The Fade

by Demitria Lunetta

  I need to let her know that I don’t hate her. I search the room for some paper and a pencil. It’s not easy. Raina is a super-messy person. There’s a pile of laundry on top of her desk, and books are strewn across the floor.

  I spot her backpack and go to open it, but my hand passes through the zipper.

  “No!” I say. I try again, and fail again. “No. No. No.”

  My hands begin to shake. I’m useless.

  But I know I’ve moved objects before. What’s different now? Or was that just in my mind? I think back to my room, Shannon staring at the papers I dropped. I must have scared her so badly.

  But that means I can do this. I steady my hands and again try to clasp the zipper, this time snagging it and opening Raina’s bag.

  I slide out a sheet of paper and a pen. I don’t like to draw in pen, but I have no idea where Raina might have stashed a pencil. I even manage to bring the paper to Raina’s desk, clearing a spot by dumping some of her laundry on the floor. Neither she nor Gina moves at the noise. Sitting on her chair isn’t a problem. Why don’t I just slide through the wood? Through the floor? I don’t want to test my luck, so I push the thought to the back of my mind and get to work.

  I’m not sure how long I draw, I’m so focused on my task. Minutes or hours. The noise of Raina wakening startles me, and the pen falls from my hand, clattering onto the desk. I don’t move as Raina untangles herself from Gina’s arms and sleepily ambles toward the desk.

  Her gasp of shock wakes Gina. “What’s up?” Gina asks, confused.

  Raina clutches the paper in her hand and brings it to the bed. “Look.” She shoves the paper at Gina. I drew the two of us, laughing. My arm is around her shoulder and she’s flashing a peace sign, something she used to do as a joke in photos.

  “Is this one of the new ones?” Gina asks, rubbing her eyes.

  “I guess….It was on my desk. But I don’t think it was there before.”

  Gina looks around the chaotic room. “How can you tell?” She hands it back to Raina. “It must have been in the stack her sister sent you.”

  “Yes, but look!” She shoves it back to Gina.

  “What am I looking at?”

  Raina pokes the drawing with her finger. “My hair!”

  “I love your hair.”

  “No. Haley left before I put in the silver. Why would she draw it like that?” I’d shaded her dark braids, leaving streaks of paper white so the silver would pop.

  “It’s a coincidence,” she says.

  “Yeah, must be.” Raina mumbles. “BFF.”

  Gina shakes her head. “I thought you’d be too cool for best friends forever,” she teases.

  Raina lets out a long breath and takes the paper back, holding it to her chest. “Haley,” she whispers. A slight smile plays on her lips. On the bottom I put in small block letters BFF. Best Freaking Friends.

  I’m satisfied that Raina knows how I feel about her.

  I disappear from her life forever.

  NOW THAT I know the truth, the world is a different place.

  The house never felt like home to me, and I can’t shake how uncomfortable I am within its walls. My skin—or whatever it is I’m now made of—feels too tight for my body. I’ve spent so much time lying to myself.

  Now that I’ve accepted what I am, I can’t help but see.

  My room looks much the same, but there’s a dusty film on most of my stuff, and a few cobwebs in the corners. Shannon must come in here very rarely. She left my art supplies as they were, a shrine to her dead younger sister.

  How have I been so oblivious to what happened? How can I ever accept the fact that I’m dead? There is so much I want to do. Go to art school in Chicago. Travel around Europe visiting museums. I’ve never even had a real boyfriend. I’ve never had my drawings in an exhibit. I never got to open my own gallery.

  I flip through my sketchbook, looking at my old drawings of my friends. Then I put it down. What’s the point? I could visit them, like I visited Raina, but it’s too sad. They wouldn’t even know I’m there. What would watching them live their lives do for me? I quiet a flash of anger. It’s not fair and it’s not right, but it’s also not their fault that they’re alive and I’m not.

  I practice moving around. I have to focus, really focus, but I’ve been getting better at being aware of where I am and where I’m going. I jump from my room to Mrs. Franz’s house to Sera’s car. I sit and I watch and I stew. So many feelings whirl around, but I try to contain them. When I get too angry, the temperature drops. Sera and Josh are listening to old music, and when the Spice Girls come on I get so uncontrollably sad I lose control and return to the house.

  Shannon, Jim, and my parents are eating dinner. Baked chicken and veggies, with brown rice. A healthy, boring meal. My mom sits with them but doesn’t say much. She must be so sad. I study her, trying to understand why I thought we had spoken. I made up whole conversations, trying to convince myself that I was still alive. I swear my mom looks at me for a second, but I shake my head. I’m trying too hard again.

  They’re right in front of me, but I miss them so much. I wish for the time that I thought was so horrible, when we first moved to Gladwell and we were all together.

  I wish for life.

  * * *

  I appear in Coop’s room and realize for the first time that I might be invading his privacy. He’s playing a game on his computer and doesn’t notice me.

  “Coop,” I say softly.

  His head snaps around, his startled look giving way to a grin.

  “Haley, you’re back!”

  “I…” His joy overwhelms me. I’ve been so much inside my head these last few days, so lonely. “Sorry. I just don’t know what to do now.”

  “Do you know why I started volunteering at the hospital?” he blurts out.

  “Because you’re a good person?”

  “I wish I were a better person. I do it because I want to catch a glimpse of people when they die. To see what happens.”

  “How many people stay after they’re…dead?”

  “Not many. Most leave as quickly as they can.”

  “What’s it like, the light?” I ask.

  He thinks for a moment. “It’s like a doorway opening, but I can’t see what’s on the other side. Maybe the dead can. To me it just looks like the brightest light you ever saw. Maybe that’s why people who die for a few moments and are brought back say they see a tunnel of light.”

  “But you think it goes somewhere?”

  He nods. “If you saw how people look at it, like it’s where they should be…Maybe that’s also why people think there’s a heaven. It could just be where the spirits hang out…or maybe they turn into that light and become one with all the people who died before them. Who knows?”

  “I guess we won’t know until we join the light.” I modulate my voice to sound spooky and wave my fingers at him.

  Coop gives me a funny look. “Sometimes it’s not light, but dark.”

  “You never told me that!” I say, dropping my hands to my sides.

  “I didn’t want to freak you out.”

  “So there’s a dark place people go too. Do you think that’s hell? Where horrible people go?”

  Coop looks dejected. “Maybe there’s someone who can see into what happens next, but that’s not me. I just know they look shocked, or sometimes scared, and then they’re gone.”

  “Maybe it’s painful for them to stay, to be stuck.”

  “I think, from what you said, the pain might be more psychological.”

  “There’s no doubt their pain is real.”

  “We need a freaking break from all this shit!” he declares, and I laugh. He goes to his art table, takes a piece of canvas paper, and tapes it to his wall.

  I give him a quick lesson on perspective, then
watch him paint, using a vase snagged from the living room as a subject. The flowers are dried out, but he manages to paint them alive and vibrant. He asks for suggestions, and even after our one lesson his technique has improved.

  I tell him how talented he is, and he blushes at my compliment.

  “Okay, your turn.”

  “I like charcoal…or pencil,” I tell him, and he gets me some paper.

  While I draw, he scrutinizes my every line. His gaze is so intense, I find myself sneaking glances at him. Every time I look at him it becomes harder for me to come to terms with the fact that we can never be together. That he is alive and that I am dead. That no matter how much we like each other, if I stay, our time is limited. That even if I manage to not fade completely in the coming years, what would that mean for him? A girlfriend he can only rarely see.

  “What do you think?” I ask.

  “You are amazing,” he tells me, and I can’t help but smile.

  Before I think of the consequences, think of what I am—a ghost of a girl he soon may not be able to touch—I kiss him. He starts, but returns my kiss. When we pull apart, I can’t help but grin.

  “How did that feel?” I ask, curious.

  His face reddens. “Cold and tingly.”

  “What every girl wants to hear.”

  He tries again. “It’s like you’re there, but you’re not there. Like kissing a sponge.”

  I try not to show the embarrassment on my face, but he must see it. “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Maybe we just have to keep trying,” I say. He leans in and kisses me again, and I’m swept up in the moment.

  We might not have long.

  SHANNON HAS DECIDED to have a sleepover. With Jim.

  I am beyond mortified.

  I watch my parents deal with this news. Mom is surprisingly quiet. Dad just wears the same tight expression he always wears now. I can’t believe my parents allowed it, but there are Shannon and Jim, in her room, chatting and giggling away.

  I wish I could make myself disappear, but for some reason I feel like I should be in my room. I don’t know what to do but sit on my bed and wait. At least so far there haven’t been any noises to suggest they’re doing it. I would absolutely die. I mean, die again.

  I’m wondering what to do next when a girl appears.

  I feel my bed shift, and when I turn, her translucent body is perched on one corner, facing away, her blond hair pulled up in her blue ribbon. The moonlight highlights her long neck. I scoot to the far side of the bed. It’s pointless to run.

  “Brandy?” I ask tentatively.

  She turns her head toward the sound of my voice. She’s worse off than the rest of the girls. Her eyes are missing and her nose is broken, making her face look disjointed, disturbing.

  I let out a whimper, which is a mistake because now her attention is on me. She crawls jerkily toward me and I yelp, knocking the wall, hitting my head. Immediately Brandy disappears.

  “What was that noise?” Jim says.

  “Nothing,” my sister replies. I can tell from her exasperated tone that she’s annoyed. Shannon finds even my ghost irritating.

  Sorry I interrupted your love fest, Shannon. I bang on the wall again. Let her explain that to Jim!

  I search the room for Brandy’s faded form and find her in the doorway. She beckons for me to come toward her. I don’t know what she has in store for me, but I have little choice but to follow her.

  She reaches out her hand, and I take it. We walk down the stairs.

  There’s no music blasting this time. And there’s only Brandy, now sitting on the couch. The room is fuzzy at first but soon falls into focus. Brandy’s face is whole and perfect again.

  “Why did she leave?” she asks. There’s a bit of distortion when she speaks, but if it’s anything like last time, that will soon sort itself out. Now I see that Emily is sitting on the floor and Gigi is leaning against the wall. “If she ran away, she would tell us, right?”

  “I don’t know, Brandy,” Emily says. “Kaitlyn is Kaitlyn.”

  “I think someone took her,” Gigi says. “My dad is always warning me about weirdos, and Kaitlyn wasn’t exactly careful.”

  “Are you saying that if something happened to her it’s her fault?” Brandy asks. “That’s something my grandma would say.”

  “No.” Gigi pauses. “I’m just saying…if she ran away, why wouldn’t she answer our calls?”

  “Maybe she ditched her phone,” Brandy offers, “so they couldn’t find her.”

  “And she didn’t want any of us to know?” Gigi asks.

  “She’s probably fine,” Emily tells them, though she doesn’t sound convinced. “I mean, she’ll eventually roll in here with a hangover and a great story.”

  “I hope so,” Brandy says.

  “Guys, I’m going.” Gigi makes her way to the basement door. She pushes it and it opens out to the stairs and the side yard.

  “Meet here tomorrow!” Brandy calls after her.

  Emily comes to sit next to her on the couch. “Do you think it’s weird that we’re hanging out here without Kaitlyn?”

  Brandy shrugs. “This is our place.”

  “I should go too,” Emily tells her. “My little brother has an art thing at his school. He won a prize or something.”

  “Yeah, okay. See ya.” Brandy remains on the couch, alone with her thoughts.

  The scene fades, and I’m alone in the dark basement. I’m disappointed by the glimpse I’ve been given.

  “Why can’t you show me something useful?” I ask the empty air. “I need a murder weapon or a clue or anything I can show an adult as proof that Mr. Grant is to blame. And if it’s not him, just tell me who it is!”

  My words echo through the empty basement and fall on deaf ears.

  I am once again alone.

  AGAIN, WE’VE FAILED.

  We’re too scared to show her what’s really important.

  We’ve pushed it further and revealed not a happy memory,

  but one of sadness.

  Not terror.

  We must dig deeper.

  THERE’S A NAGGING thought at the back of my mind. “Coop, I need your help with something.”

  He turns, not even surprised that I’ve appeared in his room. “Anything,” he tells me.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot. About how I convinced myself I was alive. The conversations I had…There’s one thing I can’t make sense of: my mom.”

  “Your mom?” he asks.

  “She’s the only one I can’t explain away. She wasn’t talking to an empty room, or to herself. How is that possible?”

  The corners of Coop’s mouth tug downward. “Yeah. About that…I thought I should let you figure it out on your own.”

  I think back to the night of the storm…but it really wasn’t one night, and there was no storm. It wasn’t the girls who wouldn’t let me leave the house. I wasn’t being tormented by them. It was just me trying to sort things out. Trying to make sense of my death—a death I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accept.

  That “night” I drew my mother’s body in the bathroom….The image of her hanged corpse flashes through my mind. I thought the ghosts were trying to frighten me. I thought it was just a horrific vision.

  “She said she would never leave me,” I tell him, my voice quavering. “She killed herself to be with me.”

  “Does she think…does she think she’s alive, like you did?”

  “No…she knows.” I think of all our strange conversations, her cryptic advice. “She’s been trying to protect me from the truth this whole time. I can’t believe she would do that, leave Dad and Shannon after what happened to me.”

  “Losing your kid…You’ve seen my parents. It ruined them. If it weren’t for the slight hope that Emily was still
alive, I think my mom would have…” He stops.

  “Have you seen her, my mom?” I ask.

  He gives me a tight nod.

  “How does she look to you?”

  “Not good,” he admits.

  “And me? You said when I first started talking to you after I died that I didn’t seem like a ghost, that I seemed real, alive.”

  “You did.”

  “How do I seem now?” I ask.

  “You’ve begun to fade,” he says. “Not as bad as the Grabbed Girls, but…it’s started.”

  “Have you seen anyone fade away before?” I ask.

  “At the hospital, there was a man who would wander the corridors. I don’t know what he was looking for, but he never found it. Over the years, he began to fade away, until there was only the barest wisp of him left. One day he was just gone.”

  “I won’t let that happen to those girls,” I say, horrified. “They’re hanging on by a thread. They’re barely there.” Whatever is beyond, it has to be better than just fading away.

  “And I won’t let it happen to you.” He offers me a sad smile. “I would do anything for you, Haley.”

  IT’S TIME TO face my mother.

  She’s in my room, gazing down at my desk, at my scattered artwork. “So talented.” She runs her fingers through her hair distractedly.

  “Mom…I know. I know everything. All of it.”

  She doesn’t look at me. “Hmmm. All of what?”

  “Me. You. That we died. How we’re g-g-ghosts.” The word catches in my throat. My eyes sting, and I wonder if it’s just because I think I should cry. Tears fall down my cheeks, and when I wipe them away, they feel real.

  She faces me, suddenly very present. “It was like a piece of me died with you, Haley. I couldn’t stand it. I tried to stay strong for your father and Shannon, but…I couldn’t shake the thought of you being alone in the cold ground.”

  I shiver, thinking of my corpse somewhere. But that’s not me. I’m here. “So you took your own life? How could you know you would be with me?”