Wraith

by Lawson, Angel

  My mother turned and bent one leg up on the bed, getting comfortable. “I know you know this—because you’ve asked, but Jeannie came to live with us because her mother was sick. That’s what they called it. ‘Sick.’”

  My breath caught. “What kind of sick?”

  “Mentally, I guess? But she wasn’t. I know that now. Jeannie knew it, too. Her mother heard things—saw things. Like you, I suppose.”

  “Wait, so you knew this? You knew this was a possibility? Seeing ghosts and talking to them is some crazy family trait but you sent me to the doctor anyway?” The realization of what she said hit me full force. “You made me think I was insane when you knew better?”

  “Sweetie, I’m so sorry, I just—” she searched for a justification I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear, “I was scared. I was scared for you and for our family. I’d seen it tear apart our own. This thing, I saw how it broke Jeannie away from her mother and even now, my aunt isn’t a well person. I didn’t want that for you.”

  Her hand was on my arm and I yanked it away. “I’m not sure if we have a choice.”

  “The ghost you see, it’s the same one? Are there any others?”

  I shook my head, unwilling to speak yet. She had betrayed me. She knew—all along, and never told me.

  “I’m sorry, Jane,” she said. Her fingers grazed my hair and I twisted a little to get out of her reach. Maybe if I had known, things wouldn’t be like this. Evan was gone. Ellen was hurt. John was stalking me and Connor…

  I took a deep breath and leaned over to the lamp on the bedside table, pulling the cord to turn the light off. In the dark I sought the courage to fix the mess we’d gotten into. I had no idea if we could, but I knew I would try.

  I SHIVERED AND PUSHED my hands deeper into my coat pockets. I was more than ready for winter to be over, but we were weeks away from even the earliest signs of a Southern spring. I wouldn’t deny the fact I was nervous walking to school alone—Evan’s shadowy presence would have made me feel more comfortable. Images of John’s truck following us through the street yesterday filled my mind, and I was jumpy. The familiar rumble and whine of Connor’s car echoed down the street and he pulled next to me and stopped.

  The door flung open, blasting music into the air. “Get in.”

  His tone was harsh and impatient, which normally would have made me stubborn, but I was cold and spooked, so I did as I was told. I did add an eye roll and heavy sigh once I sat down, and slammed the door for good measure.

  Connor shifted into gear and rushed down the street. “You can’t walk to school alone right now. You know that.” His voice had taken on a gentler tone, although the tendons in his neck were taut.

  Guilt. I was growing used to this feeling. He was only being protective and I was being a brat. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll pick you up from now on, okay? And take you home.” His eyes flashed to mine. “Unless you have another ride.”

  “No, I’ll meet you by the car after school. Thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  The tension evaporated and I adjusted the volume on the stereo. “You won’t believe what my mom told me last night.”

  “What?”

  “This ghost thing? It runs in the family.”

  Connor blinked twice before he spoke. “What do you mean ‘runs in the family?’”

  “I have a great aunt who’s been mentally ill her whole life. She sees things. People. Dead people. Like me and you.”

  The car slowed and Connor entered the parking lot, securing a spot in the junior section. He killed the engine. “So they knew this? They knew you weren’t lying or crazy?”

  “Apparently,” I said.

  His head dropped against the seat. “Wow.”

  “I know. I’m pissed.”

  “I can imagine.” He laced his fingers through mine. “How did it come up?”

  I told Connor the conversation I had with my mom last night. I was still angry at her for not telling me the truth when it first happened. I felt betrayed. I spent hours with doctors and counselors trying to keep up a facade of sanity when all along my mother knew the truth. It stung.

  “Maybe you should talk to your aunt.”

  “Maybe.” All this new information definitely put things with Aunt Jeannie in a different perspective. “She knows; between the conversation we had at Thanksgiving and the painting she sent me, it seems pretty obvious.”

  “I agree, it does.”

  Connor grabbed his school bag, unhooking his iPod from the cord before tucking it inside. His door was halfway open when he leaned back in and grazed my cheek with his lips. “Ready?”

  We were going public. Right now.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Ghosts, I could handle. Walking into school with my boyfriend? Not so much. I took a final breath and opened the door. Connor must have run around the car because he was at my side by the time I shut the door. He was just so…so (perfect, charming, endearing?) and I was so in over my head.

  “Let’s do this,” he said and nudged me along a little.

  I kept my hands firmly around my stack of books. No dangling appendages. We could walk in together, but I couldn’t quite make myself get to touching yet. Every time Connor’s elbow grazed mine or his hip bumped against my own, I got the feeling he would be pushing my unspoken no-touching rule before the day was over.

  We filed up the stairs, mingled with the other students and I hoped my fears were for nothing. Why would anyone notice? Who cared? Maybe it looked like I walked into school near him.

  “So, my mom liked you.”

  “What?” He wants to talk about his mother? Now?

  “She did. She gave you total approval, which never happens, by the way. Of course this means I should run, right?”

  I looked around to see if anyone was listening, which of course, no one was. Teenagers were very self absorbed.

  “Shut up.” I hissed, annoyed and equally charmed about the news he was sharing. “What do you mean it ‘never happens?’ How many girls have you brought home?” An image of his skanky bed popped in my mind.

  The smirk dropped. “Um…a couple. She hated them all.”

  I dodged around a couple kissing in the middle of the hallway and a kid tying his shoe. My locker was around the corner, but I was more interested in what Connor had to say about his former girlfriends than anything else.

  Tilting my head back I asked, “The other day, what did you mean you’d never invited a girl to your room?”

  He shrugged. “My room’s a pigsty—as if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “Why me, then? I’m not sure it’s a compliment.” A backhanded one, at best.

  “Jane, you know the worst about me. I have nothing to hide.”

  “So, no girls in your room?”

  “No one other than my mom and Emma. And they try to avoid it.”

  “No Allison?”

  “Definitely not.”

  I pushed ahead to veer to the side of the hall with my locker. Connor grabbed the strap of my bag and tugged me backwards, closer to him.

  “I’ll meet you back here before English, okay?”

  His warm breath grazed my ear and all I could do was nod before I ducked my head and fumbled with the lock on my locker. I spun it more than once before I got the combination right. Connor made my heart pound and my limbs go numb. This reaction was silly and stupid and completely out of my control.

  “Huh.” I didn’t have to look up to see it belonged to the snotty girl next to me. I buried my head in my locker.

  “Connor Jacobs?”

  After all this time, this girl wants to talk? I can play this. “Excuse me?” I asked, sparing her a glance.

  “Connor Jacobs.” She slammed her locker shut, causing the metal to vibrate against its frame.

  “What about him?”

  “It’s just interesting.”

  Against my better judgment I asked, “What exactly, is interesting?”

  “He’s gorgeous for sure an
d I suppose you’re not horrible to look at, but the two of you together?” She sneered as though she was in on the world’s funniest joke. “I mean you’re a freak and he’s a fire-starting delinquent. I can’t imagine a better match.”

  My fingers clenched around the edge of my locker door. If I hadn’t had something to hold on to, I might have hit her. She wasn’t afraid of me, though. She stood next to me, cool and confident, daring me to crumble under her bitter stare. A nonverbal challenge for me to say something.

  So I did.

  “You know nothing about him and less about me. Sure, I may be crazy and he may be on America’s Most Wanted List, but at least neither of us is a raging bitch.” I left her standing by the lockers, surprised that I spoke up for once. I wasn’t going to let this girl ruin the only thing I had going for me right now. She didn’t understand what we had or who we were. In her eyes, we were a ball of trouble and crazy—and she may be right, but I had bigger things on my mind than the trivial mind games of jealous teenage girls.

  THE NEXT COUPLE OF days passed in a blurry haze. Connor was by my side more often than not. I reveled in his presence and touch, which warded off the bad vibes from the mean—and now increasingly jealous—girls around me. The shift was interesting, going from social pariah to an object of jealousy. Connor’s reputation from the prior year made him untouchable. He was dangerous and handsome. I was more than happy to slide under the protectiveness of that status.

  We discussed Evan and his mother, but neither of us was sure what direction to take. He was wary of going to the police with his background and I was afraid to tell the truth about my ‘visions’. Our impasse was worrisome. Even though I was happy to have a boyfriend, I still missed my best friend.

  Every morning and afternoon, I hoped Evan would appear to walk me to and from school. He never showed after the argument at Connor’s house. For the first time in a year, I was without my friend, and I was at a loss. I never told Connor about this, but he knew. He made every effort to fill the gaping spot Evan left in his absence.

  Connor Jacobs had worked his way under my skin.

  “I’ll call you later,” he promised when we stood on my porch after school. His fingers touched mine, fingers that were tinged today with red and orange oil paint from the spray cans in his room. It was too cold to paint outside.

  “Great.”

  He lingered for a second, his feet shuffling but his hands still connected to mine. “Bye.”

  I rolled my eyes, but didn’t even try to suppress my grin. “Bye.”

  We were like this. One of those stupid couples you wanted to dump a bucket of water over. I knew it was cheesy. Annoying. Offensive even, but I couldn’t stop. Instead I grinned like a moron and thought about kissing him.

  The front door opened with a creak. I couldn’t stop the mooning, glassy-eyed girl thing, but my mother was more than willing to step in for my weaknesses. She appeared on the porch with a large watering can, an obvious prop of sorts.

  “Oh! I didn’t realize you two were home.” She waved to Connor before watering the topiaries by the front door. “How was school?”

  “Hi, Mom. It was good.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Watts.”

  Connor had dropped my hand and moved a step or two back. I shot him an amused look. After all the crap he gave me at his house it was hard to believe, but Connor Jacobs was afraid of my mother.

  “So, I was just leaving,” he announced, already on the stairs.

  My mom stopped watering her plants. “Already?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his fingers rubbing the fine stubble on his jaw. The same stubble that gave my chin a rash. “Homework and all that.”

  “Sure you don’t want to come inside for a minute? I made cookies.”

  I bit back a smile. Mom had no shame, pulling out the big guns.

  “No, thanks. I should go, my mom’s expecting me.”

  I mouthed the words “chicken” at him when she turned her back.

  “Okay, well, see you soon, then,” she said.

  I blushed at my mother’s assumption he would be back again. I knew he would, but to have it so…out there was daunting.

  “Bye,” I said as he all but ran down the stairs and hopped in his car.

  I turned to find my mother grinning. “Do I make him nervous?”

  “Seems like it,” I said, annoyed that she had so much fun at his expense.

  “It’s a mother’s job to test the worth of a boyfriend.”

  Make it stop. “Isn’t that more like the father’s job?”

  “Your father’s too nice. You know that. Boyfriend harassment is left to me.”

  I followed her into the house, dropping my bag on the floor and heading into the kitchen. Mom put the watering can in the sink and filled it again. Over the noise she said, “So, you’re no longer disputing the term ‘boyfriend.’”

  “I guess not.” I tried to act aloof. I also tried to ignore her all-knowing attitude and busied myself getting a soda from the refrigerator.

  “I like him. You should invite him over for dinner if he’s going to show up on our front porch every afternoon anyway.”

  I unscrewed the top and held it carefully as the carbonation released. “Ha, ha. No thanks.”

  “How old is he again?”

  Here we go. “Eighteen.”

  “Hmmm…” She stopped the water and lifted the heavy plastic can onto the counter.

  Defensiveness flared. “What does that mean?”

  “Honestly,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel hanging by the sink, “he looks older than that. Mature. I don’t remember boys like that when I was your age.”

  “Are you talking about dad?” I joked. She had a point, though. Connor’s broad shoulders and world-weary eyes, made him seem more mature. He had experienced more than most boys his age. “He should be a senior.”

  “So he’s a year older. Was he held back?”

  Stupid big mouth. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what exactly?”

  “Connor’s—” I started, ready to argue, but the house phone rang from its spot on the wall. I grabbed it. “Hello.”

  “Hello?”

  I huffed. I wasn’t in the mood for a telemarketer. “Yeah, hello?” I said avoiding the questioning face from my mother.

  “I’m calling for Jane Watts.” The voice on the other end was female and a little harsh.

  “This is Jane.”

  “Jane, this is Stephanie from the shelter.”

  “Stephanie?” I said. “I didn’t recognize your voice.”

  “I wanted to catch you before I went home. You left your paperwork down here the other day—and your friend left his, too. You guys ran out of here in kind of a hurry.”

  “Shoot,” I said. I forgot about our volunteer forms when we rushed out of the shelter. “Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well. Can you fax it to Mrs. Crawford?”

  “Sorry, honey, but you gotta turn in the original for credit.”

  “Okay, I’ll figure something out and try to get down there today.” I glanced at my mother and her eyebrows rose in question.

  I said goodbye and hung up the phone. “I left my service paper work down at the shelter.”

  “You need to go this afternoon?”

  “Stephanie, the shelter manager, wants me to get it today. I could call Connor for a ride, I guess.” The idea of seeing him again made my heart flutter.

  “Why don’t you just take my car? You know how to get there, right?” She opened the kitchen drawer and handed me the spare set of keys.

  “I can drive?” I was a little surprised. It’s not like I didn’t drive at all, but she wasn’t always this willing.

  “Sure—it’s a quick trip. Just be back as soon as you can for dinner.”

  I clenched the keys in my hand. “Sure. No problem.”

  My mother frowned. “No stops along the way, okay?”

  By ‘stops’ I heard the implied word: ‘Connor.’ I fought the urge to argue.

>   “No stops.”

  MY PHONE RANG AS I parked my car in the shelter lot. I dug around my purse trying to find it before it went to voice mail. It was lost in a sea of papers and pens and other random crap that seemed to accumulate in the bottom of a girl’s bag.

  “Where are you,” I said to my out-of-reach phone and cheered to myself when my fingers made contact. Connor’s name flashed on the screen.

  “Hi.”

  “Thought I was going to have to leave a message.”

  “I couldn’t find my phone.” I leaned back in the car seat.

  “Busy?” I could hear the hum of his car in the background.

  “Actually, I’m at the shelter. Stephanie called and said we left our paperwork here the other day.”

  Silence met me on the other end of the phone.

  “Hello?” I asked and looked at the screen to make sure I still had service.

  “Jane, please tell me you didn’t drive there alone.”

  I grimaced and drummed my fingers on the center console. “Um…”

  “Dammit,” he said. “You should have called or come by to pick me up before you went down there!”

  “Don’t yell at me.” I said, but he was right. The tension—fear—in his voice scared me. “I’m sorry. My mom told me not to stop anywhere. I’ll go right in and out. I’ll call you the minute I get back in the car.”

  “All right. Ten minutes or I’m coming down there.”

  “Over dramatic much?” I teased.

  “With you? Not a chance.”

  I said my goodbye and got out of the car, slipping my phone in my back pocket. I walked toward the side of the shelter, to the narrow pathway that led to the entrance in the back.

  Get in, get out, call Connor.

  Those were the things on my mind. Too much, possibly, because I didn’t hear him coming. I definitely didn’t see him coming. One minute, my feet echoed between the pavement and the house and the next…nothing.

  NOISE RUSHED THROUGH MY ears, like the static on a radio. I focused on the sound to figure it out, identify it, but even in my confusion I knew it wasn’t important. A shiver of cold rippled across my skin and my head…ugh. What was wrong with my head? I tried to move. Why couldn’t I move? My body was paralyzed.