eyes. If I did, I knew I’d back out.
“Ready?” he asked. Even though we both knew it wasn’t a question. He was as close as a person could get without actually touching. I tried hard not to visibly shiver and let him know I wasn’t 100 percent cool with any of this.
Edison stretched his arms—for one terrible second I thought he was going to hug me—and made a wide semicircle about an inch from my body. He was taking no Nancy-style risks here: He was going to drive us wherever we were going or not at all. I was just debating whether I kind of liked the fact he’d taken control or hated him for it, when I felt the lobby begin to spin. Uh-oh.
The room blurred from white to black to red to gray. Oh, help, what if this wasn’t my best idea?
I looked up to find that the Attesa had melted away. We were standing by a pier on the riverbank. I tried to take a breath.
Dusk was falling, and the lights of New Jersey twinkled on the other side of the Hudson. A sight slightly ruined when an empty plastic cola bottle floated past. White gulls bobbed up and down on the water. Except the lucky ones who’d got prime positions on the wooden poles that poked above the gray ripples. They must be the queen gulls, I thought. That’s where Kristen and Just-Call-Me J would be sitting if we’d been reincarnated as birds. I’d be down in the river, bobbing around with all the unwanted crap, and they’d be up there, lauding it over all of us.
Well, enough of that already. It was time to stop being such a wuss. It was time to make some changes. Starting right now. I dropped my shoulders and tried to stand up tall.
Edison was looking at me strangely. He cleared his throat. “So, Charlotte, what are you hoping to get out of our little field trip today?”
Very good question. “I want to find out more about what I, we , can do”—no point telling him about David just yet and my whole scare-off-the-cheermonsters plan—“so I can, you know, use all of my powers.”
“Your powers ? Who do you think you are? Ghostgirl?”
I reddened.
“No, I just …”
Why? Why was I unable to form a sentence around Edison? I had a boyfriend (kinda), so why did I care what he thought? No matter how green his eyes were and how intently he was looking at me now.
I tried again. “You must remember what it was like when you first died. How you felt like you’d lost so many things. Didn’t you want to find out what you were capable of too?”
An emotion flickered across Edison’s face. In that instant, I realized I didn’t understand him well enough to know if it was hurt or regret. He shrugged and kicked the grass with his sneaker, bringing up lumps of dirt onto the green. (Note to self: Get Ed to teach me how to kick things sometime soon.)
Maybe I needed to try to understand him.
“Just how long have you been dead, Edison?”
“Long enough.” He lifted his head, but this time there was a smile behind his eyes.
“That’s not an answer,” I said.
“It is if you don’t want interfering young newbies knowing your private business.” His eyes really were the deepest green. I laughed, despite myself.
“Seriously though, does it get any easier?” I asked.
“Which part?”
“Any of it, I guess.” A couple around my parents’ age walked by, enjoying an early evening walk. They looked so content. A wave of loss passed through me so powerfully I shuddered. “Do you ever stop worrying about them?” I asked. “You know, the Living. My parents, I … I can’t even go there in my mind yet. Think about what all of this has put them through. Does there ever come a time when you don’t wonder if the people you left behind are doing okay? Do you ever let them go?”
Ed pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and tapped the bottom on his palm until one fell out. He rolled it in his hand for a few seconds before shuffling around for a light. He sparked up, inhaling deeply, then sat back on the grass.
“Don’t ask
“Ready?” he asked. Even though we both knew it wasn’t a question. He was as close as a person could get without actually touching. I tried hard not to visibly shiver and let him know I wasn’t 100 percent cool with any of this.
Edison stretched his arms—for one terrible second I thought he was going to hug me—and made a wide semicircle about an inch from my body. He was taking no Nancy-style risks here: He was going to drive us wherever we were going or not at all. I was just debating whether I kind of liked the fact he’d taken control or hated him for it, when I felt the lobby begin to spin. Uh-oh.
The room blurred from white to black to red to gray. Oh, help, what if this wasn’t my best idea?
I looked up to find that the Attesa had melted away. We were standing by a pier on the riverbank. I tried to take a breath.
Dusk was falling, and the lights of New Jersey twinkled on the other side of the Hudson. A sight slightly ruined when an empty plastic cola bottle floated past. White gulls bobbed up and down on the water. Except the lucky ones who’d got prime positions on the wooden poles that poked above the gray ripples. They must be the queen gulls, I thought. That’s where Kristen and Just-Call-Me J would be sitting if we’d been reincarnated as birds. I’d be down in the river, bobbing around with all the unwanted crap, and they’d be up there, lauding it over all of us.
Well, enough of that already. It was time to stop being such a wuss. It was time to make some changes. Starting right now. I dropped my shoulders and tried to stand up tall.
Edison was looking at me strangely. He cleared his throat. “So, Charlotte, what are you hoping to get out of our little field trip today?”
Very good question. “I want to find out more about what I, we , can do”—no point telling him about David just yet and my whole scare-off-the-cheermonsters plan—“so I can, you know, use all of my powers.”
“Your powers ? Who do you think you are? Ghostgirl?”
I reddened.
“No, I just …”
Why? Why was I unable to form a sentence around Edison? I had a boyfriend (kinda), so why did I care what he thought? No matter how green his eyes were and how intently he was looking at me now.
I tried again. “You must remember what it was like when you first died. How you felt like you’d lost so many things. Didn’t you want to find out what you were capable of too?”
An emotion flickered across Edison’s face. In that instant, I realized I didn’t understand him well enough to know if it was hurt or regret. He shrugged and kicked the grass with his sneaker, bringing up lumps of dirt onto the green. (Note to self: Get Ed to teach me how to kick things sometime soon.)
Maybe I needed to try to understand him.
“Just how long have you been dead, Edison?”
“Long enough.” He lifted his head, but this time there was a smile behind his eyes.
“That’s not an answer,” I said.
“It is if you don’t want interfering young newbies knowing your private business.” His eyes really were the deepest green. I laughed, despite myself.
“Seriously though, does it get any easier?” I asked.
“Which part?”
“Any of it, I guess.” A couple around my parents’ age walked by, enjoying an early evening walk. They looked so content. A wave of loss passed through me so powerfully I shuddered. “Do you ever stop worrying about them?” I asked. “You know, the Living. My parents, I … I can’t even go there in my mind yet. Think about what all of this has put them through. Does there ever come a time when you don’t wonder if the people you left behind are doing okay? Do you ever let them go?”
Ed pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his jeans pocket and tapped the bottom on his palm until one fell out. He rolled it in his hand for a few seconds before shuffling around for a light. He sparked up, inhaling deeply, then sat back on the grass.
“Don’t ask
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