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I stare down at him. A steely, tense moment passes.
That’s right when I notice the door across the hall is open—and has likely been open for my whole tirade. In the doorway stands Mrs. Shaheen, whose face reflects all of the fear in the kids’ hearts.
The moment our gazes connect, however, she wipes it away, puts on a smile, and says, “Sweet children, I’ve got candy for five lucky trick-or-treaters!”
They all turn to face the Sea Hag.
They scream.
The noise of their departure down the hall and then down the stairwell is like a herd of gazelles in the wild, spooked by the surprise appearance of a hungry leopard. After they’re long gone, Mrs. Shaheen and I are left to stare at each other from across the hall.
She frowns. “You’ve had a difficult night.”
It occurs to me I’m wearing nothing except a towel. “I’m pretty sure I just traumatized five children for life.”
“And cursed an exorbitant amount around them.”
I have a strange flash of sitting in a living room as a child watching an R-rated movie with my parents. My mom simply nudged me when there was a part I had to cover my eyes during, but I always peeked anyway.
I blink away the memory, confused—because that wasn’t my childhood living room, nor my mom.
Sorry, Griff. My parents … they kinda let me do just about anything.
West’s experience suddenly becomes my words. “I don’t see the big deal. Wasn’t anything I hadn’t already heard a dozen times by their age.”
A troubled look creases Mrs. Shaheen’s brow. She doesn’t say anything, but her eyes seem to investigate me from head to toe, as if she can see the ghost hidden just beneath the skin.
Then she gasps, seemingly unprovoked.
Oh. Maybe that’s exactly what she’s investigating.
“Mrs. Shaheen?” I prompt her.
She brings a hand to her chest. “Something is … is very, very wrong with you tonight, Mr. James. You …” She shakes her head. “You weren’t researching for your graphics artwork. You were researching for your own personal needs, weren’t you? Your dark and malicious needs? The wily spirit … got to you.”
I swallow. Guilt consumes me, though I can’t tell whose guilt it is. “What do you mean?”
“You took his spirit into your body. You let him in. Oh, I should have known better than to—!”
“Mrs. Shaheen, I don’t know where you’re getting this from, but I …” My insides tighten. “I just had a bad night. Halloween party gone wrong. The cute guy I was really into … I messed things up with him. That’s all.”
She gives me five seconds of consideration, then abruptly shakes her head. “No. I don’t believe you. Not for one second. That evil spirit is inside of you. I can see it in your eyes. He’s consuming you.”
“I’m going back inside, Mrs. Shaheen.”
“Exorcise the ghost from you before it’s too late.”
“Goodnight.”
“Don’t take this lightly!” I’ve already slipped back inside and shut the door. “And turn down that music! You’re waking the dead!” I hear her shout.
I don’t feel compelled to blast the music anymore anyway. In fact, I shut the music off entirely, then let myself stand in the silence. I gaze at the window, where I see the metal railing of the fire escape.
An inexplicable sadness fills me.
Don’t cry, bud. I hate when we cry.
I ignore West and curl up in bed. As I stare straight ahead, all I can see is Byron. His pretty face. His sweet eyes. The adorable crack of his voice when he laughs.
You’ve really got it deep for this guy, huh?
The distant noise of laughter in the streets touches my ears. I recoil from it, pained by others’ joy.
This is everything I don’t miss about being alive. The pain of doing something wrong. Guilt. Shame …
“Well, this is part of life, too,” I say. “Longing. Not getting. Failing. Maybe you were the kind of guy no one dared say ‘no’ to. But welcome to my world: the real world. It’s full of rejection, confusion, and heartache.”
Life is supposed to be one big party, bro. It can be, if you just open yourself up to it.
“I’ve opened myself up enough tonight.”
Look at what we almost had.
I roll my eyes. “This is my life you’re fucking with, West. Not ours. There is no ‘we’.”
Griffin, please …
“When I wake up, I want you out of me.” I stare ahead into the darkness. “I don’t care how you do it.”
Please let me make this up to you. Let me give my life a bigger meaning. You’re my one and only shot to do something good for a change … something real.
I hug myself and turn the other way. Somehow, the message is conveyed, because that’s the last I hear from West. I hate that I thought myself weak enough to need his help. I hate that I let him ruin what I had with Byron.
