were you I’d be a little more polite.”
Polite? Man, please, that’s why you’re walking around in a funky mood all the time. Somebody should have snapped you out of this Lifetime network depression a long time ago.
“I am not depressed!” I shout as I stop walking and turn to face him.
Yeah, you are. And for a spoiled brat that’s like the end of the world.
I take a step toward him and he starts to smile.
What? Are you going to hit me because I pissed you off?
Ooh, it is so tempting. But could I punch a spirit? With my luck, probably not. “Forget it,” I say with more exasperation than I want him to hear. “I don’t even know where I’m going.”
They’re in the basement, by the boiler room.
I almost ask how he knows but keep my mouth shut. Ricky is getting on my nerves. I think about this as I stomp through the exit doors and down the stairs. He is right behind me but I am through talking to him. I am also through listening to him.
Because more and more what he says sounds too much like right.
nine
“You’re sure she saw you?”
“Duh. Yes, I’m sure. She was standing right next to me. How could she not have seen me?”
Jake makes a sound that seems like he isn’t really feeling Sasha’s dramatics. He actually sounds worried, which I should be since I’m the one ducking under and around pipes spewing steam all over the place. What kind of people meet in a boiler room?
Anyway, I keep walking toward the voices, wanting to get to them and get this over with as soon as possible. They’re still a couple of steps away and they both have their backs turned to me. When I trip on something and start my descent to the floor, the last thing I expect is for Jake to appear instantly, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me up before I actually kiss the floor.
“Hey, be careful down here,” he says, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty.
I am about to ask him how he got to me so quickly when Sasha walks up to us.
“You came. Great,” she says with a smile I swear is permanently etched into her face. Kind of like the Joker on Batman, but not as weird-looking and definitely not withthat grotesque makeup. Actually, Sasha’s makeup looks good, perfect. Words I immediately associate with her entire persona.
“I need to get back to class.” I hear myself and cringe at how weak that sounds. I’m in the tenth grade, with a hall pass. I’ve got permission to be out of class. Not to be in the boiler room with two other kids, but that’s just being picky.
“We really need to talk,” Jake says.
That’s when I notice he still has his arm around my waist. I make a move to get out of his grasp but my feet feel weird. I look down at them and gasp. They’re not touching the floor.
“Oh. Ah, sorry,” Jake says then lowers me to the floor.
Okay, now this is just too strange. First Sasha disappears, then Jake, who by the way is only about five inches taller than me and probably fifteen pounds heavier, lifts me into midair and just holds me there. Talk about Freaky Friday, except today’s Monday.
I start looking around, past Sasha and past Jake, to the one person down here who I think is normal—normally dead. I don’t see him. Ricky picks the oddest times to appear and disappear. I wonder if he’s hovering above somewhere, hidden in the pipes maybe, just watching and listening.
To my right Jake makes a move. He lifts his hoodie over his head and tosses it to the floor. Beneath it he wears only a white T-shirt. Rolling up the sleeve, he turns to the side and taps his right arm. I look because I’m assuming that’s what he wants me to do and, damn, he has the exact same birthmark as me.
“And,” Sasha says, lifting her shirt so that her stomach is showing.
So I could see the same M -shaped birthmark on her right side. The same one I’ve had all my life. The one Jake has on his arm.
I look back up to both of their faces. They’re staring at me as if I should say
Polite? Man, please, that’s why you’re walking around in a funky mood all the time. Somebody should have snapped you out of this Lifetime network depression a long time ago.
“I am not depressed!” I shout as I stop walking and turn to face him.
Yeah, you are. And for a spoiled brat that’s like the end of the world.
I take a step toward him and he starts to smile.
What? Are you going to hit me because I pissed you off?
Ooh, it is so tempting. But could I punch a spirit? With my luck, probably not. “Forget it,” I say with more exasperation than I want him to hear. “I don’t even know where I’m going.”
They’re in the basement, by the boiler room.
I almost ask how he knows but keep my mouth shut. Ricky is getting on my nerves. I think about this as I stomp through the exit doors and down the stairs. He is right behind me but I am through talking to him. I am also through listening to him.
Because more and more what he says sounds too much like right.
nine
“You’re sure she saw you?”
“Duh. Yes, I’m sure. She was standing right next to me. How could she not have seen me?”
Jake makes a sound that seems like he isn’t really feeling Sasha’s dramatics. He actually sounds worried, which I should be since I’m the one ducking under and around pipes spewing steam all over the place. What kind of people meet in a boiler room?
Anyway, I keep walking toward the voices, wanting to get to them and get this over with as soon as possible. They’re still a couple of steps away and they both have their backs turned to me. When I trip on something and start my descent to the floor, the last thing I expect is for Jake to appear instantly, wrapping his arm around my waist and lifting me up before I actually kiss the floor.
“Hey, be careful down here,” he says, his voice cracking like he’s going through puberty.
I am about to ask him how he got to me so quickly when Sasha walks up to us.
“You came. Great,” she says with a smile I swear is permanently etched into her face. Kind of like the Joker on Batman, but not as weird-looking and definitely not withthat grotesque makeup. Actually, Sasha’s makeup looks good, perfect. Words I immediately associate with her entire persona.
“I need to get back to class.” I hear myself and cringe at how weak that sounds. I’m in the tenth grade, with a hall pass. I’ve got permission to be out of class. Not to be in the boiler room with two other kids, but that’s just being picky.
“We really need to talk,” Jake says.
That’s when I notice he still has his arm around my waist. I make a move to get out of his grasp but my feet feel weird. I look down at them and gasp. They’re not touching the floor.
“Oh. Ah, sorry,” Jake says then lowers me to the floor.
Okay, now this is just too strange. First Sasha disappears, then Jake, who by the way is only about five inches taller than me and probably fifteen pounds heavier, lifts me into midair and just holds me there. Talk about Freaky Friday, except today’s Monday.
I start looking around, past Sasha and past Jake, to the one person down here who I think is normal—normally dead. I don’t see him. Ricky picks the oddest times to appear and disappear. I wonder if he’s hovering above somewhere, hidden in the pipes maybe, just watching and listening.
To my right Jake makes a move. He lifts his hoodie over his head and tosses it to the floor. Beneath it he wears only a white T-shirt. Rolling up the sleeve, he turns to the side and taps his right arm. I look because I’m assuming that’s what he wants me to do and, damn, he has the exact same birthmark as me.
“And,” Sasha says, lifting her shirt so that her stomach is showing.
So I could see the same M -shaped birthmark on her right side. The same one I’ve had all my life. The one Jake has on his arm.
I look back up to both of their faces. They’re staring at me as if I should say
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