I can think to stop it. “I can’t hear them, I can’t see them, they’re not real.” My mantra rings in my mind.
“Who’s not real?”
I spin around at the sound of Sasha’s voice directly behind me. Did I say that out loud? I know I was thinking it. I’ve been thinking it for days, since Ricky first followed me home from the bus stop. But considering he’d visited me every day since then, and that I’d actually met his girlfriend—both of whom are dead—my little chant method couldn’t possibly be working.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“You said you can’t see them. Who don’t you see?” Jake had moved closer so that they were now both standing on either side of me, blocking me in.
My chest tightens and I lift my hand to rest over my heart trying to still its abnormal thumping. My throat feels dry like it’s stuffed with cotton. I can’t possibly talk, can’t possibly answer their questions.
But what if they’re right?
What if I’m not the only one who’s not normal?
They’re both eyeing me, Sasha folding her arms over her chest and Jake just staring at me with those eyes that look like a lost puppy. I’m trapped. They know. I might as well come clean. Right?
So I take a deep breath and figure if they even think to tell a soul about what I’m about to say, I’ll retaliate by telling that they’re hiding in boiler rooms, disappearing and moving things with their eyes. Yeah, and we’ll all be wheeled away to the nearest nuthouse.
“Ghosts,” I blurt out, afraid that if I stall another minute I won’t be able to say it. “Well, the online definition calls them spirits.”
“What?” Sasha asks.
Jake takes a step closer to me, his hand going to my elbow. “You see ghosts? You’re clairvoyant?”
“Ah.” I swallow again and fold my arms over my chest like Sasha had hers. Jake keeps touching me. It’s eerie and it’s making me more nervous than I already am. “Um, yeah. I’m all those ‘clair’ things. I can see, hear, sense and converse with spirits of the dead.”
Sasha tilts her head and smirks, like she doesn’t believe me. “That’s not a superpower.”
“Where do you see them? At graveyards and stuff?”
I shake my head, not liking Sasha’s attitude but touched by Jake’s quick trust in my words.
“No. Anywhere.”
“Wow. Awesome! A real live medium. Do they ask you for help? Can they hear you? Are any down here right now?”
“She’s lying,” Sasha claims. This is the first time I’ve seen her not smile, like her whole mood has changed instantly.
Okay, so now here comes the drama. This is why I stay to myself, why friendship and connections are such a nono in my book. Girls are catty by nature, Janet told me that when I first started elementary school. Even if I didn’t try, there’d always be some type of competition between girls. So now, even though I didn’t tell her to invite me down to this sweaty boiler room and even though I don’t know how she ever saw the birthmark on my neck or why shethought it was okay to approach me, Sasha and I were at odds.
She had what she called a superpower; she was convinced that I did, too. But when I tell her what I can do, she calls me a liar.
Not happening.
“Look, I didn’t come to you, you came to me. So if you don’t believe what I’m saying, that’s just too damn bad.” I take an aggressive step toward her, pointing my finger at her as if there were somebody else in the room and I wanted to make sure she knew I was talking to her. Actions that seem out of character for me but feel really good.
Sasha doesn’t move a muscle. She does arch an eyebrow, the right side of her mouth curving up into a half smile, half smirk. “Prove it.”
“What? How am I going to prove to you that I see and hear spirits when you don’t see or hear them? That’s just ridiculous.”
“She’s got a point, Sasha,” Jake says, then clears his throat after Sasha gives him the evil eye.
“Name a ghost
“Who’s not real?”
I spin around at the sound of Sasha’s voice directly behind me. Did I say that out loud? I know I was thinking it. I’ve been thinking it for days, since Ricky first followed me home from the bus stop. But considering he’d visited me every day since then, and that I’d actually met his girlfriend—both of whom are dead—my little chant method couldn’t possibly be working.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“You said you can’t see them. Who don’t you see?” Jake had moved closer so that they were now both standing on either side of me, blocking me in.
My chest tightens and I lift my hand to rest over my heart trying to still its abnormal thumping. My throat feels dry like it’s stuffed with cotton. I can’t possibly talk, can’t possibly answer their questions.
But what if they’re right?
What if I’m not the only one who’s not normal?
They’re both eyeing me, Sasha folding her arms over her chest and Jake just staring at me with those eyes that look like a lost puppy. I’m trapped. They know. I might as well come clean. Right?
So I take a deep breath and figure if they even think to tell a soul about what I’m about to say, I’ll retaliate by telling that they’re hiding in boiler rooms, disappearing and moving things with their eyes. Yeah, and we’ll all be wheeled away to the nearest nuthouse.
“Ghosts,” I blurt out, afraid that if I stall another minute I won’t be able to say it. “Well, the online definition calls them spirits.”
“What?” Sasha asks.
Jake takes a step closer to me, his hand going to my elbow. “You see ghosts? You’re clairvoyant?”
“Ah.” I swallow again and fold my arms over my chest like Sasha had hers. Jake keeps touching me. It’s eerie and it’s making me more nervous than I already am. “Um, yeah. I’m all those ‘clair’ things. I can see, hear, sense and converse with spirits of the dead.”
Sasha tilts her head and smirks, like she doesn’t believe me. “That’s not a superpower.”
“Where do you see them? At graveyards and stuff?”
I shake my head, not liking Sasha’s attitude but touched by Jake’s quick trust in my words.
“No. Anywhere.”
“Wow. Awesome! A real live medium. Do they ask you for help? Can they hear you? Are any down here right now?”
“She’s lying,” Sasha claims. This is the first time I’ve seen her not smile, like her whole mood has changed instantly.
Okay, so now here comes the drama. This is why I stay to myself, why friendship and connections are such a nono in my book. Girls are catty by nature, Janet told me that when I first started elementary school. Even if I didn’t try, there’d always be some type of competition between girls. So now, even though I didn’t tell her to invite me down to this sweaty boiler room and even though I don’t know how she ever saw the birthmark on my neck or why shethought it was okay to approach me, Sasha and I were at odds.
She had what she called a superpower; she was convinced that I did, too. But when I tell her what I can do, she calls me a liar.
Not happening.
“Look, I didn’t come to you, you came to me. So if you don’t believe what I’m saying, that’s just too damn bad.” I take an aggressive step toward her, pointing my finger at her as if there were somebody else in the room and I wanted to make sure she knew I was talking to her. Actions that seem out of character for me but feel really good.
Sasha doesn’t move a muscle. She does arch an eyebrow, the right side of her mouth curving up into a half smile, half smirk. “Prove it.”
“What? How am I going to prove to you that I see and hear spirits when you don’t see or hear them? That’s just ridiculous.”
“She’s got a point, Sasha,” Jake says, then clears his throat after Sasha gives him the evil eye.
“Name a ghost
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