Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“For good reason.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, and I could tell she was remembering the day and how amazing Rita and Troy had been.
“And then?”
“Then I came here, and I’ve been a mess, but then Cass came and it got better,” she said, smiling at her friend, “because we’re going through the same thing.”
I nodded.
“We go to grief counseling together at school.”
“That’s great.”
“But one of the things that keeps happening—”
“To me too,” Cass rushed.
Delia gasped. “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Yeah, but you’re telling him and…it’s fine, just do it.”
“You sure?”
Cass nodded quickly.
Delia took a breath like she was getting ready to dive into the deep end of a pool. “Okay, so when my parents died, I started seeing things that weren’t there, and now, suddenly, it’s happening again.”
“Same,” Cass whispered. “Not things happening again, but since we moved here, I’m seeing things that aren’t there.”
“I had a doctor who gave me pills,” Delia went on, “and I took them for, like, two weeks, but they made me feel like I was in a bubble all day. I stopped seeing things, but all I wanted to do was sleep. I didn’t have the energy to do anything. I nearly flunked tenth grade.”
“I did that too,” Cass confessed. “But I didn’t have a doctor giving me drugs. I got them myself, and I almost flunked as well.”
“I’m sorry for both of you.”
“But when I moved here,” Cass explained, “with Uncle Lorne, there were no more drugs, and I started therapy, and things have been good. Everyone’s been super nice, and my English teacher even wants me to apply for writing scholarships, but…now I’m seeing things…”
“And I’m seeing things again,” Delia chimed in.
“Yeah, so it’s happening to both of us, and we’re both really scared.”
I felt terrible for them.
“I can’t tell Rita or Troy,” Delia said, her voice cracking. “It would make them so sad.”
We were quiet then, just the three of us outside in the chilly breeze coming off the river.
“Okay,” I began softly, “did you know that just because you see things that aren’t there when other people look, or disappear and reappear, doesn’t make you crazy?”
They both stared warily at me, like I’d just confessed to being an alien.
“Hear me out. Some people are highly empathic, attuned to the feelings of others, and so others can make them happy or sad.”
They both gave me slow, hesitant nods like perhaps that was possible.
“But, and this is a known fact, you can also be sensitive to other things, like changes in weather, not enough sunlight, or even…ghosts.”
Delia gasped. “Ghosts?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Cass assured me with a shake of her head. “There’s no such thing.”
“Says you, who are all of what? Sixteen?” I squinted at her.
She crossed her arms. “It’s crap.”
“And yet,” I said, smiling at her, “you’ve seen odd things since you came to town.”
She bit her bottom lip but didn’t deny it.
“And you?” I looked to Delia. “You think you need to be medicated again because you’re seeing things no one else does?”
The look I was getting was somewhere between me being nuts and hope.
“Tell me truly,” I began, one eyebrow lifted, “have either of you seen a woman on the bridge by the school, in a—”
“Long white dress,” Delia blurted.
“With a high lacy collar?” Cass finished.
I grinned at them. “Yes.”
Delia bent over, hands on her knees, trying to breathe, and Cass took deep breaths in and exhaled just as carefully, tipping her head back.
Then suddenly, they faced each other.
“You saw that lady too?” Cass squeaked.
“What the hell,” Delia snapped at her friend. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you’d think I was crazy,” Cass confessed.
“No. I would never.”
They grabbed each other’s hands then and turned to me, clearly expecting answers.
“The lady on the bridge is Miss Hillary Newcastle, and she leaped from that bridge about a hundred and fifty years ago.”
They were both quiet, but finally Cass said, “Are you screwing with us?”
“Why would I do that?”
“I dunno,” Cass said, and I heard her voice crack and saw her chin wobble. “Maybe you get off on screwing with non-locals.”
“No,” I replied gently, “I don’t.”
“So she’s a ghost?” Delia asked.
“She is.”
“None of my friends can see her,” she assured me. “Or I thought none of my friends could,” she said, looking at Cass.
“That’s because not everyone is as sensitive as you and Cass.”
“But you see her?” Cass was back to questioning me.
“I do.”
“Have you always been able to see her?” Delia wanted to know.
“I have.”
“So you’re sensitive too?”
I nodded.
“What should I—I mean, what should we,” Delia said, indicating her and Cass, “do? Like, should we talk to her?”
“I normally just wave.”
“Yeah, okay. Sure.” Cass exhaled sharply. “We’ll wave at the ghost.”
“Does she know who can see her and who can’t?” Delia asked.
“I don’t think so, but I’ve never asked, so I can’t say for certain.”