Shoot Me Down

Part 12

I visit Sam by the river. The sun has climbed halfway up the sky, and the sunlight dances on the surface of the water, shimmering reflections dazzle my eyes.

It’s as if my presence calls to him, and he appears beside me out of thin air. I jump, startled by how fast he materializes.

Sam smiles. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I study him, his unruly brown hair and good natured face, and my heart warms just a little bit. I think of the last time I saw him, of his lips on mine, his arms around me the entire night, and my face warms too. “How do you do that? Pop out of the air like that? And how do you vanish? Can I do it?”

            He laughs. “I…I don’t really know how I do it. To me, it’s like going to sleep. I even come back feeling a bit refreshed, or, as refreshed as a ghost can feel, I guess. I’ve learned how to do it over the years.”

            “So, I’ll learn too, eventually.”

            Something flashes across his face, a shadow of concern.

            “I hope you’ll never have to learn. I hope we can cross over soon.”

I look down at my shoes, and Sam reaches out and brushes his fingers over the top of my hand.

            “Bree?”

            I frown. “I haven’t had any luck communicating with my parents. But I have to find a way. Caleb is planning to rob them on top of everything.” I try to keep my anger in check, to not show him how upset I am. I glare at the ground between my feet, feeling the rage start a slow burn in my stomach again. “Caleb is still planning to do it, even after he murdered me.”

            Sam reaches out and catches a strand of my hair between his fingers. His eyes are wide and full of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Bree.” He studies my face, concern clear on his.

            “Sam.” I pause, thinking how to phrase my question. “Today I kicked at a wall, because I was angry at Caleb, and my foot didn’t go through it. Caleb heard it. Do you think there’s some way I can do that with my parents? Similar, but…I don’t want to scare them.”

            Sam frowns. “Obviously you were able to become substantial because of your anger. You should be careful. You don’t want to get too involved with him, or you’ll accidently tether yourself.”

            The idea is repulsive. “I wouldn’t…”

            “You wouldn’t mean to,” he says firmly. “It wouldn’t be your fault. It would be because you have strong emotions involving him, regardless of what they are. I pretty much tethered myself to you out of sheer will, because of the strength of…” He trails off, his cheeks flushing.

            “Of what?”  His hand is on top of mine again, and I flip my hand around and curl my fingers through his.

            “I think you know.” His smile is beautiful, and he learns forward, touching my face gently with his fingertips. I shut my eyes, enjoying the sensation of his fingers on my cheek. Already I’m sick of not being substantial, of not being able to feel anything.

            “Lie down with me,” he murmurs. “Let’s pick out shapes in the clouds like we used to. Do you remember the games we used to play?”

            I remember. Ten-year-old Bree and Sam, lying in the green grass of the school baseball field, dreaming up dragons and steam trains in the clouds.