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“Yeah?” A grin stretched across his face.

“I’m saving up for a car so yeah. I’ll work for you.”

I was inwardly rolling my eyes at myself because why not? Ethan was right. The ghost was right. It wasn’t like I had a social life anyway.

“Awesome! Thank you, Coco.”

Ugh. That nickname. I grimaced. It was the name our boss began using for me and it stuck. Ethan took off soon after.

“You’re going to be late for class.”

My mind was on Ethan, on how I didn’t have a social life, and how I probably never would, so I was distracted when I answered the ghost, saying, “I have study hall for my last hour. I won’t be late…” And I trailed off as I looked right at her, speaking to her, and we both realized at the same time that the ghost wasn’t the one who spoke. But I was looking at her and thinking it had been her, and well, shit.

She pointed at me. “You thought that was me.”

I was busted.

At the same time, I saw who had spoken. It was someone alive, and he was standing behind me.

It was Cassian Ripp, the third guy on the Homecoming Court and the first-line center for the hockey team.

The final bell rang.

2

He smirked. “Looks like we’re both late.”

Gah. Cassian Ripp was cute, almost too pretty to be cute. He was around five feet and eleven inches, more than a couple inches taller than me. A stockier build with broad shoulders that tapered down a firm stomach. He looked like a typical jock. A pretty face with blue eyes, golden tan skin, blinding white teeth, and he had some curl to his golden blond hair.

I tried not to let myself think about his cuteness because it was extreme, and distracting, and it made me feel flutters and other things that I had no business feeling. I was only here until my mom decided if she wanted me back or not. I could communicate with ghosts. It was a big decision. Yes, yes. I know. Her mental health crisis and relapse might have nothing to do with me, but I saw the look on her face when she realized it was true. That I could see her boyfriend that she once killed, but hey, I got it. He was going to be a domestic abuse stalker and she didn’t want to go through that again, which was also news to me. I hadn’t realized my mom had gone through that particularly scary adventure another time. I was guessing that guy was still alive or he just wasn’t a ghost. There was also the creep factor on her ex-boyfriend. He liked me, which she realized and had factored into her decision to—sigh. Did I really want to know how she killed him? I did not. Though, good to know to never underestimate my mother. Hence, why the medical and mental health professionals were all “poor Gialy,” but my mom was where she wanted to be. She was stalling. My grandparents knew the truth as well. They didn’t know they had a ghost in the house who relayed to me every conversation they had about me. It was too hard to live with a ghost and pretend I didn’t know he was there so I gave in almost right away when I met him. Besides, he was a nice ghost. Super creepy, but nice.

My grandparents talked every morning about what was going to happen with my mom. They couldn’t keep me, but I was turning eighteen in a week. Happy Halloween and happy birthday to me.

I was trying to figure out my options, but I knew what was coming. It would be the ‘We love you, but you need to go’ conversation.

Due to all of that, having stomach melting feelings over Cassian Ripp was not practical. Though, maybe it was a good distraction?

“You can live here,” the ghost said, amused.

Startled, I glanced her way. You can read my mind?

“I can now, but it’s difficult. It’s hard to tune in.”

I flashed her a symbol for a middle finger in my head.

She started laughing. “I can’t wait to tell the library ghosts. Which, I’m going to tell them now. Have fun with your hot hockey distraction. Sounds like you could use something fun since you’re going to be homeless and living in a haunted school pretty soon.”

I almost growled, but Cassian was still lingering. His eyes were narrowed a little, and his head cocked to the side. He had his books in his hand, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to leave. He was leaning back against the locker beside me.

I frowned. “Is that your locker?”

“Holy fuck. How did you just now figure that out?”

My chest did a whole flippy thing. “You’re never here.”

“Am so.” He thought about it. “Actually, maybe not. I get to school before you and already have my stuff before you trudge in. I’m usually at the other guys’ lockers and you’re never here when I change books.” He leaned forward. “Where are you?”

Bathroom. Library. Hiding. Doing my best at keeping myself isolated because it’s the best way to protect myself.