“My attendance record isn’t perfect.” I missed fifth period last semester. Rainie insisted we could go get lunch at the pizzeria across town and be back by the bell.
It’s alarming how quickly Jesse gets me worked up. I’m a mellow person by nature, but every time he speaks, I switch into the worst version of myself. “Ditching class makes you truant. If I get a citation, I can’t audition to be a speaker at graduation.”
“Oh my gosh darn, a citation? What’s next—a demerit?” He utters the last word in a scandalized whisper, and the urge to strangle him arrives fast and heavy.
I stare at my hands, utterly appalled. What is happening to me?
Something in my expression gives Jesse pause, and he sighs. “Whatever. Come to my place after school.”
Jesse strides away before I can politely let him know that the only way he’s getting me to visit his father’s property is in a body bag. He hops over the fence separating the quad from the parking lot and lands on the other side in a slight crouch, unrolling his impressively limber body as he walks toward his truck. The lunch monitor spots him, but she must not be in the mood to deal with Jesse’s particular brand of trouble. She turns away with a shake of her head. If there is anything living in Ward long enough will teach you, it’s that not everybody can be saved.
I watch his truck disappear and nibble the end of my thumbnail.Okay, going to Jesse’s house. Decidedly not scary. Maybe his house will be fun creepy, like the Addams’s family mansion. Or the funny haunted mansion from that Eddie Murphy movie.
I turn around, still trying to remember the name of the Eddie Murphy movie, and run directly into Alex.
“Oh!” I squeak at a pitch somewhere between parrot and bald tire spinning against asphalt. Behind Alex, Rainie, Lucia, and Aida watch us from the table. Aida’s pencil moves over her sketchpad.
The despondent frown Alex has worn the last few weeks is nowhere to be seen. In its place lies pure disbelief. “Are you hanging out withJesse Talbot?”
I should have figured the sight of Jesse and me together wouldn’t go unnoticed. We don’t exactly run in the same circles.
I’ve missed Alex so much. I can’t help swaying closer to him. He’s wearing a forest green sweatshirt withCANYON HIGH BASKETBALLspelled on the front. I’m sure if I tuck myself against his chest and press my nose to the spot where his sweatshirt meets his throat, I’ll catch the scent of his cologne. A spicy, expensive mix I gave him for his seventeenth birthday.
“No. Not technically. Hanging out implies I’m seeing him for fun.”
“You’reseeing him?” Alex sounds like someone kicked him in the windpipe.
“No, no!” Frustration bubbles up. Nothing is coming out right. I haven’t spoken to Alex in weeks, not since I stopped answering his texts. This isn’t how I imagined our first conversation going. “Jesse is just helping me out with a project.”
“What project? Talbot doesn’t care about school.”
The bell rings, saving me from an answer. I don’t want to lie to Alex, but I can’t exactly tell him the truth. Alex is a logical guy. He drives according to the speed limit, buys his teachers an end of the year thank-you gift, and uses the same brand of shampoo and conditioner he’s had since hewas fourteen. If I told him that Jesse was helping me break a curse, Alex would undoubtedly call Baba. Or 911. Neither option ends well for me.
I back away, half-eaten lunch gathered in the crook of my arm. “I gotta go. See you later,” I say.
“Will you?” Alex replies, and he’s lost all his steam. I can’t stand knowing I put the wounded note in his voice.
I’m trying to fix this, I want to say. I’m trying to put it all back together. Wait for me, please. Trust me.
“I hope so.”
I’ve rarely spent much time thinking about what happens after we die. In many ways, I’m my father’s daughter. I care about what’s in front of me, what I can affect and change.
Lately, I can’t stop thinking about the details of it. Whether my coffin will be brown or black. What recipes I should leave for Baba so he doesn’t subsist solely on takeout.
What will people remember about me?
Ha. Like they’ll remember anything other than how I died. If the thing successfully possesses someone to kill me, the murder trial will be the biggest scandal to hit Ward in decades. Especially if the murderer can’t remember how or why they killed the former dance team captain and homecoming queen.
I halt at the gate blocking the Talbot property from the rest of the neighborhood. The house rises against the clouds like a headstone, nothing but gray paint and moldering walls.
My clammy palms almost slip from the rusted iron bars. As reluctant to grip the gate as I am to walk through it.
Closing my eyes is a mistake. Ice rolls down my spine, and suddenly, it isn’t the gate beneath my hands, but a smooth banister. Steps carved into the darkness, leading me to an orange light spilling beneath the lip of a pale door.
Gasping, I drop my hold on the gate. A shudder crawls from the nape of my neck to the back of my knees, and I nearly drop to the sidewalk.
Damn it.Every time I see the door, the details shift. The elaborate carvings on the frame. The grain of the wood. The shine on the handle. Is it my memory playing tricks on me, or is something else?
