Wraith (7 page)

“You should come then! The tree is right there near their shop, in the little square, by the gazebo.”

Never looking away from her phone, Julia jumped in, “It’s slammed—the whole area is just packed with people, but it’s fun. After they light the tree, they have hot chocolate, cookies and stuff. You guys want to meet down there?”

Ava thought this was a great idea. “Let’s meet at your parents’ shop, Jane, then we can go from there. And go ahead and tell your mom you’re spending the night with me. There are several parties that night we can go to.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, surprised they included me so easily.

Both girls rolled their eyes and laughed. “Of course, silly, it will be great.”

Before we could make further plans the bell rang, causing us to jump in our seats. I gathered my things, feeling better and more accepted than I had in a long time.

“J
ANE, CAN YOU COME
here for a minute?”

Ms. Anderson’s voice carried over the low rumble of the class. Assignments were complete and there was little the teachers could do to control the students and their over-excited behavior.

I hopped off of my stool and wove through the tables and students to get to her desk. Halfway there, I heard her voice rise again. “Connor? You, too—come here please.”

Uh-oh.

She held two large pieces of white paper in her hands. I could guess which portraits they were.

“Did you two know you drew the same subject?” she asked, lifting the two papers into the air for us to see. It was definitely the same person, but our approach was very different. Mine had light shading and Evan’s eyes were bright, reflecting a smile on his face. I loved Evan like this. It wasn’t often, recently, and that seemed to encourage me even further to capture this aspect in the drawing. Like I was documenting that he could be happy.

Connor’s portrait was definitely of Evan, but the lines and shading were different. They were dark and angry. He drew Evan’s eyes down and narrowed. Menacing. I couldn’t relate to this person.

Ms. Anderson shook the papers in front of us and said, “Did you? Realize you chose the same subject?”

I didn’t know how to answer. What if she wanted to know who he was or how we knew him? My eyes flicked to Connor’s and I was met with a cold, blue stare. “Of course,” he said, the intensity leaving his eyes as he grinned at Ms. Anderson. He was flirting with her. Wow. “Jane told me she was going to draw him and I wanted to as well, so we thought it would be interesting to see how our techniques would turn out differently.”

She looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for confirmation. “Yes, we thought it would be interesting,” I repeated, realizing too late I sounded a bit robotic. Why did he do this to me? Why did he make me act like an idiot? I ground my teeth to keep from screaming.

Our teacher reacted with more enthusiasm than I expected. “You definitely accomplished that.” Her quick fingers pointed out some differences in the drawings. “You’re both talented, although your styles are different. It’s a perfect example of artist perspective. Okay, that’s all, I was just wondering.”

She placed the papers on the large stack by her desk and dismissed us with a wave of her hand.

I brushed past him on my way back to my desk, but I could feel him on my heels. No one noticed us. The entire class was busy talking or laughing, discussing plans for the holidays. I was about to move around to my seat when I felt a tug at the back of my shirt, yanking me to a stop. I spun, knowing it was him and braced myself for the hard, annoyed look he constantly gave me and whatever else it was he wanted to say.

“What?”

Instead of hostility though, I caught a glimpse of that other Connor, the one I’d seen at the museum. His eyes and jaw softened. “If I don’t see you again, have a nice holiday. And if you need someone to talk to, you can always call me, okay?”

His voice was low and quiet under the noisy students. Paranoia flared again, but I swallowed it back. “Thanks,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

The truce between us was shattered, though, when Connor’s name was called by a friend and his caring, friendly expression was replaced by his trademark smirk and he sauntered off, leaving me breathless and wondering what had just occurred.

“T
URN LEFT AT THE
stoplight,” Evan directed, while I drove my mother’s car down the street. He wouldn’t tell me exactly where we were going. We were still in the city, but farther downtown.

“Okay, once we turn, then you’ll need to find a parking place on the street.” I did as I was told, completely unfamiliar with the area. School was out, and that morning when I got up Evan told me to ask my mom for the car to run some errands. He had a surprise.

I found a spot and after three tries, managed to parallel park. We both laughed when I hit the curb and the car bounced unevenly. “I’m so bad at this,” I said, finally shifting the car in park.

“You really are.”

“Shut up.”

But we both smiled for the first time in days. I stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk and zipped up my jacket and secured my hat over my hair. It wasn’t too cold, but cold enough. It was good just to spend time alone with him. He rummaged under the seat for something, pulling out a bag that he then handed to me.

I peeked inside. “Bread?”

“For the ducks.”

“We’re going to feed ducks?” I kind of wanted to jump up and down little-girl style. This should be fun.

“Yes, the park is down the street.”

At the end of the street there was a path that cut between some houses, and when we came out the other side, we were in the park. Sprawling grass and biking trails in the middle of tall buildings and traffic. Private yet public. Perfect for me and Evan.

“The lake’s this way.” He turned down one of the side paths, taking us past the old bath house and a little dock where people fished.

“How did you know I have a bizarre fascination with feeding ducks?” I asked.

“You may have mentioned it, once or twice.”

I followed Evan to a wall made of large, granite squares. I dug into the bag of bread and picked off small pieces and threw them in the water. The ducks, which were watching and waiting, swam right over and fought over the floating pieces.

I said, “My mom is going to be so confused when she looks for the bread tomorrow.”

“Just tell her I took it.”

Smartass.

“Ha, ha. Yeah, okay.” I rolled my eyes.

While feeding the ducks Evan said, “My mother used to bring my sisters and me out here on her day off from work.”

I stiffened. Evan never spoke of his family. I had a million questions, but was afraid to push.

“Even when I was older,” he found a rock and tossed it in the water. It landed with a loud plop. “We came here every week.”

“That’s nice.”

“She would pack a lunch and we would sit over there.” He pointed to a grassy spot near the beach. “The girls would play in the sand and I would read or bring my football.”

“We never really went to the park,” I said.

“No?”
“No, not at our old house. If we came to the city, my mom preferred museums and stuff. Like now.”

Evan crossed his legs under his body and leaned his elbows on his legs. “My mom was a good mom.”

That was an odd thing to say. “I’m sure she was.”

“She made us cookies and cakes on our birthdays. She took care of us after our dad was gone. It was just hard for her.”

Evan’s eyes focused on the small beach across the lake, where kids were playing. There was one little girl with wild blonde hair flying around her head. She was drawing in the sand with a large stick. It was too cold to get in the water but the others were on the edge, throwing sticks and rocks. Two moms talked on a bench and another sat alone on a blanket reading a book. It was all very serene.

“I can see why you liked coming here,” I said.

I threw the last pieces of bread in the water and watched the ducks fight and fuss over it. I hoped Evan would say more but he remained quiet.

“You ready?” I asked, standing up to get away from the ducks, who clamored for more.

He pulled his eyes from the lake. “Yeah.”

We took the trail back, but just before we transitioned from the park to the street I stopped him and looked up into his sad, gray eyes. “Thanks for taking me there. I love to hear about you and your family.”

He looked away, breaking eye contact. I moved back in his line of vision. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He agreed, but it was forced. For the first time I thought Connor may be right. That Evan was hiding something from me and there was more to our relationship than I thought.

R
ELIEVED THE SEMESTER
was behind me, I helped my parents at their shop. The entire place was decorated with bright, retro holiday decorations. Silver and blue crystals dangled from the ceiling and there were lights wrapped around every surface my mother could find. I always knew she was artistic, like Aunt Jeannie, but it was still surprising for someone who spent the first half of her career as a lawyer. I was impressed.

“Do we have any more of the large boxes?” I asked my mother as she helped a customer. It was Saturday night, and the store was packed with shoppers out for the tree lighting later in the evening. As tired as we were, mom had a bright smile on her face and bounced in time to the music playing throughout the store.

“Excuse me,” she said to the man, handing back his credit card. He made a large purchase, a large collage painting by one of her best-selling artists. It needed wrapping. “In the back room, under the table.”

I skirted past her and passed through the door leading to the back storage room and office area. It was a total disaster and part of my holiday job would, unfortunately, be helping my parents with inventory and organization. I got paid, though, ten bucks an hour, so I tried not to complain.

Working for them was definitely better than finding a “real job” at minimum wage.

Evan waited for me in the room, next to the table where the boxes were held. “Having fun?” The playful smirk was enough for me to make a face.

“It’s okay. What’s going on?” I asked, which was stupid because he was a ghost and ghosts don’t really
do
anything.

“I don’t know.” he said, watching me as I struggled to get the box out of the plastic straps holding them together in a bundle. “You’re busy all the time. I’m bored.”

I offered a sympathetic grin. “I know. You know how the holidays are. Things get busy.” I regretted the words immediately. Of course he knew. And of course he was bored. And lonely. “I’m sor—”

“Jane?” my mother called from up front. “Did you find the box?”

“I have to run, but we’ll talk later, okay?

“Okay.” He was unable to hide the hurt from his face.

Emerging from the back, I handed my mother the box and saw the store had filled with more customers, including Ava and Julia. Ava had her long hair tucked into a rainbow-striped knit hat and wore matching gloves. Julia checked her phone. I waved from behind the counter.

“Are those your friends?” my mom asked.

“Yeah.” I called them over and made introductions.

“I love your store, Mrs. Watts,” Ava said.

“Thank you.” This made my mother beam. She was so proud of her store. “It’s been hard work, but worth it.”

“Mom, the tree lighting starts soon, so I’m going out with the girls, okay?”

“Sounds good—and you’re spending the night afterward? With Ava?”

“Yes, I live on Church Street, just a couple blocks away.”

“How will you get there?” Here we go—my mother the lawyer. She couldn’t help but to go into inquisitor mode.

Ava spoke up, “Oh, I have a car. It’s over in the lot by the park. We’ll just stay for a while at the tree lighting and then for refreshments. We’ll go right home after that.”

Luckily my mother was asked a question by a customer, who took her off to another part of the store. I went to get my bag and whispered goodbye while she explained the details of the one-of-a-kind piece of artwork the woman was interested in.

After stashing my bag in the car I retrieved my own stocking cap out of my purse and tugged on my gloves. It was cold, not freezing, but perfect for the tree lighting and working up some holiday spirit. We walked down to the tree and watched the children’s choirs sing carols and the mayor flipping the switch to ignite the hundreds of twinkling lights. Once they were lit, Julia asked, “Where should we go from here? Your house or over to Brennan’s?”

Ava and I shared a look. Julia was definitely crushing on Brennan, a senior on the baseball team. Crushing hard.

“Shut up,” she said, but a guilty smile twitched at her lip.

“Let’s go to the party, things are winding down here anyway.” I rubbed my gloved hands together. “Plus my hands are freezing!”

The three of us piled into Ava’s SUV and she cranked the heat. It only took us a couple of minutes to get to Brennan’s house.

“Wow, he lives here?” I asked, peering out the window at the enormous historic home. It definitely qualified as a mansion. I knew some of my classmates came from wealthy families, but this was extreme. The house was a dark red brick, with a huge wraparound porch. The upper floor was framed by two rounded rooms that peaked at the top. Wreaths and an enormous tree filled every window.

Julia began fixing her hair in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing. His dad is like an internet genius or something. And his mom is some kind of author,” Ava said, pulling out her lip gloss and rolling it across her lips. She saw me watching and handed it over. “You can never be too prepared. Here.”

“Unlikely.” But I accepted the thin pink and green tube anyway, and rubbed it across my lips. It tasted like mint. “Thanks.”

“Ready?” Julia asked, opening her door. I followed, but fighting my nerves. I wondered what waited inside. Mean girls or cute boys? Keg stands and Jell-O shots? The possibilities were endless.

Ava seemed to understand my apprehension. “Come on, I won’t leave your side, I promise.” She hooked her arm with mine and we navigated the imposing steps to the huge porch.

Once inside, I forced myself not to over-analyze anyone’s reaction to our arrival. I convinced myself that if someone noticed me, it wasn’t in judgment. The scene was like every other high school party I’d been to at my old school or had even seen on television. Kids everywhere, trash strewn about. Boys were acting like dorks and girls eyeing them like they were prime material for possible dates to prom. Who were they to judge?

I shuddered as I watched one kid in the kitchen actually attempt to drink an entire bottle of hot sauce and wash it down with beer. Some girl from my Spanish class was encouraging him and rubbing his back. “Yeah, he’s a keeper. Gross,” I said to Ava. The boy bent over the sink, on the verge of puking.

We moved through the house and stood by the huge stone fireplace, away from the crowd in the kitchen, watching some kids play video games. Festive red plastic party cups in hand, we sipped the murky concoction that we’d found in a huge vat on the kitchen counter. It tasted like a disgusting mixture of fruit punch and cough syrup. At this point I didn’t really care. I just hoped to settle my nerves.

“This stuff tastes horrible,” I said to Ava, after taking a gulp and wincing at the flavor.

Julia ditched us the minute we got our drinks and was currently perched on the couch, watching the games. Her eyes were glued to Brennan.