Read Online In the Air Tonight by Lori Handeland - Free Book Online
Authors: Lori Handeland
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that chair eventually lulled me to sleep, and I did so without dreams—or at least any that I remembered.
As soon as I woke I dressed in the clothes I’d discarded on the floor, splashed water on my face, attempted to wake Jenn—twice—then hurried to my apartment, hoping I wouldn’t run into too many people who wanted to know why I looked like I was taking the run-walk of shame down First Street.
Another reason not to sleep with anyone from here. That run-walk could become legendary. Ask Jenn.
I was in the shower before I remembered the maniac; by then it was too late. If he threw back the curtain and started to hack away with his ghostly meat cleaver I could ignore him just as well naked as not. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
The memory of Bobby’s blue eyes had me choosing a slightly newer, tighter pair of jeans and a sweater instead of a sweatshirt.
Which meant someone would throw up on me. It was a given.
I reached my classroom with very little time to spare, but it was still better than yesterday. The children filed in, and Susan ran toward me with such fervor I figured the winner in the barfing competition would be her.
“Stafford has a new friend,” she said.
“New friends are always nice.”
There’d been times in the past when the children had invented invisible friends for their friend who wasn’t exactly invisible.
“Her name is Genevieve.”
Interesting. Most invisible Stafford friends were named less exotically. Poopy Head came to mind.
I forgot about Stafford in the upheaval that began each new day. Getting fifteen five-year-olds into their seats long enough to count how many I had missing often took so long that I was missing one by the time I finished. But I managed. I always did. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
We studied shapes, grouping quadrilaterals and circles and triangles. You could never get kids prepared for geometry too soon, or at least that’s what the curriculum said. I handed out a worksheet; the children pulled out their crayons so they could color all the squares blue and so on. It wasn’t until morning recess that I spared a thought for Stafford, and then only because I saw him.
And his new friend.
At first I wasn’t sure if she was dead. Just because the child was hanging out with Stafford didn’t mean she was a ghost. Didn’t mean she wasn’t either. More often than not, the specters I saw seemed very real. At least until they disappeared, walked through a wall, or walked through me. Talk about an ice bath.
I joined the two of them on the edge of the playground where they sat side by side on a bench.
“This is Genevieve.” Stafford seemed so happy I almost liked him.
Genevieve had big blue eyes, short, curly chestnut hair, and skin just a shade darker than my own. The freckles on her nose were nearly as adorable as her frilly white skirt, black tights, ballet flats, and a pink T-shirt that spelled PRINCESS in bright, white sequins. No matter how far the women’s movement came, really, who didn’t want to be a princess?
“I’m Miss Larsen.” I held out my hand, thankful I was on duty for recess, so the only people who might see me shaking hands with air would be children who’d seen me do such things before.
Genevieve’s hand passed right through mine. She was dead all right.
Her lip trembled. She flexed her fingers. “Ouch,” she whispered. “Hot.”
“Sorry.” I rubbed my own hand on my jeans. It burned too—like frostbite.
I’d met other ghost children. A curve of the interstate bumped against the school property line. For some reason that meant elementary-school-age spirits killed on that highway often wound up here. They hung about to resolve fairly simple issues.
Kiss Mommy good-bye.
I want my dolly to go along .
Half the time I had them out of the building and into the light before the other children even knew they’d arrived. Which was why Susan had been so excited about Genevieve. I couldn’t remember the last
As soon as I woke I dressed in the clothes I’d discarded on the floor, splashed water on my face, attempted to wake Jenn—twice—then hurried to my apartment, hoping I wouldn’t run into too many people who wanted to know why I looked like I was taking the run-walk of shame down First Street.
Another reason not to sleep with anyone from here. That run-walk could become legendary. Ask Jenn.
I was in the shower before I remembered the maniac; by then it was too late. If he threw back the curtain and started to hack away with his ghostly meat cleaver I could ignore him just as well naked as not. Or at least that’s what I told myself.
The memory of Bobby’s blue eyes had me choosing a slightly newer, tighter pair of jeans and a sweater instead of a sweatshirt.
Which meant someone would throw up on me. It was a given.
I reached my classroom with very little time to spare, but it was still better than yesterday. The children filed in, and Susan ran toward me with such fervor I figured the winner in the barfing competition would be her.
“Stafford has a new friend,” she said.
“New friends are always nice.”
There’d been times in the past when the children had invented invisible friends for their friend who wasn’t exactly invisible.
“Her name is Genevieve.”
Interesting. Most invisible Stafford friends were named less exotically. Poopy Head came to mind.
I forgot about Stafford in the upheaval that began each new day. Getting fifteen five-year-olds into their seats long enough to count how many I had missing often took so long that I was missing one by the time I finished. But I managed. I always did. This wasn’t my first rodeo.
We studied shapes, grouping quadrilaterals and circles and triangles. You could never get kids prepared for geometry too soon, or at least that’s what the curriculum said. I handed out a worksheet; the children pulled out their crayons so they could color all the squares blue and so on. It wasn’t until morning recess that I spared a thought for Stafford, and then only because I saw him.
And his new friend.
At first I wasn’t sure if she was dead. Just because the child was hanging out with Stafford didn’t mean she was a ghost. Didn’t mean she wasn’t either. More often than not, the specters I saw seemed very real. At least until they disappeared, walked through a wall, or walked through me. Talk about an ice bath.
I joined the two of them on the edge of the playground where they sat side by side on a bench.
“This is Genevieve.” Stafford seemed so happy I almost liked him.
Genevieve had big blue eyes, short, curly chestnut hair, and skin just a shade darker than my own. The freckles on her nose were nearly as adorable as her frilly white skirt, black tights, ballet flats, and a pink T-shirt that spelled PRINCESS in bright, white sequins. No matter how far the women’s movement came, really, who didn’t want to be a princess?
“I’m Miss Larsen.” I held out my hand, thankful I was on duty for recess, so the only people who might see me shaking hands with air would be children who’d seen me do such things before.
Genevieve’s hand passed right through mine. She was dead all right.
Her lip trembled. She flexed her fingers. “Ouch,” she whispered. “Hot.”
“Sorry.” I rubbed my own hand on my jeans. It burned too—like frostbite.
I’d met other ghost children. A curve of the interstate bumped against the school property line. For some reason that meant elementary-school-age spirits killed on that highway often wound up here. They hung about to resolve fairly simple issues.
Kiss Mommy good-bye.
I want my dolly to go along .
Half the time I had them out of the building and into the light before the other children even knew they’d arrived. Which was why Susan had been so excited about Genevieve. I couldn’t remember the last
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