Spirited (20 page)

As if Josh can read my mind, he asks, “Did you tell your dad that you hate moving?”

“Yeah.”

He waits.

“Didn’t change anything.”

“Did you say it like a dozen times?”

“No, why?”

He rolls his eyes. “It takes at least that long for stuff to sink in. Even when my mom makes me repeat back to her what she just said, I’ve no idea what she wanted me to do.”

“My dad was paying attention.”

Josh flips to the page where the mutant zombie/wolfman is chasing my dad. “Did you explain your theory?”

“No. He’s not gonna listen to me and my Internet diagnosis.”

“How about talking to the school counselor? I hear she’s pretty good, and she can—”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Then you’ll be moving soon. And when you’re in your
new
school, talking to another nobody, you’ll be sad that you didn’t listen to my advice.”

“I’ll make sure to note it in my agenda that day.” I pretend to write. “Jay. Was. Right.”

“Josh.” He smiles. “You’re gonna run out of
J
names pretty soon.”

“Not gonna happen.”

~*~*~

The boxes show up after I’ve been at Dead President High School for three months. They’re scattered around the living room. Some are half full. Others packed and piled. I stand in the doorway half expecting to see Josh’s mutant zombie/wolfman hiding behind the pile, waiting to ambush my father.

Dad strolls from his bedroom carrying two more packed boxes. He pauses when he sees me, but drops them onto the floor before he starts in with his lame excuses.

“…better opportunity for advancement… benefits… exciting challenge… almost double the salary…”

“I don’t want to move,” I say.

“Sweetie, this job—”

“Sounds like the one you have now. I like it here. Can’t we stay until I graduate high school? Please?”

A queasy expression creases his face. He glances at the pile of boxes and tugs on his shirt. “No, sorry sweetie, but we have to go. We can’t stay.”

“You can’t stay, but I can.” I rush to explain. “With the next job, you can afford to rent this place and your next… whatever. I’ll finish high school and then hang out with you the summer before I go to college. I can even get a part-time job this summer.”

So many possibilities! I can get a library card and join a school club or team. My excitement rises until I see my dad twisting the bottom of his shirt as he stares at me in panic.

“You can’t stay here all alone,” he says

“I’ll be seventeen soon. And you know I’m responsible.”

“But… but… you’ll be
all alone
.”

Which means,
he’ll
be all alone, and the answer is
no
. I swallow the lump of emotions lodged in my throat. College. I console myself with the knowledge that I can do all those fun things when I get to college.

“When are we leaving?” I press my fingertips into my temples, hoping to stop the migraine from building.

“Friday morning.”

Three days to pack. Josh’s words,
it sucks when you don’t get a chance to say good-bye
, sound in my mind. At least, I’ll be able to tell Josh.

~*~*~

Except the next day my migraine and Matt are back, and Josh is nowhere. I search the library just to be sure. Nope. Matt is sitting in my seat, but he’s staring at the floor and playing with a blue and yellow scarf—the school’s colors—pulling it through the fingers of his left hand.

I retreat to another table and take out my homework. I’m worried Josh won’t show up before I leave. Then I won’t get a chance to say good-bye. I realize I don’t even have his cell number, home phone, or an address. What’s the point in getting all those when you have no intention of using them?

“Hey, New Girl,” Matt says. He’s standing next to my table. “Sorry I yelled at you last week. When I heard Josh’s name… “

“That’s okay.” What else could I say?

“Yeah, well…” He looks around. No one’s here except the ancient librarian. “Lots of kids are named Josh.” He shrugs. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad.”

“That’s okay.” Yep, I’m the queen of conversation.

“I should have known better. I mean, you’re like a ghost around here. You wouldn’t know Josh Martin.”

“I’m a ghost?” It’s all I can manage. I’d like to see you do better.

“You don’t talk to anybody. Hiding in the library, talking on your cell phone. Friends from your last school, right?”

Too surprised to do anything else, I nod.

“You should try and make friends here,” he says.

“I have a friend, and I do know Josh Martin. You used to be good friends. Right? But now you’re mad at him.”

His mood changes in an instant. “I could never be mad at Josh. You’re crazy.” He storms off.

Confused is an understatement.

But Matt’s comments won’t disappear, and when I combine them with Josh’s, a scary thought forms in my mind. A shudder rips through me, sending my migraine to stratospheric levels of pain. I rest my head in my arms. Matt is right. I’m crazy.

The next day, I ask a couple of fringer girls about what happened between Josh and Matt.

They give me these shocked looks.

“Something about the swim team?” I prod.

“You’ve been here three months and don’t know? How lame is that?” the redhead with five nose piercings asks.

“Did you even
see
the memorials?” the other girl demands.

Fear curls inside my stomach. “Uh, no.”

Redhead rolls her eyes. “You want to know what happened between them? A fall through the ice and death happened over Prez’s Day weekend last year. Death tends to end a friendship
permanently
. Come on, Sara.” She pulls her friend away.

I’ve been talking to a dead guy.
Yikes
isn’t a strong enough word to describe how I feel. And I know what you’re thinking. It’s impossible. Yeah, well, I’m not going to worry about it right now. If I’m crazy, they’ll put me away, and I won’t have to move. Win-win.

My father isn’t the only one running from grief. Josh’s been running, too. That’s why Josh liked talking to me—’cause I didn’t know about Matt.

After school, Josh is once again missing in action. And I’m frantic. Which is funny, considering I didn’t want to get involved.

But I have one day of school left, and I need to say good-bye to Josh. Yes,
need
to. For all my disdain about nobody being special, Josh is special.

He should know Matt isn’t mad at him. Maybe then he won’t pretend his friend is still alive. I log onto the library’s computer to find Josh’s address. Google, the search engine of last resort.

~*~*~

“Most of your stuff is packed, but you’ll need to finish up tonight, so we can get an early start in the morning,” my dad says when we get home.

“Tomorrow? But what about school?”

“I’ll call them in the morning.”

“No,” I tell my father. “Not tomorrow, I need—”

“I’m not asking. We’re leaving. Go pack.” His tone borders on anger.

My own fury rises and I see red. Which is way more than a visual thing. Although everything appears to have a reddish tint, my blood boils, and an intense surge of energy consumes me as well.

I yell and call him a coward for running from grief. “Eventually, Dad, it will catch up to you. By then, I’ll be gone, and you’ll be all
alone
. No friends. No family. Nobody.” I throw my backpack down and rush out the door.

Sprinting through the streets, I have no idea where I’m going. I ignore the dull throb in my head, hoping it won’t explode into another migraine. Eventually I end up walking along the river. Chunks of ice tumble in the quickly moving current. The edges of the river are slushy. Our neighbor last year warned me not to trust a frozen river, even if the crust appeared to be sturdy. I was polite enough not to tell her that every northern Midwestern school I’ve attended made students aware of the dangers of thin ice.

Up ahead, a white cross stands out against the surrounding gray twilight. My insides clench as I draw close. Plastic flowers, stuffed animals, and half-burnt candles cluster around the base of the cross. I glance at the name carved into the wood. A memorial for—

“Hey, New Girl.”

I yell and jerk in surprise. Matt is standing behind me. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.

“Sorry,” he says. “I thought you heard me.”

Too scattered to reply, I just gape at him.

Matt squats next to the memorial, straightens a couple teddy bears, and fixes a bouquet of flowers. “Why did you think I’d be mad at Josh?”

The big block letters on the cross consume my vision as black and white spots swarm in front of me.

“Are you all right?” Matt grabs my arm as I sway. “You better sit down.”

My legs fold under me. I suck in deep breaths, hoping I don’t pass out.

Josh’s name, not Matt’s marks the cross.

I’ve been talking to the wrong dead guy.

“You’re an odd chic… girl,” he says, settling next to me. We’re near the edge of the steep bank.

He gazes at the river. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. And, you’re right. I’m pissed at Josh. He knew better than to fool around on the ice. And he should have learned to swim.” Matt picks up a rock and flings it into the water below us.

I regain my composure. “It wouldn’t have mattered. It would have been too cold to swim. You only have—”

“That’s bull. I get hot when I swim. I should have—” He fires another rock as if he can punish the water for taking Josh’s life. “I should have jumped in after him.”

“But you would have—”

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m the fastest swimmer in the state. I could have pulled him out in seconds.” He launches a few more rocks. “Instead I called 911 like an idiot and flagged down help.” Sighing, he looks at me. “And why am I telling
you
all this?”

“‘Cause I’m the new girl?”

He huffs in amusement before standing up. Wiping the dirt off his butt, he offers me a hand. “My mom will freak if I’m not home soon.”

If Matt doesn’t forgive Josh, Josh will be miserable and all alone when I leave.

“Wait,” I say, stopping him before he walks away. “Josh is upset that you’re mad at him. I know. You think I’m insane, but I’ve been hanging out with Josh—or rather his ghost in the library these last three months.”

“No, you’re beyond insane. You’re a grade-A sicko.” He turns.

“Then how do I know Josh liked to draw manga figures and play Death Kombat?”

He pauses. “Someone at school told you.”

“Who? I haven’t talked to anyone but you and Josh. You said it yourself.”

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie? I’m leaving tomorrow for I-don’t-even-know-where.”

He spins back to me. “Then why do you care?”

“‘Cause in the last two years, I haven’t met anyone I’ve wanted to say good-bye to. And he won’t come back until you’re not mad at him.”

“Stay away from me.” He growls before striding away.

But I won’t give up. I’m not going to slink back to the apartment to finish packing and leave without saying goodbye. Not this time. I’m done running from grief.

I race after Matt and grab his wrist. “Just listen, please.”

“Get lost!” He breaks my grip with ease and pushes me away. Hard.

My feet slip on a patch of ice as I move to chase after him, throwing me off-balance. How did I get so close to the edge? I pinwheel my arms, but the next thing I know I’m falling, and waves rush up to greet me. The shock of the impact steals my breath.

I flounder before I remember I know how to swim. Except the icy water saps my strength. My legs turn numb as the river tosses me around. Panic sets in. I thrash, but with frozen limbs, it’s too hard to swim. My soaked clothes pull me down.

“Hey, New Girl,” a voice calls over the drum of the river.

Matt is cutting through the waves as if he’s Michael Phelps. “Come on, move,” he orders, grabbing my arm.

I make a few weak attempts.

“You going to give up, New Girl? Can’t hack it, can you? You’re beyond lame!”

I know
exactly
what he’s doing. But it works. Anger fuels my efforts, and I kick to keep our heads above water.

The current drags us along as if we’re a couple of bath toys. Matt holds me tightly, and we try to swim for shore. But the river is stronger. We’re in trouble. My fear is dulled by the bone-aching numbness. All I want to do is give up and go to sleep.

A yell cuts through my icy stupor. People on the bank are waving and calling to us. A rope flies through the air. Matt catches it, but when the men on the bank pull, it slips from his hand.

Another attempt fails. But on the third throw, we both catch it. Clinging to the rope, we’re fished from the river and wrapped in blankets by our rescuers. Shivers take control of my muscles. I plop onto the ground so I don’t fall down.

Matt pushes through the press of people. He kneels next to me with an alarmed expression. “Did I—”

“No. I slipped.” My teeth chatter. “You… c-couldn’t… have saved him.”

A wild look shines in his eyes.

“Water…c-colder last year. Josh…c-couldn’t swim. I
can
.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “You call
that
swimming?”

“I’m out… of practice.”

“You. Are. Insane.”

You know what happens next. Police, ambulance, hospital, and my father’s panicked face as he barges into the ER. Questions, questions, and more questions. I make sure everyone knows Matt saved my life. I stay overnight in the hospital and spend the next day at home. The upside to all this is my dad stops packing. The downside is he keeps asking me questions about the swim that wasn’t.

~*~*~

And a strange thing happens. We stay. My dad keeps his current job. The only annoying thing is we have weekly sessions with the school counselor. Boring.

The rest of the week, I go to the library, but Josh hasn’t returned. It’s quiet and lonely until Matt’s swim practice is over. Then he shows up smelling of shampoo and chlorine. We attempt to do our homework, but always end up talking or going to the coffee shop down the street instead.