Wraith

by Lawson, Angel

  “Not. Now.” I said, passing him and leaving the chill of January behind me as I entered the warmth of my home.

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” I asked Evan as I entered the room. He lingered near my desk.

  “What’s this?” He pointed to my backpack sitting on the desk chair.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “This,” he rummaged through the open zipper on my bag and dropped a folded piece of paper on the desk.

  I walked closer and saw he was talking about the information Connor had written down earlier. My back stiffened at the intrusion.

  “What? You’re going through my things now?” I asked.

  Evan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re looking me up? Checking me out online?” he said—his tone, however, wasn’t as much angry as it was hurt.

  I snatched the paper off the desk and shoved it in my back pocket. “You wouldn’t tell me anything. I was worried!”

  “Didn’t you hear what I told you? This isn’t a game. I’m dead. That bastard murdered me and not only that, he was trying to kill all of us! You need to stay out of this before you get hurt.”

  Evan ran his fingers through his hair and pressed his balled fists to his eyes. I should have listened. I should have, but he was hurt and it was time for this to end. It was time for Evan to let it go and move past the bad stuff. We stared hard at one another, an unspoken lack of willingness to compromise.

  I didn’t want to lie, but I wasn’t sure he could handle the truth, so instead of speaking, I went to door. He wouldn’t follow me downstairs. I took one look back in his direction. His eyes were sad and his body tense. He was small, like a shadow. Before closing the door behind me, I softly said, “Later,” and then left the room.

  MS. BATES EXPLAINED THE benefits of a good biography. She droned on and on about pertinent facts and researching your subject for nearly half the class. I should have seen it coming.

  “Okay, everyone find a partner—” She was cut off as half the class groaned, and the other half scurried to secure friends. “And,” she continued, raising her voice over the class, “write down ten facts about your partner that you can use to write a biography about them. Due tomorrow.”

  I tried to keep the bubbling panic low in my chest. I hated assignments like this. There were two ways this would end. One, I would end up alone, writing an autobiography about how much of a loser I was since I didn’t even have a partner for a stupid homework assignment. Or, two, Ms. Bates would pair me with the foreign kid who didn’t speak any English.

  I kept my eyes down. I would rather be a loser.

  The desk next to me scraped across the floor until it touched mine. “Hey, partner.”

  I’d be lying if said I wasn’t pleased to hear his voice. Connor dropped into the seat next to me. His long legs bunched next to mine and he searched through his backpack.

  ”Hey,” I returned, waving my fingers. I kept my legs close in an attempt not to touch his. It was impossible due to the fact they were huge, and frankly, I kind of liked touching them.

  He leaned his knee into mine and grinned into his bag, finally fishing a pen from the bottom. Why did he have to be so obnoxiously cute? It had been hard enough to pass him up on his offer to drive me to school. I’d resisted—wanting to give him an out. But here he was again, doing whatever he could to link us together at school.

  Connor dropped his notebook on the desk and clicked his pen. “Okay, who’s first?”

  “You?” I tried.

  “Sure.”

  I flipped over to a clean sheet. “Name?”

  “Connor Aaron Jacobs.”

  “Birthday?”

  “September 4.”

  I scribbled down his answers while thinking of new ones to ask. “Have you lived here your whole life?”

  “Yes…” He let the ‘s’ drag. “Other than—you know.”

  The hospital.

  I nodded and wrote down ‘yes.’

  Taking a quick glance around me to see if anyone was listening I asked, “What was it like?”

  “Shitty.”

  I watched as he spread his palm flat over his notebook. They were big, taking up most of the page, yet slender and graceful. Artistic, like my own. He tapped the back of his other hand against mine. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad. Not really.”

  “No? I don’t know if I would survive.”

  “Nah. It was a bunch of guys living on a campus of sorts. We stayed in little cottages.” He lowered his voice and his eyes darted to the side, also checking for any outside listeners. “Plus there were girls there too.”

  Of course. “Did you go to school while you were there?”

  “We had class, but everyone was in the same room doing the same work. We weren’t split up by grade or anything. That’s when I got so behind. Most of the kids there were pretty sick. I just, you know, had my own issues.”

  This could have been my life if things had been different. If Evan had been different and I hadn’t kept it together. “What was the worst part?”

  “Being away from my family and Emma. Missing stuff at home or school. My friends.” He wrinkled his nose and grimaced.

  “What?”

  Connor raked a hand through his hair. “They cut my hair—shaved it.”

  “I bet you hated that.”

  “It sucked. I was so mad.” He didn’t look mad right now. He was relaxed and his knee was touching mine and his fingers tapped on his notebook in an easy rhythm.

  I inhaled and said, “My parents took me to the doctor and then to a psychiatrist.”

  His eyes widened a bit, but he didn’t say anything so I continued. “They thought I was schizophrenic or something. The voices I guess. It was horrible—not like your horrible,” I clarified, “but, I could tell something was wrong. The minute I confessed, I wished I could have taken it back.”

  “What did you say?”

  “One day right after we moved in and I had seen Evan, I asked my mother if she had ever seen a ghost.” I sighed. “Of course, she said no.”

  I picked up my pen and drew the outline of a dragonfly on the edge of my paper. “When she did, I played it off like it was no big deal. Just the excitement of living in an old house or something.”

  “So what finally happened?”

  For some stupid reason, my emotions decided to betray me right then and a wicked blush ran up my neck. “I’m quite sure you’ve heard.”

  His dark blue eyes locked with mine. “True. I’ve heard some things about you, but I’d rather hear your story.”

  I broke eye contact and ducked my head, unable to look him straight on. “Evan had taken to following me to school. He was trying to be supportive since I was alone so much. Only a few people paid me any attention when I first got here. He would sit near me in class and say funny things. I didn’t respond back—I knew better. But after so many days of no one talking to me and feeling ostracized, I just broke down in the hallway. It was the first time Evan touched me—he was trying to be nice, but it freaked me out and we began arguing. It was stupid, but people saw us—me. A lot of people.”

  I took another deep breath before saying, “I was in hysterics once I realized what I had done, but at the same time I didn’t care who knew at that point. I was so tired of keeping this secret and being alone. In Mrs. Crawford’s office I told her everything. I just had to tell someone. I was terrified I was crazy. And then I cut my hair.” I ran my hand around my neck, trying to feel the hair that was no longer there.

  “I guess we have that in common,” he said running his hand through the mess of hair growing out on top of his head.

  “I think at first they were hoping, well not hoping, but thought maybe I was sick. The doctor said I was physically fine, so he referred me to the psychiatrist. It was there, after I had calmed down, I realized I needed to keep my mouth shut and get my act together.”

  He leaned forward and rested his head on his palm, again his other hand grazed the back of mine, causing a chill to ru
n up my spine. “What did you do?”

  “I told them I was angry about moving and trying to get attention. I said that I thought maybe they would let us move back if I was sick. It was lame, but there was nothing wrong with me so they gave me some anti-depressants and let me leave. I had to see the psychiatrist monthly for about six months and then Mrs. Crawford, here, as well.”

  “They were happy to have an explanation,” he confirmed.

  “Pretty much.”

  A wave of bravery took over and I said, “What would you tell them?”

  “Tell who?”

  “Your friends and family. The other day you said you would tell them about us at any time. That I was the one holding back.”

  Connor’s eyes dropped and a blush ran up his neck. His fingers gripped his pencil and he pressed the point into the soft, white paper in his notebook. “The truth.”

  “What—”

  “How are you two coming along?” Ms. Bates interrupted, standing over our desks. I looked down at my paper, realizing I only had a couple of facts down.

  Connor held up his notebook and said, “Just fine.”

  “What do you have so far?”

  I started to speak since I took notes first, but Connor jumped in. “Jane is seventeen, her birthday is in October. She moved here last spring from Grayson.” He tapped at his paper like the words were written there but I knew they weren’t. He continued, keeping his eyes on the notebook in front of him. “Her favorite painter is Mondrian.”

  He was right. How was he right?

  “Her favorite color is—”

  The bell rang, cutting the moment, and Ms. Bates dismissed us and went back to her desk.

  “How did you know all that?” I asked, not even trying to hide my suspicious tone.

  He shrugged, and closed the notebook.

  “Have you been stalking me?”

  Connor rolled his eyes, but the tips of his ears turned a brighter red. “Can I email you later to finish these questions?”

  “Sure, let me give you my address.” I snatched his notebook away and wrote it on the top of the page.

  Connor stood and loaded his books in his bag before moving the desk back to its original position.

  We were the last to leave the room. Connor gestured for me to go first and as he did, he said, “Pink.”

  “What?”

  “Your favorite color is pink. Even though that’s girly and weird and stuff.”

  “Shut up.” He was right. On every count. He had been paying a lot more attention than I gave him credit for.

  “Thanks for telling me all that—you know, about what happened.”

  This time I was the one to shrug. He knew I had little choice. Neither of us did. As we entered the hall I saw Evan, standing with his back against the far wall. I wanted to reach out and say hello. To tell him I missed him. But I couldn’t. Not here—not now.

  “JANE! WAIT UP!”

  I turned to find Ava swerve around a girl to catch up with me in the hallway. I slowed my pace the best I could in the throng of people trying to get to various classes. Right before she caught up, someone shoved me from behind and my books scattered across the floor.

  “Ugh!” I dropped to my knees to pick them up. I scrambled and a body crouched next to mine. Seeing the tell-tale smudges of paint beneath his nails, I stiffened.

  I offered a fast, “Thanks.” His hands moved faster than mine, stacking them in a pile. Connor and I had spent the last couple of days rotating around one another as we often tended to do. It was clear we were bound—that was a given, but even after our talk in English and some subsequent emails, I was still uneasy about our friendship. Although he seemed to accept my need for space at school, he hadn’t completely given up. Obvious stares and casual touches when we passed in the hall became our norm, but this was the first time we had interacted directly with one another.

  “You’re welcome.” When he stood he offered his hand to help me off the ground. I allowed him to lace his fingers through mine and tug me up.

  “Hey, Connor,” Ava said as she approached us and eyed our linked hands.

  Our still linked hands.

  I twisted my hand, trying to slip it out but his grip was tight.

  “Ava, what’s up?” he asked.

  “Not much,” she said, before turning to me. “The shelter called my mom and they would like us to come to this little ‘thank you’ thing they planned for us. Stephanie appreciated our coming in.”

  “Oh, that’s cool.” I lied. It wasn’t cool. I never wanted to step foot in there again. I ignored Connor’s thumb as it ran across the edge of my palm, even though the soothing motion made my heart seize. God he was so good. Damn him. “When?”

  Ava brushed her long, curly hair over her shoulder and made a face at a smaller boy who bumped into her. “Saturday—in the afternoon. They want us to come before any of the kids who stayed there over the holidays leave.”

  I tried to think of an excuse to get out of going again. My concentration wasn’t helped by Connor’s warm hand in mine. “I, um…I’m sure it’s fine, but let me—”

  “Saturday?” Connor interrupted.

  “Yes,” Ava answered, shifting her attention to him.

  “We’re going out on Saturday,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder. No. No, we weren’t. “But maybe we can go to the shelter and then go out afterward, and maybe, Christian can go with us.”

  Seriously. Smoothest boy ever.

  Ava’s eyes brightened. I could see the hope behind her little hipster glasses. “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Yeah, definitely. I’ll set it up, you just tell us where to meet you—maybe we can give you a ride to your thing and we’ll go from there.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes at his obvious attempts to get involved with this situation. My situation. He had the most self-righteous smirk on his face and when I glanced at Ava she beamed also. I was the only one displeased.

  The hallway cleared and Ava ran off to her next class, leaving us alone. Today was my counselor meeting. I had no idea where he was supposed to be.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, snatching my hand away. “I don’t want to go back there.”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to see for myself.”

  “I’m not even sure they’ll let you in—it’s a women’s shelter.” I held my hands out for my books since he still had them. He moved them by his side and gestured toward the office. I had no idea where his next class was but he knew my schedule to a T. Again, maybe I was misunderstanding what was going on between us.

  “I’ll figure something out.” He kept pace with me, making no effort to go to his own class even though the halls were now basically empty. “Plus, I do want to go out with you. You would have said no, otherwise.”

  I stopped at the door and faced him. All of this would be easier if he wasn’t so hot. His hair was more disheveled by the day, giving him an increasingly boyish look despite his sharp jawline and the wide shoulders under his gray t-shirt. “You’re right. I probably would’ve. I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

  “What?”

  He leaned against the door, effectively keeping me outside the office. “This is social suicide. I don’t really want that on my hands.”

  Connor laughed and tugged on my sleeve. “I don’t care.”

  “And going back to the shelter. Evan’s going to be upset.”

  “True. But you wanted to see this through…maybe we can find out some more information if we go back. This is the perfect excuse.”

  I placed my hand on his chest and curled my fingers under and sighed, pushing him out of my way. I could see there was little use in arguing with him.

  “I’ll talk to Christian. He likes her. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

  I opened the door and wondered if this was just a date of convenience. I was never sure where I stood with Connor, which was stupid because he had always been honest. All of this was new to me and if the date wasn’t
stressful enough, going back to the shelter truly terrified me. I didn’t want to see Evan’s face on that wall again.

  “Saturday?” he asked, as I slipped through the door.

  “Yeah, Saturday.”

  THAT NIGHT, I SAT at my desk attempting to focus on my geometry homework. I was failing. Miserably. I had this sudden urge to do something—anything—about the issue at hand. I wanted to do something for Evan. I hadn’t seen him all day and I was sure he was avoiding me. At least, I hoped he was. The more time he spent away from me, the more depressed he seemed. I was worried about his family. This is what finally spurred me into action.

  My parents still believed in the shared computer. I was forced to use the one in the family room, which was why I often chose to stay after school to work in the library. There were filters at school, but since I wasn’t searching for porn anyway, I felt a bit less observed than I was at home. It was a rule they were unwilling to back down on.

  I unfolded and flattened the sheet of paper Connor had written information about Evan on and slipped it into my history book. Minutes later, I entered the family room where my mom and dad watched TV together on the couch. They twisted and leaned on each other—which was nice, I supposed, since they were parents and it could be gross but it wasn’t. They made me think of Connor (well, to be fair, everything made me think of Connor), which then caused my face to heat. I needed help.

  Taking advantage of the distraction of the TV, I slid into the leather-cushioned desk chair and opened my accounts.

  “Homework?” my mom asked from across the room.

  I glanced in her direction and saw her peering over the back of the couch. “Yeah, just a little research for history.” I laid my book out on the table and found the information I needed on the paper.

  I entered in the name Ellen Chambers and entered in our city, hoping to focus the search. A list of options popped up, and I clicked on a few before I found one or two that seemed most likely.