Bad boy supreme Caleb Dawson crashes into Amy Irvine's world as a spectre that no one can see, hear, or touch, unleashing a chain of events beyond her wildest theories. Could a logical soul ever survive the burn of a supernatural touch?
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The night was thick with smoke, the smell of buttered popcorn and greased metal – ripe for a little mayhem and madness. Caleb Dawson held his sister's soft, warm hand as they walked through the flashing, kaleidoscopic arch that beckoned them into Sirencester's annual carnival.
"Don't drink too many slushies and ride the Gravitron too many times," Caleb warned Emma. "And definitely not both in that order."
"Yes, big brother," Emma sighed, beginning to pull away, eager to get to her friends peering at them by the ring toss stand. "Anything else?"
Caleb knew Emma deserved a night out after the last couple of shitty weeks that they had at home. But he didn't want to let his little sister go. Not like this. As Caleb felt her hand slip out of his, he produced a twenty from his jacket with a tilt of his head and a flourish. "Win something cute for me."
Emma beamed and skipped to her friends who giggled and shrieked when she joined them. Preteen girls and mee-maws loved Caleb.
The Panthers had taken up the laziest assignment possible, the high striker, and were being blatantly sexist. Any guy who tried it was bullied while any girl who did was encouraged. Each year, Caleb ensured that the football team's practice time was not overshadowed by frivolous after-school activities. The boys' letterman jackets stood out like fat grapes under the orange halogen lights. Stefan Calder called Caleb over.
"Where's your team spirit, Captain? No uniform tonight?" Stephan complained, offering the mallet to Caleb.
It wasn't the one with Caleb's initials. He cast a puzzled look at his running back.
"I swear it was here this morning but we kinda can't find your favorite one now," Stephan muttered.
"No worries, I can smash it with this one as well," said Caleb in a smooth voice.
Bobby Higgins added, "Yo, Dawson. Are you in all black trynna get some goth action?"
"Sorry boys, Daddy's off duty tonight," said Caleb, grasping the mallet's ash handle. The supple leather felt right against his calloused grip. He pointed it at Bobby's chest. "But I'm going to visit your mother later tonight."
Amidst wolf whistles and other obscene noises, Caleb secured his footing on the glistening concrete. In any case, his varsity jacket wasn't an ideal choice for the messy affair planned for that night. Lithe like a golfer, he swung with force and precision, and bam! The puck soared high and struck the bell with a resonant ding. "Score!"
"That's how you do it, baby!" Stefan clapped Caleb's back. "Listen, your other business... that's still on for tonight, yeah?"
Caleb smirked as they flitted toward a hazy corner. "What do you need?"
"Carmine Trovey really wants to try some Molly but she's shy," Stefan lowered his voice. "Won't do it with anyone she doesn't trust."
Snorting with derision, Caleb discreetly traded a little plastic zip lock of two pastel-colored pills. "Said the lamb to the lion."
