Dani is a psychic medium and witch, giving her the ability to talk to spirits and ghosts. When an eccentric new family moves to her small town of Silverwick, she finds herself caught up with their mysterious son, Neil, and she's thrown into the worl...
By Monday night, the weekend already feels like a distant nightmare. Work at the diner is abnormally slow, so I get to work on my closing tasks a bit early. My car is in the shop for an oil change, so my sister Grace will be picking me up from work.
As I search outside for her beat up Toyota truck, a pair of blinding headlights pull into the parking lot. I let out a sigh of frustration when I realize it's not Grace, but someone probably coming to enjoy a late night cup of coffee. I'm not a fan of the late- night customers. They stay too long and tip too little.
I squint my eyes to get a better look at the vehicle. A sleek black 1962 Pontiac Catalina idles in front of the restaurant. This is a car my father would have killed to own when he was still around. Wait a minute. My breath hitches in my throat when I realize I recognize this car.
It's only when the bell on the door chimes that my sinking suspicion is confirmed. Mismatched eyes and a toothy smile stare back at me. My face goes numb with shock and I have the sudden urge to lock myself in the restroom.
"C-can I help you with something?" I sputter, even my words abandoning me.
There's no response at first, the restaurant dead silent except for his Doc Martin boots. He strides over to where I'm standing and leans across the counter, far too close for comfort.
"Actually, Dani, I think you have something that belongs to me," He replies through a sharp grin.
"You know what, I'm not sure what you're talking about," I say, tilting my chin up defiantly. There's a hard edge to my voice I didn't expect. For the first time, his confidence falters. The expression on his face changes from sunshine to storm clouds in an instant.
"The bag, Dani, give me my bag," He says, urgently, leaning in even closer. Was he now trying to intimidate me? This causes a spark of irritation in my chest, any trace of fear gone.
"Oh, you mean the bag I found in the graveyard? You're not getting that back," I seethe, leaning closer to him to stand my ground.
He pulls back as if I'd burned him, rolling his eyes in indignation. Something tells me he's used to getting his way.
"Look, I'm done playing these petty games, there's something I need in there, so I'm not leaving without it," He replies gravelly, his anger beginning to show itself in his voice.
"I won't give it to you until you tell me what you were doing digging in the graveyard the other night," I interrogate.
"What if I make a little deal with you instead," he offers, a lilt in his voice. My curiosity peaks.
"It depends on what this deal even is," I reply, trying not to sound as earnest as I feel.
"You give me my bag back, with everything still in it and let me take you out for one night. In return I might show you why I was in the graveyard," he says, leaning back over the counter once more. There's a maniacal sort of twinkle in his eyes that I hadn't noticed before.
A mix of shock and intrigue races through me as I sputter out a response. Was he asking me out? I feel my cheeks grow hot with embarrassment, only fueling my annoyance at him.
"What do you mean you'll show me?" I demand. He just shrugs and stares back at me. I can't tell if his eyes are laced with amusement or a threat.
"Graveyard boy, you must be on something to think I'm going to trust you enough to take me out for a night," I say, holding back a laugh.
Without a word, he grabs a napkin out of the dispenser at the bar, unclips a pen from his leather jacket pocket and starts scribbling. He slaps the napkin down on the counter.
"Call me when you decide you can't wait any longer," he says with a wink.
In the moment it takes me to grab the napkin off of the table, he's out of the restaurant. The bell chiming above the door is the only thing signaling his departure.
I feel relief flood through me as I notice Mora's car pull into the parking lot and shove the napkin deep into my pocket without looking at it.
Grace tries to make conversation with me on the way home, but I can't help but replay tonight's events in my head. Mismatched eyes and the words exchanged.
"I saw an awesome Pontiac on my way in here, dad would've loved it. The guy was driving like a complete nut case though, he's going to destroy that gorgeous car," my sister says catching me off guard. Why am I not that surprised?
I let myself take a hesitant look at the napkin. It's not the number that catches my attention. Grave yard guy actually has a name. Neil.
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