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I reach for the chain around my neck and clutch my poppa’s coin. It’s only been two months since he died. Two months since I witnessed his soul leave his body, tangled with some black substance that I can only describe as wrong. It has been two months since a gold thread erupted from my palm, consumed my poppa’s soul, turning it into a coin.
After the incident, everything just got worse. The dead are literally everywhere and sometimes they look like real, living people. Sometimes my route home looks like a scene from The Walking Dead.
So yeah, school’s been rough.
I haven’t told anyone about my experiences because, let’s face it, no one’s going to believe me.
But I really, really want someone to understand.
“Earth to Anora,” Emma waves her hand in front of my face.
“Huh?” I blink at her and fold my report card quickly, feeling embarrassed by the letters written on the page.
“Did you hear anything I said?”
I bite my lip and offer a sheepish, “No.”
She frowns, those big blue eyes study me. “You sure you’re alright? You’ve seemed...more stressed than usual.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I don’t look at her as I respond, focusing instead on choosing the right notebook and textbook from my locker. When I face her again, she doesn’t look convinced.
“What?”
“You’re lying,” she accuses as we start walking to class.
“Look, I’m just not sleeping very well, that’s all.”
It’s the truth. Since poppa died and I can see the dead, I’ve discovered I can hear them, too. Apparently, someone who liked to sing at the top of their lungs died in my apartment complex at some point.
Sometimes the dead suck.
“What were you saying?” I ask Emma, because I don’t want to talk about myself anymore, and I’m genuinely curious about what she was saying before I zoned out looking at my report card.
The worry instantly evaporates from her face, and she smiles, showing her dimples. I love Emma’s smile. So do most of the boys in our school.
“We have a new student and Olivia says he’s gorgeous!”
“Olivia thinks every new guy is gorgeous,” I complain.
“Lyra, you don’t understand. I saw this one!”
“Close up?”
“Well, no,” she admits. “But I don’t need to see him close up to know that bone structure is only for gods.”
I roll my eyes. “If he looks like a god, he’s probably a jerk, too, and I’m not interested—”
I slam into a body and drop my books. The person I ran into turns around and suddenly I’m face-to-face with a literal god. I mean, he’s too beautiful to walk the halls of Mount St. Mary for the Gifted. He’s so tall I have to crane my neck to get a good look at his strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, and full lips. When I meet his eyes, I can’t look away. I’ve never seen anyone with those eyes. They’re light green and rimmed with black.
“Hi,” I manage to squeak.
He smiles, and oh, god, my heart races in my chest.
“Hi.”
Then he bends to scoop up my books and as he rises, I swear he inches closer. I can’t breathe.
I’m not sure how long I stare at him before he clears his throat. “Are you...heading to class?”
