Wraith by Angel Lawson Page B

things. But I felt bitter and angry that there was doubt, that I was somehow a liar.”
    I could relate. You tell the truth and are punished. You tell a lie and everyone feels better but yourself. It was horrible. “So she went away?” I asked, wanting him to finish the story.
    He chuckled darkly. “Yeah, she went away, but then the next one came. And he wasn’t as pretty or nice. And I was definitely on my own—I couldn’t tell anyone. Once he left there was another and then one day there were two at once and I just lost it, Jane. I totally and completely lost my shit.”
    I leaned forward. “What? What did you do?” I knew what I had done and it was under less extreme circumstances. I glanced at the drawer holding the scissors.
    “I started using drugs to dull everything. Weed made everything less of a hassle. The ghosts seemed to have a hard time getting through the haze. When they started following me to school I just ditched and stayed home to get high. My parents thought I was becoming a stoner, a dropout, and to them this was better than me being a kid who saw things.” Connor shrugged. “A druggie is better than crazy, I guess.”
    “Is that when you started the fire?”
    A look of pain crossed his face. “Later?”
    I bit my bottom lip. “Okay.” I got off the bed, the springs creaking as I stood, and walked over to my dresser, pulling open the top drawer. Underwear and a purple bra fell out of the overstuffed drawer. Awesome.
    To his credit, he kept his mouth shut and I focused on what I was looking for, not the fact I had just opened my underwear drawer in front of him. I needed a better hiding place.
    I unearthed a wooden box, long and slender, and closed the drawer. I held it out to Connor, trying to steady my shaking hand.
    “Open it.”
    He took the box from my hands. “What is it?” 
    I sat back down and took a deep breath. “After I broke down the first time, the time it all hit the fan, I came home and cut off all my hair.”
    His eyes flicked to my head, but otherwise he kept his emotions in check. “All of it?”
    “Not all of it, I guess, but most of it.” I waited for him to open it and then I shut my eyes. I heard the soft creak of the metal hinges as it opened. “Evan and I got in a fight at school- a loud, public one. Mrs. Crawford was making referrals, my parents were in denial, and I just picked up the scissors and started hacking. With every piece that hit the floor, I relaxed.”
    Connor was silent for a minute, staring into the box, until I heard the top close with a sharp snap.
    “Jane…”
    “Don’t say anything,” I interrupted. “Just understand that although sometimes I act like I’m strong and brave and better than you, I’m not. From what you’re telling me, I’ve had it way easier and I still cracked.”
    “If it matters, I like your hair.”
    Instead of responding, I redirected our topic. “Okay, well…what do you think I should do about Evan?”
    “Jane, I don’t know how many ways to say it. You have to figure out what he wants.”
    “But, what if he doesn’t want anything? What if he’s happy?”
    “Would you be happy like that? Living between two worlds? Unable to touch and feel…stuck?”
    “He’s not unhappy and he can touch me.”
    Confusion filled his eyes. “Why, though? He shouldn’t be able to. They can’t touch.”
    Ignoring him, I said it again. “He can touch me. It took awhile, but he can.”
    “Can you touch him?” 
    I shook my head.
    “Can he touch anything else?”
    “Objects. Mostly small ones.”
    “I don’t know if that’s good. That seems to break some kind of cosmic rule.” He stood up and began pacing across the small space. “He’s never hurt you, has he?”
    “No! No.” I stood up now, too, irritated and annoyed at his questions. The peaceful moment we had just shared was gone. “Evan has never hurt me. He takes care of me. And you’re not being helpful at all.” We faced one another. He was so