Page 7 of Their Little Ghost

Outside, a car horn beeps, providing me with a welcome excuse to leave. That’ll be Mia, my best friend. She took me under her wing when I started at Stonybridge Academy. I’m not allowed a car, but Mia was the first in our class to get her license and gives me a ride to school every day.

I grab a granola bar for the road. “Thanks for breakfast.”

Dad tsks. “You shouldn’t start your day with sugar.”

I freeze. Mom’s shoulders tense, even though she plasters on a fake smile.

“A little sugar won’t hurt,” she says feebly.

Big mistake.

“Won’t hurt?” Dad’s incredulous face turns thunderous. He inhales deeply and puffs out his chest. “Do you know the dangers of a hyperactive mind, and what it can lead to?” I zone out as he rattles off the reasons on his fingers. “Lack of sleep, inability to focus, lack of concentration. Do you think this is what Erin needs for her senior year? She has college to think about. She can’t eat this junk. I don’t know why we even have it in the house!”

Mom lowers her head. “I didn’t think…”

“You never do,” he replies.

I put the granola bar down slowly, like I’m lowering a weapon, and pick up an apple instead. He can’t have a problem with that, right?

Wrong.

He scowls. “Don’t pretend you care now. I know what people your age are like, remember? I spend all day trying to fix the damage that’s been done. You should be grateful that I’m hereto guide you in the right direction. If it were down to your mother…” He shakes his head in obvious disapproval. “Who knows where you’d be.”

“Sorry, Magnus,” Mom murmurs, wringing her hands. “I’ll do better next time.”

He huffs and holds the paper up while Mia beeps the horn again.

“I better go,” I say, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. “See you later.”

“What extracurriculars do you have today?” Dad asks, unable to let me leave without knowing my entire schedule.

“Swimming and piano,” I say. “I’m having an extra tutoring session with Mr. Meyer after school to make sure I’m ready for the concert on Monday.”

“Only one extra session?” He scoffs. “What are we paying those school fees for?” He always finds a reason to complain. If there’s a hole to pick in something, he’ll find it. “I’ll pick you up afterward. Don’t be late.”

“Yes, sir,” I mutter.

“And one more thing.” He picks up the pills hiding behind my coffee cup. “You forgot your medication.”

I grab the colorful capsules and shove them into my mouth, swallowing without water. The giant rectangles sliding down my throat makes me wince. I’ve taken pills every day since Sarah vanished to help with anxiety.

“Have a good day, honey,” Mom says.

I force a smile and hurry away. As soon as I shut the front door, my lungs expand fully, allowing me to breathe easier.

Mia beeps for the third time and lowers the car window to yell, “Hurry up!”

I roll my eyes as I head down the driveway onto the street. We live in one of the biggest mansions in town within a desirable gated community. We have seven bedrooms and baths, designerfurniture, a kitchen that looks like a movie set, and a garage filled with four cars that no one drives, but we didn’t always live like this.

Mia’s arm drapes out of the window, and she taps her manicured nails impatiently against the side of her pink Cadillac. It has a custom plate and a sleek, white, leatherette interior. I joke that it looks like Barbie’s car, but it suits her personality perfectly. The two of us are total opposites, which is why our friendship works. Mia’s loud, confident, and completely unapologetic. She captures everyone’s attention with her vivacious personality and stunning looks, while I’m happy being a bookish wallflower who can easily go days without speaking to anyone.

Mia checks her reflection in the mirror and applies a layer of sparkly purple lip gloss when I appear.

“I thought you were in a hurry?” I ask.

“No,” she replies with a cunning smile. “But I knewyouwould be in a hurry to leave. Besides…” She adjusts the mirror and angles it at my neighbor’s long driveway. “Your secret admirer is leaving too.”

My cheeks burn as Nate Holt’s car approaches.

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