I gasp with relief.
I’m desperate to ask what this dream is supposed to be about, but then I notice she isn’t looking at me. She’s looking just past me, at my journal.
I wave my hand in front of her face, but she continues to ignore me. Then she gets up and stepsthroughme.
My entire body feels as ifit’sreceiving a million tiny pinpricks at once, just like the timesI’velain on my arm too long and it fell asleep.
What the fuck?
Claudia shivers violently out of the corner of my eye, and I freeze.
Did she feel it too?
It’sat this moment I finally take note of whatshe’swearing.It’sa knee-length black dress withan eyelettrim.She’smatched it with a pair of simple black heels, and her legs are covered by a thin pair of hosiery.
It looks like she’s going to a funeral.
As I take in her appearance, a voice travels up the stairs from the front door. “Claudia, darling, come now or we’ll be late.”
It’s my mother.
Claudia takes a good look around my room one last time, then turns to leave. I reach out desperately for her, trying my best to grabher arm, the sleeve of her dress, anything…but thenshe’sgone.
Rushing to the window, I stare below as my mother andstepfatherget inside the back of a hearse.Claudia exits the house, locking the door behind her, then gets in after them.
As I watch the long black car pull out of the driveway and make their way out of our neighborhood, it finally occurs to me…
I think I’m dead.
Chapter Two
KENNEDY
I’muncertain how much time has passed. Time seems to slip on this side of the veil.The next time I open my eyes, either months or seconds later, I find myself in a familiar cafe in my mother’s hometown.
I have vague memories of thisplacefromthe timesspent here as a little girl. We moved from Shadow Hills when I was about twelve years old, so the details have blurred over time, but I do have one specific memory that stands out.The day before we packed up and hit the road, my sister had a dance recital.Shewon second place in her age group for Best Solo Performance, so to celebrate, we all camehereto Kiki’s Cafe, and ordered milkshakes with grilled cheese. I remember feeling both excited for my sisterand her sparklingtrophy,and gloomy that it was the last time I would ever have a milkshake from Kiki’s. The owner made them special, giving my sister and I extra whipped cream and funny straws. She said she saved them just for us, but I knew she gave them to all the kids.Itdidn’tmake it feel any less special.
An overwhelming wave of nostalgia crashes into me as I try to gather my bearings. I steady myself by reaching reflexivelyfor the back of a wooden chair, knuckles turning pale from how hardI’mholding on.I don’t want to slip back into the nothingness again, but I don’t know how to stop it from happening.
My brain races a mile a minute as I try tomake a plan, butI’mstartled by an ear-piercing screech. I look up and see a fellow redhead who looks as ifthey’vejustseen a ghost.
Can she see me?
To my knowledge,I’veonly been spotted once in the infinite gap between appearing in my childhood bedroom and now. It was at a bar Ididn’trecognize, but I was able to briefly speak with a couple sitting in a booth. The interaction lasted less than two minutes, and then I was sucked back into the void, unable to knowwhetherI’dgotten through to them just how dire my situationwas.
It feels like decades have passed since then, and my hope of being seen againhadalmost diminished completely. Now here I am, finally back on familiar ground with someone who looks very much like the Kiki I knew as a child. She gawks at me, and I spin my head around to make sure no one else is standing behind me, butthere’snothing there but empty tables.
I wave shyly,butthis only spooksher more. The woman clutches her chest as if trying to keep her heart from escaping and dashes to the phone on the wall behind the counter. She dials frantically, messing up twice before the call finally goes through.
“Keeks,” she starts, exasperated,“we’vegot a situation.A young woman just popped out of thin air and is staring at me.”
So,thisisn’tKiki. I vaguely rememberthecafe ownerhaving a sister, but we never met. She pauses momentarily, listening to who I assumeisKiki giving her response over the line. “I don’t care what position you’re in,” she interrupts. “Stop downward dogging and get yourLycra-clad ass down‘erenow.” The lastfew words come out rushed and in a low, poorly enunciated grumbleas she dramaticallyhangs up the phone.
She doesn’t seem to understand how I got here, but surely I'm not the only ghost in Shadow Hills. That can’t be right—I distinctly remember the mayor being…transparent. I suppose, of all the places my spirit could appear, this is probably the best-case scenario.
I find my courage and address the woman properly, hoping to set her at ease. “Hi.” I wave again, this time with confidence. “I’mKennedy. Are you Kiki’s sister?”
Sheslowly turns to face me once more,andnods, eyes on the verge of popping out of their sockets. “Kendra.”
