Read Online The Ghost and the Goth by Stacey Kade - Free Book Online Page A

you still hearing … the wind?”
    The ghosts scattered—Liesel ran screaming with Eric on her heels, Grandpa B. hightailed it past me, presumably to the office again. Jay and most of the others just turned and walked silently through the wall of lockers.
    But not Alona. She remained rooted to the spot, staring upward at the horrible cloud. “What … what is that thing, Killian?” Her voice still sounded remarkably normal, despite the tremor in it.
    This “thing” was the reason I knew Alona Dare hadn’t committed suicide, no matter what the rumors were. When you killed yourself, all the negative energy—the sadness, the self-loathing, the fear, and the desperation—remained. Most of the ghosts like that were just sad and silent wanderers, vague shadowy outlines of who they’d once been. In this case, the negative energy was so strong, it had consumed any hint of who the person had been, leaving little more than a physical manifestation of pure anger. I’d never seen anything like it before, but that was okay. I didn’t need any hints to figure this one out.
    “Hey, Dad,” I said, trying to sound calm. “What are you doing here?”

D ad? This nasty black cloud thing was Killian’s father? On one hand, that made sense. I could maybe see now why Killian was so messed up. On the other … damn, I thought I had problems at home.
    At the sound of Killian’s voice, the mass of black smoke rose up and launched itself toward him. Unfortunately, it had to pass through me to reach him. Cold air rushed over me, like tiny slivers of metal slicing open my skin.
    I screamed and tried to curl into myself, only to find I’d disappeared, again, from the waist down. Twisting my head around, I managed to catch one last glimpse of Killian. He shoved Joonie out of the way and stood there, pale and resolute, just watching this … thing rush at him.
    It engulfed him and threw him hard to the left into the lockers. Killian’s head bounced off the metal with a sickeningly loud clunk. He slid to the floor, his eyes closed, and his body motionless.
    So much for Plan A. I wondered if Killian would still be able to help me if he were dead. Surely, even dead he would have more knowledge than the average …
    The now familiar tingling sensation rose up through my neck and into my face. I sighed. Here we go …
    … Again .
    I woke abruptly, expecting to feel the gravel biting into my shoulder blades once more. Instead, I found myself sitting in the backseat of an unfamiliar car that seemed to be traveling at excessive speed and taking corners a little too fast for even my comfort.
    What was going on? First, the whole disappearing thing, and now a different location? I did not like this. Did the first four days of my afterlife experience mean nothing?
    Not that I was complaining too much. Waking up in a car was more comfortable, at least, than waking up in the road. Whether it was better depended on whether I would die—again or more?—if we crashed. We were coming around the front of the school on Elm Street (I know, right?), just passing the turn for Henderson, where I’d died. Elm veered right sharply, to avoid cutting through St. Paul’s Cemetery, and people were forever missing the curve and cracking into the light pole. “Hey, you want to slow it down?” I shouted at the dark-haired driver, whose face I couldn’t see.
    To my surprise, the driver turned slightly at the sound of my voice, revealing her identity. Killian’s friend, Joonie. Or, the High Priestess of Pain, as I liked to call her. She wears safety pins in her face for heaven’s sake.
    “Will, you doing okay back there?” she asked, sounding nervous.
    Killian? Aware suddenly of a warm weight pressing against my lap, I looked down. Hey, my shoes and socks were back … and Killian’s head was resting on my legs! His hair was softer than I would have thought … and I could feel it. That was weird.
    “Ew.” I shoved at his shoulders and actually made contact.