Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [83]
“Has she ever dealt with a murderous ghost?” Brent asked pointedly.
“No, but if she had, it would have gone down a lot differently. I should have paid more attention to what she did. If I had, maybe I could have handled this better.”
“Why didn’t you pay attention to her?”
The glass door under the schools arched entrance slammed open and Mrs. Piper thudded out. She wobbled on her thin heels as she hurried past us checking her watch. I pretended to be engrossed with her to stall answering.
Finally I admitted, “It was shame. I totally believed in everything she taught me but it embarrassed me when people laughed at her and me by proxy. When I was a kid I defended her and started more fights than I can count.” My fingers found their way to the scar on my eyebrow. “After a while I stopped because the arguments never changed anything. As I got older, I just wished she would cut it out and pretend to be normal. She knew I felt that way and I think it hurt her.” I let my head loll forward so my chin was resting on my chest. I had barely spoken the words, needing to say them, but not wanting to own them.
“But if you believed her, why would you want her to pretend she couldn’t see ghosts?”
“I wanted people to think we were normal,” I confessed in a small voice, feeling like my insides had been carved out with a melon baller.
“Who cares what people thought?” Brent asked, sounding genuinely confused.
“At the time, the gossip, stories and stares were horrible. But now it seems so stupid that I cared.”
I brought my fingers to my lips about to start chewing on them. Brent caught my hand, lowering it. “Nasty habit you don’t want to start.” There was a kindness in his eyes I didn’t deserve.
“If I hadn’t been so stubbornly stupid, I might have been able to listen when you were trying to reach out. I could have figured out it was you. I mean, some part of me knew it was different. When it was Thomas haunting me, there was a chemical, chlorinated smell, but with you, it was a comforting, alluring scent that—” I bit my tongue, realizing what I had admitted.
“What?”
I pulled my hand away, the blood draining from my face. “Nothing. It smelled like you, is all.”
“And my smell makes you feel comfortable and is, at the same time, alluring? Even when I was alive?” Brent smiled wide. “I knew that new cologne was working for me.”
I focused on the orange flower that had once belonged to our melted snowman to give my eyes something to do other than look at Brent. “Anyway, as I was saying, I knew it was different. When I was in the shower—” I stopped for a moment and gave Brent a sharp look. “You were in there when I showered?”
It was Brent’s turn to blush as he pulled on the hem of his sweater. “Yeah.”
“So you saw me naked?” I asked, my voice cracking.
Brent shook his head aggressively. “Of course not.”
“Really?” I arched one eyebrow at him.
A flush crept up his neck, his face crimson. “Alright, I’ll admit to being tempted—severely tempted, but I waited outside the stall. I’m not a perv.” Brent quickly changed the subject. “I realized something the other day. If I get my body back as you keep insisting I can do . . . you’ll be stuck here all alone. I probably won’t even be able to see you. You missed your shot at heaven and—”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re getting your body back,” I said, standing up and putting my hands on my hips. “One of us is getting out of here.”
“What makes you think I’ll be okay leaving you here alone?” Brent stood up and glowered at me.
“I,” I started but stopped when I noticed a familiar blonde head walking across campus.
“Cherie!” I laughed and cried at the same moment. I was laughing because it was Cherie, but crying because she was so different from the friend I remembered.
I was surprised at how emaciated she had become. Her usually creamy skin now seemed chalky. The dark circles under her eyes complimented the hollowness inside them.