See Me (12 page)

“I’m sure that’s not true,” she said, showing just how little she understood Mr. Coleman and the trauma I had to deal with by being one of his students.

“Look, I don’t expect you to understand me or what I’m going through.” I crumpled the paper into a ball, then held it up. “But you’re freaking out over nothing, because this wasn’t even my real grade. He made me write the entire essay over again, just because of one little pen scratch on the paper that wasn’t even my fault. I’ll have a better grade when he returns the new essay to me and then you can get off my back.”

She rubbed her forehead, suddenly looking exhausted. “Academics are important to your future and to getting into college. I’m just trying to help you.”

Right. More like criticize me.

“Then let me go to bed. I’m tired, and it won’t help my academic education if I’m late to school,” I said, sarcastically.

Our gazes locked on each other’s and for a moment I thought she might see me. That she might pull me into her arms and tell me that, even with her new life, she still wanted me.

Instead, she merely nodded. “You can go.”

“Finally,” I said, mumbling. I ducked my head and slipped from the room, fighting the tears that burned behind my eyes. When I approached the stairs, I found my backpack sitting on the bottom step, and it had been zipped up. I snatched it as I hurried upstairs, down the hall, and passed my room.

****

Jimmy’s bedroom was dark, but the door was open as I walked in. I tip-toed over to where he slept, sat on the edge of his bed, and gazed down at his peaceful face. Thick lashes fanned across the tops of his chubby cheeks and his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were smiling in his dream.

I brushed several curls away from his forehead, then pressed my lips against his skin. “Good night, little bro,” I whispered, resting my cheek against his, inhaling the fruity scent of his shampoo. “You drive me bonkers, but I wouldn’t want it any other way,” I exhaled, meaning every word.

I went back to my room, closed the door, then checked my phone. No calls, which must mean that Owen had to be back in his body. But, if so, then where was Jonathan? I couldn’t feel him in the room. In the dark, I lifted my blinds and peeked out my window, wondering where he could be. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility that he’d given up.

No. He’d made a promise to me. I had to believe he would keep it.

I changed into my pajamas, turned on my nightstand lamp, then opened the
Maisy’s Meow
I’d pulled from my backpack. Conflicting emotions rolled through me as I pulled out the postcard I was using for a bookmark. My dad had sent it from Tanzania and it the postmarked date was from three months ago. It read:

You’d love watching the zebras run wild here in Africa. They always were your favorite. Remember all of our trips to the zoo? Love, Dad
.

Yeah, I remembered the life I had before he and my mom got divorced—when we’d been a family. Unlike now. I tucked the postcard back in my book, set it on my nightstand, then turned off the lamp. Beyond exhausted, I pulled my zebra blanket up to my chin, and my heart squeezed. My eyes welled.

I
wished
my dad had never left me, but he did. I wished my mom hadn’t started a new life without me, but that’s what she’d done. And I wished, more than anything, that there would be one person in this world who wouldn’t let me down.

I stared at the ceiling, at the darkness around me, hot tears tickling down either side of my face. Then something changed,
thickened
in the room. Warm air flowed over my arms, across my chest, then melted through me like a hot bath. The heated energy pulsed to the same beat of my heart, pounding rhythmically against my chest.

My mouth curved into a smile. “Good night, Jonathan,” I whispered.

Then I finally fell asleep.

Chapter Eight

After a fitful night of sleep, I drove to school the next day, determined to recruit Owen to help Jonathan. Let’s face it, the geek king was the smartest person I knew. He was bound to have some insight on how we could fix Jonathan’s bodiless predicament.

On the upside, Owen knew first-hand that Jonathan’s spirit really existed, so there would be no wasted time convincing him of that. On the downside, I’d called Owen’s cell phone several times this morning and he wasn’t picking up. Then I dialed his home number. His mother answered, confirmed that he’d be at school, but said she was very sorry to have to say that Owen was breaking up with me. What the . . .?

Even though the rumor that I’d been dating Owen was laughable, I hoped that it didn’t get back to Brynne. So beyond far-fetched. I’d liked Alex,
not
Owen. And now I realized that I had only liked Alex on the surface. I hadn’t really known him. Not in the way I was getting to know Jonathan, who made my tummy do flips just by thinking about him.

I had to track down Owen as soon as possible, and talk him into helping.

Owen managed to avoid me all morning at school, but thank goodness we had U.S. Government together. Not that he would look at me. He also ignored all of the texts I sent him during class, then rejected all of the hand-written notes I’d passed him by having the girl next to him send them back unread. Annoyingly, the note-blocker was Lindsay Sloan, who, if her smirk was any indication, seemed to take great pleasure in the task.

After class, he bolted out the door and, unfortunately, I had to blow off Brynne to chase down the hall after him. Man, the guy moved fast.

“Owen!” I caught up to him in the courtyard and grabbed his arm. “It is
you
, right?”

He stopped and faced me. “Yes, no thanks to you.”

I gazed back at him, noting his goo-goo eyes were gone. Thank goodness he no longer mistakenly thought he had a thing for me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play dumb, Amy.” He crossed his arms, staring down at me. “You were well and happy that my body was invaded instead of yours.”

“That’s not true,” I said, even though it was probably a little true. But, really, who would ever prefer their body be zombied? “I had no choice, anyway. It’s not like he consulted me beforehand.”

Owen’s mouth puckered into a pout. “But, you would’ve had him pick me. Admit it.”

I really didn’t want to play this game. Especially knowing I’d lose. “I didn’t want anyone’s body taken over, okay? Besides, you don’t know the whole story. Jonathan’s really in a pickle and we need your help.”

“Jonathan?” His nose wrinkled. “You’ve given the demon a name?”

“He’s not a demon,” I said, noticing several students turn my way. Maybe I’d said that a wee bit too loud. I lowered my voice. “He’s a teenage boy. And he’s really nice once you get to know him. If you give him a chance, you guys could become friends.”

He stared at me wide-eyed. “You’ve fallen for the demon, haven’t you? What happened to our kiss?”

Sadly, those were several seconds of my life I’d rather not think about again. “Like I told you from the beginning, you and I were
never
going to happen.” I shoved my hands on my hips, then frowned, annoyed by his attitude. “And nice move having your mom break up with me, but
newsflash
, Owen, we were never together.”

He gaped down at me. “Then why did you invite me to your room? What was our kiss about?”

Immediately I pictured kissing Jonathan, and butterflies danced in my belly just thinking about him. With Owen there were no sparks. Not even
half
a spark. Man, I hoped Jonathan wasn’t here listening to Owen’s and my conversation. Owen’s puppy love perception could really give the wrong impression.

“First of all,
you
kissed me, not the other way around,” I pointed out softly, trying not to hurt his feelings. Then I watched Owen’s gaze drift over my shoulder. Wondering what he saw, I turned around to find my best friend standing there, her baby-blue eyes brimming with tears. Oh, no. “Brynne. It’s not what you think—”

But she turned and ran down the hall, her honey-blond hair flying behind her.

My heart pounded in my chest and I wanted to go after her, but I didn’t have time when Jonathan’s life hung in the balance. My eyes shot back to Owen. “Nice job.”

“What was she upset about?” His eyes trailed after her, but he obviously had no clue that the girl had been in love with him for almost a decade. “All I did was ask why you’d kissed me.” He gave me a look. “Yes, I initiated it, but you seemed to be into me. Admit it.”

I thought of the heat that radiated through me whenever Jonathan was near. “If I gave you that impression, then I’m sorry. But it had nothing to do with you, so let’s just move on.”

“No, I think I deserve a proper explanation.” He stared down at me with an urgent look that, truth be told, made me a little nervous. “Seriously.”

“Fine.” I threw up my arms, wanting to get this out of the way so we could focus on more pressing matters. “You and I were in my room yesterday and Jonathan started trying to zombie my body.”

Owen crossed his arms. “Go on.”

“Well, you know that hot, fiery feeling you get right be before he zombies you?” I sighed, unable to believe I had, even for those few seconds, felt confusion about what I was feeling when I clearly had zero attraction to Owen. Less than zero. Maybe even less than negative numbers, if there was such a thing. Not like I excelled at math. I took a deep breath. “For that moment, I thought maybe that feeling might possibly mean I was attracted to you. Obviously, that was a major misinterpretation.”

His mouth dropped open. “Are you saying you mistook a demon trying to possess you with having the hots for me?”

“I never said I was perfect.” I shrugged. “But I have to tell you, Jonathan got offended when I called him a zhost, which is what his current status actually is—kind of a mix between a ghost and a zombie—so you really need to stop with that demon reference. The guy has enough troubles without having to deal with mislabeling. You don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

“Unbelievable.” He turned, then started climbing the stairs toward the parking lot.

“Owen, stop,” I said, trotting up beside him. “I told you what you wanted to know. Can we go somewhere and talk now? Please?”

Owen glanced over at me as he trekked along, then he sighed. “They still have the ninety-nine cent cheeseburgers at Burger Mania and I need one. If you want to talk, I guess you can come.”

His last burger invitation had been much nicer, but that was when he thought we were government conspiracy and UFO buddies. Still, I followed him. “I’m sorry you got zombied, Owen. I really am. But the only way we can make sure it doesn’t happen again is if we find Jonathan a body.”

“Zombied, huh?” He pulled open the passenger side door of his truck. Even pissed off, Owen was a gentleman. “Why do you keep using that term when what happened was clearly a possession? I’m not following how you’ve drawn that conclusion.”

My mouth dropped open, his need to challenge me making me extremely bitter. “He knocked me out of my body, making me
look
dead only I wasn’t—because I was thinking, right?—then he controlled my body to do his own bidding”

“Again, that explains possession, not a zombie.”

Ugh. Argumentative, much? “Sorry that my perspective bugs you, but my dead-appearing body lurched all over the place. Which—guess what, Owen?—is what zombies do, not the possessed.”

His face grew tight. “According to Haitian folklore, you would need to have appeared dead and also—”

“Did you
see
my lifeless body when he knocked me out of it? Did you see
yours
? The answer is no, but I did,” I barked, my stress level rising into the red. I couldn’t believe I was arguing about how to denote my body being hijacked. “This conversation is ridiculous. I can’t even have my body taken over without someone trying to point out how I’m labeling it incorrectly. Why don’t you just ground me or give me detention while you’re at it?”

He blinked as he approached his truck, seeming confused. “Because I’m not in a position of authority over you, where I can—”

“My body looked dead. And yet it was moving. It was
zombied
. The end.” I groaned as I
hopped into Owen’s truck, pulled the door closed, then waited for him to go around to the driver’s side. “Jonathan didn’t take over our bodies for thrills. It’s only because he’s in a huge jam.”

Owen snapped his seatbelt into place. “Not my problem.”

“Yeah, but he’s in trouble and you’re a nice guy,” I pointed out as he pulled out of the parking lot. “I’m not sure how much you heard while you were in the zombie zone, but Jonathan’s sixteen like us, and he died last Friday from a car accident. He’s the son of Jacob Miller, who’s the creator of
Maisy’s Meow
.”

“Doesn’t impress me.” He shook his head as he made a right turn. “I can defeat a famous cartoonist’s son.”

“The only way to
defeat
him would be to make him go back into his own body, which is gone.” Oops. I hoped I hadn’t just told the wrong guy about the zombie version of kryptonite. “His family buried his ashes after the car accident. We drove in your truck to the cemetery using, um, your body yesterday.”

His bottom lip came out. “Yeah, I noticed my gas tank was near empty. I can’t believe you were consorting with a demon, while I was investigating the phenomenon going on right in
your
backyard.”

“What were you doing?” I asked.

He narrowed his eyes as if in concentration. “I found this effervescent light by the back of your fence. I studied it, tried a few experiments, but still haven’t deciphered what it is.”

I stared at Owen, unable to comprehend the geek-level of what he was telling me. “Your body had been taken over by what you thought was a demon and, instead of going after it, you were doing science experiments on some weird light in my backyard?”