I collapsed at the lunchroom table, sloshing the too-runny applesauce out of its puke-green plastic bowl, then glanced at the wall clock. Ugh. Only halfway through Monday and I was Friday-tired.
Jason took a huge bite of a greasy burger, which had been deemed our lunch. I don’t know how he was able to eat so much and still be so skinny. I actually carried extra snacks in my backpack in case he got hungry. That’s something I’d learned on our third-grade field trip to the science museum when he’d had a massive hunger meltdown—always carry snacks for Jason. I nibbled an edge of my burger and chased it with a gulp of water.
A shadow fell across my tray, eclipsing a brown lump that was supposed to pass for chocolate cake.
“Where you been, Lenard?” Tommy Lord, my old ghostball team captain, stood above me. “The rest of the team’s been asking about you. Danny said you’re avoiding us.”
I stared into my bowl of applesauce, not wanting to have this conversation.
“Look, I know your leg is busted, but, it’s like I said the other day, you should still come to practice so you’re ready to get back in the game.” Tommy’s voice softened a little, but I knew he wouldn’t leave until I said something.
“I’m not going to get back in the game,” I mumbled.
“What are you talking about? You’re the best ghostball player this school’s had in like fifty years.”
I swallowed back all the dread that had led up to this moment. The moment I killed any chance of ever playing ghostball at Rey again. “The bones in my hip shattered.” The still-forming scar scratched inside my trousers like it was trying to tell its own story. I ignored it. “I had a total hip replacement. I won’t be playing again.”
Tommy’s face went pale. “Man, I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was that bad.” Tommy squirmed, suddenly more uncomfortable than me.
“It’s all right.” It wasn’t, but what was the point in saying so.
“I—we—the team tried to visit you. But your dad kept telling us you didn’t want visitors . . . I—I knew about your mom. I had no idea that you . . .”
“Really, Tommy. It’s okay. I wasn’t in any shape to see you guys.” I forced a smile that felt like a grimace.
“Don’t worry. I got his back, Tommy,” Jason piped up through a mouthful of burger, ending the awkwardness.
Tommy looked at Jason and frowned. “Yeah, well, are you coming back, Anderson? No reason to quit just ’cause Alex isn’t going to play.”
“Naw, I gotta take care of him.” Jason jerked a thumb toward me, then took another bite of burger.
I knew he’d never really liked playing ghostball; he’d rather be out hunting or camping. He’d done it because I asked him to. He’d done it for me. The guys on the team had never understood my friendship with Jason.
“Um, okay . . .” Tommy stood there uncomfortably, looking from Jason to me.
“I’ll see ya around, Tommy.” I tried to sound as friendly as possible. I didn’t want to burn bridges, but there weren’t really any bridges to burn. Mine had already collapsed.
“Sure. See ya.” Relief flooded Tommy’s voice and he disappeared into a pack of ghostball players a few tables over.
“Well that was awkward.” Jason slurped down his chocolate milk and eyed my half-eaten burger. “You gonna eat that?”
Suddenly I didn’t feel very hungry. “Naw, go ahead.”
He reached over and grabbed my burger. “You should drink your milk though. You do need some protein.”
“Thanks, Mom—” The word died on my lips and another shadow fell over me. What now?
Hannah sidled up next to us. “Hey, mind if I sit with you guys?” Tray in hands, she plopped down beside me before either of us could reply. “You have to hear what Ms. Grimes said about my essay on paranormal investigation.”
Jason groaned, then shoved a few fries in his mouth.
I scowled, but I couldn’t turn her away. If I did, she’d probably burst into tears. Or tell my dad. Or both. And, weird or not, she was my cousin. I scooched over a tad to give her more space.
Hannah settled in and placed a napkin on her lap. “Oh, come on. I’m not that bad. It’s not my fault most of the kids at this school are so uptight about the paranormal or anyone who’s different.” She looked at me hard, but I just stared at the greasy, overcooked macaroni ’n’ cheese on my plate.
“Besides, we have important things to discuss.” She smiled.
“We do?” Jason asked through a partially chewed mouthful of fries.
Hannah wrinkled her nose at him, then took a large bite of lasagna, followed by some salad. “Aunt Elena reviewed the evidence,” she whispered, her voice quivering with excitement.
I froze, the sip of milk I’d had nearly curdling in my mouth. She had to bring that up here. Now. Really? I hadn’t even told Jason about my crazy ghost-hunting expedition, let alone what I’d heard down in that basement. And there was no way I wanted to tell him about Mrs. Wilson—even if he was the only one who hadn’t tried to send me to a therapist. “Can we talk about this later? Like after school?”
“Talk about what?” Jason stopped chewing.
Uh, oh, this was serious. Jason never stopped eating unless he knew something was up.
Hannah’s lips pressed together. “I suppose. But Aunt Elena wants you to come to the office after school. And whether or not you want to talk about it, we know you heard something. When you were freaking out—”
“I was not freaking out,” I hissed, looking around the cafeteria to be sure no one was listening.
“Freaking out about what?” Jason’s voice rose a notch.
“Shhh. Not so loud,” I whispered through my teeth. “I’ll tell you all about it, J. Later. After school.”
Hannah acted like she hadn’t heard me. “Oh, whatever. While Alex here’s been trying to pretend he couldn’t hear a ghost last night, our EMF meter went wild. And we captured an EVP.” Her voice twittered with joy. “Aunt Elena says it’s the best one she’s ever heard.”
“I knew it. My best friend is a psychic.” Jason slammed his hand on the table, making everyone around us stare. Jason slumped down. “Sorry, X,” he whispered, calling me the special Jamaican name he gave me as his best friend. “I knew you weren’t crazy when you told me you talked to your mom after the accident.”
“Wait. What?” Hannah set down her fork and shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose so her eyes looked extra-large. “You actually talked to her spirit?”
I shut my eyes and moaned. Why were we having this discussion right now? And why did the Problem even have to exist? “Yes. I saw her. And I talked to her. But I didn’t know if she was real or if it was in my head. I’ve been trying to ignore them, but last night I couldn’t.”
“Ignore them?” Hannah’s voice rose an octave. “You’ve seen multiple entities?”
My lips pressed shut. Nope. No way was I discussing this any further right now.
“Um, what’s an EVP?” Jason shoved a few more fries in his mouth.
“Weren’t you listening at all during my presentation? It means electronic voice phenomena.” Hannah rattled it out like someone reading from a manual. “I honestly don’t know how so many Untouched know so little about the supernatural when we’re surrounded by it.”
Jason tossed up his hands in surrender. “Okay, that’s cool. And, no, I don’t know much about paranormal investigation. And, yes, I am Untouched. I only know the wards and sigils I need at home or when I hunt with my dad, but there aren’t many ghosts out in the woods.” Jason took a final slurp of chocolate milk, crumpled the carton, and tossed it on his tray. “So, what did it say?”
I didn’t want to admit it, but I was curious, too.
Hannah’s face lit up. “It’s a woman’s voice. And she said, ‘He’s coming.’”
I panted in the bathroom, butt against the locked stall, head between my knees. This could not be happening. I gulped in several breaths of toilet air. Stay calm, Alex. Stay calm. Okay, I knew ghosts were real. I talked to Mrs. Wilson last night. But part of me had hoped that the doctors and Dad were right—that I was suffering from some sort of post-traumatic psychosis that would go away. Now I couldn’t ignore it. Aunt Elena had proof. On tape. They’d recorded what I’d heard. They’d heard the woman, too. They’d heard her cry out those very same words. He’s coming.
A chill ran from my arms up to my head, making the hairs on my scalp prick up.
Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth—the way the shrink at the hospital had taught me. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Nice and calm. My pulse slowed and my panic ebbed.
I’d go to Aunt Elena’s and see what type of evidence she had. Maybe if I understood it, I’d be able to block them out and stop them from talking to me. Then Dad wouldn’t have to know.
I took one more deep breath of stagnant bathroom air, unlocked the stall door, and went to the sink to splash some cool water on my face.
My hand closed around the faucet handle when the bathroom door swung open.
Two of my former teammates, Billy and David, came in, and my stomach did an extra somersault.
“Hey Lenard, where you been?” Billy asked.
“Yeah. Tommy said you’re not rejoining the team. What’s up?”
Great. Just what I needed. More pressure to rejoin the ghostball team. I pushed off the sink faucet and faced my former teammates. “I’m not.”
Billy and David still stood in front of the entrance, faces set in frowns.
“We need you on the team. We don’t stand a chance at winning the championship this year without you,” Billy said.
“We lost last season because you weren’t there.” David stuffed his hands in his pockets and scowled.
Yeah, because I was being rushed to the hospital with a broken hip and a dying mother. “It’s not like I tried to miss the championship game,” I snapped.
Billy held up his hands. “Hey, he didn’t mean—”
“I don’t care what he meant,” I charged on. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in a massive car wreck? Let alone having your mother die and your hip so torn up you don’t even know if you’ll walk again?”
“I—” Billy started.
“Don’t either of you get it? Life’s more than about winning a stupid ghostball championship.” I slammed my leg into the bathroom door. Pain burst along my scar and I heard a scream. It took me a second to realize it was my own.
A light fixture exploded above us, raining shattered glass on our heads.
David’s and Billy’s eyes widened and both backed away from me.
“What was that?” Billy brushed flecks of glass from his hair, his blue eyes flickering around the bathroom.
Silence.
I panted, trying to catch my breath. Trying to stop the throbbing in my scarred hip.
Slowly, one by one, the hot-water faucets turned on—heat and steam fogging up the mirrors.
David’s eyes nearly popped out of his head and he ran out the only exit. Billy bolted after him.
I sat up, massaging my throbbing hip, thankful for the disturbance.
The bullet-holed janitor leaned against the far wall, a satisfied smile on his face. “Name’s Mr. Thomas, son.” He tilted his head by way of greeting. “I know I’m dead. And I know you can see me.” He turned off the steaming faucets, one by one. “Thought you could use a distraction just now.”
I licked the roof of my mouth, trying to clear the cotton from my tongue. I’d talked to Mrs. Wilson. But I also saw her every day and listened to her every night. I couldn’t escape her. I supposed this wasn’t much different. “Thanks, but I can handle myself,” I said, and stood up unsteadily, brushing shards of glass from my pants.
Mr. Thomas turned off the last faucet and looked me straight in the eye. “Didn’t look like it to me, son,” he said, his voice soft, his accent southern. “Must be hard for you losin’ your mama, and now seein’ ghosts and all at a late age, but I’m only tryin’ to help.”
Guilt took hold and my face grew hot. A kind, Southern black gentleman with bullet holes? Who’d have thought.
“If I didn’t care about you kids so much, I wouldn’t have stayed. Gettin’ more ungrateful every year,” Mr. Thomas muttered and disappeared through the bathroom wall.
I tried to wrap my mind around this. Some ghosts were good? Our whole lives the Untouched learned to deflect and protect ourselves from spirits. We were taught to fear them. But some of them actually seemed nice. They were people who’d died and decided not to cross over for one reason or another. Mr. Thomas loved the kids. And Mrs. Wilson kept talking about her son.
A shiver of fear crawled over me like a roach. What about the woman in the wall? And what about the spirit of the evil man who still lurked in that house?
I definitely needed to stop by Aunt Elena’s and hear what she had to say. It’s not like I’d be offering to go back into the house. Besides, if I didn’t go to see the evidence, Jason and Hannah would never let me hear the end of it. And Dad would accuse me of pushing away family. Then it’d be back to the shrink for sure.
I stood up and looked at myself in the still clearing mirrors. “I’ll do it.” Tomorrow I’d see what kind of evidence Elena found and hear it for myself. But that’s it. There was no way any of them were going to get me to go back into that house again.