Page 25 of Ghostridden
“‘On my second day of first grade, my Superman lunchbox held an apple, a bologna sandwich on Wonder Bread with mayonnaise, two Chips Ahoy! cookies, and a box of Capri Sun cranberry apple juice. I sat next to Sherman Dudikoff on the bus. He was wearing a red T-shirt to my green plaid button-down although both had short sleeves since the weather report predicted the temperature would rise above seventy-two degrees by recess. When we reached the school, he—’”
“Drivel.”
I took a breath, turned slowly, and yep. He was back, once more glaring at the screen.
I swallowed hard, because this was it.Talking to a ghost. “Yes. It is.”
He tore his gaze from the train wreck of a memoir and focused on me, which was really weird, because while I could tell his eyes behind his spectacles were dark and intense, I could see the kitchen cabinets through them. “Then why are you reading it?”
“I’m trying to decide whether to take the job of vetting it.”
He straightened. “Don’t. It’s hopeless.”
“I’ve come to the same conclusion, however, I need the work.” I stood up slowly, so he wouldn’t be looming over me, and discovered we were exactly the same height. “I’m Maz Amani.”
“I don’t know any Maz Amani.”
“You do now.” I swallowed, rubbing my damp palms along my jeans. “Who are you?”
His forehead wrinkled, as though he were confused by the question. “I live here.” He glanced around. “This is my home.”
I felt like a total bonehead when the light dawned. “You’re Avi.”
His frown deepened. “That’s what I said.” He looked around. “My home.Ourhome. It’s just what we’d imagined. Just what he promised. Our place. Where we’d be together.”
“Who promised?”
His confusion was clearly tempered with impatience now. “He did. Oren. Once he’s finished in Toronto, he’ll be back and we’ll be together.”
Of course. Oren. But Oren had never come back, because Avi had died.
“Oren is gone, Avi,” I said gently.
“Yes, I know that.” He turned and moved out of the kitchen with the slight jerkiness of somebody walking, not floating, although I wasn’t certain his feet actually met the floor. “He’s been gone for months on that Toronto job. But I made sure our home is ready and waiting for when he gets back.” I caught up with him outside the library and he smiled a little shyly. “I haven’t even slept in the new bed yet. I wanted the first time to be with him.”
“That’s not what I—”Dial it back, Maz. Don’t, er, spook him. “Avi, what year is it?”
“That’s a stupid question.”
“Well, I’m the guy who’s considering vetting that manuscript, so humor me. What year is it?”
“2014.”
“No. It’s not. It’s 2024. And I’m here because this is my house now. I inherited it from my Uncle Oren.”
He stilled. “You can’t. You couldn’t have. You can only inherit something if somebody is… If they’re…”
His eyes, wide, dark, and yep, transparent, begged me to tell him something other than what I was about to. I bit my lip and spread my hands, palms up, because he didn’t really need me to say the words. He knew what I meant.
Silvery tears spilled over his lashes and tracked down his face. Behind him, through the library doors, I spotted Professor DeHaven’s neat stack ofBorderlinepages beginning to flutter on the desk.
“Uh oh,” I muttered.
A moment later, a book toppled off a shelf, followed by two more on the other side of the room. I really didn’t want this to escalate into another library tornado, so I lunged forward, reaching for him. But he choked out a sob and disappeared.
After he vanished, I stayed where I was outside the library doors, well out of the way of any books that might suddenly take flight. But the papers on the desk settled, and nothing else became airborne.
What were the chances Avi was done for the night? He hadn’t seemed angry or hostile to me specifically. Only sad. So I decided to roll with it and take a chance. I needed to be sharp tomorrow if I wanted to impress Saul and justify Taryn’s contract terms, and for that, I needed sleep.
