Grim Girl

by Nicky Graves

  I grasped her hand to shake it but immediately dropped it when a tingle of electricity jolted through us.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I must have a bit of static. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I don’t think I was supposed to walk this morning. I was late to work. I should have driven my car. Oh, I don’t think I had time to brush my hair. I bet it’s a mess.”

  Considering I’d just tossed my hair into a ponytail without brushing it, I wondered what her version of “a mess” was.

  She looked at the shop window.

  “Huh. That’s funny,” she said. “I can see your reflection, but I can’t see mine.”

  I glanced over at the window and saw she was right. She was standing directly to my left and yet there wasn’t a reflection. Just the pink dress.

  “Maybe stand over here,” I said, swapping places.

  But it didn’t work. She still didn’t have a reflection, while mine looked as though I was wearing the hideous dress. My pale face comically floated over the lacy collar.

  “I don’t suppose you’re a vampire,” I said sarcastically. “I heard they don’t have reflections.”

  “I’m not a vampire,” she tsked.

  “A ghost?” I asked.

  I knew my suggestions were ridiculous, but really, what other reasons would there be not to have a reflection?

  “I’m not a ghost either,” she stated, crossing her arms.

  “Sorry,” I said, knowing I was annoying her.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said with a sigh, her arms dropping to her side.

  We watched as the driver’s side door was ripped open. Rescuers lifted out a woman, her arms dangling listlessly to the side as they moved her to a stretcher. I wasn’t able to get a good look at her until they moved to grab a sheet and cover her.

  She was dead. The vacant expression proved it.

  And she looked exactly like the woman standing next to me.

  “Did you see her?” I asked, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. They had to be, right? Maybe it was just the nervous energy altering my vision. However, standing next to the woman, the energy, while still there, seemed content. Which made no sense.

  “I see her,” she said. Her eyes were wide as she looked upon the woman.

  “Do you have a twin?” That could be a logical answer. Yes, of course. A twin.

  “No.”

  Great. That theory got slammed down.

  “Do you think that’s you?” I asked hesitantly, not knowing how she would react and if I wanted the answer.

  “I think so.”

  We looked at each other.

  “Am I . . .”

  “I think you died.”

  “But I’m standing right here,” she said, her voice raising to a high pitch.

  I was standing next to a ghost. It seemed preposterous, and yet there was no reflection, and she looked like the woman on the stretcher. I knew I should be screaming that I was standing next to a ghost. But she seemed so real. There had to be another explanation.

  “I’m not dead! I can’t be dead!”

  I felt the air shift around us. It wasn’t a brisk September wind. It seemed different. Felt different. Like the air was charged with the same energy that had pulled me out of my warm bed. And then a man appeared. Like, magically appeared. Like, poof and there he was.

  His wild brown hair looked as if he had just met a tornado and lost. Although I probably didn’t look much better in the hair department.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, tugging on his wrinkled T-shirt that had a small tear on the shoulder.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He glanced at me and then the woman. He propped his hands on his hips as if annoyed. “I thought I was just transitioning one.”

  “Transitioning one?” I questioned.

  “Just my luck,” he said. “I was having such a good dream too. Well, you stay here,” he told me. “I’ll be right back. And don’t think you can run off either, otherwise I’ll send the controller after you. Trust me, you don’t want to mess with him.”

  “Controller? What controller?”

  He grabbed the woman’s hand and the air shifted again. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived. Poof. And he had taken the woman with him.

  This couldn’t be happening. Was I the one in shock? It had to be the trauma of the morning that was making me hallucinate. Maybe it was the tacos I overate last night, sending me into a fitful dream. Maybe I was somehow involved in the accident. Maybe I was dead too. I quickly looked back at the window. No, I had a reflection.

  What was happening?

  A police officer walked over to me. “Did you see what happened?”

  I nodded.

  “And are you okay?” he asked.

  “I think so,” I said. I really didn’t want to mention the weird guy and the dead woman.

  Stay calm. Don’t hyperventilate and pass out.

  The officer asked several questions about the accident and what I had witnessed. I answered them all and then was free to go.

  The weird guy had said to wait for him, but I was pretty sure since he was imaginary that he wouldn’t mind if I went back home. And, if he wasn’t imaginary, I really didn’t want to wait for him.

  So, without a second thought, I hurried home to find my mom drinking coffee in the living room as she watched the morning news.

  “Riley, I thought you were upstairs sleeping,” she said.

  “I woke up early and thought I’d take a walk,” I said.

  I didn’t tell her about the accident. There were some things I’d rather keep to myself, and this was one of them. Well, maybe not all to myself. A call to Larue was in order. First, a cup of coffee with extra cream. I’d skip the sugar I loved to pour in. My nerves couldn’t handle it.

  Even though my mom had a strict rule about no caffeine, I headed to the kitchen to pour a cup. Really, the rule was more for my brother, David. He just turned ten and had the energy of a juiced-up lab rat.

  As soon as my chilled fingers were wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, I locked myself in my bedroom and called Larue. I needed to hear her voice. I needed . . . reassurance.

  “Larue,” I said as soon as she answered. “I think I’m going insane.”

  She groaned. “What time is it?”

  “Six.”

  She was normally an early riser, but six on a Sunday was pushing it even for her.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I just need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “I saw a car accident. And I’m pretty sure I saw a dead person too.”

  “Someone died?”

  “Yes, over at the new stoplight.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m sorry you had to see it. Was it gruesome?”

  “Yeah, a little.”

  “Gross. It might take a few months to get over it. That’s what my dad told my mom when she saw an accident last year.”

  “But I saw a dead person. Like as in their ghost or spirit.”

  She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. And then a guy appeared and took the dead person away.”

  “Like an ambulance?”

  “An ambulance took the body away, but this other guy took her ghost away. Said something about transitioning her. He said I should wait for him, but I didn’t.”

  “That’s creepy.”

  “I think he thought I was a spirit too.”

  “Odd.” Larue paused again, and I knew she was trying her best not to judge. But I felt it in her hesitation, which crushed me. She was the one person I thought might understand.

  “Maybe get more sleep,” she said. “Call me back in a couple hours and see if you feel any better. Otherwise, we can research it online. Maybe there’s a reason for what you experienced.”

  The problem was, I knew what I saw wasn’t going to change with more sleep. Something about feeling the ghost’s energy and the energy the shifting air produced seemed
familiar. It was the same that had pulled me from my bed this morning. And the same energy I had felt before. The energy had been growing stronger and more frequent in the last month. But today sealed it. Something was very wrong with me.

  2

  For two weeks, I didn’t have the nervous feeling again. I was beginning to believe it was just shock and I needed to chill. I hadn’t brought up the subject again with Larue, and she seemed fine with forgetting I’d ever mentioned seeing a ghost.

  But as Larue and I were walking past a park after school, I felt it again. That insistent nervous pull led me down a path that wound around a pond.

  “I thought we were going to Zero’s,” Larue said as I detoured.

  “Let’s just walk around the pond first,” I said, knowing she was anxious about her “study date” with Finn. “You don’t want to seem too excited to get there anyway.”

  “Finn and I are just going to study. There’s nothing to get excited about anyway.”

  “So then why wear the cranberry shimmer lip gloss?”

  She blushed.

  “It’s okay if you like him,” I said. “He’s just . . . not our crowd.”

  “We have no crowd,” she said. “And his friends are okay.”

  The football players didn’t bother me much. It was Chloe who made me wary. Even kind words that came from her mouth had a way of backslapping.

  Nervous energy drew me closer to the pond. I should have tried to avoid the pull since it scared me, but I wanted answers. Who was that guy who had taken the ghost away?

  A man jogged past us on the pathway, then paused. We were about to walk past him, but then he fell to his knees and then face first onto the pavement.

  Larue shrieked.

  I hurried over to the man and felt for a pulse. Did he have a heart attack?

  “Larue, call 911,” I said as I tried to remember what I had learned about CPR.

  As she called and pleaded with 911 to hurry, I heaved the man over and felt for a pulse again. None. No breath that I could feel either. I started chest compressions, but I wasn’t sure I was doing them right. Larue yelling, “Hurry,” didn’t help.

  Within moments, the jogger’s ghost appeared next to me, looking down at his body.

  “Why am I on the ground?” he asked.

  The energy had led me to another dead person. This couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? And if it wasn’t a coincidence, what did it mean? And why me?

  “I think you had a heart attack,” I said as I straightened.

  He didn’t seem overly concerned. Just stood there and stared at himself. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know. Last time a guy came and collected the lady. He might do the same for you.”

  Once again, I really wished this was just a manifestation caused by my dinner. But it had been soup and salad night. No spicy tacos to blame this on. While I wanted answers, I was afraid. Was I the only one to see dead people? Or was there something broken in my mind?

  “Larue,” I said, gaining her attention from pleading at the dispatcher. “Do you see this guy?”

  “Yes, I see him. Of course I see him!”

  But she was looking at the one on the ground, not to the man standing next to me.

  “No, this guy,” I said, pointing.

  She looked around. “Who?”

  She didn’t see him. Only I did.

  The air swept around me, circling me with energy. The same as last time.

  “Did you feel that?” I asked.

  “Feel what?” she asked.

  “I felt it,” the jogger said.

  “You did?” That didn’t comfort me. How could I see dead people and feel the air move when Larue didn’t?

  The tornado-haired guy appeared in front of me. He glanced at the body before his gaze targeted me.

  “You!” he said, jabbing his finger in my direction. “Do you know how much trouble I got into for losing you?”

  I stepped behind the jogger’s ghost and peeked out from behind him. Larue was still on the phone and her attention was no longer on me as she hysterically ordered the ambulance to arrive.

  “This is your dead person,” I said, pointing to the jogger. “Not me.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Larue demanded.

  Crap. I should have known she would hear me. She was always multitasking. Apparently she could do so in a crisis too.

  I shifted my pointing finger from the jogger to the other guy.

  “Him. Do you see him? He’s barely hygienic with holey jeans,” I said to her.

  “Hey,” he said. “My jeans are just the way I like them.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Larue said.

  Scaring her? I was freaking out so hard my pulse was racing and my hands were starting to sweat. And what was worse was the way Larue was looking at me. Like I’d lost it.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. There were times that Larue could be open-minded, but it seemed this wasn’t one of those times.

  “Wait. She can see you?” the guy asked. “Can she see the other transition?”

  I turned my back to Larue and whispered, “What is a transition?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Call it what you want. Ghost, spirit, soul, life energy, transition. It’s all the same.”

  Ghost? He thought I was a ghost?

  “Okay, but I’m not one of them. I’m alive.”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I’m very certain of it,” I said, feeling my pulse to be sure. The guy was freaking me out. “See? A pulse.”

  He grabbed onto my wrist. “Nah, this can’t be right. You have the same energy as me. I can see it.”

  “What energy? I don’t see anything.”

  “I’m calling the psych ward if you don’t stop talking to yourself,” Larue said. “This isn’t funny.”

  “Sorry, Larue. Two dead people in two weeks,” I said to her. “It’s messing with my nerves. I’m fine. I’ll stop talking to myself.”

  She gave me a doubtful, worried look then went back to talking to the person on the phone. The sound of sirens grew in the distance.

  “Hang onto him. I’ll be right back.” He evaporated, sending a current of air swirling around me.

  “I assume he means you,” I whispered to the jogger, keeping my back to Larue. “You seem awfully calm about this.”

  The man shrugged. “At least I don’t have to pay alimony anymore.”

  He was okay with death just to get out of paying alimony? It made no sense to me, but I was happy he was content to stand and wait. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do if he decided he wanted to leave.

  The air shifted again, this time more forcibly. It nearly knocked me back a step. I watched as tornado-hair guy materialized with another man. The newcomer was a complete opposite of the original guy. The newcomer had perfect posture, clean clothes, a precise haircut, strong jawline, and I was pretty sure he was the serious sort who didn’t smile much.

  Both men looked about the same age. Possibly mid-twenties.

  There was something about the new guy. Something that put me on edge yet calmed me. It made no sense, but when he glanced at me, for a moment I felt safe.

  “Take the transition,” the newcomer said, his voice authoritative and rough.

  “Which one?” the tornado-hair guy asked.

  “The man.”

  Tornado-hair guy grabbed hold of the man, and they evaporated.

  The newcomer studied me for a moment. “What’s your name?”

  “Tell me your name first,” I said.

  “Lawson.”

  “Riley,” I said, trying not to let his direct gaze affect me.

  “How old are you?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

  With my birthday coming up soon, I wanted to reply with my future age. Instead, I told him the truth. “Seventeen.”

  Sirens blared in the distance.

  “And your friend can see you?” he asked. His g
ray eyes watched as Larue raced to the main pathway to flag down the ambulance.

  “Yes, of course she can see me.”

  “And you have a pulse?” he asked.

  “Of course I have a pulse.” I lifted my arm toward him, now becoming annoyed. “Feel it yourself. I’m not dead.”

  He ignored my arm, so I dropped it back to my side.

  “Where do you live?”

  There was no way I was going to tell any of these guys where I lived. I had no intention of being transitioned before I was dead. And even then I wasn’t sure about it.

  “Why?” I stepped back.

  The sirens grew closer.

  He stepped forward, reclaiming the space, and touched my hand. I had the oddest sensation of an energy current passing through me.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Figuring out what you are.”

  “I’m a person. A living person.”

  “Perhaps. But I think you might be something entirely different. I’ll be in touch,” he said, and then he evaporated just as an ambulance arrived. The strong air current that spiraled around me had a scent that made me want it to linger. It was clean and earthy with a hint of coffee.

  The ambulance drove down the pathway and drew to a stop just short of us. Larue hurried after them. As soon as an EMT hopped out, she said, “I think my friend is in shock. She’s talking to herself and thinks she saw a ghost.”

  I fought the betrayal that warred inside of me. Larue didn’t know. She didn’t understand. But she was supposed to at least attempt to believe me.

  They gave her a nod but went to check on the jogger first. Getting no response, they did what they could to revive him. But he was dead, and his ghost had been . . . transitioned. Was that what they had called it?

  “How are you feeling?” One of the paramedics came to check on me. When I didn’t respond, he said, “I’m going to check you for possible signs of shock.”

  Maybe I was in shock. I was hoping that was the case because the alternative—that I was seeing ghosts and the people who took them—was scary.

  3

  “Oh, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” my mom asked as she drove Larue and me home from the hospital with David in the backseat next to Larue.

  Mom’s SUV, with two dented doors and balding tires, still smelled like sour milk from when David had eaten his ice cream too fast and yakked. The high-pitched squeal that came from the engine made riding in it embarrassing.