by Kelly Oram
I let out a startled yelp as Julia pokes her head up into the tree house. “Wes Delaney?” she asks. “He is so hot. I would die to go to homecoming with him, even if he did spend the last year in juvie.”
I was going to ask her what she’s doing here, but her question distracts me. “Juvie?”
Nodding, Julia wipes her index finger along the floor of the tree house and scrunches up her face in disgust at the dust. It’s not until her gaze roams the entire room that I realize Spencer is gone.
“That’s the reigning theory at school,” Julia says. “Everyone thinks Wes joined a gang after the accident and spent the last year in the slammer. Now he has to homeschool so he can still graduate when he’s eighteen.”
That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Well, the second most ridiculous. The first being that I should ask Wes to the homecoming dance. “What does everyone think he was in for?”
“Drugs, assault, stealing cars…” Julia shrugs. “Who knows, and who cares? Did you see him yesterday? He totally has that hardened, sexy, dangerous, bad-boy look going for him now, and it works. He is seriously yum on a stick.”
I blink. Yum on a stick? My sister is insane.
“You do know that you were crazy for dating Spencer instead of him, right?”
I glare at her, and she rolls her eyes. For the first time since she came up here, she realizes I’m alone and asks, “Who were you talking to?”
I scramble for a lie and try to mingle some truth into it so that it sounds legit. “Liz. She’s determined to make me go to homecoming with a date.”
She eyes my empty hands with a scowl. “Liz, huh? Where’s your phone?”
She looks so unconvinced that I wonder if she already knows my cell phone is charging on the kitchen counter right now. She waits for an answer, but there’s no way I am explaining my hallucinations to her. She already thinks I’m psychotic as it is. She’d rat me out to Mom and Dad, and then I’d get locked up in the crazy house. I decide to ignore the question entirely. “What do you want?”
The change of subject makes her angry, but I don’t care because she stops harassing me about my one-sided conversation. “Dad got home early,” she snaps. “He has to leave town tomorrow for a week, so we’re all going to dinner. Mom sent me up here to get you.” She starts to climb down the ladder, but before she disappears, she glares at me one more time and adds, “I heard them talking about starting you back on regular appointments with the shrink, so if I were you, I’d stop having conversations with yourself.”
Gossip is like wildfire. It spreads at an alarming rate, but once it’s touched everything it can get its hands on, it quickly burns itself out. When I get to school the next day, everyone has gotten the Bailey and Wes rumors out of their systems. There are a few smoldering embers of drama left, but for the most part, they’ve all moved on to bigger and more important things—like Kasey Shomberg’s bottle-blonde dye attempt gone horribly wrong. Or, horribly green, I should say.
Liz and Trisha are a little miffed at me because a) I told Chase I promised to go to homecoming stag with Charlotte so now he can’t ask me to the dance, and b) I invited her to go dress shopping with me and didn’t invite them. But the fallout isn’t that bad because all of my friends seem excited that I’ve agreed to go to the dance at all, and Trisha and Liz are both thrilled about the new developments on the party front.
Trisha’s ecstatic that Charlotte can’t make it to Jake’s party this weekend, and both she and Liz have been all smiles and giggles since Chase told everyone I promised to be his date at the party. Of course, I only promised to dance with him, but I don’t correct him because it seems to make everyone really happy. Especially Trisha and Liz. Liz, because she’s determined to see us as a couple, and Trisha, because if I’m together with Chase it means I won’t try to steal Jake from her. Never mind that Jake isn’t hers, and I’d never try to steal him. Ugh.
I’m worried about Chase’s advances, since he seems to think we’re already in a relationship, but Charlotte sticks to me like glue, and together we’re able to deflect Jake and Chase. Overall, today is a much better day than yesterday.
I’m in fairly good spirits when I’m called out of history near the end of the day to go to the office. I have no idea what this could be about, but I don’t have any reason to suspect bad news. I assume there’s some kind of administration mix-up. When I walk into the office, the secretary, Mrs. Rutherford, greets me with a jovial smile. “Hello, Bailey!”
I hold up my pass. “I was asked to come to the office?”
“Yes, Mrs. Schneider would like to see you in her office.”
I frown. What does my guidance counselor want?
“You can go ahead and go on in. She’s expecting you,” Mrs. Rutherford prompts, because I’ve become frozen in place.
I glance down the hallway to Mrs. Schneider’s open office door. My good mood plummets with every step. This has to be about my leaving school the other day. There’s nothing else she could want to see me for.
I’m even more baffled when I walk in, and Wes is sitting in one of two chairs in front of Mrs. Schneider’s desk. I stumble to a stop and suck in an audible breath. Wes looks just as surprised to see me. “What is this about?” I ask. My voice trembles enough that one of Wes’s eyebrows raises.
Mrs. Schneider looks up from a stack of papers in front of her and greets me with a bright smile. “Bailey! Come in!”
I don’t want to. My heart is pounding so hard in my chest that I’m certain Wes will hear it if I move any closer. I’ve also started to sweat. What’s going on? Why is he here? And what could Mrs. Schneider possibly want with both of us?
“Will you close the door behind you?”
I pull the door shut and move to the empty seat beside Wes. His stare is a heavy weight pushing down on me, but I can’t bring myself to look at him as I sit. Not when all I can think about is Hallucination Spencer’s attempt to get me to ask Wes to the dance.
In my mind’s eye I see Wes in a tux, looking amazing and uncomfortable all at the same time. I feel him hold me as gently as he had in the hallway the other day while we sway to a slow song. I can even smell his subtle scent—sort of earthy, like he uses a fresh rain-scented soap—so strongly I’m not sure if I’m recalling it from memory or smelling him now. It’s a really good smell. I swallow, and it sticks in my dry throat.
“Thank you both for coming,” Mrs. Schneider says. “I have some exciting news that I think you will be very interested in.”
I finally risk a glance at Wes, wondering if he has any clue what this is about. He meets my gaze with a puzzled expression, then turns back to Mrs. Schneider, curiosity in his eyes. His foot is tapping rapidly on the carpet. I can’t tell if it’s impatience or nerves.
Whatever this news is, Mrs. Schneider seems to think it’s tantamount to world peace. She clasps her hands together and pulls them up under her chin as she grins at us. “Saint Barnabas Medical Center has a couple of internship positions open and has asked us to choose two of our students for the program. Principal Davies and I agree that the two of you are our best candidates.”
I’m stunned for so many different reasons—not the least of which is how they could think Wes is a good candidate for this when he hasn’t been a student here for a year.
Wes’s low voice startles me from my thoughts. “What kind of internship?”
“It’s for the cancer center. You would do a variety of different tasks ranging from delivering meals, reading to the children, changing bedsheets, transporting patients to and from different procedures, and various other errands. You would also have the privilege of observing the nurses on their rounds and assisting them when possible. It would be an invaluable experience for anyone.”
“Is it a paid internship?” Wes asks.
“Unfortunately, no.”
Wes shakes his head. “Mrs. Schneider, I’d love to do it, but I can’t afford—”
“I’ve already spoken to the hospit
al about your situation, Wes. They’ve told me you can arrange your hours around your current schedule. It won’t be easy, but it will fulfill your community service graduation requirement here, and it can also be counted as a work experience credit toward your associate’s degree. Not to mention the recommendations you could get for your Columbia applications when you’re ready to transfer.”
I am so lost. The conversation is fascinating, but I can’t make any sense of it. What situation is Wes in? And graduation requirements? Associate’s degrees? Columbia? What the heck is going on?
“All right,” Wes says. “I’ll find a way to make it work. Thanks for thinking of me, Mrs. Schneider.”
Mrs. Schneider’s answering smile is one of genuine affection. “Of course I thought of you, Wes. You’re perfect for the job.”
“Why me?” I blurt suddenly, making both Wes and Mrs. Schneider remember I’m in the room. “My grades are only okay, and I quit the one extracurricular activity I was involved in. I’m not exactly an overachiever. I’ve never shown any interest in internships or getting a job. I haven’t even started to think about college. I’m only a junior this year.”
A bit of panic creeps into my voice as I continue rambling. “The career aptitude test you made us take at the beginning of the year said I’d make a good graphic designer or writer. It definitely didn’t say anything about doctors or hospitals. Mrs. Schneider, I hate doctors, I’m scared of needles, I get faint at the sight of blood, sick people make me uncomfortable, and hospitals give me the creeps. I’m probably the worst student for this job in the entire state of New Jersey.”
I sneak a glance at Wes to find he’s gaping at me, openmouthed. Mrs. Schneider’s eyes flash to Wes as well, and her cheeks turn slightly pink. “Actually…” She clears her throat to cover a wince. “It was Dr. Moscowitz who called to tell me about the internships at the hospital. He was the one to recommend you, Bailey. He said—and I agree—that something like this is just what you need to get reengaged with your life. The responsibility, and change of scene and social interaction, would be good for you.”
Her eyes flick to Wes again. I don’t look at him because I can only imagine what he thinks of me after hearing this—what judgments he’s making.
“You know…” Mrs. Schneider shifts in her chair and slowly points a finger back and forth between Wes and me. “I can’t help but feel that the two of you working together and rebuilding the friendship you had before Spencer’s accident would really help you both, too.”
Again, words fail me. I’m being set up by my school guidance counselor? I can’t believe this is happening. I haven’t seen Wes since Spencer’s funeral, and now he’s everywhere. My anxiety spikes at the thought of having to see him on a regular basis. My head is shaking before I realize I’ve made up my mind. I can’t do it. “Thanks for the offer, Mrs. Schneider, but—”
“It will fill your community service requirements as well, Bailey,” Mrs. Schneider interrupts before I can officially reject the idea. Her excited smile is gone now, replaced with a disappointed frown. “Every student needs forty hours of community service to graduate, and to be frank, with your grades, you’re going to need something impressive to pad your admission applications if you want to get into a good college.”
I don’t care about college. I haven’t given continued education a single thought and don’t have any plans to do so anytime soon. I have no clue what I want to do with my life, and I don’t really care. But mentioning as much to my guidance counselor is not going to get her off my case about this internship.
Spencer’s voice, urgent and pleading, suddenly rings out in the room, startling me half to death. “Bailey, you should do this.”
I’m so surprised to see him standing next to Mrs. Schneider that my reproach is half out of my mouth before I can think better of it. “Spencer! What are you—”
I snap my mouth shut and glue my eyes to my lap as I frantically try to think of a reason why I’ve just yelled my dead boyfriend’s name.
“Bailey?” Mrs. Schneider’s voice is an octave higher than normal due to a healthy dose of astonishment. “Are you all right?”
Spencer grimaces. “Sorry, Bay. I didn’t mean to scare you. If I knew how to rattle some chains to announce my presence, I would.”
Spencer’s making a joke while my guidance counselor is considering calling my psychiatrist to recommend hospitalization. I glare at him before looking at Mrs. Schneider. “Sorry. I’m fine. It’s just…” I let my explanation die on my tongue. Mostly because I have no explanation. None. I can’t think of a single thing other than the truth, and that is definitely not an option.
“Bailey?”
“I’m fine!” Yelling at my guidance counselor is not the best way to convince her I’m okay, but I can’t help it. I’m losing my mind.
Spencer walks around Mrs. Schneider’s desk and kneels next to my chair. I try very hard not to track him with my eyes. This little hallucination of mine has officially gotten out of control, and I need to make it stop. “Bay, please do this,” he says.
“I don’t want to do it,” I say out loud. I’m answering Spencer, but it’s relevant for Mrs. Schneider, too.
“Bailey, please? For me?” Spencer’s quiet request drowns out whatever response Mrs. Schneider gives me. “Will you do it for me?”
I reach up to rub my head with both hands. My current psychosis is giving me a headache.
“Trust me, Bailey. Take this internship,” he urges, so softly it hurts my heart. “Do it for me—and for Wes.”
Though I’ve sworn to ignore him, I’m so surprised my eyes open and focus on Spencer. He tries to smile for me, but he looks so sad. “He needs you, Bay.”
I really, really don’t understand what’s going on. There’s no way my subconscious would make up something like that. I don’t think my subconscious would allow me to make myself look crazy in front of Wes and Mrs. Schneider, either. This has to be something else. I have to be actually, legitimately losing my mind.
I start to panic. My heart is pounding, and my breath keeps coming faster and faster. I’m getting really hot, and it feels like the walls of the office are closing in on me. I can’t take the way Wes and Mrs. Schneider are staring at me. I think they’re both saying my name, but I don’t hear them. I need to get out of here. I bolt out of my chair and hurry for the door, but Spencer blocks my exit. “Please, Bay.”
Whether I’m just plain crazy or not, Spencer is begging for my help and I can’t say no to him. “Okay.” I turn back to Mrs. Schneider. She’s halfway to her feet, hovering over her chair as if she’s not sure she needs to come after me. Wes is standing as well. His dark eyes are narrowed and focused on me.
“I’ll do the internship,” I whisper.
Spencer lets out a huge breath of relief. “Thank you, baby.” He lifts his hand to my face, though he knows his touch won’t make contact. When I feel nothing, I have to close my eyes against the oncoming threat of tears.
“Bailey, what’s going on?” Wes asks.
I flinch at his harsh tone. A fleeting glance tells me he thinks I’m completely bonkers. Maybe I am. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Schneider. I don’t feel very well. May I please go now?”
“Do you need the nurse?” She steps out from behind her desk and places a hand on my shoulder as she opens her door.
“No, I’ll be okay. I just need to go home and rest. Can you just e-mail me the info for the internship and send a note to Julia that she needs to take the bus home today? Thanks.”
Not willing to wait for an answer, I spin on my heel and run out of the office, ignoring the sound of my name being called behind me. School isn’t out for another ten minutes, which, thankfully, means the hallways are still empty and no one is around to witness my second hasty exit in one week.
When I pull out of the school parking lot, Spencer is sitting in the passenger seat, staring at me with his brows pulled together. I’m not very surprised to see him this time. “Bailey, what happened back
there? What’s the matter? You’re starting to worry me.”
Sparing him only a quick glance, I grip the steering wheel tightly with both hands and let out a crazed laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that? My hallucination wants to know what’s wrong with me? How about, I’m losing my mind! They’ve downed my meds, and now I am completely stark raving mad. Mrs. Schneider’s probably already called Dr. Moscowitz, and he’s probably waiting at my house with a straitjacket.”
My rant is met with silence, so I glance again at my ghostly companion and find him staring wide-eyed at me with his lips sucked into his mouth as if he’s biting down on them. “What is that face?” I snap, though it’s not hard to guess he’s holding back laughter when his shoulders start to shake.
“I’m sorry!” he croaks, finally releasing a laugh that comes all the way from his gut. “I know it’s not funny, but I’ve never seen you have a nervous breakdown before. I had no idea it would be so cute.”
Well, there’s one thing I will say for my shattered mind: for all the pieces it’s in, it certainly remembers Spencer with utter clarity, because that response is just so…him. It makes me want to laugh and scream all at the same time.
“You’re not going crazy, Bailey. I promise you, I’m real.”
I’ve reached my neighborhood, and I nearly run a stop sign, so I slam on the breaks and pull off to the side of the road before turning to yell at Spencer. “You can’t be real!” I shout. “You’re dead!”
I’m worked up enough now that Spencer’s amusement fades. He sighs a little and shifts sideways in his seat to face me. “I’m dead,” he says calmly. “Not imaginary. I’m a ghost, Bay, a spirit.”
As I shake my head, I wonder if I’m arguing with Spencer, or berating myself because I am arguing with him. “Ghosts aren’t real.”
