet her gaze, his smile broadening when he sat up.

“Sorry, Mrs. Polk, but I wasn’t sleeping.” He cleared his throat, leaning forward as he folded his hands on top of his desk. “I was actually listening.”

Then he did the most amazing thing I have ever heard—he proceeded to recite the last few minutes of her lecture almost verbatim, recalling the details as if he’d heard the same lecture a hundred times before.

Mrs. Polk blinked back at him a few times, stunned and at a loss for words. Then she gave him a terse nod and headed back to her lectern.

“Very well then. Where was I?”

Justin stretched back into his previous slumber position, but not before turning around to meet my eyes with one final wink. I had to check the corners of my mouth for drool.

When class ended, I pulled a classic Sunny maneuver. Using my elbow, I nudged my pencil off the edge of my desk with enough force that it bounced up the row toward Justin. He looked down at it, then back at me, just in time to see me fake-reaching for it in such a way that my cleavage was in perfect viewing range. He smiled and passed it back to me.

“See you later, Taylor.”

“See ya,” I said, giving him the warmest, most welcoming grin I could muster.

Game on, Justin Cobb.

SOMEONE ELSE

The classroom faded from view, and my feet were back on the stairs working their way upward as though I’d been climbing the whole time. I felt dizzy, but otherwise everything was the same as it had been before I’d touched the Justin-ghost, which was now nowhere to be seen.

I shook my head to rid it of the memory. Was it all in my head? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, one thing was clear: touching the ghosts made weird shit happen.

Even if I couldn’t touch him, I wanted Justin to come back. I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to talk to him. Hell, I would have talked to almost anyone. Even Brandon Blakes.
For the love of God, please, give me someone to talk to
.

“Hello!” I yelled, stopping mid-stride. “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? Justin-ghost? Sunny-ghost? Anyone? Please … ”

I held my breath, like I expected something to happen, but the air was still and silent. I set my foot on the next step and let my shoulders sag with defeat, feeling utterly and completely alone.

Then I heard the voice.

It was faint at first; so faint I thought I might have imagined it. Then it came again, louder and clearer than before.

“Is someone there?” A woman’s voice called in the distance. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes! I’m here! I can hear you!” My stomach did a somersault, then a back handspring. Someone was there! Someone could hear me! “Where are you? I’ll come find you!”

“Hello?” she said again. “Is anyone there?”

I filled my lungs with air so I could shout as loud as possible. “Yes, I’m here!” It sounded like the voice came from somewhere on the steps above me. If I could only reach her.

“I can’t turn around,” the voice said. It was fainter again, as though she had moved up the staircase and away from me. “Why can’t I turn around? What is this place?”

“I can’t turn around either. Listen, can you stay put? Let me come to you?” I waited for a second, but there was no answer.

“Hello?” I called. “Are you still there? I’m coming to get you. Stay put, okay? If you can hear me stay where you are!”

I didn’t wait for an answer before I started running up the steps, pumping my legs and arms as fast as I could manage. It didn’t even matter who was up there, I just didn’t want to be alone anymore.

I ran with my head tilted upward, scanning the stairs for the source of the voice. The steps whizzed past me. My flip-flops clapped a steady rhythm against my heels. I ran and ran, but the backdrop didn’t change.

“Are you still there?” I stopped so I could listen for a response. No one answered.

“
Are you still there? Can you please say something? Please!
”

Silence.

I didn’t realize I was crying until the sob erupted from my chest. Where could she have gone? Why couldn’t she hear me anymore?

I cradled my head in my hands as my body shook, lurching from side to side. None of it made any sense. Nothing about this horrible place made any sense. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be anywhere but on the steps.

Something tapped me on the shoulder.

When I looked up, Justin stood beside me with a Kleenex in his hand. I stared at the white tissue, not believing it was real until he finally pressed it into my open palm. The material felt soft as I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. It was
real
. I could feel it between my fingers.

“How did you—”

He shrugged and walked up a few steps, then turned to see if I followed.

“Are you for real?” I could still make out the shape of the stairs through his gauzy form, but the tissue in my hand was solid. I wiped at my nose with it and handed it back to him. “I mean, are you really here, or am I imaging you?”

His half-grin stretched into a full-wattage smile, and he walked back down the steps until there was only an inch of space between us. The sky matched his eyes, bright and blue. I was afraid to touch him—afraid that if I did the weird shit would happen again. I’d had enough weird shit happen in the last few hours to last a lifetime, but he was so close. So, so close. I could see the slight hint of fuzz around the edge of his jaw and the tiny dusting of freckles on the bridge of his nose.

“I want you to be real,” I said to him.

He nodded and placed his hands on my shoulders. I could feel the warmth of his hands against my skin. It made my stomach erupt into a full-blown gymnastics routine.

Nothing strange happened when he touched me. The stairs didn’t swallow me up and spit me out someplace else. There was only the feeling of his hands on my shoulders, solid and wonderful.

He leaned into me, his eyes softly closing. I closed my eyes, too, and waited for our lips to meet while my heart skittered nervously inside my chest. When there was no kiss, I opened my eyes. Then I let out a strangled yelp.

Justin was gone. In his place was my boyfriend, Logan.

THE NOT SO GRATEFUL DEAD