Shade by Jeri Smith-Ready

space.”
    “Fuck space.” Dylan’s grin looked like it would split his jaw. “I’d rather have my brother back.”
    But he’s not really back,
I thought.
Or is he?
    Below us, the foyer was filling with people, giving me a horrible feeling of déjà vu. The night he died, they’d all gathered and stared, just like now.
    “Look!” some kid yelled. “He’s here!”
    I closed my eyes, wanting to run, wanting to hide. Wanting to be a ghost.
    Feet of all sizes and weights stomped on the hardwood floor below. Voices cried out, some in joy, some in confusion.
    And one in horror.
    Mrs. Keeley’s scream ricocheted off the high ceiling. It traveled down my spine, then back up.
    When I opened my eyes, Logan was gone.

Chapter Eight

    Megan was late to school the next day, so I didn’t see her until lunch. But I knew from her midnight text message ( THIS SUX ) that things hadn’t gone well at the Keeleys’ house after Mrs. Keeley fainted. Everyone had left after that—everyone but the McConnells, that is, who needed to alter the funeral arrangements now that Logan’s ghost was around to give his input.
    “He wants to be cremated.” Megan nudged a tomato off her salad with her fork. “Have his ashes scattered at the Hill of Tara in Ireland. There and Molly Malone’s bar in L.A.”
    “Why there?”
    “That’s where Flogging Molly first played. But Catholics can’t have their ashes scattered. Not everyone obeys that rule, but the Keeleys are hard-core.”
    “What did Logan say when they told him no?”
    “He freaked.” Megan set down her fork and shoved away her yellow plastic tray. “I swear, if he could’ve actually touched anything in that living room, the place would be a wreck. The more he tried to throw and kick stuff, the more pissed he got.”
    I sipped my iced tea through the straw, hoping it would settle my empty, aching stomach. “Did he get, you know …” I almost didn’t dare say the word. “Shady?”
    “No way, nothing that bad.”
    “Really? You look kind of sick.”
    “Just tired.” She took a swig from her water bottle. “Plus, I snuck a huge glass of wine while they were all arguing, so I’m a little hungover.”
    Zachary entered the cafeteria, flanked by two girls on each side. They watched him speak, their mouths open, tongues practically hanging out. That accent was deadly.
    “How were Logan’s parents?” I asked Megan.
    “Mrs. Keeley couldn’t stop sobbing. She kept begging Logan to go into the light. Between her crying and Mr. Keeley yelling, I couldn’t get a word in for Logan.” She slid her hands up into her sleeves and rubbed her knuckles together. “My dad was like, ‘Can we please stay calm and make some decisions for your son’s burial?’ but they couldn’t deal.”
    “The funeral Mass is tomorrow. They have to figure this stuff out.”
    “I know.” She wiped her bleary, bloodshot eyes. “Oh, but they’re letting Logan pick the music for the luncheon. He’s pretty stoked about that.”
    “How did he seem to you?” I spoke softly because I was afraid of the answer.
    “He seemed like Logan. You know, cute and charming until he doesn’t get his way, and then a big-time brat.” She rested her chin on her knuckles, shoulders sagging. “Funny, out of all of us in that room, he seemed the most normal. And he’s the dead one.”
    That statement should’ve made me shiver. This was my boyfriend we were talking about, not some anonymous violet specter floating in the shadows of the food court.
    But Logan didn’t feel dead anymore. I’d never touch him again, but I’d see him and hear him. I was grateful that Megan also didn’t refer to him as “ex-Logan.” Maybe she was just being nice, or maybe he seemed too alive to be an “ex.”
    “I wish he’d come see me,” I said.
    “Yeah, he’s been in your room a ton of times.”
    “In my bed, even. Once.”
    “I wonder why he hasn’t visited you?”
    “Aura.”
    Zachary’s voice startled me. I