Ghost Perfume | ✔

Chapter 9: Talk to Me, Baby

Several weeks passed and I hardly knew when I'd ever been happier. I played Atropos, Priest of the Sun, and it was a role made just for me. Tommy returned and disappeared again for days at a time - camping, I thought, he had to be camping in the mountains, because the car was filthy and his beard was heavier whenever I saw him - and Jane was my companion everywhere I went. With her, school was bearable. I saw no sign of Jackal or any revenant, and my bruises fully healed; all our bruises did. And hardly a day passed that I didn't see at least one of the Alistair brothers at the pub, at Alexander's, and sometimes at mine.

They did work a lot, and if one returned, another soon disappeared. Like they were trading shifts.

When I got up my courage to ask what they did, they deflected to another subject.

Jane thought they were in the mafia.

"Think about it, Rose,'' she scoffed. "I know you like them, but they look like they can get pretty mean. What are those muscles for? And I'm sorry, but the black leather outfits are straight out of a gangster movie.''

"Yeah, that's where your whole theory comes from, a movie,'' I insisted.

"Believe in something!'' she shouted, floating upside down over my bed. "Don't you talk to ghosts?''

"I'm keeping a big secret from them,'' I said, rationalizing out loud. I was tapping my pencil against my homework, not seeing it at all. "I mean, I'm working up to telling them. Maybe. But until I do I feel like I can't push them on every detail of their lives. And I feel like it'd be wrong to imagine their secret is evil when I'm afraid that's just what they'd think of mine.''

Jane was quiet for a while.

"You know, they already suspect something.''

"What!'' I swiveled in my chair to face her. "No they don't.''

"I'd bet all my money.''

"You haven't got any.''

"I'd bet all of your money.''

"Well, I've lost faith.'' I turned back to my homework to hide my anxiety. I wracked my brain.

I'd been acting relatively normal, hadn't I? And so had they.

"No, I mean it,'' she protested, turning right side up again. "I'm watching you guys together and I can tell you for a fact that all of you are worse actors than you think you are. You're especially bad ... The amazing fact that no one has guessed your secret yet is more a testament to how amazing the secret is than anything else.''

I privately disagreed, but I listened intently, worried about what she would say she'd seen us fail to hide.

"Yesterday when -'' she broke off and rolled her eyes. "You don't believe me, but I'm telling you, you space out all the time. You look at me all the time. These are their options: they think you're slow, they think you're high, they think you're schizophrenic -''

"Oh my god,'' I protested.

"- or they think you're seeing ghosts,'' she concluded. "I think the truth is preferable.''

"But did they ever do something to make you think ...''

"Right, so, yesterday when you were downstairs and that wreck came in crying -''

I thought it'd been justified. Her sister had killed her.

"- you were completely obvious about looking at her. They saw you. I saw them see you. Lukas looked vaguely in that ghost's direction, so did Michael, then they looked at each other. And then what did they do?''