by Rue Volley
I liked him more than I wanted to. I couldn’t help it.
I sniffled, then looked to my left. The line between my brows deepened.
I leaned in and read the name engraved into the large stone.
KILLIAN GRAYE PORTER
I reached in and brushed the dead vines away from the bottom of the stone, but the rest of the inscription had long since been worn away. I gasped. It couldn’t be! I let my fingers move along the letters, feeling each one.
My heart raced.
Was he?
He couldn’t be—right?
He can’t be—dead.
No. That would be—well, ridiculous, right?
Ghosts don’t materialize. They make noises from time to time, leave cold spots, whisper on the wind. They don’t catch books, show up at your school, join book clubs, or stand outside your house. They don’t hold your hand, or take you out for coff—
Then I began to think about him and how he seemed to come and go without warning. How he was elusive about everything. How no one really knew about him—especially Court, who knows everything that happens here. And to think that I thought he might be a vampire, which was crazy, but instead, he was—no. He can’t be—
A dead boy.
A real one.
I retracted my hand and held my fingers to my lip. My eyes filled with more tears. It would explain so many things—especially how I feel about him.
I shook my head and spun around in the cemetery when I felt like someone was watching me. I caught something to my right, then to my left—shadows. Each time I turned, the shadow disappeared.
Each and every time. Hiding from me, refusing to let me see it.
“Killian?” I called out, hoping I could coax him to come back to me, but nothing happened. The cemetery was silent. I think I had somehow broken the connection that we had and closed a portal that allowed him to slip from the other side to this one.
“I’m so sorry,” I added. Giving him the apology that he deserved. The wind picked up, swirling leaves around my feet, and then they settled at the base of the tombstone. I lowered to my knees and stared at his name.
“Listen.” I bit my lip. I wanted to be honest, tell him everything. “I’ve never been that great with people. I’m good with books. I love them. I mean the books.” I don’t know why I felt like I needed to clarify, but I did anyway. “I should’ve been nicer to you. You didn’t deserve that—I mean, what I did in the coffee shop. I just never—well—I don’t talk to boys, besides Liv, and he’s not like, well, he’s Liv, and totally perfect just the way he is, but he makes me crazy sometimes, and he had me thinking that you—well, anyway, it’s stupid, all of it.” I paused. My rambling was silly. If I were Killian, I wouldn’t come back either. “I feel bad for how I treated you, and I hope you can hear me.”
I waited, but nothing happened. Then I stood up when I had an idea, good or bad. It was the only thing I could think of. I started to run away from his stone, through the gate and down the sidewalk, fighting the urge to cough.
I didn’t know if it would work, but if so, then maybe, just maybe, I could talk to Killian again and say what I needed to say, knowing that he could hear me.
Chapter Nineteen
I sat at the table and toyed with my food. Mom had made a big pan of Boca faux-meatloaf, which I love, but my throat was bothering me, and so was Killian. I kept thinking about him. I just knew that he was a ghost—a spirit who had chosen to reach out to me.
I felt so special—needed. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been to materialize in this world, but he had, and he did it for me.
My dad took a drink from his tall glass of milk, leaving behind a milky-white mustache. My mom wiped his mouth without much thought. I love how they take care of each other. I hope to have that someday.
I could’ve had that very thing with a boy who couldn’t possibly want to leave this town.
My gaze shifted when I heard Innis and Gunn yelling in the entryway. It’s their birthday—Halloween. My parents had a party planned, downtown at the movie theater. They always hosted one there every year. I guess it was cool that they invited my brother’s classmates to watch a movie. It was better than allowing all their little friends to come here and trash our house.
Smart.
I took another bite and then leaned back in my chair. I had other plans. “Would it be okay if I have my friends stay over tonight—after we go trick or treating, of course?”
Both my mom and dad froze, and then grins spread across their faces. I don’t ask these things.
“A slumber party?” Mom asked.
I adjusted in my chair. I may be a little old to be calling it that, but if it makes her happy—
“Yeah, a spooky slumber party,” I confirmed.
She stood up so fast it nearly knocked her chair over. She rushed over to the stove and then began to collect things—pots, pans, wax paper.
“What are you doing?” my dad asked.
She turned and placed a hand on her hip. “I’m making caramel popcorn.”
“Oh!” my dad exclaimed.
“For her slumber party,” she retorted.
His shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
She winked at him. “I’ll make a triple batch. We’ll take some with us to the theater.”
He perked up.
“Well, I should call them,” I said, hoping to get away from this.
She waved a hand as she got to work on her tasty treat. Innis came rushing in, and so did Gunn. They both sniffed the air. I swear they’re like dogs. “Popcorn!” they spoke in unison.
She turned and wagged a wooden spoon at the two of them. “I’m making something special for your sister, but if you’re both good, we’ll take some with us to the theater.”
They both frowned. I smirked.
“I mean it, if you cause any problems, then you get nothing.”
A stomping of feet followed. She glared, so they stopped. My mom can be wicked when needed. “But it’s our birthday!”
She lifted a hand. “I’m well aware.”
They squealed, and we could hear footsteps above our heads. I stared at the ceiling. It excited me. Was it Killian? I could only hope.
Chapter Twenty
I was nervous. More so than I should be. It wasn’t like we didn’t live amongst unexplained things. We all grew up listening to hollow footsteps above our heads, seeing the occasional shadow dart from here to there, or even waking up after hearing our names called out in the middle of the night.
I’d been dealing with hauntings for so long that most of it seemed reasonable—normal. I had probably become complacent, but the fact that I had never considered the idea of a ghost—say someone like Killian Porter—materializing before my eyes, just never occurred to me.
But here I am, thinking about Killian in a whole new way.
That made my heartbeat race, and my fingers tingle with excitement.
Had I really attracted the one type of boy that I had always dreamed of having as a boyfriend?
The only type of boy I desired.
A dead one?
* * *
I removed a book from the shelf. I had spent my time waiting in the attic, after I had successfully contacted both GG and Court, asking them if they’d like to stay with me tonight. Of course, they both jumped at the opportunity to stay after we collected what candy we could in town. But honestly, I didn’t care if we left the house at all.
My eyes wandered around the attic. I felt a cold spot collecting next to me and reached into it as slowly as I could, closing my eyes as the icy air enveloped my skin. It felt intimate, and I blushed. My eyes shot open.
Oh my gosh. Did Killian live here, in this house at some point in his short life? Maybe that’s why he was standing outside staring at it, or why his cat wants to climb atop the atrium and sit there.
It’s home to them!
I sat down on the oversized cushion in the window and opened the book. I rushed through the table o
f contents until I landed on what I was searching for.
Successfully Communing With The Dead
I pressed my lips together, moving around the berry-scented lip gloss. It tasted sweet on my tongue. I tucked one black and white striped thigh high sock under my leg and leaned back on my black wings. I had already put my costume on, and I was a dark fairy, of course — a gothic one.
I paused. I really shouldn’t be doing this. We had been told to leave the dead alone because we all live in harmony. It was a warning issued for as long as I could remember, but Killian had reached out to me, so why should it make any difference if I just do it in return?
It couldn’t make a mess of anything, right? He had already been here before, and nothing had collapsed into ruin—except for maybe my heart.
I fingered through the pages with nervous enthusiasm until I landed on the chapter I was looking for. I swallowed hard; my throat ached. I cleared it, and then reached out to take a sip of my honey-laced green tea. The honey always made my throat feel better, but I was tired of dealing with it. I was sick more days than not—but come to think of it—so was everyone else in Juniper. Everyone had a cough or sore throat. Everyone suffered from allergies, but no one complained—not verbally anyway. Even my mom and dad had sinus problems, and the twins, well, they love to sneeze like old men who don’t care what anyone thinks anymore.
Rattling the windows.
But we can’t change anything. The trees had every right to live here, plus, I can’t imagine what this town would look like without them. We’re built into the forest, not the other way around. The vegetation gets thicker and thicker the further out you wander like we’re being swallowed whole.
I think it would be amazing if the forest eventually just hid us away from the world, but I feared that people like Angel and his friends would always find us, regardless of how well we seemed separated from everyone out there—you know, the rest of the world full of Middlings.
But Killian was once a Middling, wasn’t he? It may force me to rethink my whole opinion on the living—especially boys.
I stared at the page and began to read. My eyes widened when I came across exactly what I needed to know.
“Of course,” I whispered while scanning the room.
I placed the book on the cushion and got up, scanning the contents of the attic, then I found it—an old trunk that I had nearly forgotten. It contained things from my childhood — blankets, clothing, toys, pictures, and games.
I opened the lid, narrowing my eyes when the wood creaked against the old iron brackets. It made a terrible sound, like nails on a chalkboard. I paused when my skin tingled. I felt like someone may be watching me. I gasped. Could it be him?
“Killian?” I whispered then waited, but there was no reply. It pained me.
I rubbed the side of my neck and then reached in, rifling through some of the contents. I removed a baby blanket, then a handful of pictures. I paused, shuffling a few like playing cards. The images were faded black and whites: some polaroid’s, some professionally done. I landed on one of our family, but it looked weathered. I leaned in just as the temperature dropped in the room. I turned just as the window began to frost over. My breath escaped my lips, white as snow.
This was new.
I glanced around the attic, hoping to see Killian, but he wasn’t there. Still, I called out, waiting with hopeful anticipation.
I gripped the side of the trunk, using it to help me stand. The pictures fell from my hand and onto the floor.
“Don’t be afraid,” I spoke softly, cautiously. I didn’t want to scare him off again.
Then I saw it, one small line, after another, forming a letter, then the next. I cautiously approached the window as the word continued to build on the glass. I froze when the message revealed itself to me.
HELLO
I gasped, but curiosity forced me to lean in closer. The letters began to run as the frost retreated. I don’t know why I felt compelled to meddle, but I reached in and carefully wrote back to who I assumed could only be one person.
One boy.
Killian.
I removed my chilled finger and stared at the frost as it lingered on my skin. I smiled while staring at what I had done.
I’M HERE
I waited. Hopefully, he would say more.
I just wanted to let Killian know that I never meant to do what I did. It was rude, uncalled for. He had crossed the furthest distance imaginable. The one that separates our world from theirs. He had broken through the thin veil that usually makes it impossible for the living to communicate with the dead.
And for what? For me?
I shivered, rubbing the side of my arm.
The amount of energy that must’ve taken is mind-boggling. He must have so desperately wanted to—
I paused while blushing. It couldn’t be for me. It had to be this house. Had to be.
I crossed my arms over my chest and waited. Then waited some more. The frost continued to recede, slowly, but still, the clock was ticking. Maybe he couldn’t come back. Perhaps he didn’t have the strength, or perhaps I had truly broken some connection between us that was needed.
Whatever it was, my optimism waned by the minute. But something else caught my eye — small flakes floating outside the window. I leaned in close. Was that snow? Snow on Halloween? Well, that’s a first. I decided to take a seat next to the glass and leaned my head against it. I wanted so badly for him to say something else to me— to say anything. Anything at all. But I think that was it.
“Oh, Killian,” I muttered. “What have I done?”
My heart ached. It ached for what could’ve been, and that’s the worst pain of all.
He chose me. ME, of all people in this town. Surely there were so many that would have appreciated him for exactly what and who he is. Then I remembered something. Something that I had asked for when I was younger.
I stood up and rushed back to the chest and dug the rest of the contents out of it, then paused.
“There you are,” I whispered right as I heard the doorbell go off downstairs.
I stood up and rushed toward the steps.
Chapter Twenty-One
The house smelled like fresh popcorn and gooey caramel. My mom had made a ton of it. I bounced from the bottom step just as she opened the door and leaned to one side. I could see GG and Court had both arrived in their costumes.
Court and GG were both dressed up like they were dead. They had on dresses covered in dirt and shadows on their faces. Still, they both looked beautiful—even dead. Go figure.
I eyed the two of them, and GG shrugged her shoulders. “She copied my idea.”
“Did not!” Court retorted.
I offered a compliment to ease the tension. “You both look awesome.”
GG looked me over from my black corset and wings to my black glitter boots. I had an old black tutu on from when I liked to pretend that I was a ballerina. I couldn’t find my shoes, or I would’ve worn them, too.
Court held something in her hands—a square pan. She wiggled it in front of her.
“My mom insisted that I bring cupcakes—red velvet with cream cheese icing. She sprinkled a little cocoa on top. They’re delish. I ate one—no shame.”
I grinned while placing my hands behind my back.
Mom leaned in and took the offering. “You didn’t need to pay the ferryman.”
Court laughed, so did GG. My mom could be so morbidly funny sometimes. I’m sure it’s where I get my sense of humor or sarcasm, whichever you’d like to call it.
Both girls entered the house, and my mom closed the front door while leaning in to smell the cupcakes that sat nestled beneath a thick sheet of aluminum foil.
“Oh, these smell lovely. From scratch?” she asked.
Court nodded. “Mom’s a freak about all-natural this and organic that.”
My mom gave her an approving nod. If anything, my mom was extremely careful about what she fed us. Everything was grown, ground, ca
nned, pickled, or frozen in this house. I never really thought about the effort that went into that, but it was just our regular routine.
My dad strolled into the entryway with a large pumpkin in his hands. It covered his broad chest. I was glad that we had a pumpkin patch. I blinked back the memory of seeing Killian in ours. It had nearly startled me at the time, but now I wished I could walk out there and see him again. I cleared my throat, then coughed. The ache lingered.
“So, we have an entire itinerary.” My mom crooned.
I parted my lips. I really didn’t need a plan. I already had one. I needed my friends to help me, and if that meant standing here with a big old goofy smile on my face, acting like I loved the idea of a slumber party, then so be it.
My dad placed the large pumpkin on the kitchen table and returned, peeling back the edge of the wrap and snatching a cupcake. He moaned with approval while biting into it, wagging his eyebrows. The smell of chocolate and caramel swirled around the house, reminding me of the holidays. He lifted what was left and grinned with chocolate-covered teeth, my mom grimaced.
“Evan, honestly. Eat with your mouth closed.”
Innis and Gunn immediately rushed into the room, jumping up at the pan, trying their best to snatch it away from her. Dad took it and lead them away from us. My brothers followed while hopping and groaning. Part of me wants them to grow up and out of this nine-year-old frenzied state, and the other part of me wants them to stay forever young.
She sighed while patting her hair. She had pulled it up on the back of her head, but a stray hair stuck out here and there. It was her usual disheveled look. The one that the mother of twin boys would have, I suppose. “I’m sorry. The boys in this house are beasts from Hades.”
We all laughed at her joke. I shook my head. “Well, I thought maybe we could go hang out upstairs for a little—”
“Ah!” my mom lifted a hand.
I paused. She suspiciously eyed me. “Well—I thought that pumpkin carving might be fun before you go trick or treating of course.”
