Phantom [h.s]

Fifteen

The light in the living room flicks on as soon as I step through the front door.

I chew on my lip, smiling innocently at my parents who both look at me sternly, arms crossed over their chests.

"Hi," I say.

"It's twelve fifteen in the morning," my mother says.

I blow a current of air out of my lips, struggling to think of an excuse. "Yeah..."

"Jane, I thought we were past this. Coming home late? Unable to provide an excuse? Have you been drinking again?" My mother rambles on.

"No, I haven't," I snap. "And I just went for a drive, alright?"

"Until past midnight?"

"It was a long drive. Can I just go to bed?"

My parents exchange a look.

"Fine, but you're grounded," my mother says. "No car unless it's driving to or from school. We'll talk about the rest of your punishment tomorrow."

I frantically look to my father for some sort of help, but he nods along with my mother.

"Fine," I snap. I brush past them and up the stairs, trying to hold in my anger. Being grounded is not what I need right now, especially when I'm trying to find out who Harry's murderer is. However, I can't tell my parents that.

Hey, guess what Mom and Dad? I met a dead boy and now I'm possibly endangering my own life by helping him find out who killed him so he can move on to the afterlife. Is that cool with you?

I dramatically slam the door to my room and huff. Being an impulsive person can have its perks, but it also has crippling disadvantages.

I'm just glad my parents don't know that I missed the second half of the school day today. Hopefully I can come up with a good enough excuse by tomorrow, if the school doesn't rat me out first.

I change for bed and lie staring at the ceiling in the dark.

I flash back to earlier today when I reached for Harry's hand; when I momentarily forgot his lack of physical touch. I am so used to physical gestures coming naturally-all humans are. A comforting hand on the shoulder or a celebratory high five; it's all part of who we are. We take it for granted, and Harry is denied of that simple luxury in his state.

It's amazing, though, how his touch seemed to spark ice cold electricity in me-two opposites of nature, hot and cold, seeming to combine within his lifeless being.

Death took his body, his touch, and his breath. It left his spirit.

-

I walk down the hallway, the sound of my shoes echoing through the empty space. I swing the hall pass in my hand, letting out a sigh.

I round the corner of the hall toward the girls' bathroom. It's odd to be roaming through the school when everyone's in class; it's so quiet and serene.

I suddenly hear footsteps from the other end of the hall and catch a quick glimpse of Max's face before ducking back around the corner. He's with someone, but I didn't have time to see who. Luckily, Max didn't see me.

I try to slow my breathing as they begin to talk.

"What do you mean, you went to his grave?"

Ava.

"A few days ago. I left flowers," Max says. Their voices aren't loud, but they're just loud enough for me to hear.

"Do you know what an idiotic move that is? God, Max, I swear-sometimes you have no brain."

They walk slowly but it's only a matter of time before they round the corner.

"Come on, the case was shut down. Nothing's going to happen." Max lets out an arrogant laugh.

The footsteps stop. "You know that new girl, Jane?"

My heart crawls to my throat and I furrow my brow.

"What about her?"

"Does she seem...odd to you?"

"No. Why, does she seem odd to you?"

"I don't know. She just randomly moved, right?"

"It's probably for her parents' work, that's why anyone moves anymore."

"She's awfully secretive."

"What makes you say that?"

"Why does she wear long sleeves all the time? It's not that cold out yet."

What do long sleeves have to do with being secretive?

Heat rushes to my cheeks. A large part of me wants to step out and confront them both, but I don't.

"Who knows, and who cares. She doesn't have to do with anything."

Ava sighs. "You're right." The footsteps start up again. "Seriously, though. You can't make a habit of visiting Harry's grave. You know what kind of potential hazard that is."

"He was my closest friend, Ava."

"He was also murdered, Max," Ava hisses, her voice lowering. "Or do you not recall?"

My heart pounds loudly in my chest.

There's a brief pause.

"I definitely recall."

"This isn't about him, anyway," Ava goes on, her voice still at a hush. "This is about protecting-"

"Hey, Jane!"

I snap my eyes over to Estella, who stands across from me, a hall pass in her hand. She grins at me. How did I not hear her coming?

The conversation in the other hallway abruptly stops.

I shut my eyes briefly, forcing an annoyed smile at Estella. "Hi," I say through gritted teeth.

I hear high heeled footsteps coming from the other hall and Ava rounds the corner.

"Oh," she says, raising an eyebrow.

"I was just on my way to the restroom," I try to explain.

Max rounds the corner next, smiling and waving at me slightly. "Hey, Jane."

Ava's eyes flick to Estella.

"Dropping off attendance, I have a sub in math," Estella says, lifting an attendance sheet.

"Funny how we all meet at this exact moment," Ava says, narrowing her eyes at me.

Her attempt to patronize me fails.

"Yeah, real laughable," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm surprised there's no prerecorded laughter to go along with it. You know, like they have on comedy sitcoms. Because this is just so funny."

Ava parts her lips. She obviously wasn't expecting me to reply to her. Max stifles a laugh.

"I'm going back to class," she snaps, briskly walking past me, her heels clicking loudly through the hallway.

Estella shrugs and walks away, tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder.

Max smiles at me.

"Ava's mad now, you do know that," he says. "She doesn't like being talked back to."

"Then Ava clearly doesn't know how communication works," I say. "People talk, and you talk back to them. It's called a conversation."

Max laughs. "Feisty today, aren't we," he says.

I shrug. "Maybe."

I look up at him and feel a myriad of questions forming on my tongue.

Why did you visit Harry's grave? Why doesn't Ava want you going there any more? What do you know about Harry's death?

Did you kill him?

But I would be a fool to ask him anything here, at school. Now is not the time.

"See you around," I say to him, brushing past him and around the corner, walking into the girls' restroom.

I lean over a sink and rest my palms on the sides, staring at the drain.

I feel so conflicted. I have so many questions to ask, but it's never the right time. How do I find the right time? Will there ever be a right time?

Max and Ava were clearly the closest friends Harry had. They must know something about his death-I just need to find out what.

-

The kitchen door slams behind me and I drop my bag on the table, not surprised in the least to see Harry reclined in one of the kitchen chairs, tossing a ruby red apple into the air and catching it.

"Okay, so get this," he says, leaning forward excitedly. "Something happened today."

I raise an eyebrow. "Something happened?"

"Oh yeah. Something happened, Jane, it happened!"

"Are you ever going to tell me what it was or...?"

He stands up, walking toward me, fighting a wide grin. "I walked through a wall."

A smile breaks onto my face. "Get out!"

He beams, shaking his head. "No, I'm serious. I was on my way here from the clearing and instead of opening the kitchen door I just walked through it."

"Wait, how?"

"I don't know. I guess I've never actually tried before today."

"Prove it," I say, pointing to the kitchen wall.

He smirks.

He walks around the kitchen table and glances at me over his shoulder briefly before stepping forward and directly through the wall.

"Oh my God!"

He laughs, stepping back through into the kitchen.

"Wicked, isn't it? I've been walking through walls all day long."

I laugh. "I can't believe it. Does this mean you can turn invisible too?"

"Tried that already. Turns out invisibility isn't part of the whole death package."

"Too bad."

"Agreed."

"So does this mean you can just go through different things?"

"I've only tried it with walls."

I walk over to the kitchen table, picking up the red apple that he set down.

"Well, let's see."

He looks at me confusedly as I stand across the kitchen from him, a devilish smile crossing my lips.

"Hold still, alright?"

"What are you-"

I hurl the apple at him as hard as I can. His eyes widen and before he can react, the apple whizzes right through his chest, dropping to the floor behind him.

Both of us stare at the apple on the floor.

"That was the coolest thing I have ever seen in my life," I say.

We look at each other and break into laughs.

Harry picks up the apple and stares at it and I walk over and stare at it too, both of us still amazed at the phenomenon we just witnessed.

"How did you do that?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Hell if I knew. All I thought was that I didn't want that apple bouncing off me."

"So you control it with your mind."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright, so if I was to slap you across the face and you thought that you didn't want me to, you could make my hand go through your face?"

"Well, let's test it out, shall we?"

I smile and step forward, rapidly bringing my hand to Harry's cheek in a harsh smack. My hand feels the cool of his skin for a split second before travelling straight through him.

We break into laughs again.

"This is amazing," I say, shaking my head.

"I can't believe that I'm just discovering this now," he says. "I went three months without even knowing I could do that."

"But if you want to be...you know...like, tangible, then you can be, right?"

His lips twitch with the traces of a smirk.

"Why would you like me to be tangible, Jane?"

I blush, turning my head to look away from him. "I was just wondering, I-"

He reaches out and turns my head back to look at him, his fingers gracing my skin gently.

If my skin is fire, then his is ice, chilling me to the bone and igniting me in flames all at once.

How is it that a dead boy can make me feel so alive?

"Tangible enough?"

I blush a deeper shade of pink and he laughs, dropping his hand to his side.

"You're funny, Jane."

"Don't make me throw another apple at you."

"Bring it on."

Harry and I spend the next hour scouring the old house for things to throw through him. I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. It feels nice.

But in time, my mother arrives home. Harry hurriedly walks through the kitchen wall as she comes through the front door. He says a brief goodbye and offers me a dimpled grin on his way out, and I'm left with bruised apples and a lifted heart.