I must not have the energy tomaintainmy corporeal body, because I no longer feel the ground beneath the soles of my shoes as I stomp up the sidewalk and out through the gate. My arms and hands are back to being transparent, and I feel physically lighter.It’salmost arelief, disrobing my human skin and bones, like a physical weight on my shoulders has been lifted.
Floating down Main Street,heads turn asI dodge as many pedestrians as possible, not wanting to move through them without their permission.My body may feel lighter, but my mind is heavy. For the first time since I appeared in Shadow Hills, I truly feel the significance ofwhat’shappened to me.
I’mdead—that should mean I get no second chances, no opportunities to turn things around, becauseit’sover. YetI’mhere, so what does that mean for my fate?
And what does that mean for my relationship with my sister?
She’s here.
All this time, she was living in Shadow Hills while time stretchedfurther and furtherbetween our texts that were just “checking in.”
I feel like I might hyperventilate, and people are starting to stare. Not only am I the new ghost in town, butI’mhovering in the middle of morning traffic. Dozens of eyes watch me as I try to navigate through the chaos. Not twenty minutes ago, this street was quiet and picturesque. Now it feels like a bustling city, and Ican’tcatch my breath.
“Who is that?” I hear from behind me.
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“Is she alright?”
“We should call the sheriff.”
At this, I kick myself into gear and book it out of there. I shoot upward, eliciting gasps from the crowd below, then aim for the forest. Idon’twant to go back to the house—I’mnot ready to faceTheodore withso much on my mind—but Idon’tknow where else to go. Once the trees unfurl below me, I lower myself to ground level. Beneath the canopy of frozen limbs and snow-covered leaves, I feel safe. Away from prying eyes.
The moon is still visible in the morning sky,fadingagainst the blue and white hues.It’swaning, nearing a perfect crescent. I wish I could feel thesun’srays on my face, but Idon’thave the energy to shift back into my physical body just yet. Instead, I wander, hovering over the snow as Imove throughthe trees and allow myself to think about Claudia.
Did the mayor mention she owned the bakery?
I could have been within walking distance of my sister for the first time in years, and I had no idea.
This cannot be a coincidence, and as much as it terrifies me, I refuse to be a coward. Therehas tobe a reason my spirit was brought here, and if this is it,I’mnot going to ignore it just becauseI’mscared.
Flying back towardtown, Ifind the bookstore where Raegan works anduseit as a starting point. In one direction isDoubleDouble, thecoffee shop, with a line already extendingoutthe door.And,a bitofluck, on the other side of thebookstore is a bakery named Bone Appetit Bakery, writtenin big,curly letters above the door.
Only a few hours ago, I thoughtI’dneverseemy family again.Though my sister’s dance lessons caused a rift in our family, I tried not to let it come between the two of us.It may have felt like my mother always put Claudia’s interests first, and I definitely resented her for it, but I didn’t put any of that blame on my sister.I never wanted to take away herdream;I only wished our mom had enough room in her heart to support two daughters instead of just one.
But despitemy efforts, time still pushed us apart. As we grew up, my decision to no longer remain close with my motherconsequentlyaffected the way my sister and I communicated. Ididn’twant her to talk about mom, so she stopped updating me about her life, given she was still in it. Over time, we hadlessto talk about, until finally, the calls stopped altogether.
Now,I’mstanding in front of a store window with pink ruffled curtains, giant red bows pulling each panel to one side, and my heart swells at the thought of finally getting to see her again.
I swear I can smell the sweet scent of sugar and bread wafting through the door.In the center of thewindowdisplay isa tray of cupcakes with various winter designs. One has a pair of ice skates drawn in icing and accented with tiny pearls to signify the holes for the laces. There are others with snowflakes and snowmen that would catch anyone’s attention with how beautifullythey’redetailed, but my eye travels to a much simpler design. Right in the front is a cupcake covered with plain white icing and dotted with blueberries.
I used to love blueberries growing up.For the longest time, it was the only fruit I would eat, so my mom started sneaking them into various baked goods in order for me to have a more balanced diet.Apparently, shealso snuck zucchini and lentils into my meals, but Iwasn’ttoldthatuntil I was much older.
This is when westarted the tradition of having blueberry pancakes on my birthday. I even stopped eating them throughout the year just to make it extra special.
Thensuddenly, in the middle of the sidewalk, people filtering around my ghostly form,it hits me…
I remember the day I died!
It was the twenty-ninth of November, only two days before my birthday. I can see myself now, alone in my apartment, staring at the calendar and realizing I was about to be thirty years old. I try to remember what else happened that day, but my memories are blank after that.
I stillcan’tremember how I died, but remembering the date is progress. Now I know Iwasn’tstuck in the void for as long as I thought; it waslessthan a week.
Only momentsago,I was filled with happy memories of my sister, and once again, the reality of my death has crashed the party. It feels impossible thatI’llever get used to this.
Astring of bells on the doorchimeto signalI’veentered the shop,my body moving without me even realizing it. No one is behind the counter, butI hearthe faint call of“I’ll be right there!”coming from the kitchen. Mystomach clenchesinto knots. Ican’ttell ifit’sher, so I try to busy myself with perusing the artfully displayed desserts in the glass case. There are even more cupcakes inside, along with decoratedcakes that sayHappy HolidaysandHappy Birthday. In another case are pastries of all kinds. I spy a blueberry scone andimmediatelywant to reach for it. Everything looks so good, I want to try them all, butI’mnot sure ifI’deven be able to.
I really need to find out if ghosts can eat food.
