Vintage: A Ghost Story (17 page)

Josh vanished, leaving me to collapse on top of Mike. His body felt too cold beneath me. Worried that I was too late. I rubbed his skin, his limbs, moving myself over him to share my warmth. I wrapped the cover around us both and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I listened for a heartbeat, the sound of him breathing. Both were so faint, as if only echoes of life.

I tried to wake him, first by talking softly in his ear, then by lightly pinching his cheeks. He blinked sleepily. “Weird dream,” he muttered and fell back asleep.

I went to the hall closet and brought back every spare blanket I could find, just like Trace had done for me. I woke him again and sat him up in bed next to me, covering us both. As he became warmer, he murmured happily and lied against me, wrapping his arms around my neck. I rubbed his back, feeling relieved he seemed okay—now that I found someone as sweet and amazing as him, I was scared of him being taken away. I was even a bit mad, I admit, that Mike remained clueless how close to dying he had come.

I turned that anger to Josh. But it could not compare with the memory I had taken from him of the party. Josh’s resentment and jealousy at Colin made my insides hurt. The shame of being outed could drive a guy to do the worst things. Had Josh’s own boyfriend killed him?

Chapter 12
F
RIDAY

For the first time ever, I woke because a warm boy slid up against me, laying his face in the crook of my neck. Mike’s soft breath teased my skin, and I purred and pulled myself closer to him. My hand, guided by hormonal instinct, knew to slip under his cotton T-shirt and rubbed his smooth back. Mike pushed himself against me then.

“Morning,” he murmured in my ear.

I didn’t answer. The last thing I wanted was for it to be morning and for me to have to get out of bed. Mornings are evil.

My hand left his back and slid to his ass, squeezing it once. Damn, I loved his sounds. So gentle. I had the urge to press further, slip my hand around the front and see what touching another boy there felt like. But then the house creaked and rudely reminded me of what had happened last night. That memory doused my desire and chased away sleep. I decided to keep the attack from Mike; I didn’t want to upset him if at

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all possible. What I needed to do was to talk to Trace and figure out how to end Josh’s haunting. For good.

“You should leave before we get caught.” I gave him a quick kiss. He moved in for another and another. I slid a hand to the back of his head, let ting my fingers brush through his short hair a while as he nibbled on my lower lip.

“Yeah, we should.” His murmurs tickled my ear and made me want him more. Damn. I could not stop myself from licking his chin, moving down to kiss his neck. He moaned softly, spurring me further. My hands found their way to his back and ass, rubbing in slow, tight circles.

He slowly ground his body against mine. His breath came in ragged pants.
I slid my fingers under the elastic waistband. The skin I found was soft like silk. Not really sure what to do, I just let my fingertips lightly tickle their way up and down between his small, rounded cheeks.
He groaned my name.
“Yes?” I asked softly.
“We should… we should…” His eyes were closed and he licked his lips, then he shook his head slightly. A few drops of sweat fell from his forehead onto my chest.
I suddenly felt conscious of how far we were moving. Again came concern of rushing Mike into something so seriously physical, not when I was just discovering how much he mattered to me. I quickly slid my hand out from his sweats. I wondered why wasn’t I born with that tiny devil on my shoulder that cartoon characters possessed.
He looked up at me with one open and amazingly jadegreen eye. “Thanks,” he mumbled and just relaxed on top of me. Our breathing began to calm down and fall in sync.
“Let me see if the coast is clear.” Wearing jeans and a shirt I found on the floor, I slowly crept down the hall. Was my aunt still home? I hoped she’d maybe left for the casinos or something.
No such luck. I heard sounds from the kitchen. Even worse than her being there was her home making breakfast. I had to get Mike out fast.
I found him already dressed and smoothing the folded covers. I stood in the doorway, blinking at the sight. He had made my bed. He had made my bed! I think that was the first time that had ever been done—I mean, no matter where I lived, the bed simply stayed perpetually slept in. Why bother to make it all neat when later on you would be spending hours toss ing in it anyway? But the boy had actually given it definition, sharp corners, the pillow a space of its own. He looked up at me and smiled sheepishly.
“Uhhh…” I didn’t know whether to thank him.
He walked into my arms. This new feeling, of embracing a boy when I wanted, was addicting. I wondered when we would be together next. But then I remembered Josh’s attack last night. The ghost had to be dealt with before I put Mike in jeopardy again.
I took him by the hand and led him out of the bedroom. Just a few yards to the front door, the tricky part being the gauntlet past the kitchen. If we made a dash, maybe my aunt wouldn’t see us.
But I forgot one important thing: my luck or lack of any. Just as we were passing the kitchen, the phone rang. I swore silently. My aunt reached for the telephone hanging on the kitchen wall, and saw us there in the hallway. She stopped. Then she recovered from her surprise with a slight smile. She wore an apron covered in what looked like flour. “Morning, mind answering that? I don’t want the pancakes to burn.”
Pancakes?! Mike smiled and whispered the word like it was almost holy. He went straight for the kitchen table. I groaned, leaning back against the wall, until the phone rang again. I reached to answer it.
My luck turned infinitely worse after I picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
No one spoke and in a moment I would have hung the phone up when her voice broke the silence. “What the hell are you doing there?”
Just hearing my mother curled my insides and splashed them with burned acid. I slammed the handset back onto the receiver, where it slipped free and dropped to the linoleum with a crash to spin around at my feet.
I knew my aunt and Mike had to be staring at me. My boy sat at the table with a knife and fork in hand, ready for breakfast. Aunt Jan stood at the stove, a spatula ready in hand.
Trying to hide my sudden fear and anger, I looked down at the floor.
My aunt walked over and picked up the phone, glancing at it casually before putting it back on the wall. “What’s wrong? You’re shaking.”
I didn’t answer her. The ringing began again. Only this time, the sound became an obnoxious alarm because I knew who was on the other end.
Without taking her eyes off me, she reached up and grabbed the phone. I closed my eyes and heard her say “Hello.”
Aunt Jan’s eyes widened. After a few moments she said, “So nice of you to call, Sarah. And yes, of course he’s still here.” Then she listened a while, her face wincing, undoubtedly from my mother screaming at her. “I hardly think of it as harboring a criminal.”
She held the phone away from her ear and mouthed to me, ‘sit down,’ pointing next to Mike at the table. I did as I was told. I could hear the wasp-angry buzz of my mother’s voice from across the room.
“Sarah, listen can I call you back… the pancakes… well, I don’t want to serve the boys burnt pancakes.” Aunt Jan winked at us. “Yes, I said boys. What’s so wrong about… listen, I cannot talk to you like… no, let me say I won’t talk with you yelling. I’ll call later.” She hung up the phone coolly and went straight to the stove.
I sat there with my head in my hands. This was all wrong. I had wanted to come out to Aunt Jan my way. Now not only had my mother cruelly outed me, but I had been caught with Mike. My aunt would never trust me again.
“They’re a little brown, I’m afraid.” Aunt Jan put a plateful of pancakes in front of Mike. “Do you want any?”
I shook my head no. “Did she call me sick?” That had been her favorite word for me in the last days at home.
My aunt put the pan into the sink and began to untie her apron. “Do you want any jam with those? There’s syrup on the table.”
“She thinks I’m this perverted thing, right?” I watched as Mike reached over my arm to grab the bottle of syrup. He didn’t seem surprised that it was artificial strawberryflavored gunk rather than Vermont maple.
She sighed. “Your mother has… issues. Always has. I don’t know why she’s mad at you.”
“Mad? She’s not mad. Mad is when you send your kid to his room without dessert, not when you tell him you want him out of your house!” I slammed my hand down on the table.
Mike looked at me with anxious eyes as he stuffed the first forkful into his mouth. A bit of the neon red syrup stained his mouth and trailed down his chin. The sight, so reminiscent of his brother’s ghost, left me uneasy. “She really did that?” he said around chewing.
“Both of them did. They hate me, are disgusted at me because—”
The phone rang again. I never realized how irritating that sound was. No one moved to pick it up.
“Relax,” my aunt started.
“They always ruin everything. I wanted to tell you before I had to run away. They would have tossed me out. I’m gay.”
Mike dropped his fork. “Sorry,” he whispered, blushing at the sudden attention the sound brought.
My aunt brushed her finger against the messy top of the squeeze bottle. She brought the finger to her mouth and grimaced at the taste. “Uhh, this is what, pure sugar?”
“Didn’t you hear me?”
“I’m not old enough that I’m deaf.” To Mike she spoke, “Excuse us.” Then she looked at me and pointed out into the other room. We moved to the living room, while Mike went back to eating the stack.
“I heard you. What did you want, some wild response? For me to sud denly start screaming, to throw you out of my house?”
“No,” I muttered. Ashamed for being so melodramatic, I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I worried I had lost my place as her favorite kin.
“Confession time.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead a moment. “A couple nights after you moved in, I called her. I know, you asked me not to, but when my nephew suddenly shows up on my doorstep and begs to stay with me, I worried what happened.”
“You knew?” The knot that had formed deep in my stomach after hearing my mother’s voice jerked a bit, but whether it started to loosen or merely pulled taut, I couldn’t be sure.
From the kitchen Mike called out. I didn’t know he could yell. “Ms. Kapel, would you have any milk?”
“In the fridge, just pour yourself a glass,” she yelled back. “And he is?”
“Mike. Trace’s brother.”
Her eyes grew larger. “Am I wrong, or did he… sleep over?”
My head sank. Just when I thought I had a chance…
“Shit.” She drew out the curse. “He’s what fourteen? And you’re only seventeen!”
“Mike’s fifteen. And nothing happened.”
She gave me a scathing, doubtful look.
“Honest.” Again, a bit of exaggeration. I raised up both hands in defense. Adults love to suspect the worst.
“Does she even know?”
I could only shake my head.
She groaned. “Okay, well this has to bring a couple new rules.”
I just nodded. Whatever she said, as long as I could stay.
“Number one, I’m not ready for any kid in my house to be fooling around. Relax, but think how awkward I’m feeling right now. So,” she nodded toward the kitchen, “Mike can come over anytime but he ends the night at his house. Alone. Understood?”
Relief soothed my frayed nerves. I had worried she might say no boys at all or something. Instead, I felt treated like any other normal teen. How cool was my aunt! “Understood. No problem.”
“Number two, no more secrets. You need to trust me and I need to be able to trust you, okay?”
I nodded. Still, I knew I would break this rule. I wasn’t ready to come out to my aunt as a medium. For once, being gay seemed inconsequential compared to how complicated my life had become thanks to seeing ghosts. Plus, that would lead to talking about Josh, which would be trouble. For now, I had to lie to my aunt: what kid doesn’t keep something secret from an adult?
“Let’s finish eating and then we can take him to school.” She rubbed her forehead a moment. “How come that doesn’t sound right?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.
I hugged her. Tightly. “I love you,” I said softly.
Aunt Jan squeezed me back. “Always remember, this is your home, too.”
I had been waiting for that moment, for her to say those words, since I walked through the door. A ball of angst that had been inside of me for months broke apart, leaving me finally with one less worry. I finally felt at home.
I convinced my aunt to drop me off as well out front of the high school. Mike nudged me, his fingers lightly tickling my ribs before he ran off to get to class. I watched him open the glass doors of the front entrance. It had been months since I had stepped into a school. As I climbed the steps I re membered the teasing from other kids over how I dressed or looked or acted. I found myself hunching over slightly, as if to protect the vulnerable spots inside my chest.
The hallways were quiet and empty. My footfalls on the cheap floor tiles sounded loud. I had to find Trace but I had no idea of her class schedule. I passed a fire alarm and paused, tempted to pull it down and send everyone running. But didn’t they coat the levers these days with some special dye that marked you as guilty?
I found the office. The woman behind the desk eyed me as if I could be dangerous. Powder caked her face and one badly penciled eyebrow arched higher than the other.
“I need to find a student. Tracy Vaughn. It’s very important.”
“Why aren’t you in class?” She pursed her lips. Her face looked ready to spit out a particularly sour lemon rind.
“I don’t go here.” I waited for that to sink in. “Can you help me, please?”
“We don’t give out
that
sort of information. Not with what’s happening these days.”
Okay, so, what? Any kid dressed in black is a terrorist? She’s insane and thus worthless. I looked up at the clock. Every school in every town in the country must buy the same dull round white clocks from the same manufacturer. I had a couple of hours until lunchtime.
I went out to the parking lot and found Trace’s car. Unlocked like I thought. I went inside and put the seat back.
I mulled over how to tell Trace about last night without freaking her out. Without boldly lying, which I refused to do, there was no way to avoid bringing up Mike sleeping over. I just hoped she would consider Josh the only threat to Mike. I hoped my boy wasn’t in too much trouble for be ing late to class. I closed my eyes and envisioned him sitting down, listening so attentively. The thought made me smile and I could feel myself drift. After getting so little rest last night, I couldn’t stop myself from falling asleep if I wanted.
A sharp rapping woke me. I nearly jumped. I realized where I was and looked through the glass to see a smiling Trace standing by the car. I rolled down the window.
“What’s wrong? You’re never out here.”
I yawned. “What time is it?”
“Time for all good little boys and girls to go home from school.”
“Aren’t you a bad little girl?” I reached out to the textbook she carried. “Ugh, psychology. Good, maybe you’ll have insight into my stalker.”
“Josh? He’s back?” she asked and tossed the book over my shoulder into the backseat.
“It’s worse. Last night he went after Mike.”
She scrunched her eyes. “Wait, that ghost was in my
house? Is Mike okay?”
“No and yes.” I slid over to the passenger seat. “You better get in.”
Trace opened the driver’s side door and sat down. “Tell me.”
I brought my fingertips to my lips a moment and took a deep breath. Better to just say it, I told myself, and hope being blunt helps. “Mike came over after dark.”
She stared at me but did not say a word.
“He wanted to talk,” I continued, aware that, for once, I had no clue what she was thinking behind her dark eyes. That really bothered me. “It was late and we fell asleep together.” I swallowed, my mouth dry from nerves. “We only slept.”
“And what about Josh?”
The way she posed her question made it seem to me involving more than just last night. I thought she wanted to hear that I was over my infatuation with Josh and that any interest I had with her brother was something deeper. I hoped she would believe me that my feelings for Mike were vastly different than those I had with the ghost.
“I woke up in the middle of the night. Josh was there, by the bed. I think he’s so jealous that he attacked Mike. I think he tried to kill him.”
“So Mike’s okay?”
I put a hand on her shoulder. “He’s fine. I don’t think he even knows what happened. I chased Josh off before...”I just couldn’t say anything more.
“We have to put Josh down,” she said. “Suppose next time you didn’t wake in time?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“I know only four ways to get rid of a ghost. Those that need a proper burial—”
“Like your brother.”
“Exactly. But Josh took you to his grave so that’s out.”
I was happy to hear I would not have to be digging up more bodies.
“Some spirits need help performing an unfinished task.” She glanced over her shoulder while backing out of the school lot.
“He never mentioned anything like that. All he wants is love.”
“Or what he imagines love is.”
“True.” I wondered if Josh had ever understood that love was more than infatuation or wanting. Had he ever cared for Roddy? Or worried whether Roddy cared for him? “What’s next?”
“Well, is there any object he’s tied to? Something important to him that’s a link to the material world?”