8

ETHAN IS SHAKING ME BY THE SHOULDERS, trying to bring me back to the present. I know it’s him because the warmth of his touch is melting the iciness inside me. I pry my eyes open and will my arms to move, hoping I’m not a puddled mess.

“Cassi?” The low song of his voice fills me with relief as my fingers find his hand and squeeze as tightly as I can manage. “Are you hurt?”

With considerable effort, I shake my head.

“Are you sure?” As Ethan dries the corners of my wet eyes with his thumb, I realize he wasn’t shaking my shoulders; he was trying to still them. I’m crumpled on his bed crying so hard every inch of me is trembling.

Like an electric shock, the memory of Caleb jolts me. The deep vibrations of bass-heavy music, the frost from the éclairs box prickling goose bumps up my legs, Caleb’s steady eyes. I pull away from Ethan and stand, backing away from his bed.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something?” he asks.

You didn’t do anything. But I did, or might have. I’m torn between wanting to remember more and wanting to forget everything. I part my lips to explain, but it’s like my mouth doesn’t know how to form such hurtful words.

Ethan reaches his hand to me, then draws it back. “Where did you go?” His tone has a tinge of accusation.

“I…” It takes a couple seconds for me to get my thoughts straight. “I’m not sure exactly.” I pause to think how to describe my transportive memories. “I keep having these intense memories, or, actually, they’re a lot more like out-of-body flashbacks or something. I have no control over when they happen or what I remember … I think. But they’re so vivid—like I’m reliving them. One second I’m here and the next, I don’t know. I kind of … melt into the past. Literally.”

“Yeah,” Ethan says emphatically, “I saw that. If I didn’t think I was crazy before, that sealed the deal.”

I look away, feeling embarrassed that he saw me melt. “I told you. I’m really here.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not crazy.”

The shock on his face fades and the pounding in my chest steadies to the pace of a normal heartbeat. It’s such a relief being near him that I let myself forget about Caleb. At least for now.

I search Ethan’s face for a reason why he’s the only person who can see me. Why Ethan? I ask the unseen parts of the universe that brought me back to him. No answer. Guess that’s not how this whole ghost thing works.

I glance at his clock. It’s 2:40 a.m. I ask, “Why are you up so late?”

He laughs a short laugh, probably at how absurdly casual my question is. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to work on conjugations for that test we have—” He shakes his head. “Well, that I have next week. I was trying to clear my head, or occupy it.” His eyes flicker and he shakes his head again.

“What is it?”

“You mean besides the fact that I can see down the hallway through your belly?”

I tuck my hair behind my ears, embarrassed again.

“It’s like you’re here and real and I’ve touched you, but your skin looks like pearls—see-through pearls.” He walks to where I’m standing, lifts my hand up to his desk lamp, and rotates my arm. Faint glimmers of refracted light cast a sheen of iridescence on my pale skin. The colors move in unpredictable patterns like a graceful, spontaneous dance I wish I knew the steps to.

“Yeah, I am kind of a freak show now, huh?”

“No.” He pauses. “You’re beautiful.”

An image of Caleb’s cheek brushing against my shoulder, dangerously close to my face, invades my thoughts. I slip my hand out of Ethan’s. “Need any help with the conjugations?” I ask, trying to change the subject in such a pathetically obvious way that it makes his amazed expression go flat.

He slams his Spanish textbook shut and shoves it across his desk, nearly knocking over the lamp. I cringe when he grumbles, “Wasn’t planning on making this a study date.”

“In the den earlier … you didn’t think I was real?”

“I didn’t think you would come back.”

I absorb the verbal slap. Based on my last memory, I deserve it.

“I’m sorry I showed up out of nowhere like this—and left the freakish way I did before.” I sigh. “Where else am I gonna go? Home is … You’re the only one who can see me, so…”

He turns his head and stares at the window. The blinds are closed. I don’t want to think about what it means that he’d rather look at a dusty panel of white vinyl than at bizarro Ghost Me.

I focus on the fish tank sitting on top of his dresser and the hum of the filter. His house is full of normal nighttime noises like that: the furnace kicking on, floorboards creaking in the room above his, a bathroom door opening and shutting. My house has lost its normal.

The tetras swim in and out of the plaster coral reef, passing by each other, grazing fins as they wobble through the filter bubbles. Their existence seems simple, automatic, and easy. Whereas mine seems so complex right now that I can’t even move. So I don’t. I stand next to Ethan’s dresser and stare at his fish, embracing the normal.

“Before—” He stops, clamping his mouth shut. I stare at the inches between us that seem more like miles or days, wondering if he knows anything about Caleb and me, if he knows more than I remember. “I said some things. I was a jerk.”

His words surprise me. “I thought you handled the whole ghost thing pretty well, actually.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I mean. The things I said to you—”

“I don’t remember anything jerky being said in the den.” Nothing I didn’t deserve anyway. I force a small smile at him to hide the growing guilt I feel.

His face scrunches up like my smile is blinding him. “Not in the den … before.”

Suddenly, I realize what he means by “before.” I wave my hands at him. “Whatever it was, it’s done.”

He nods, but it doesn’t seem like he agrees. His eyes flit between me and the fish. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It’s making me dizzy. Then slowly, hesitantly, he reaches his hand out and brushes his fingertips along the back of my hand. I turn my palm over and his fingers whisper against my new skin. My eyelids feel heavy and the sigh that flows out of me draws him nearer.

“How are you not freaking out right now?” I ask.

“Believe me, I am.” His eyes are wide with awe. “This is unreal.”

I can’t take my eyes off his fingers on my arm. I don’t want to blink. If I do, this might all disappear. Everything feels so evanescent, as if one wrong move would thrust me back into Other Me and I’d never see him again. My airless breath catches in my throat because I’ve already made that wrong move. I’m not even supposed to be here now. I’m dead, clinging to the “living” world by some unexplainable phenomenon, and I still haven’t figured out why.

“Ethan.” I wait for his eyes to lose their dazzled glaze. “Why do you think I’m here? I mean, why do you think I didn’t stay with my body?”

“How would I know?” The accusation slips back into his voice.

“I figured since you’re the only person who can see me, your opinion might be relevant. Madison said…” My voice trails off. “Do you believe what the police think?”

He fixes his eyes on the fish tank and angles his body away from me.

I step in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “You have to know I would never do that.”

He mutters something that sounds like “I hope not.” He doesn’t mention the note. I wish I could remember what it said.

“I think I’m supposed to do something while I’m here. It doesn’t make any sense that I’d be given a free pass to haunt about and chill with my boyfriend. And it’s completely frustrating that I can’t remember the party—well, more like most of the past few weeks.” And the stuff I do remember I don’t want to know. “Why do you think I stayed?” I ask again.

He stuffs his hands into his pockets, thinking. “Only you can know that.” There’s something in his voice I can’t place, a wavering that hints he knows more than he’s saying.

“Does it make me the worst ghost ever if I don’t have a clue?”

He holds my gaze for an indeterminate amount of time. Then he lightens his tone. “You’re my first ghost. What do I know?”

“I’m your first? I feel honored,” I half joke.

A smile breaks across his face. “Always will be. First everything. No matter what comes between us.”

“Like death?”

His eyes sink to the floor. “Yeah. Something like that.”