Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [46]
My fingers pressed against my temples trying to stop the pounding behind my skull. “Were you the other ghost, the one who kept leaving me messages?”
Brent nodded as the sounds of approaching sirens ripped through the night, reminding me of what I had lost. I looked down at the floor for a few moments, trying to collect my thoughts. “How did you die?” I asked quietly.
“I’m . . . not sure. One minute I was studying with my lab partner, Phil, and the next thing I know I was pitched out of my body. And when my spirit left, someone else moved in, like a vacant hotel room. I bet there was something in those lousy snacks he brought.” Brent punched the wall with a frustrated grunt.
My brain short-circuited, and steam probably escaped my ears as I tried to process everything I had just learned. It was too much.
Suddenly, I laughed hysterically, like a full blown, straight jacket-wearing lunatic, feeling my thin thread of sanity slip through my fingers. Brent stepped toward me and put his arms around me. I shook them off angrily.
“Leave me alone,” I shrieked, gasping for shallow breaths. Uncontrollable tears flowed from my eyes and pure panic enveloped me; I was losing it.
Brent grabbed my arms, shaking me, knowing I was on the verge of a breakdown. He looked frantic as he took in my desperate panting and wild shuddering, my fingers digging into his arms. Brent lifted his hand and somehow I knew he was going to slap me.
“Don’t . . . you . . . dare!” My teeth may have been helplessly chattering in my mouth but my eyes stabbed him with an angry glare that made his hand drop instantly.
Brent looked lost for a second, unsure how to help when I saw his eyes ignite with a plan. He gathered me in his arms and brought his lips to mine, engulfing me in a soothing warmth, and sending a little jolt of something into my dead heart that I chose not to acknowledge. Angrily, I shoved him away and slapped him hard across the cheek, snapping his head sideways.
“What was that?” I demanded, my hands resting uneasily on my hips.
Wincing louder than I thought my slap warranted, he held his cheek and worked his jaw. “Again with the anger. You could just say thank you.”
“Thank you?” I shrieked.
He smirked. “You’re welcome.”
I shuddered with rage. “You want me to thank you for kissing me?”
Brent bit his nails with a flippant grin. “Well, you could thank me for that too, but I was referring to the fact that I stopped your volcanic meltdown.”
It wasn’t easy swallowing down my enraged retort but I managed when I realized my freakout had stopped.
I bit my lip hard, my cheeks burning. “So there was no romantic subtext there?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “My body’s been hijacked; kissing you isn’t high on my list of priorities right now.”
“Oh . . . right . . . I didn’t think . . .” I said, stumbling over my words while tucking a piece of my hair behind my ear.
Brent stepped toward me, slowly lifting his hands to my arms. “Everything is going to be okay, Yara. I’m not sure how, but it will be.”
“Stop that! Stop trying to comfort me with empty promises.” I glared at him for a second. “There has to be a way to fix this.
“There isn’t a solution, only acceptance,” he said, with a wisdom that seemed to go beyond his teenage years.
His words ruffled something deep in my soul and I stopped, my eyes finding his. “How? How do I simply accept my death? I have no idea how to make peace with this.”
“You can start by saying goodbye to your friends.”
Cherie now sat in a pool chair weeping quietly, her drama teacher, Mrs. Tolley, holding her hand. Steve stood behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders.
“I can’t do that.”
“It will make it easier.”
“For who?” I asked angrily. “She needs me and I’m not leaving her. If you think