Page 72 of A Midsummer Night's Ghost

She wasn’t the only actress.

There was a gasp from the audience. Then even more frantic cries.

I tried to stand up but I got knocked down again. This time when I hit the stage I saw Ryan above me. “Wh?—

Then excruciating pain shot through my ankle as I got clipped with a stage light falling from the rafters above.

I realized immediately if Ryan hadn’t managed to shove me that would have landed on my head. In shock and pain, I collapsed back onto the stage floor, moaning.

A man appeared in front of me, staring down at me in concern.

Oh, my God. I knew this guy. It was the coroner from when James had died.

I was dead.

I had died at the hands of a bad actress in front of my parents and my grandmother and my boyfriend.

“Why?” I begged God and the universe and the coroner. “I didn’t even get to see my engagement ring!” Then because I was me and I had to qualify everything, even dead, I added, “If there is one.”

“What ring?” the coroner asked, lifted the bottom of my pants to look at my ankle.

I almost passed out from the pain.

Should death hurt this bad? I blinked and turned my head. That hurt too. Maybe I was still alive.

Grandma leaned over me. “Should we keep going with the play? She’s okay?”

Jake’s face appeared next to the other two. He looked worried, but not horrified. He took my hand and squeezed it.

“She may have broken her ankle. She certainly has a significant laceration. She’ll probably need stitches.”

“Does that mean I’m not dead?” I asked.

“Of course you’re not dead, Margaret.”

“Then why is the coroner here?” I groaned.

“This guy?” Grandma asked, thumbing her finger at the man tending to my ankle. “He came with your mother.”

That had me sitting straight up. I realized the entire audience was staring at the stage, murmuring and looking uncertain what to do. Though some people had their phones up and were recording my suffering. Nothing was sacred anymore.

My mother was marching right up the stairs on the side of the stage. The cast of the play were staring at me wide-eyed, though Mary’s ghost continued to act out her lines.

Maybe I was in hell. Maybe Iwasactually dead.

“We should sue the senior center,” Grandma said. “That light just fell out of nowhere.”

I was pretty damn certain it was Sara Murphy who had made that happen. “I’m not suing anyone. Quick, grab my phone.”

An old nursery rhyme from childhood popped into my head.

Call the doctor. Call the nurse. Call the lady with the alligator purse.

I needed them all right now.

But Clifford was holding my phone. What the heck?

“Bailey, are you okay?” my mother demanded. “Dave, how is she?”

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