Wraith (6 page)

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” So confident and sure, cocky even. I hated him.

I realized Connor still had his hand on my arm and I yanked it away. “Please take me home,” I said, barely audible, but he heard me and his hand shifted the car in gear. I fought to keep the tears back. Evan was
not
using me. He volunteered. He showed up in my room and he made me laugh when I wanted to cry and he talked to me about music and art and books. He called the mean girls names and made fun of their clothes and hair.

He wasn’t stuck and I didn’t want him to go away.

Faster than I thought possible, we were in front of my house. I had no idea how he knew where I lived and I didn’t want to know. I’d been right. Connor was a jerk. Maybe he wasn’t making fun of me, but he didn’t know everything. I fumbled with the door and his long arm stretched over my body to the lever, but he didn’t open it, instead he trapped me with his arm. His face was close, and when he spoke I felt his breath on my cheek. “This isn’t over.”

He released the lock and I stumbled getting out of the car into the pouring rain. I flung my bag over my shoulder and flipped my hood up as I ran around the back of the car and up the front steps of my house to safety. I heard his engine flare as he pulled away from the curb, but I never looked back.

I
AVOIDED MY ROOM
and quiet corners all afternoon and evening. My mother and I prepared dinner together. It was one of those simple things that made her happy. My father and I watched a program about Hitler on the History Channel, and I feigned interest as I watched armies of men raise an arm in honor of a madman. Dad loved the phenomenon of mass behavior and how one man could convince millions that his bizarre attitudes were right. When it was over he patted my head, grabbed the latest edition of
This Old House
and went to bed. It was nice. And normal. Completely and utterly normal. And a mockery of what was really going on in my life.

Evan was around. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. My rain-soaked afternoon encounter with Connor left me raw and suspicious. Part of me knew Connor wasn’t lying. Why would he? The other part was terrified of the possible truths he told.

“Jane, you should head to bed,” my mother called from the living room, where she was immersed in a book.

“I know, I am,” I said, as I wandered around the kitchen searching for anything to delay going upstairs.

I passed by the living room archway. “Are you okay?” she asked, lowering her book and studying me closely.

Instinctively, I plastered a smile on my face. “I’m fine. Maybe a little tired. Exams are next week, you know.”

Mom swung her legs up and gestured to the end of the couch. “Come sit with me?”

Grateful for the distraction, I moved to join her. Once I settled in the cushions she asked again, “Are you sure everything’s okay? School? Friends?” I shrugged at her suggestions but shook my head, until she probed further. “A boy?” I sucked my breath in a little. The corner of her eyes crinkled. “Tell me about him.”

Pushing my back into the cushion, I wondered how I could even explain Connor or my not-relationship with him. “It’s not like that, I promise.”

“Like what?” she asked, her voice sounding sincere.

“It’s just...there
is
a boy at school. He’s in some of my classes and we’ve spoken a couple of times. But I don’t think he likes me...in fact, I’m more than sure he doesn’t.” I rambled around the truth.

“I’m not sure what any of that means, sweetie.”

I snorted. “I know. I’m not sure, either. It’s just stupid teenager stuff. Ignore me, please!”

“Oh, honey, it’s not stupid. But boys can be hard to read, for sure. They act tough, but usually they’re scared out of their minds when it comes to the opposite sex.”

I wish I could say I didn’t blush when my mom casually said the word ‘sex,’ but I did. A warm blush spread cross my cheeks and up my ears. Out of discomfort I said, “Connor is definitely hard to read.”

“Connor?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, his name is Connor.”

“Is he cute?”

As if it was that easy. Connor was definitely cute, better than cute, gorgeous even. Especially after days like today when I was mere inches from his face, his beauty was undeniable. “Mom, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

Attempting to stifle a yawn, I covered my mouth with my hand and my mother eyed me warily.

“Okay, honey, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Okay.” I gave her a quick hug.

“See you in the morning.” I stretched and adjusted my shirt. Little things that took up seconds of time. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you—Aunt Jeannie told me about her escape from small town life and to the big cities of California.”

Mom looked unsurprised and chuckled. “I missed her when she left, but she was destined for bigger things. She was always fearless. It was one of the things I envied about her.”

“Mom! You’re so brave! Quitting your job and opening the shop, moving here. I mean I didn’t want to move but you’ve put yourself out there. Starting the gallery. It’s a big deal.” As I spoke, the smile on her face grew wider. She may have even blushed. “I’m proud of you.”

“Maybe,” she said, pulling on her earring. “But it’s a different kind of bravery. She left on her own with nothing but her suitcase and a wad of cash.”

“She told me how she read palms and stuff to make money out there.”

Again my mother laughed. “Did she practice her voodoo on you?”

I bristled at her comment, feeling it was too close to home. “Yeah, she did.” I stood over my mother, hovering, trying to muster the courage to ask what was on my mind. “Um, mom, what happened to Aunt Jeannie’s mother?”

Her shoulders tensed against the couch cushions and her disposition changed. “I think it’s getting late, and it’s time for you to head up.”

Her words sounded like a reprimand. Why was this topic off limits? “Yeah, okay,” I said, uncomfortable with the shift of emotion in the room.

“Night.”

I walked upstairs and hesitated outside my bedroom door. Evan and I had a lot to talk about, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I had the feeling things were about to change, and I’d just gotten used to life as it was. After a couple more minutes of procrastinating I mustered up courage and opened the door. He was waiting.

“Hey,” I said, determined to meet this head-on.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Okay
, I guess he planned to meet this head-on as well.

I dropped on the bed and lay on my back, my eyes on the painted wooden slats of my ceiling. “You’re right. I was avoiding you.”

“Why, what happened?”

I spread my arms to the side, letting my fingers grip the edges of the mattress. I needed something to hold onto. “Connor and I talked like you wanted us to. He told me about his past and how he sees ghosts, also. Not just one, but several. And they aren’t like you. They sound harsh and scary.”

Exhausted, I crawled to the top of my bed and turned off the lamp on the bedside table before curling up on my pillow. I wished he would argue and tell me Connor was crazy and to stay away, but his silence was deafening. Tears burned my eyes.

“He says you need something from me. That you’re stuck and you can’t leave until I help you.” I wiped my nose on the quilt lying underneath me. “But, you’ve been here for months and you told me you were here to help
me.
Not the other way around, and now this guy—this jacked-up, crazy, house-burning guy—tells me he sees ghosts, too, and that everything I thought about me and you was wrong and I just don’t know what to do.”

I cried harder now, all the anger and frustration pouring out into the dark room. It was quiet, so quiet, that I thought maybe Evan had left—that he had fled to whatever other place it was he went to—but once I calmed down, I heard him. His voice was close and he stroked my hair.

“I don’t know what to do either,” he whispered, causing my heart to clench, because the sincerity was clear in the darkness and if he didn’t know what to do, then we were both lost.

“H
OW WAS YOUR
final?” Ava asked as we sat in the cafeteria. Math was my weakest subject and I’d been complaining about the upcoming exam since Thanksgiving.

“Meh, sucked,” I said, wrinkling my nose in distaste. “I think I passed, at least. It’s all I can hope for.”

Ava popped open her soda and gestured behind me. “He’s watching you again.”

This had become a daily ritual and I refused to take the bait. Instead I shook my head and blushed. 

The final two weeks before break went by in a blur of exams, holiday activities, and Connor and I ignoring one another at school. To add to the stress, Evan and I tiptoed on eggshells at home. I refused to speak to Connor, which wasn’t a big deal, because other than random stare-down moments in the cafeteria and art class, he pretended that he didn’t know I existed.

“Oh, gross,” Ava said, pulling out her study notes for her next exam. “I think my eyes are burning.”

“What?”

Her eyes flicked over my shoulder again. “Allison Morgan. Yech.”

This of course made me look, and a bad taste I couldn’t identify filled my mouth. If I was honest, I would admit it was jealousy. If not, I would go with disgust. I was surprised to see her sitting at Connor’s table with his friends; they didn’t seem like they would run in the same crowd. I watched her shift her chair closer to his and even brush a strand of hair off his forehead.

“That’s new,” I muttered, turning back to my peanut butter sandwich. I’d seen them that one day in the hall, but other than that—nothing. Certainly not sitting together at lunch.

“It
is
new,” she said and turned to the girl next to her, Julia, fishing for gossip. Our school definitely divided into cliques, and Connor and Allison were not in the same group.

“What?” Julia asked, causing us to shift our attention.

Julia was short and curvy, with gorgeous, long, red hair. Notorious for knowing all the school gossip, she constantly had her phone out, either texting or checking her email. I had a couple of classes with her, and ever since Ava and I had become friendly she had opened up a bit more with me.

Ava gestured to Connor and Allison across the room. “Oh. That. I saw them in the hallway together after my history class. Normally, I would agree it’s suspicious. Why would she go anywhere near that mess? But I don’t know, have you seen him since he came back? He’s mega hot.”

I didn’t need to look to nod my head in agreement. Any girl in school would want to go out with Connor—well, that is, once they moved past the record and violent behavior. Oh, and you know, the ghost thing.

Julia continued, happy to have something interesting to talk about, “Plus, he’s older and you can tell. He’s bigger than the other guys, and did you notice his beard? I bet his friends are jealous he manages to grow actual facial hair and not the patchy scruff they try to pass off.” She snorted with laughter. It was true. There was an epidemic of spotty beards around the school.

This time, I was dying to look and see his beard. From what I’d seen, he had stopped shaving entirely. Before I gave in to temptation, I asked, “What do you mean he’s older?”

Ava and Julia both shrugged. “He’s at least eighteen, I think,” Ava said, looking at Julia, who nodded in confirmation.

“Eighteen? But he’s in a couple of my classes and seems pretty smart - did he get held back?”

Julia had just popped a chocolate-covered granola bar in her mouth and held a finger up for me to wait while she chewed. She swallowed and then gulped down a swig of juice. “Last year, before he went to boot camp, or wherever, he missed a lot of school. I don’t know if he was skipping or not, but I think he got way behind.”

“So he should be a senior?”

“Yeah, basically he lost a year of school having his ‘breakdown’ or whatever it was.” Julia and I made eye contact on the word ‘breakdown’ and she ducked her head and picked her phone up off the table and moved her fingers across the touch screen.

I considered what Julia said. It made sense that he was older. He seemed older, and not only because of his ability to grow facial hair (although that didn’t hurt). There was an air of seriousness, or maturity that surrounded him even when he looked like he was trying to have fun.

“So,” Ava began, in an obvious attempt to redirect the conversation, “are you guys going to the tree lighting this weekend?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, unfamiliar with the event. “I’m going to spend some time helping my mom and dad in their shop over break. They’re hoping the holidays will be busy.”