by Abigail Boyd
"I don't know," I admitted. "But I've seen ghosts before."
"Oh, so you're just crazy," Jenna said, crossing her arms. But it was in the teasing tone of voice I knew so well, the one that used to pick on me for pairing that shirt with those pants.
"It's very possible I am, yeah," I said flatly. "But its possible I just see dead people."
She laughed, and her laughter broke my heart.
"Wow, now you're even quoting from movies," she exclaimed. Still giggling, she wiped her eyes beneath mascaraed lashes. "Get some better source material, chica."
"Ariel! I need to speak with you!" All that wasted air rushed out in a gust as my breath caught. Claire was yelling at me, her voice cutting like a siren through the ceiling. For all I knew, she'd been yelling my name for a while.
The last thing I needed was my irate, overbearing mother stomping down the stairs right now, tackling me like a board meeting. I didn't know what would be worse — if she found me ranting alone like a lunatic, or if she saw Jenna there.
"I'll be right back," I said, holding my hands up to stall my friend. I dashed into the hall, nearly tripping over a stack of boxes. At the stairs, I paused with one foot on the bottom step. I went back and leaned in my open doorway. Jenna still sat motionless on my bed, staring at the maniac that was me.
"Don't disappear," I said. Then I scrambled back out.
"I won't disappear, because I'm not a damn ghost!" I heard her call behind me, followed by a string of more colorful four letter words.
I ran up the stairs, self-consciously scrubbing my cheeks. I was still wearing my sweat clothes, which wasn't all that unusual for me to sleep in. Sans the mud on the knees. How they got so dirty, I couldn't remember. I wondered if old Hawkeye Claire would comment on it.
What if she had been awake, after all? And she'd just been waiting for me to come back home so that she could read me the riot act...she could be vindictive, I'd seen it directed against her twin sister, my Aunt Corinne.
But when I reached the top of the stairs, she was dressed and ready for work, clutching her briefcase and laptop bag with one hand.
"There you are. You would sleep through the apocalypse," she chastised me.
"What —" I began, but she was in a hurry, puttering around the house and looking through me like clear glass.
"I just wanted to let you know the game plan. For once school is done."
"Game plan?" I asked. This was her big serious matter? The hysterical urge to giggle was almost impossible to resist. But somehow I kept mum.
"Yes. It would benefit everyone in this household if you started doing more chores around here. Hugh and I have been working later hours, and it's not going to let up anytime soon. Especially since your father insists on being there for every routine detail at his gallery, even when Gwen is more than capable of taking care of..."
"Claire, the point?" I asked impatiently.
"When you get out of school," she continued, "There's a list of chores on the fridge. I won't be home until close to dark, so you and your father need to forage, okay?"
She kissed my cheek, leaving a sticky imprint of gloss. My heart skipped a beat as she gazed into my eyes. Two frown lines she'd recently tried to Botox away appeared between her brows.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine.. I just woke up," I said, looking away from her penetrating stare.
I bet she thought I was on drugs, but since technically those drugs had been prescribed to me, there wasn't much she could say. It would be a typical Claire crisis, though.
We exchanged goodbyes and she rushed out. The strong smell of her perfume lingered behind. As soon as I heard her car pull out of the driveway, I ran back downstairs.
I didn't stop until I reached my room. It was empty.
"Jenna?" I called out. I pushed the door wide open on its hinges so it banged the wall. She said she wouldn't leave. I looked around, behind the bed, but she wasn't anywhere. Panic rushed up through me again, reminding me that I was still in the persistent embrace of medication withdrawal.
But I knew I'd seen Jenna. I wasn't giving up that easily.
Investigating the basement, I tossed blankets and boxes, calling out her name quietly so that if Hugh came down he wouldn't hear me. But I still couldn't find a sign of her. The french doors were locked from the inside.
I retreated to my room. The clock radio started blaring Nickleback, making me jump. I belly-flopped on the bed and yanked the power cord out of the socket. It was time to get ready for school, and staying here wasn't helping me.
Rushing into fresh clothes, my body apparently seemed to realize I'd barely slept and attempted to force a shut down. It felt like weights were tied to my limbs, but I forced myself to keep moving.
Upstairs in the bathroom, I splashed bitingly cold water on my face. Smudging concealer over the dark shadows cradling my eyes, I hoped I didn't look too much like a zombie. It was only a few hours. And people didn't inspect me very carefully anymore.
The Toyota's bleating horn honked outside. Theo was right on time. She always was, considering we lived next to each other. I muttered a curse under my breath, yanked my backpack off of where it hung on one of the dining room chairs, and ran outside.
The windows were rolled down to the already humid air. Fast-moving, heavy clouds promised rain above, but probably not soon enough for relief. The fog had burned away, but everything had the early morning softness of slumber.
As I slid into the passenger seat, I heard Theo humming along with an indie song on the radio. She was chewing a big wad of neon green gum, smacking her lips together.
"We're almost free!" she sang out, a toothy smile lighting up her face. She'd twisted her hair up in a barrette, tendrils framing her cheeks. When I didn't return the smile, her good mood crashed.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her body tensed on alert.
"I just didn't sleep well," I said quickly. I didn't want to give her any reason to freak out. "I had a bunch of nightmares. I've been worrying too much again."
She relaxed, the seat belt going slack across her chest. "Oh. Well, after school we can go out to eat and trash talk all of the people we won't see until next year. My treat. And no is not an option."
Putting the car into gear, we set off for school. I glanced once back at my house, wondering what would be awaiting me when I got back.
Sitting still was torture, and at the same time I had to struggle to stay awake. But I made it somehow; all the wiggling kept me alert enough.
Homeroom had been shuffled to the end of the shortened day, so we could clean out our lockers. McPherson came over the intercom. After congratulating us on our great school year, mostly the sports teams in the Big 9 championships, he paused.
"And on a personal note, that is of great significance to me," he began, drawing out each word for effect like a politician giving a victory speech, "I have been invited to become a member of the Thornhill Society. It goes without saying that this is a tremendous honor, and I am committed to helping improve Hell."
I realized my jaw had snapped open. No one else in homeroom was paying the slightest bit of attention. I couldn't think of a reason why a committee of the wealthiest members in Hell would want with McPherson. Maybe all of his relentless butt-kissing to Lainey and Henry's dads had finally paid off, but it seemed awfully farfetched.
Forcing the information out of my mind, I reasoned in five seconds when the bell rang, McPherson's oddball ways would no longer be my concern.
Mr. Landow, the homeroom teacher, sent us out into the hall to empty our lockers. A waste of time, since we'd be using the same ones next year. Everyone around me started dropping the remains of the dead year into huge gray trashcans.
In the back of my locker, I found crumpled up papers and notebooks from earlier in the year. I'd scribbled "Henry and Ariel" and different blends of our names to make a couple moniker. I threw it all away in disgust. Maybe my parents were right to treat me like a baby. Eh, maybe not.
&
nbsp; The normal jubilation that accompanied the end of the school year erupted all around me as the closing bell rang. The sound was blown down the hall by a blast of air conditioning. Kids laughing and celebrating, eager to get outside after the pretense of school. I just wanted to get back and figure out where Jenna was, and why she had decided to come back now.
As I navigated towards the exit doors, people pushed me around, one big mass with the desire to move. Everything felt too loud and intense, and the burning on my scalp stung. I dodged to get out of the way of a basketball jock shooting ropes of Silly String at some cheerleaders.
I didn't have enough time to see Henry, let alone get out of his way. He was right there, his corpse eyes fixed ahead. The flow of traffic pressed our bodies together.
A flash of light shot through me. My vision went white, and I could feel the same energy infusing my veins into lightning bolts. My skin was on fire, but pleasure snaked through my stomach and down my legs. Both were equally powerful sensations, scrambling my senses and merging into one feeling.
The floor receded, but I didn't fall. A yanking, tugging feeling replaced the pleasure. My body was trying to turn itself inside out, flesh stretching, muscle tearing.
Invisible fists pummeled my shoulders, like someone tenderizing meat. I tried to duck or move out of the way, but the attacker wouldn't stop hitting. A scream started, a guttural roar, like a lion let loose from its cage. All I knew was pain, and pain was all I deserved.
Then I was back at Hawthorne, the vision a memory.
It took my mind a second to fully grasp the fact that I was down on my knees. The only thing holding me up was Henry, his arms surrounding and supporting my torso. Other students were trampling past us, barely noticing we were in their way.
"Ariel, are you okay?" he asked, the concern in his voice jarring. I looked into his terribly familiar face, feeling a confusing mix of hatred, sadness and hope. Tears rushed up to my eyes, and I shoved him away. He stumbled backwards.
As disoriented as I still felt, I didn't want him touching me. I tripped over my feet and almost went down again. His hands shot out to catch me but I twisted away, bumping into a girl with an oversized backpack who called me a bitch.
When I'd righted myself, I looked at him. His arms were still outstretched, like he wanted to embrace me. I spun and sprinted out the exit doors and into the parking lot, not looking back.
"Remind me again why we're at the playground?" I asked Theo wearily, leaning my head against the chain of the swing set I was resting on.
Theo had taken me for fast food, as she'd promised. Even though I still had no appetite, I'd forced down the greasy fare at Dante's, making my stomach feel bloated. Then we'd wound up back in the Toyota and driving up to the deserted community playground. Now we were sitting next to each other on the swing set.
"I come here to think sometimes," Theo said softly. "When I can't seem to find my thoughts anywhere else."
The humidity make my t-shirt stick to my back. Clouds kept rolling in and going back out again. The sun was still visible the whole time, in one half of the sky.
"Do you ever have a hard time living with your mom?" I asked, wanting reassurance that my parents weren't the only crazy ones. "Ever want to just pack your stuff and move in with your dad full time?" Ms. Vore seemed as normal and nice as could be, though.
Theo shrugged, pushing herself with her sneakers so she began to swing gently. "Not always. But sometimes there's just not enough space for the both of us, you know? And it has nothing to do with how big or small the house is."
I nodded. I knew.
"So just out of curiosity, what upset you so much earlier?" Theo asked.
I had torn out of the school, tears streaming down my cheeks, and flung myself into Theo's car without a word. It had taken ten minutes to catch my breath, and even then I didn't want to speak.
"Henry," was the first word out of my mouth. It was only partially true, but it was good enough.
She took her hand from the chain to push her glasses up her nose.
"That's not surprising," she said. "What did he do now?"
"It's hard to explain." I struggled to think of what to tell her. "I did something stupid yesterday. Well, I didn't think it was stupid at the time, but now I do."
My teeth worried my chapped bottom lip. I couldn't say anything about Jenna. Theo was a very accepting person, but even she might want to have me committed.
"Okay," Theo said after a minute of my silence. "If you stop talking there, I'll kick you. Start spilling."
"I stopped taking my medication."
"Why did you do that?" Theo asked.
"I couldn't stand the way it was making me feel anymore," I admitted. The swing squeaked as I swayed in the direction of the faint breeze. "It was zombie mode, constantly. I felt disconnected from everything. I still do, but I'm guessing that will eventually fade."
"You were a little fog brained for a while," Theo agreed. "But are you okay now? Is that safe?"
I shook my head, and looked up at the shapeless clouds. "I don't know. I think it's just withdrawal. I feel really anxious and everything is too intense, the sounds, the smells. I mean, I read about withdrawal, and you know me. I read one article and I think I'm an expert."
Theo chuckled under her breath, probably due to the truth of my statement. With the toe of her sneaker, she drew a heart shape in the sand.
"Now it's like someone pressed fast forward on my body," I concluded.
"Does your mom know?" Theo asked.
I looked at her sheepishly.
"Yeah, I didn't think so," Theo said. "That still doesn't explain what Henry did."
"He didn't really do anything." I felt stupid for even bringing him into the conversation. "I just bumped into him in school, like literally bumped into him, touching-his-body wise..."
"Touching his body?" Theo repeated, both eyebrows reaching her fire-red hairline. "Did you stumble into sex ed?"
I swung sideways so my swing knocked hers with a clunk. "We got pushed together by the sheep rushing out. And it brought back all my old feelings. The ones I didn't think I had anymore. I couldn't even talk to him."
"You shouldn't talk to him," Theo said emphatically. Her shoe tip erased the heart with one swift, graceful swoop. "You should set him on fire." She accompanied her words with a toothy grin.
I snickered, despite the fact that it seemed like an alien thing to do. We both sat together, listening to the traffic on the road, and watching a couple of birds flit around on the grass.
"I wish Henry had never moved here," Theo said.
CHAPTER 5
AFTER THEO DROPPED me off that afternoon, I stood outside the back door for several minutes, willing myself to go forward. I stomped playground sand from my shoes on the worn mat and went in.
I remembered Claire's list as soon as I opened the door, and groaned. Why did she have to torture me? Couldn't she give me one day without bossing me around?
I decided to ignore it for now. I had to; my eyelids were barely staying open, and my knees threatened to give out if I stood for much longer. Hugh must have been upstairs in his studio, since his keys were on the counter and there was fresh coffee in the pot.
Dragging myself and my heavy backpack towards the stairs, I went down. As I wandered back to my room, I tried to prepare myself for what I might see. I thrust the door open, expecting to see Jenna sitting on the bed, sticking her tongue out at me.
But the room was empty, smelling of dust and unused scented candles. Not seeing her was a strange, guilty relief, one I would have never expected. Frankly, I couldn't deal with Jenna now, either. My brain was in commercial mode — flitting from one image to another, with no purpose or reason.
Chucking my backpack under the desk, I collapsed on the bed. I passed out before I could think anymore.
The next conscious thought I was aware of was annoyance. Hugh was shaking my shoulder, trying to wake me up.
"I made spaghetti," he said.
"All covered with cheese."
Somehow I'd ended up face down on my pillow, a little splotch of drool emanating from my mouth. I pushed my torso up a fraction, still mostly asleep.
"What?"
"I made spaghetti," Hugh repeated. "For dinner. Are you going to get up any time in this century?"
"Maybe another decade," I said, dropping my head back to the moist pillow.
"It's already after 7," Hugh persisted. "Do you want me to just save a plate in the microwave?"
I muttered my agreement, and listened as he rumbled out of the room, flicking the lights off as he went.
I didn't stir from sleep until later, when I finally dragged myself to heed my rumbling stomach. The food from Dante's had finally settled, leaving me hungry.
Claire was home. Her briefcase sat open on the table, full of meticulously organized piles of documents with a rainbow of Post-Its. I hoped she didn't notice that I hadn't even taken a peek at her to-do list, but I knew that was a pipe dream. Her shoes clicked on the floor above, back and forth across her room.
I heated the spaghetti under a paper towel, my bleary eyes watching the glowing tray turn. My appetite grew with every rotation and when it was heated up I scarfed down the entire plate. For the first time in a while, I could actually taste the flavors.
Going back downstairs after I finished the dishes, I only glanced for Jenna. I knew she wouldn't be there. I'd hallucinated that morning, plain and simple. Sleep had put a great deal of distance between where I'd been that morning and where I was now.
Even though I'd slept for hours, I still felt tired. I remade the bed, putting on fresh pillowcases and depositing my week's worth of laundry across the hall. Then I settled in for the night, content to no longer be kept awake by my thoughts.
The dog chased me across the field. I'd never seen a canine so large, its spiky, coal-colored fur jutting off of its powerful frame. I could hear it growling as foam spewed from its maw, rows of strong white teeth chomping together. Its large paws broke through fallen branches and thumped against the hard ground like hoof beats.
It was going to catch me soon, and when it did...
