Excerpt from OUTCAST
Two little girls stood in the same spot every day in matching yellow dresses with wide white lace. Every day
one of the girls tickled the baby’s toes while the mother held him on her hip. The father with those long old-
fashioned sideburns watched like he was king of his world. Every day our school bus barreled right through
them. No one noticed but me.
I looked back. Like wispy clouds they faded into nothingness.
Pressing my forehead to the seat in front of me, I let the vibrations rattle through my body. I should be driving
my own car like most of the other seniors, not packed into a hot clanking bus that grinds over dead babies.
I should have my own car, not anything new, but mine if I paid for the insurance. That was before it happened,
when my mom and I were still speaking to each other. Before I started seeing ghosts.
The bus shuddered to a stop and Mr. Henry pulled the handle crank to open the door and released us into the
windy Texas morning. Yellow buses lined the curb, spewing teenagers out like bees delivering pollen to the
hive.
I stepped onto the curb. A football whizzed by inches from my face, followed by Jeff Sorenson, my onetime
boyfriend. My lips shaped into a splinter of a smile, but other than his ball nearly scraping my face off, he didn’
t acknowledge my existence. I hunched my shoulders in preparation for the long walk of shame across the
high school’s front lawn.
The dark-haired boy appeared right in my path. My heart took a frantic little spin. Great. The day was already
starting out so well. He looked up at me with dark slanted, eyes. He couldn’t be more than nine or ten,
wearing jean shorts and a stained gray T-shirt large enough to fit two of him. I bit back the reflex to ask him
what he wanted. The last thing I needed was to have a conversation with someone who isn’t there.
The ghosts up on the roof crept closer to the rain gutters, watching us, their dead eyes intent. It was
becoming the kind of day where I should have thrown the alarm clock against the wall.
Looking around, trying not to be too obvious, I swallowed, then whispered out the side of my mouth, “What?”
The boy vanished.
I glanced up at the roof. The twenty or so ghosts were already retreating, already shifting and stretching into
lazy poses that resembled sunbathers. They would still be there when school ended. They’d be there
tomorrow and the next day. They were always there. Every school building was littered with spirits the same
way kids swarm onto playgrounds.
I lowered my head--better to stay unnoticed and not have to meet the eyes of the other students--the other
living students--and walked toward the glaring row of glass doors. On an impulse I looked back over my
shoulder.
The boy had reappeared, tiptoeing across the grass as though he’d break butterfly wings, his big mournful
eyes tracking me. I shuddered. I knew I shouldn’t have looked back. Little kid ghosts really freak me out.
Turning away, I headed toward the school’s main entrance when I saw the shadowmen and froze. The flow of
students moved around me on the sidewalk like a river split by a stone, oblivious to the dark forms loitering in
the long open space between the inner and outer doors. I sucked in a long rattling breath. First the boy, now
the shadowmen.
It’s not that I was afraid exactly. Okay, maybe a little, but I found the best defense against ghosts was to
ignore them. Eventually they always went away. It’s just that the shadowmen were faceless, so… I could never
tell what they were looking at, though I always had the feeling they were watching me. And the way they felt--
so cold--whenever I got close. It was like stepping into winter without a parka. I wasn’t about to simply walk
through them like everyone else was doing. Nope. Not happening today. There’s too many other ways into
this big school. I slipped back out of the student-stream and ran, cutting across the lawn and around the
building toward the back. I was going to be late, which made me mad. Stupid ghosts. It’s not like I was trying
to be the perfect student or anything, I just liked to be in my seat before everyone else. I wanted to get there
unnoticed. The less attention I called to myself the better.
I frowned, watching my steps, wishing it didn’t have to be this way, wishing I could be normal.
Hustling, I rounded the corner of one of the aluminum portable classrooms and stepped off the curb onto the
loading entryway to the band hall. A motorcycle roared past, inches away. My lungs clenched shut on a gasp.
I flailed back, arms waving like I was doing the backstroke, and I fell hard on my butt.
The motorcycle fishtailed with a screech when the driver made a tight turn and came back. A boot stepped
off the foot pedal to hold the bike up.
“Are you okay? I didn’t see you.”
“I’m fine.” I got up fast, glancing around at how many people might still be out to notice I’d been sprawled
across the curb. Some Native American guy stood across the driveway, as still as a stone except for the
subtle lift and fall of his long hair in the breeze. For a moment I wasn’t even sure if he was a ghost or not until
he vanished.
Goose pimples raised across my arms. I rubbed them away. Better that a dead guy saw my humiliation than
the living vultures that were my classmates.
The driver kicked his bike up on the kickstand. “Sure you’re not hurt?”
I twisted around to look for grass stains on my jeans. “Yeah.” I guess I was okay.
“You’re fine back there.”
Heat instantly flushed throughout my veins.
“No dirt or grass, I mean.”
So embarrassing! I jerked back around and stared at his scuffed boots below faded jeans.
“Here, let me get that.” His long body bent to pick up my backpack. Grabbing it first, I fell back on the curb
again to avoid colliding into him and we both stopped—face to face.
I stared. An unexpected jolt speared across my skin. The guy was simply the most amazing person I’d ever
seen, the dead included. His short dark hair was windblown from his motorcycle ride, perfectly messy above
dark green eyes that watched me with curiosity while at the same time were uncomfortably active, like he
could uncover any secrets I had just by looking closely enough.
I knew I’d never seen him before because even though our student body is huge, a face like that would have
been permanently framed and hanging in the art district of my brain.
“That one wasn’t my fault.” His lips reshaped into a slightly off-kiltered grin. “You’re really not hurt?”
“Uh . . . I don’t think so,” I said stupidly. Smooth, the hottest guy I’d ever seen was talking to me and I say uh.
I snatched up my backpack and held it to my chest like a barrier. He was way too close, his eyes way too…I
don’t know…green and alive.
“I’m late for class.” I got up.
He straightened as well, watching me. “O . . . kay, then.”
With me standing on the curb and him lower on the cement, I looked straight at his chin, at the shadow of
barely-there stubble on his dark skin, at the little freckle below the corner of his curved lip. “Yeah. No worries.
It’s cool.”
“Yeah, well, next time look before you step into traffic.”
My gaze snapped back to his. It was my fault now? “Traffic? Seriously? This is the loading dock.” That
lopsided grin widened and my mouth went dry. “Uh, well. Whatever. I gotta go.” Stains on my butt or not, I
turned and left, slowing way down so it wouldn’t seem so obvious that I wanted to get away. Like I really
needed some guy to start talking about how the biggest outcast in school nearly got herself run over.
When I heard the engine rev up, I looked back. Motorcycle guy was crossing into the parking lot, long legs
balancing the bike as he rolled into a space. For just one brief moment I let myself imagine how it could have
gone if I was normal. Before, I wouldn’t worry about ghosts watching. I would have flirted with him big time. It
would have been a notch for his reputation to be seen with me, a girl at the sharp tip of the popularity
pyramid, not the school’s resident freak I’d become. Turning away, I shrugged. That was another life. When I
was normal.
I slipped into Biology, eyes down, and sat in the front corner—the loser’s seat closest to the teacher’s desk—
ready to endure another forty-five minutes of Mr. Granden’s version of cellular respiration.
I couldn’t get into the topic, not with the image of motorcycle guy fresh in my head, which was really annoying
since he’d never want to talk to me again. He’d only been somewhat nice because he was probably worried I’
d try to get him in trouble for running me down or something. No point in thinking about him. He was cute,
really cute, so what? I tried to tune in to what Granden was talking about when another teacher came in, one I
hadn’t seen before. He had a worn-out look. He wore a dingy white shirt tucked into gray pants that held in a
belly just starting to sag over his belt. Turning his back on the class, he wrote 1778 on the board.
“We’re addressing France’s involvement in the American Revolutionary War.”
I flinched at his tired voice, certain everyone else in the classroom heard him as well, but they gave no
indication that they were aware of his presence.
Okaaay. I let myself relax. Resting an elbow on the desk, I put my fingers on my forehead to shield most of my
face while I tried to watch him without seeming to do so. Chalk squeaked across a green chalkboard at the
same time Granden used a dry erase marker to draw a diagram of organic compounds on the white board. I
tried to ignore the ghost and listen to Granden, but as one teacher’s body overlapped with the other’s, I gave
up. A dull headache imploded behind my eyes before the end of first period.
By the time I hit lunch, there was a full-out war raging inside my head. My headache was bad enough that the
thought of standing in the long line made my stomach harden like a rock. If I got too hungry I’d nab the granola
bar stashed in my locker later.
I went outside in the courtyard and sat on a patch of grass at the edge of brightly painted picnic tables.
Pulling my legs up, I lay my head on my knees and let the Texas sun soak into my skull.
The wind had died down, pushing away the usual humidity from the air. A lot of people were taking
advantage of the cooler weather. Students crowded the tables; many gathered on the grass or sat along the
wide ledged cement plant containers. They didn’t know that they sat and ate, laughed and talked, read and
napped among dozens of ghosts.
Some spirits appeared human, like they must have looked when they were alive in out-of-date styles from
past decades, but others were just dark forms, black silhouettes darting past, splintering my head in two if I
tried to focus on them.
My former best friends snagged the table a few feet away from where I sat alone. They did that often, sitting
close enough to make the point that I was no longer welcome among them. They talked loud enough so that I
could hear what I was missing out on. Wonderful. Taylor giggled her high-pitched throaty titter she used when
she was trying too hard. I glanced up briefly. Ashlee leaned to whisper in Taylor’s ear, her perfectly flat-ironed
blond hair spilling over her shoulder like suntanned Barbie’s, and they both went into giggling mini-spasms.
I put my head on my knees. I wasn’t part of the group anymore. Every day I tried to steer clear of them while
they made it a point to ignore me. Not that I wanted friends who wouldn’t believe me. What happened at the
pond wasn’t my fault. They should have known that. I sighed, wishing desperately that they could see me for
who I was.
Even with my face buried, I heard them clearly.
“Mm, hmmm. He is fine,” Jaclyn said between long pulls of her soft drink.
“The new guy?” Taylor’s voice lowered with her interest. “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s in English with me.”
“I saw him this morning,” Ashlee piped in. “He is so hot! Has the tightest butt I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah?” Taylor drawled. “I heard his mom couldn’t handle him. Had to move here to live with his dad.”
“No way.” Jaclyn snorted. “You are not going for another guy just because you think he’s a bad boy. Your last
one was a total ashtray. I had to use half my body spray every time he got out of my car. Plus the guy was a
mooch.”
“He was in college so he didn’t have any money,” Taylor said.
Jaclyn made a slurping sound. “He took guitar lessons at the community college because his band sucks.
Taylor, you have to stop going for these guys that are the total opposite of—“
The other girls in the group gasped.
“Who, Jaclyn?” Taylor’s tone was cold. “Opposite of Brad?”
“Taylor, I didn’t mean . . .”
Brad’s name brought a jabbing pain to my chest. His face wavered in my vision, indistinct and blurry beneath
murky water.
“That’s just it.” Taylor’s voice went all nasally. “Maybe I’m ready for something different, maybe a little trouble.
What’s wrong with that? I’m tired of everyone tiptoeing around me like…” Taylor exhaled. I imagined her
twirling a finger around a shiny brown curl. “I’m just ready to . . . I don’t know what. Exactly. But I do know this
is my senior year. It’s not supposed to be like this.”
My hands curled around my knees. It wasn’t supposed to be this way for either of us. Brad reached for the
surface, his arms clawed the water.
I didn’t do it! I shoved to my feet, breathing heavily. I did not leave Brad to die. I had nothing to do with his
drowning. My hands clenched. I didn’t!
I had to get out of here. I avoided looking at Taylor’s table. I couldn’t stand to see the way they’d turn away as
soon as I walked by or the way they’d look right past me. All they saw was the girl who let Brad die.
I made my way inside and up the crowded staircase to Economics and took my usual seat at the back table
since all the desks were spoken for by the top-of-the-food-chain crowd. Luis, the guy who sits at the desk in
front of me, had his backpack on my table. Again. I scooted it over.
I glanced to my right by the wall with the windows to see if the Mexican girl was there today. Sure enough, she
sat primly on the shelves below the panes. Her slim brown fingers played with the thick colorful embroidery of
her loose yellow cotton dress while she thumped the backs of her sandals against the books. When she
noticed that I looked at her, she hopped off the shelves and started moving toward me. What?
I gave a quick shake of my head. What was up with the ghosts today? They hadn’t approached me like this
for months, not since I first started seeing spirits. That first week, they’d come at me whenever they noticed I
could see them. Screaming like a crazy person hadn’t helped so I spent most of that week in my room where
none of them ever went. Since that time, I found that if I just ignored them, they mostly backed off. Mostly.
Except for today.
They were all unusually paying attention to me, even though there was no way I was going to strike up a one-
sided conversation right here in Economics. What made her think I would talk to her? I never had before!
Turn around and walk away, little ghost.
I clamped my lips together, trying to warn her off with a glare. As more students came in, she crossed in front
of the door, headed toward the row of desks directly in front of my table. Go away, go away.
Just my luck, she kept coming. Fine. I crossed my arms, prepared to ignore her. Except . . . someone
entered our classroom and stepped right through her.
Her slim body blurred together with a tall boy’s body momentarily. I blinked rapidly to reorient myself and
looked up into incredible green eyes.
For the second time today, a jolt pulsed through me.
All thoughts of the ghost vanished. I’m sure my mouth hung open as I took a nice long look at motorcycle guy.
He wore a gray shirt with long sleeves pushed half-way up nicely formed forearms. It suddenly dawned on me
that he must be the new guy Taylor and the Barbie crew were talking about. No wonder I’d never seen him
before this morning.
Which meant . . . huh. I started to relax and may have actually smiled as I realized that he probably hadn’t
heard about me yet. I glanced at the cocky smile and wondered if he really was trouble like Taylor hoped or
just dressed for the part.
Those dark green eyes crinkled and left mine to quickly scan the room before fixing on the teacher’s desk at
the front. I swear every female in the room had stopped breathing. Ashlee was right. The new guy was hot.
More than hot.
He handed Mrs. Simmons a slip of paper. “Oh, okay,” Mrs. Simmons said. She appeared as stunned as all
of the rest of us females. Even Terence, who we all know is gay though he won’t admit it, was openly flushed.
Clearing her throat, Mrs. Simmons turned to us. “Settle down. The bell’s about to ring. This is Aden Perez.
He’s joining our class. Mr. Perez, you can take one of the seats in the back for now, please.”
There were two empty seats, one at my table and the other over by the windows. My pulse picked up as
Aden walked between the rows of desks toward me.
“Does anyone usually sit here?”
“Uh.” Great. I said Uh again. I can be truly amazing.
“No.” Luis turned and swung his backpack up off of the table. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said and felt heat flush across my cheeks.
A slow smile slid across Aden’s face and a little of the heaviness I’d carried with me for the last ten months
seemed to drop away. One little smile shouldn’t mean so much, but deep down I knew I wouldn’t see it again.
He’d learn soon enough about the terrible thing everyone said I did.
The Mexican girl hopped up to sit on the edge of our table. The tardy bell went off and papers rustled as
notebooks were pulled out of bags.
I felt someone watching me. Peeking sideways, I found both Aden and the ghost girl looking at me. Caught,
Aden looked away. The ghost feathered her fingertips along the ends of his dark hair. He gave a slight shake
of his head as though dislodging a spider, and his gaze swept to mine again.
“What?” he mouthed.
I clicked my teeth shut. I’d never seen any of the ghosts at school purposely mess with anyone else before. I
shook my head and faced straight forward, not looking at either of them again the entire class period. Even
so, I felt every time Aden glanced over at me. It took all of my concentration to stare straight ahead. Mrs.
Simmons’s voice became a low hum I barely heard. I didn’t even realize it when she dismissed us and the
other students were all bottlenecking through the door.
Except one.
“Do you know where N101 is?” Aden’s casual question made my fingers twitch and my pen flew across the
room. I pasted on a smile, pretending I meant to toss it.
“I, um, yeah. It’s in the north hall, bottom floor. You’ll have to go down the back stairs from here or you’ll never
make it.”
“Great.” He frowned at the paper with his schedule printed on it. “Show me?”
“Um, okay, I guess.”
The smile he gave me was oh-so-slow in coming, settling in to the bottom of my belly. He’d probably ignore
me tomorrow and try to play down that he’d ever been nice to the loner freak, but for just this moment, I was
normal again.
Last year when I’d run with the popular crowd, guys were always trying to grab my attention while jealous Jeff
ran interference. I loved it. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be given any kind of attention at all. I latched
onto the impossible hope that maybe Aden would be different. Maybe he’d see me, and not the girl who let
the star football player drown. I wanted that badly. Of course there wasn’t much chance of that.
Once he learned about Brad, he’d never look at me the same way.
The ghost girl followed us into the crowded hallway. I rubbed my arms. Having her so close made it freezing.
She stayed by my side in the stairwell, passing through students, melting through their bodies. I watched the
way Aden walked, enjoying how other students had to move out of the way or flatten against the wall since he
kept turning back to me to make sure he was going the right way instead of paying attention to who he might
be plowing over.
“Thanks for showing me where to go. I’m Aden, by the way.”
“Yeah. Mrs. Simmons told us.”
“Um, right. So, you’re . . .?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Kasey.” I should have lied, made up another name. I didn’t want him to associate me with what he’d hear
soon enough about Kasey Losheldar.
“Kasey.” He nodded and kept going down the steps. “I like it.”
The ghost girl tilted her head, and I actually grinned at her. I can’t remember the last time I fully smiled all the
way inside, and certainly not at any ghosts, but I couldn’t help it. It was so dumb. Really. What a stupid reason
to start smiling now, but Aden liked my name.
The little ghost frowned. Tiny lines appeared over her small nose. Several of the shadowmen ghosts whizzed
by, clumped together so tightly the only thing that made them distinguishable from one another was the shape
of their heads. My skin puckered in goose bumps though I couldn’t be sure if it was because of the
shadowmen or—I glanced down at Aden—something else.
Aden waited at the bottom of the stairs, turning the printout of the school’s layout sideways. His forehead
furrowed in concentration.
I hurried down to him. “This way. Come on or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks. This school’s a beast compared to my last one.”
The hall was clearing out. Aden’s lips twisted. “I think I just made you late for your class.”
He was even cute when he was trying to act all apologetic. I didn’t believe for a moment he was worried
about making me late, especially since he was lingering in the hall in no apparent hurry to walk inside his own
classroom a few steps away.
“Better than being run over.”
His eyes widened.
I laughed. “It’s not a big deal.” I was in no great rush either. I’d never have a moment like this with him again. I
could imagine the pack of hyenas inside that classroom just waiting to inform him of who he had been out
here talking to. The moment he stepped over that threshold, any friendliness he’d have for me would be gone.
“You okay?” He leaned closer. I’d made him frown. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Look, I’ll walk you to your
class and explain it was my fault, you showing me the way and all.”
“You get away with a lot, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Only, well, let’s say ninety-nine percent of the time.”
I bet he did. I laughed. The bell buzzed, loud and obnoxious over our heads.
“Don’t worry about it. Mr. Frances never takes roll.”
Aden’s eyes lit. “Oh, so you could skip?”
I laughed again. It felt good to laugh. “Yep, but you couldn’t. Not on your first day.”
“Hey, I’m the ninety-nine percent guy.”
It was tempting, to have one day to spend with someone, to flirt like I used to, to be free and normal for a little
while before he went into that room.
“Mr. Perez,” the teacher called from inside the classroom. “Bring your enrollment papers in here please.”
Aden winced, one eye closing as though he hit the sour center of a jawbreaker. “Guess not today.”
“No. Probably not a good idea.”
“How’d he know we were out here?” Aden whispered.
“That’s Mr. Manning. Nothing gets by him,” I whispered back.
“Mr. Perez,” Mr. Manning called. “I’m not in the habit of allowing new students to make grand entrances. Tell
whoever you’re talking to to run along.”
Aden looked up toward the ceiling and shook his head. “Guess I better . . .”
“Yeah.”
We both turned to go in opposite directions. I wanted to grab his hand and pull him out the door with me. I hid
my disappointment.
“Hey, Kasey.”
“Yeah?” I turned back.
“See you later.”
“Later?”
”Later. As in some time after now.”
I shook my head, trying to look unimpressed.
“You’re a little bit different, aren’t you?”
He had no idea. Defensive, I folded my arms. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re just . . . I don’t know…all day, all the other girls have been—“ He lifted his gaze upward. “You’re just
different.”
Great. Exactly what I wanted to be. Different and set apart from everyone else. A total loner outcast.
Shrugging, Aden dragged himself into class and out of my sight.
The young ghost girl followed him inside, taking the chilly air with her.
What . . .? I stared at the heavy classroom door propped open into the hall. Why were the ghosts acting so
strange? The Mexican girl never showed interest in anyone or left the Economics room she usually occupied.
The one thing I’d grown used to about being able to see ghosts was that they tended to stay in their own
areas. This was all just weird.
Aden’s casual mention of skipping class suddenly seemed brilliant. The ghosts today were seriously freaking
me out. I had to get out of here. I stepped out of the closest door before any adults roaming the halls could
ask me where my pass was.
I headed in the direction of home, but that wasn’t where I intended to go. It would be a long walk, but the day
was still cool so I wouldn’t be sticky after ten minutes.
Keller, Texas is one of those towns that spreads out from an early railway stop. It used to be mostly pastures,
but new neighborhoods of two-story houses, all with the same pointy gray roofs, were springing up all over.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, I stepped into the gravel lane of one of the few old homesteads left—
Alsten’s place.
I passed the low ranch-style home with its cute wrap-around porch. Yellow and purple pansies peeked out of
the top of two wooden barrels on each side of the steps. Taylor and I used to run past the house at night,
meeting up with our friends at a place where a low dip in the land gave us some privacy. If old man Alsten
knew we were down there or our music played too loud, he never did bother us. Who knows, he was old and
probably took out his hearing aids early each evening.
I walked to the edge of the small ravine and just stood there. One of the brown cows wandered behind me,
heading toward the scant shade of a cypress. Rusted crumpled soda and beer cans glinted in the trampled
soil where planks had been laid across rocks to sit on.
My hands curled by my thighs, and I just looked. A warm breeze pulled my hair across my face. I’d never go
down there again. With that thought, I wondered if Taylor ever came back. Could she sit with friends and
laugh and drink as though nothing had happened? Or was she unable to return as well? Did another group of
kids, unaffected by that night, claim Alsten’s pasture as their spot now? I hadn’t ever dared come back here
at night to know. I only came in the day.
Not that it mattered. In fact, I hoped Taylor did come back. She was always much stronger than me. She’d be
able to deal with it and move on.
Then again, she hadn’t been accused of doing anything wrong. My gaze flicked to where I had no intention of
looking. The wind whipped over the gray surface of the small pond, creating ripples. An odor rose up, the
smell of wet dirt. I flinched, ready to run, yet rooted to the ground. I shouldn’t be here.
But I was drawn to the pond. I came now and then to see if Brad was there, the boy whose death I was
blamed for. Sometimes I saw him, standing at the water’s edge. Sometimes he stood near the fire pit area.
We’d just stare at each other across the meadow. I didn’t dare get closer. Even though it was Brad and I
shouldn’t be afraid. He had been a nice guy, my best friend’s boyfriend. I couldn’t have hurt him. I wouldn’t
have done anything like that. My mom, my friends, they should have believed me. Taylor especially. She and I
were best friends, tighter than sisters, but she wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain. Not that I could
remember anything about that night to tell her, but she should know me better than that, right? She should
know.
A shape appeared on the far side of the pond. Instinctively, I stepped back before stopping myself.
Brad. Tall, big shoulders like you’d expect on the best defensive lineman our school ever had. A hard knot
twisted inside my stomach.
I stared at Brad, wanting to go over there and talk to him, ask him about that night, about what really
happened. Just like all the other times I came and we gazed at each other from a distance, I couldn’t make
my feet move. I never could. What if his death really was my fault?
No. No, it wasn’t. Brad would tell me it wasn’t. Still…
He faded away.
I probably shouldn’t have felt relieved. A cold breeze drifted across my back.
Turning to go, I nearly collided into Brad’s chest.
“Where?” he said in a way that was too calm, especially since the atmosphere surrounding us was anything
but peaceful. We hadn’t been this close to each other since the night he drowned.
“We—we’re at Alsten’s Pond.” My pulse drummed so loud in my head I could barely hear myself speak. “D—
don’t you remember?”
“I . . .?” He pressed a fist to his forehead, his face tight. “I . . .” He shook his head and began to dissolve.
“Where?”
“Brad, don’t go!” This was my chance. I reached for him even knowing it was impossible to grab onto a
ghost. He faded away. I needed answers. Maybe. Maybe I didn’t want them, but Brad looked confused. It
occurred to me that maybe he didn’t remember anything about that night either.
A coyote suddenly yipped, and I jerked. The air grew heavy and goose bumps prickled my skin. I had the
feeling that someone was watching me.
“Brad?” I whispered, hoping he had come back. I’d be braver this time.
A sudden gush of air stirred the weedy grass across my ankles.
There was a wrongness here, something I felt deep down in my bones, though I couldn’t put a name to it. This
place was wrong. Maybe even evil. There was evil in the pond. Fear slid deep inside my bones. Evil waited
just below the quiet surface of that water. I absolutely knew it. I felt it creep toward me like silent reaching
arms.
So I ran from it, coward that I am.
Two little girls stood in the same spot every day in matching yellow dresses with wide white lace. Every day
one of the girls tickled the baby’s toes while the mother held him on her hip. The father with those long old-
fashioned sideburns watched like he was king of his world. Every day our school bus barreled right through
them. No one noticed but me.
I looked back. Like wispy clouds they faded into nothingness.
Pressing my forehead to the seat in front of me, I let the vibrations rattle through my body. I should be driving
my own car like most of the other seniors, not packed into a hot clanking bus that grinds over dead babies.
I should have my own car, not anything new, but mine if I paid for the insurance. That was before it happened,
when my mom and I were still speaking to each other. Before I started seeing ghosts.
The bus shuddered to a stop and Mr. Henry pulled the handle crank to open the door and released us into the
windy Texas morning. Yellow buses lined the curb, spewing teenagers out like bees delivering pollen to the
hive.
I stepped onto the curb. A football whizzed by inches from my face, followed by Jeff Sorenson, my onetime
boyfriend. My lips shaped into a splinter of a smile, but other than his ball nearly scraping my face off, he didn’
t acknowledge my existence. I hunched my shoulders in preparation for the long walk of shame across the
high school’s front lawn.
The dark-haired boy appeared right in my path. My heart took a frantic little spin. Great. The day was already
starting out so well. He looked up at me with dark slanted, eyes. He couldn’t be more than nine or ten,
wearing jean shorts and a stained gray T-shirt large enough to fit two of him. I bit back the reflex to ask him
what he wanted. The last thing I needed was to have a conversation with someone who isn’t there.
The ghosts up on the roof crept closer to the rain gutters, watching us, their dead eyes intent. It was
becoming the kind of day where I should have thrown the alarm clock against the wall.
Looking around, trying not to be too obvious, I swallowed, then whispered out the side of my mouth, “What?”
The boy vanished.
I glanced up at the roof. The twenty or so ghosts were already retreating, already shifting and stretching into
lazy poses that resembled sunbathers. They would still be there when school ended. They’d be there
tomorrow and the next day. They were always there. Every school building was littered with spirits the same
way kids swarm onto playgrounds.
I lowered my head--better to stay unnoticed and not have to meet the eyes of the other students--the other
living students--and walked toward the glaring row of glass doors. On an impulse I looked back over my
shoulder.
The boy had reappeared, tiptoeing across the grass as though he’d break butterfly wings, his big mournful
eyes tracking me. I shuddered. I knew I shouldn’t have looked back. Little kid ghosts really freak me out.
Turning away, I headed toward the school’s main entrance when I saw the shadowmen and froze. The flow of
students moved around me on the sidewalk like a river split by a stone, oblivious to the dark forms loitering in
the long open space between the inner and outer doors. I sucked in a long rattling breath. First the boy, now
the shadowmen.
It’s not that I was afraid exactly. Okay, maybe a little, but I found the best defense against ghosts was to
ignore them. Eventually they always went away. It’s just that the shadowmen were faceless, so… I could never
tell what they were looking at, though I always had the feeling they were watching me. And the way they felt--
so cold--whenever I got close. It was like stepping into winter without a parka. I wasn’t about to simply walk
through them like everyone else was doing. Nope. Not happening today. There’s too many other ways into
this big school. I slipped back out of the student-stream and ran, cutting across the lawn and around the
building toward the back. I was going to be late, which made me mad. Stupid ghosts. It’s not like I was trying
to be the perfect student or anything, I just liked to be in my seat before everyone else. I wanted to get there
unnoticed. The less attention I called to myself the better.
I frowned, watching my steps, wishing it didn’t have to be this way, wishing I could be normal.
Hustling, I rounded the corner of one of the aluminum portable classrooms and stepped off the curb onto the
loading entryway to the band hall. A motorcycle roared past, inches away. My lungs clenched shut on a gasp.
I flailed back, arms waving like I was doing the backstroke, and I fell hard on my butt.
The motorcycle fishtailed with a screech when the driver made a tight turn and came back. A boot stepped
off the foot pedal to hold the bike up.
“Are you okay? I didn’t see you.”
“I’m fine.” I got up fast, glancing around at how many people might still be out to notice I’d been sprawled
across the curb. Some Native American guy stood across the driveway, as still as a stone except for the
subtle lift and fall of his long hair in the breeze. For a moment I wasn’t even sure if he was a ghost or not until
he vanished.
Goose pimples raised across my arms. I rubbed them away. Better that a dead guy saw my humiliation than
the living vultures that were my classmates.
The driver kicked his bike up on the kickstand. “Sure you’re not hurt?”
I twisted around to look for grass stains on my jeans. “Yeah.” I guess I was okay.
“You’re fine back there.”
Heat instantly flushed throughout my veins.
“No dirt or grass, I mean.”
So embarrassing! I jerked back around and stared at his scuffed boots below faded jeans.
“Here, let me get that.” His long body bent to pick up my backpack. Grabbing it first, I fell back on the curb
again to avoid colliding into him and we both stopped—face to face.
I stared. An unexpected jolt speared across my skin. The guy was simply the most amazing person I’d ever
seen, the dead included. His short dark hair was windblown from his motorcycle ride, perfectly messy above
dark green eyes that watched me with curiosity while at the same time were uncomfortably active, like he
could uncover any secrets I had just by looking closely enough.
I knew I’d never seen him before because even though our student body is huge, a face like that would have
been permanently framed and hanging in the art district of my brain.
“That one wasn’t my fault.” His lips reshaped into a slightly off-kiltered grin. “You’re really not hurt?”
“Uh . . . I don’t think so,” I said stupidly. Smooth, the hottest guy I’d ever seen was talking to me and I say uh.
I snatched up my backpack and held it to my chest like a barrier. He was way too close, his eyes way too…I
don’t know…green and alive.
“I’m late for class.” I got up.
He straightened as well, watching me. “O . . . kay, then.”
With me standing on the curb and him lower on the cement, I looked straight at his chin, at the shadow of
barely-there stubble on his dark skin, at the little freckle below the corner of his curved lip. “Yeah. No worries.
It’s cool.”
“Yeah, well, next time look before you step into traffic.”
My gaze snapped back to his. It was my fault now? “Traffic? Seriously? This is the loading dock.” That
lopsided grin widened and my mouth went dry. “Uh, well. Whatever. I gotta go.” Stains on my butt or not, I
turned and left, slowing way down so it wouldn’t seem so obvious that I wanted to get away. Like I really
needed some guy to start talking about how the biggest outcast in school nearly got herself run over.
When I heard the engine rev up, I looked back. Motorcycle guy was crossing into the parking lot, long legs
balancing the bike as he rolled into a space. For just one brief moment I let myself imagine how it could have
gone if I was normal. Before, I wouldn’t worry about ghosts watching. I would have flirted with him big time. It
would have been a notch for his reputation to be seen with me, a girl at the sharp tip of the popularity
pyramid, not the school’s resident freak I’d become. Turning away, I shrugged. That was another life. When I
was normal.
I slipped into Biology, eyes down, and sat in the front corner—the loser’s seat closest to the teacher’s desk—
ready to endure another forty-five minutes of Mr. Granden’s version of cellular respiration.
I couldn’t get into the topic, not with the image of motorcycle guy fresh in my head, which was really annoying
since he’d never want to talk to me again. He’d only been somewhat nice because he was probably worried I’
d try to get him in trouble for running me down or something. No point in thinking about him. He was cute,
really cute, so what? I tried to tune in to what Granden was talking about when another teacher came in, one I
hadn’t seen before. He had a worn-out look. He wore a dingy white shirt tucked into gray pants that held in a
belly just starting to sag over his belt. Turning his back on the class, he wrote 1778 on the board.
“We’re addressing France’s involvement in the American Revolutionary War.”
I flinched at his tired voice, certain everyone else in the classroom heard him as well, but they gave no
indication that they were aware of his presence.
Okaaay. I let myself relax. Resting an elbow on the desk, I put my fingers on my forehead to shield most of my
face while I tried to watch him without seeming to do so. Chalk squeaked across a green chalkboard at the
same time Granden used a dry erase marker to draw a diagram of organic compounds on the white board. I
tried to ignore the ghost and listen to Granden, but as one teacher’s body overlapped with the other’s, I gave
up. A dull headache imploded behind my eyes before the end of first period.
By the time I hit lunch, there was a full-out war raging inside my head. My headache was bad enough that the
thought of standing in the long line made my stomach harden like a rock. If I got too hungry I’d nab the granola
bar stashed in my locker later.
I went outside in the courtyard and sat on a patch of grass at the edge of brightly painted picnic tables.
Pulling my legs up, I lay my head on my knees and let the Texas sun soak into my skull.
The wind had died down, pushing away the usual humidity from the air. A lot of people were taking
advantage of the cooler weather. Students crowded the tables; many gathered on the grass or sat along the
wide ledged cement plant containers. They didn’t know that they sat and ate, laughed and talked, read and
napped among dozens of ghosts.
Some spirits appeared human, like they must have looked when they were alive in out-of-date styles from
past decades, but others were just dark forms, black silhouettes darting past, splintering my head in two if I
tried to focus on them.
My former best friends snagged the table a few feet away from where I sat alone. They did that often, sitting
close enough to make the point that I was no longer welcome among them. They talked loud enough so that I
could hear what I was missing out on. Wonderful. Taylor giggled her high-pitched throaty titter she used when
she was trying too hard. I glanced up briefly. Ashlee leaned to whisper in Taylor’s ear, her perfectly flat-ironed
blond hair spilling over her shoulder like suntanned Barbie’s, and they both went into giggling mini-spasms.
I put my head on my knees. I wasn’t part of the group anymore. Every day I tried to steer clear of them while
they made it a point to ignore me. Not that I wanted friends who wouldn’t believe me. What happened at the
pond wasn’t my fault. They should have known that. I sighed, wishing desperately that they could see me for
who I was.
Even with my face buried, I heard them clearly.
“Mm, hmmm. He is fine,” Jaclyn said between long pulls of her soft drink.
“The new guy?” Taylor’s voice lowered with her interest. “I haven’t seen him yet.”
“He’s in English with me.”
“I saw him this morning,” Ashlee piped in. “He is so hot! Has the tightest butt I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah?” Taylor drawled. “I heard his mom couldn’t handle him. Had to move here to live with his dad.”
“No way.” Jaclyn snorted. “You are not going for another guy just because you think he’s a bad boy. Your last
one was a total ashtray. I had to use half my body spray every time he got out of my car. Plus the guy was a
mooch.”
“He was in college so he didn’t have any money,” Taylor said.
Jaclyn made a slurping sound. “He took guitar lessons at the community college because his band sucks.
Taylor, you have to stop going for these guys that are the total opposite of—“
The other girls in the group gasped.
“Who, Jaclyn?” Taylor’s tone was cold. “Opposite of Brad?”
“Taylor, I didn’t mean . . .”
Brad’s name brought a jabbing pain to my chest. His face wavered in my vision, indistinct and blurry beneath
murky water.
“That’s just it.” Taylor’s voice went all nasally. “Maybe I’m ready for something different, maybe a little trouble.
What’s wrong with that? I’m tired of everyone tiptoeing around me like…” Taylor exhaled. I imagined her
twirling a finger around a shiny brown curl. “I’m just ready to . . . I don’t know what. Exactly. But I do know this
is my senior year. It’s not supposed to be like this.”
My hands curled around my knees. It wasn’t supposed to be this way for either of us. Brad reached for the
surface, his arms clawed the water.
I didn’t do it! I shoved to my feet, breathing heavily. I did not leave Brad to die. I had nothing to do with his
drowning. My hands clenched. I didn’t!
I had to get out of here. I avoided looking at Taylor’s table. I couldn’t stand to see the way they’d turn away as
soon as I walked by or the way they’d look right past me. All they saw was the girl who let Brad die.
I made my way inside and up the crowded staircase to Economics and took my usual seat at the back table
since all the desks were spoken for by the top-of-the-food-chain crowd. Luis, the guy who sits at the desk in
front of me, had his backpack on my table. Again. I scooted it over.
I glanced to my right by the wall with the windows to see if the Mexican girl was there today. Sure enough, she
sat primly on the shelves below the panes. Her slim brown fingers played with the thick colorful embroidery of
her loose yellow cotton dress while she thumped the backs of her sandals against the books. When she
noticed that I looked at her, she hopped off the shelves and started moving toward me. What?
I gave a quick shake of my head. What was up with the ghosts today? They hadn’t approached me like this
for months, not since I first started seeing spirits. That first week, they’d come at me whenever they noticed I
could see them. Screaming like a crazy person hadn’t helped so I spent most of that week in my room where
none of them ever went. Since that time, I found that if I just ignored them, they mostly backed off. Mostly.
Except for today.
They were all unusually paying attention to me, even though there was no way I was going to strike up a one-
sided conversation right here in Economics. What made her think I would talk to her? I never had before!
Turn around and walk away, little ghost.
I clamped my lips together, trying to warn her off with a glare. As more students came in, she crossed in front
of the door, headed toward the row of desks directly in front of my table. Go away, go away.
Just my luck, she kept coming. Fine. I crossed my arms, prepared to ignore her. Except . . . someone
entered our classroom and stepped right through her.
Her slim body blurred together with a tall boy’s body momentarily. I blinked rapidly to reorient myself and
looked up into incredible green eyes.
For the second time today, a jolt pulsed through me.
All thoughts of the ghost vanished. I’m sure my mouth hung open as I took a nice long look at motorcycle guy.
He wore a gray shirt with long sleeves pushed half-way up nicely formed forearms. It suddenly dawned on me
that he must be the new guy Taylor and the Barbie crew were talking about. No wonder I’d never seen him
before this morning.
Which meant . . . huh. I started to relax and may have actually smiled as I realized that he probably hadn’t
heard about me yet. I glanced at the cocky smile and wondered if he really was trouble like Taylor hoped or
just dressed for the part.
Those dark green eyes crinkled and left mine to quickly scan the room before fixing on the teacher’s desk at
the front. I swear every female in the room had stopped breathing. Ashlee was right. The new guy was hot.
More than hot.
He handed Mrs. Simmons a slip of paper. “Oh, okay,” Mrs. Simmons said. She appeared as stunned as all
of the rest of us females. Even Terence, who we all know is gay though he won’t admit it, was openly flushed.
Clearing her throat, Mrs. Simmons turned to us. “Settle down. The bell’s about to ring. This is Aden Perez.
He’s joining our class. Mr. Perez, you can take one of the seats in the back for now, please.”
There were two empty seats, one at my table and the other over by the windows. My pulse picked up as
Aden walked between the rows of desks toward me.
“Does anyone usually sit here?”
“Uh.” Great. I said Uh again. I can be truly amazing.
“No.” Luis turned and swung his backpack up off of the table. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said and felt heat flush across my cheeks.
A slow smile slid across Aden’s face and a little of the heaviness I’d carried with me for the last ten months
seemed to drop away. One little smile shouldn’t mean so much, but deep down I knew I wouldn’t see it again.
He’d learn soon enough about the terrible thing everyone said I did.
The Mexican girl hopped up to sit on the edge of our table. The tardy bell went off and papers rustled as
notebooks were pulled out of bags.
I felt someone watching me. Peeking sideways, I found both Aden and the ghost girl looking at me. Caught,
Aden looked away. The ghost feathered her fingertips along the ends of his dark hair. He gave a slight shake
of his head as though dislodging a spider, and his gaze swept to mine again.
“What?” he mouthed.
I clicked my teeth shut. I’d never seen any of the ghosts at school purposely mess with anyone else before. I
shook my head and faced straight forward, not looking at either of them again the entire class period. Even
so, I felt every time Aden glanced over at me. It took all of my concentration to stare straight ahead. Mrs.
Simmons’s voice became a low hum I barely heard. I didn’t even realize it when she dismissed us and the
other students were all bottlenecking through the door.
Except one.
“Do you know where N101 is?” Aden’s casual question made my fingers twitch and my pen flew across the
room. I pasted on a smile, pretending I meant to toss it.
“I, um, yeah. It’s in the north hall, bottom floor. You’ll have to go down the back stairs from here or you’ll never
make it.”
“Great.” He frowned at the paper with his schedule printed on it. “Show me?”
“Um, okay, I guess.”
The smile he gave me was oh-so-slow in coming, settling in to the bottom of my belly. He’d probably ignore
me tomorrow and try to play down that he’d ever been nice to the loner freak, but for just this moment, I was
normal again.
Last year when I’d run with the popular crowd, guys were always trying to grab my attention while jealous Jeff
ran interference. I loved it. I’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be given any kind of attention at all. I latched
onto the impossible hope that maybe Aden would be different. Maybe he’d see me, and not the girl who let
the star football player drown. I wanted that badly. Of course there wasn’t much chance of that.
Once he learned about Brad, he’d never look at me the same way.
The ghost girl followed us into the crowded hallway. I rubbed my arms. Having her so close made it freezing.
She stayed by my side in the stairwell, passing through students, melting through their bodies. I watched the
way Aden walked, enjoying how other students had to move out of the way or flatten against the wall since he
kept turning back to me to make sure he was going the right way instead of paying attention to who he might
be plowing over.
“Thanks for showing me where to go. I’m Aden, by the way.”
“Yeah. Mrs. Simmons told us.”
“Um, right. So, you’re . . .?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Kasey.” I should have lied, made up another name. I didn’t want him to associate me with what he’d hear
soon enough about Kasey Losheldar.
“Kasey.” He nodded and kept going down the steps. “I like it.”
The ghost girl tilted her head, and I actually grinned at her. I can’t remember the last time I fully smiled all the
way inside, and certainly not at any ghosts, but I couldn’t help it. It was so dumb. Really. What a stupid reason
to start smiling now, but Aden liked my name.
The little ghost frowned. Tiny lines appeared over her small nose. Several of the shadowmen ghosts whizzed
by, clumped together so tightly the only thing that made them distinguishable from one another was the shape
of their heads. My skin puckered in goose bumps though I couldn’t be sure if it was because of the
shadowmen or—I glanced down at Aden—something else.
Aden waited at the bottom of the stairs, turning the printout of the school’s layout sideways. His forehead
furrowed in concentration.
I hurried down to him. “This way. Come on or you’ll be late.”
“Thanks. This school’s a beast compared to my last one.”
The hall was clearing out. Aden’s lips twisted. “I think I just made you late for your class.”
He was even cute when he was trying to act all apologetic. I didn’t believe for a moment he was worried
about making me late, especially since he was lingering in the hall in no apparent hurry to walk inside his own
classroom a few steps away.
“Better than being run over.”
His eyes widened.
I laughed. “It’s not a big deal.” I was in no great rush either. I’d never have a moment like this with him again. I
could imagine the pack of hyenas inside that classroom just waiting to inform him of who he had been out
here talking to. The moment he stepped over that threshold, any friendliness he’d have for me would be gone.
“You okay?” He leaned closer. I’d made him frown. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Look, I’ll walk you to your
class and explain it was my fault, you showing me the way and all.”
“You get away with a lot, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “Only, well, let’s say ninety-nine percent of the time.”
I bet he did. I laughed. The bell buzzed, loud and obnoxious over our heads.
“Don’t worry about it. Mr. Frances never takes roll.”
Aden’s eyes lit. “Oh, so you could skip?”
I laughed again. It felt good to laugh. “Yep, but you couldn’t. Not on your first day.”
“Hey, I’m the ninety-nine percent guy.”
It was tempting, to have one day to spend with someone, to flirt like I used to, to be free and normal for a little
while before he went into that room.
“Mr. Perez,” the teacher called from inside the classroom. “Bring your enrollment papers in here please.”
Aden winced, one eye closing as though he hit the sour center of a jawbreaker. “Guess not today.”
“No. Probably not a good idea.”
“How’d he know we were out here?” Aden whispered.
“That’s Mr. Manning. Nothing gets by him,” I whispered back.
“Mr. Perez,” Mr. Manning called. “I’m not in the habit of allowing new students to make grand entrances. Tell
whoever you’re talking to to run along.”
Aden looked up toward the ceiling and shook his head. “Guess I better . . .”
“Yeah.”
We both turned to go in opposite directions. I wanted to grab his hand and pull him out the door with me. I hid
my disappointment.
“Hey, Kasey.”
“Yeah?” I turned back.
“See you later.”
“Later?”
”Later. As in some time after now.”
I shook my head, trying to look unimpressed.
“You’re a little bit different, aren’t you?”
He had no idea. Defensive, I folded my arms. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re just . . . I don’t know…all day, all the other girls have been—“ He lifted his gaze upward. “You’re just
different.”
Great. Exactly what I wanted to be. Different and set apart from everyone else. A total loner outcast.
Shrugging, Aden dragged himself into class and out of my sight.
The young ghost girl followed him inside, taking the chilly air with her.
What . . .? I stared at the heavy classroom door propped open into the hall. Why were the ghosts acting so
strange? The Mexican girl never showed interest in anyone or left the Economics room she usually occupied.
The one thing I’d grown used to about being able to see ghosts was that they tended to stay in their own
areas. This was all just weird.
Aden’s casual mention of skipping class suddenly seemed brilliant. The ghosts today were seriously freaking
me out. I had to get out of here. I stepped out of the closest door before any adults roaming the halls could
ask me where my pass was.
I headed in the direction of home, but that wasn’t where I intended to go. It would be a long walk, but the day
was still cool so I wouldn’t be sticky after ten minutes.
Keller, Texas is one of those towns that spreads out from an early railway stop. It used to be mostly pastures,
but new neighborhoods of two-story houses, all with the same pointy gray roofs, were springing up all over.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, I stepped into the gravel lane of one of the few old homesteads left—
Alsten’s place.
I passed the low ranch-style home with its cute wrap-around porch. Yellow and purple pansies peeked out of
the top of two wooden barrels on each side of the steps. Taylor and I used to run past the house at night,
meeting up with our friends at a place where a low dip in the land gave us some privacy. If old man Alsten
knew we were down there or our music played too loud, he never did bother us. Who knows, he was old and
probably took out his hearing aids early each evening.
I walked to the edge of the small ravine and just stood there. One of the brown cows wandered behind me,
heading toward the scant shade of a cypress. Rusted crumpled soda and beer cans glinted in the trampled
soil where planks had been laid across rocks to sit on.
My hands curled by my thighs, and I just looked. A warm breeze pulled my hair across my face. I’d never go
down there again. With that thought, I wondered if Taylor ever came back. Could she sit with friends and
laugh and drink as though nothing had happened? Or was she unable to return as well? Did another group of
kids, unaffected by that night, claim Alsten’s pasture as their spot now? I hadn’t ever dared come back here
at night to know. I only came in the day.
Not that it mattered. In fact, I hoped Taylor did come back. She was always much stronger than me. She’d be
able to deal with it and move on.
Then again, she hadn’t been accused of doing anything wrong. My gaze flicked to where I had no intention of
looking. The wind whipped over the gray surface of the small pond, creating ripples. An odor rose up, the
smell of wet dirt. I flinched, ready to run, yet rooted to the ground. I shouldn’t be here.
But I was drawn to the pond. I came now and then to see if Brad was there, the boy whose death I was
blamed for. Sometimes I saw him, standing at the water’s edge. Sometimes he stood near the fire pit area.
We’d just stare at each other across the meadow. I didn’t dare get closer. Even though it was Brad and I
shouldn’t be afraid. He had been a nice guy, my best friend’s boyfriend. I couldn’t have hurt him. I wouldn’t
have done anything like that. My mom, my friends, they should have believed me. Taylor especially. She and I
were best friends, tighter than sisters, but she wouldn’t even give me a chance to explain. Not that I could
remember anything about that night to tell her, but she should know me better than that, right? She should
know.
A shape appeared on the far side of the pond. Instinctively, I stepped back before stopping myself.
Brad. Tall, big shoulders like you’d expect on the best defensive lineman our school ever had. A hard knot
twisted inside my stomach.
I stared at Brad, wanting to go over there and talk to him, ask him about that night, about what really
happened. Just like all the other times I came and we gazed at each other from a distance, I couldn’t make
my feet move. I never could. What if his death really was my fault?
No. No, it wasn’t. Brad would tell me it wasn’t. Still…
He faded away.
I probably shouldn’t have felt relieved. A cold breeze drifted across my back.
Turning to go, I nearly collided into Brad’s chest.
“Where?” he said in a way that was too calm, especially since the atmosphere surrounding us was anything
but peaceful. We hadn’t been this close to each other since the night he drowned.
“We—we’re at Alsten’s Pond.” My pulse drummed so loud in my head I could barely hear myself speak. “D—
don’t you remember?”
“I . . .?” He pressed a fist to his forehead, his face tight. “I . . .” He shook his head and began to dissolve.
“Where?”
“Brad, don’t go!” This was my chance. I reached for him even knowing it was impossible to grab onto a
ghost. He faded away. I needed answers. Maybe. Maybe I didn’t want them, but Brad looked confused. It
occurred to me that maybe he didn’t remember anything about that night either.
A coyote suddenly yipped, and I jerked. The air grew heavy and goose bumps prickled my skin. I had the
feeling that someone was watching me.
“Brad?” I whispered, hoping he had come back. I’d be braver this time.
A sudden gush of air stirred the weedy grass across my ankles.
There was a wrongness here, something I felt deep down in my bones, though I couldn’t put a name to it. This
place was wrong. Maybe even evil. There was evil in the pond. Fear slid deep inside my bones. Evil waited
just below the quiet surface of that water. I absolutely knew it. I felt it creep toward me like silent reaching
arms.
So I ran from it, coward that I am.