Beneath the Trees of Bentwater | Teen Ink

Beneath the Trees of Bentwater

July 20, 2011
By Anonymous

I never much cared for being a girl. I can remember my older sister who’s four years older than I always trying to dress me up in ridiculous attire that never seemed to match neither my looks nor my personality. And ever since then, now that I think about it, I guess I just compared every little thing in my life to those horrid experiences with my sister stuffing my bony, scabby arms into one of those silky, white dresses with lace around the edges. I just didn’t seem to fit in with anything; and I guess that’s why I ended up the way I did.
For now, though, let me take you back to where my story really begins. But be forewarned, my story isn’t that much to brag about; in fact, I’m not really even sure why I decided to tell this tale in the first place. It’s not much on the side of length, and the plot doesn’t entail mustering up bravado or facing the school bully. It’s just…a plot. Plain and simple.
Of course, even life has it’s own plan for all of us. Back then, I spent most of my time, I guess, wondering why I was the one to fish the short end of the stick from the pile. If everyone has a destiny, why did mine have to be so rotten?
Enough with the digression; now I’ll finally ask you to take your coat off, whip out your hand fans, and settle down for a tale that really isn’t all that special to anyone in particular; just me, I guess…

People who lie through their teeth thinking they’re fooling everyone have never been high on my list of favorites. They’ll tell you they’re okay, when really their head still aches, ready to explode. They’ll swear that they couldn’t be happier; when all an outsider can seem to focus on are the hundred year stare and the distance they keep between themselves and the person they don’t really feel for.
My parents have been like that for a long time.
It’s funny because as a kid, I remember running down the driveway after pushing my way off the bus; my mom would always be waiting to greet me with a big hug and a kiss on my cheek. And my dad would always creep upstairs after work, when all of us were asleep, and kiss me goodnight. I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, waiting for those few seconds with my superhero dad.
Then one night he didn’t come when he normally did. I got thirsty waiting, and climbed out of bed and stumbled down the dark stairs to the kitchen. Through the silence of the sleepy house, I heard whispers. They were tense, but still calm. When I peeked around the wall, my mom glanced at me from the kitchen table. My dad stopped mid sentence.
“What are you doing awake? You know you’re supposed to be in bed,” My mom said. I stared at her for a second, and then my eyes flickered to my dad and back.
“Getting some water, I was thir__.”
“No, go back to bed. Now!” Had she not been whispering, everyone would have been awoken.
“I just.” I stopped, tears welling up in my eyes. My mom had never, ever yelled at me. And I was stupid not to realize until later what was happening.
Hours later, I barely noticed as a beam of light appeared across my bed, the creaking of my door as my dad came into my room. He sat down next to me, leaning down close to me. “I love you, sweetie,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “Promise me you’ll make me proud.” I didn’t turn to face him; didn’t stir. I wanted to hear what else he had to say. But he didn’t utter another word; instead pulling the sheets tightly to my chin. A second later, I heard the unmistakable sound as he slowly shut my door, the light from the hallway disappearing.
The next morning, a Saturday, my dad didn’t come to the table for breakfast; or lunch, or dinner.

When I was fifteen years old, my mom made me move with her to a little town called Bent Water Hollow. She complained through the entire thirteen hour drive. I couldn’t wait to get there, just so I could get away from her.
She had been complaining ever since the night that I saw my parents whispering in the kitchen. And after about a week of my dad not coming home, I finally realized that he wasn’t going to. Not ever. Of course, I was only six at the time, so I didn’t know why he left. But over the last nine years, I had formulated several stomach stabbing theories that my mind didn’t ever let me think about after their original creation.
I never had the nerve or the patience to ask my mom what happened. She turned to a complete crazy about a month after my dad disappeared; and since then, I tried desperately to keep our “bonding time” to as much of a minimum as possible.
Bent Water Hollow. I was smart, and I made all A’s in my English and Science related classes; but how water could be bent in some sort of stupid hollow…that eluded me. I could tell that I was going to hate this town already; and we were over a hundred miles away.
I passed the time by silently correcting my mom’s grammar, ignoring her complaints, and dreaming about what it would be like to be Melody, my sister. My sister was all the way across the country, living life as a successful magazine editor in chief. And along with having a fancy job, car, and home, she also had the perfect husband. I had met him several times; and every time, I never failed to be reminded of my dad.
It was early morning when we finally glided past the sign that said Welcome to Bent Water Hollow! “How are we going to find this place?” My mom sighed, giving that empty stare of hers. I ignored it.
“A map?” I asked, glaring out the window.
She sighed again. Minutes later, the first indication of life appeared. A teenager on a bike rode in the same direction as we. He was wearing one of those explorer hats, and a light blue, plaid button up t shirt. He waved, flashing a smile as we passed him; I rolled my eyes, hoping he saw me. Great, I thought, this place is ridden with cheerful people.
Trees were next, a nice change from the pathetically shrubby roadside. They were tall, hanging densely over the two lane street; a dark sky towered with storm clouds above the trees. The scenery made me sick. As we reached the actual town, I sadly noticed that all of the streets had only two lanes. Was it really going to be that small?
More trees covered nearly every inch of the sky; giving the white houses and brick buildings an austere look. Everything looked perfect; wrought iron fences lined every staircase; all the houses had picket fences with colorful flowers in boxes under the windows and fancy mailboxes out front. Most of the houses appeared to have three stories. And to top it all of, kids were playing ball in the tiny, lush park.
We pulled up in front of our own white house; taking boxes from the car before we even stepped inside. My mom had said that it would be easier this way; she was tired from the long drive. One by one and two by two, I found my own boxes from the trunk and backseat. I stacked them in my attic room.
My room wasn’t dirty and filled with cobwebs. It turned out that the previous owner had a kid that also slept in the attic. I wondered if he or she also tried to avoid his or her mother. If that were true, at least I wouldn’t feel so out of place. It’s not like I wanted to ignore my mom, back talking and barely holding conversations with her. But I just couldn’t handle all of her complaining and nagging. Just another thing I hated about myself.

The days passed sluggishly, and I didn’t notice that it was the day of my sixteenth birthday until my mom said something; but it being anything special, I highly doubted. My mom always gave me something I either didn’t want or didn’t need. But I always slapped on a fake smile and graciously thanked her anyway; every word forced to the point where I wished it wasn’t my birthday in the first place. I know she tried hard, putting on an affectation of happiness for me. But knowing she was faking, and being a jerk about the fact that I knew she was faking, made me want to crawl under a rock.


The next Monday I woke up feeling suffocated, so I decided to go for a walk under the tree darkened air. The town wasn’t big at all; only a few square miles. It seemed to me like it was one of those places where everyone called everyone else by his or her first name. I still didn’t know anyone, though; but it was probably better that way.


Everyone was cheerful, always waving to each other and wearing things like dresses with tropical flowers on them and khaki shorts. I instantly stereotyped it as a catalog town.


Laugher caught my attention, coming from across the street. A few kids were playing tag in the park. I continued walking, watching them run; I stopped when something hit my head. I looked up, in the direction it had come from. Nothing moved in the trees. But it was an acorn; so it probably just fell.


I made it to the small market that lay just outside the center of town. It held simple things like milk, bread, eggs, cheese, and a few products like toothbrushes and bathroom tissue. I looked around, telling the lady behind the counter that I was just checking the place out. She must have known I was new in town; she didn’t ask anything further. I left empty handed, taking the same path home.


At the exact same spot, I was again distracted; but this time it was a mailman pushing a mail cart. What kind of town has a mailman that pushes the mail arou . Ow! Another acorn hit me. I picked it up, throwing it across the street, hitting a street sign. “Stupid trees,” I muttered, stalking away.


On my way home, I passed an old building that looked like it had burned down. A bench sat out front, cluttered with a bunch of teenagers. Most of them sat silently, staring off into space. Some wore glares, and others, mocking smiles. A few laughed, joking with their friends. At most, there were about twelve total kids that were around my age. They watched me pass.


“Hey,” One of them called out to me. I stopped, facing the crowd. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”


I waited a second. “Yeah,”


“Cool,” The girl said. “I’m Amelia. And…I already know who you are. We all do,” I glanced at the rest of the group.


“How?”


“Your mom, right? She’s pretty much made herself known around here. That’s how all the newbies get to be known; they need something from the market, or they want to visit the video store.” Amelia answered.


“Necessity of life seems like an odd way of becoming familiar with strangers.”


“It’s not like people around here are going to follow you home, or something.”


I glanced away. “I’d rather not take my chances,”


“Would you be willing to take some chances this Wednesday?”


I hadn’t noticed the boy; not yet.


“Yeah,” Amelia said. “There’s a party at the abandoned house.” She gestured behind her. “It’s sort of a…grand opening, if you will.”


“You should come,” someone said.


They stared at me. I hesitated. “Okay…I’ll try,”


“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta be there, it’s gonna be a blast!” Amelia said. They stared again.


“I said I’ll see,” I replied. My patience was growing thin. I turned, walking away; but the boy’s voice stopped me.


“Hey,” He said. I turned around, facing an unexpected smile. “I’m Jake, by the way.” I looked at him for a second, and then turned, walking away.


Another acorn hit me on the way home.

Wednesday, my mom was in the living room, lying on the couch. When I came in, her eyes looked over my dress. “A little short?”


“It’s just above my knees, mom.”


“Where are you going again?” She closed her eyes.


“A…get together with some kids I met Monday,”


She sighed. “Okay, don’t stay out past ten.”


“Fine,” I raced for the door, slamming it; I stomped down the driveway in my sneakers. It started raining about two “blocks” from my destination, so I sprinted my last stretch. When I arrived, panting, most of the kids were already there. Suddenly, my dad’s words came flooding back to me: promise me you’ll make me proud. This wouldn’t make him proud. But nothing about my past ten years of life could really ever stick out as outstanding or tear worthy. I didn’t get arrested or party like no other; but I didn’t help old people across the street or pick up roadside litter on Saturdays, either. I shrugged to myself; what was one more grey mark on my record?


I pushed open the smoke darkened door; people looked when I came in. But the loud music pulled their minds away from me soon enough. Though Amelia still waved, almost dancing over to my side. I realized how graceful she was. “Good evening!” She said, waving her hand across the room. “Pretty cool, huh? My dad got permission from the mayor for us to completely fix this place up. Now it’ll be our little hang out.”


I affected amazement, smiling. “Oh yeah, it’s, uh, great.”


“Isn’t it?” She paused. “So, how’s your day been?” I looked at her, lost in my own thoughts. Why did she care?


“Oh, it’s been…okay.” Her eyes saddened, and she pulled me over to an empty corner of the chic teen hangout.


“Well, then, tell me why it’s just been okay.” She said, sitting me down on the leather sofa. I hesitated. “Go, on. I’m good at this stuff,”


“I…I’m not so sure,”


“Hey,” She held out her hand in a shrug. “It looks like I’m your only friend for now. Who else are you going to trust?” My journal? The one my mom had given me for my birthday; the one that I had shoved under my bed, along with the other three?


“It’s just been my mom,”


“Your mom? She seems like a pretty okay gal,” I took a deep breath.


“She’s not,” I said in a rush. “She’s…she’s insane. You know those people that just complain about everything under the sun? They think every living piece of crap is out to get them and nothing is fair to them. She’s one of those people. No, I think she invented that type of personality…” I paused. Did I want to continue? What else did I have to lose?
“When I was a kid, I was happy. I had one of those perfect childhoods where kids’ parents live for them. My mom always used to wait impatiently for my bus to pull up in front of our house. Then when I got off, she would run to me, hugging me with all the love in the world. She would spend her weekends with me, painting outside or taking me on picnics. And my dad was always there to, right beside my mom, making my sister and I feel like princesses while living in a small house in the middle of nowhere…I guess you could compare Melody’s and my childhood to a scrapbook. When you look at the pictures, seeing all the happy smiles and laughter, it sort of makes you want to cry; wishing you could have been that happy…”
“What happened then?”
“My dad left when I was six; the reason is still unknown to me. My mom hasn’t ever told me; and to be honest, I’d rather not know. I refuse to see my dad as anything other than some sort of comic book superhero. Even if it wasn’t a big deal, I still don’t want to take that chance.”
“You know what I would do?”
I looked at Amelia. “What?”
“I would just ask her.”
“If you guys were that happy, what’s the chance of it being something horrible?”
I thought about it for a second. “You know what? You’re right…” I said. She smiled, pulling me from the couch.
“Let’s get some punch,” Amelia said.
That night, I left feeling strangely animated, strangely ecstatic, and, strangely, a little…numb.

The months passed, the cold leaving with them. At last, December turned into June and summer began. The torture of school set me free to breathe the fresh air. Sun, though, was hardly an option; too many trees covered the town’s head for that.


One thing I noticed while walking one day was that trees were the only plants; except for, of course, the flower boxes on each house. Other than that, nothing but grass and brown trunks seemed to cover the soil. I didn’t think too much about it; this town was weird already, what was one more odd thing to make me suspicious?


Jake and Amelia grew on me as fast as wild fire spreads; in a matter of days after our first “get together,” we were all best friends. Amelia was there when I needed someone to spill my guts out to; she beat those stupid journals still crammed under my bed.


Jake was just…there. He talked to me, he kept me busy so I wasn’t bored, and he made me forget everything that made me upset. One day, when Amelia ran up to my room to get a CD, he kissed me. It made me feel awkward and edgy, but I still appreciated the gesture. Don’t tell Amelia, he said afterward. It might make her jealous. We should wait a bit. Amelia came rushing down the stairs a second later, bursting into the room.


“Hey, guys, I got it,” She said. Jake looked at me. “Okay, where’s your CD player? That thing is always getting moved around,”


I didn’t look at her. “I think it’s in the kitchen,” I said. The last place I saw it was in my mom’s room.


“I’ll go get it,” She said, hurrying from the room.


“Promise me you’ll make me proud,” Jake said, his mysterious eyes looking down at me. I nodded, not hearing anything else. Several seconds passed, covered in that blanket of black fog. I saw everything as a dream; it seemed real, but when I try to remember it, all I can manage to see is darkness and Jake staring at me.


“I promise,” I said…


“Hey,” Amelia said. “Are you even listening to me? What part of space are you staring off into? The CD player wasn’t in the kitchen,”


“What? Oh, it might be upstairs. In…my mom’s bathroom.” In a flash, Amelia was running up the stairs. I don’t remember anything else from that day.



I went for a walk while my mom was working. The air inside was hard to breathe, making me break out in cold sweats. Jake and Amelia were both out of town for the day. And as I made my way down the sidewalk, I tried to ignore how people’s glances stayed focused longer than normal.
I went down to the market, again getting stared at as I came through the door. Lucy, the owner, came rushing up to me. “It’s been a while, sweetie. Where…where’ve you been?”
I glanced at the other customers, and then focused on her. “Around, I guess,” I paused. “Why?”
“Because, um…you,” Her voice lowered, “you don’t look so good dear. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yeah, perfectly fine. I’ve made some new friends, even.”
“Oh, dear…so I’ve noticed,” There was a second of silence. “Do you get together with them often, then?”
I looked down; why did I care what she thought? “Almost every day, I guess.”
She shook her head. “Okay, then,”
I nodded to the door. “I’m gonna go,”
“Bye dear,”
I ran down the street, stopping at the park three blocks away. Kids were playing again; baseball, it looked like. Recently, I hadn’t been able to tell the difference.
It was evening when I decided to go home; I got hit with an acorn for the third time. It had been so long, and my days had blended together so much that I couldn’t remember getting hit the first two times until the small, pointy tip came plummeting down on my forehead. The laughter eased the pain and cursing. I turned to the darkened figure, glaring.


“What are you laughing at?” I growled. The figure took a step back, holding up his or her hands.


“Easy,” The voice said, “no need to get uptight.” It was male, not a man’s and not a boy’s. Teenager, I decided.


“I just got hit by an acorn, and you’re standing there laughing. Did I say you could push yourself into my business?”


He didn’t answer right away. “No, but it is a free country. Besides, I wasn’t laughing at the fact that you got hit. I just thought it was funny because this isn’t the first time that it has happened to you.”


“Excuse me?” I snapped. “Are you following me?”


“In this town? It’s kinda hard not to,” He paused. “Everyone follows everyone,”


“I don’t care. Leave me alone,”


“I would…but .”


“Then you’re going to regret not listening to me. I’ve got some friends,”


“Oh, really? I would have never guessed. So do I, in fact. Everyone in this place is a friend of mine…and if you’ll accept, I’d like you to be one, too.” He paused. “I’m Aaron. I…I think we met when you and your mom first moved here.” So this was that stupid kid on the bike. I recognized the outline of his safari hat.


“I’m .”


“I already know who you are” he laughed quietly ”…everyone sort of does.”


“So it would seem,” I said under my breath. “Look, don’t try to be nice to me. I don’t need that friendly neighbor garbage that everyone is bubbling over with around here. If you leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone, deal?”


“Deal, I guess. But don’t friends usually speak with one another? If we didn’t, that would be a pathetic failure on both of our parts…these flibbertigibbets might start getting ideas that we hate each other.”


I couldn’t answer right away. “How did you know about that word?”


“What, is it your favorite word or something?” His tone smiled.


“Yeah,”


“Well, common ground comes in odd ways, doesn’t it?” He laughed, his figure bending down to pick something up. He straightened, grabbing my wrist and putting something in my hand. “I’ll see you around,” He said, drifting past me. I didn’t answer, feeling what was in my hand: an acorn.


My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. I didn’t turn to look clearly at her. “Where have you been?” She asked; her tone muffled by the table she spoke to. I stopped, almost to the stairs.


“Around.” I said. “What do you care?”


“Why else would have I asked? I was worried; I didn’t know where you were. You didn’t leave a note or a phone number. I was just about to start calling the police...”


“Well I’m back now,” I said shortly, stomping up the stairs. I took a pit stop in the bathroom before I went to my room, washing my face. I made myself look in the mirror this time, seeing the darkened circles under my eyes and the lack of complexion. When did my eye make up turn dark grey? And who cut off my hair, dyeing it black? I flicked the lights off, heading up to my room. My sleep hardly counted as a nap that night.

“And he used that stupid word,” I continued to Amelia and Jake. “What a freak! He was like: ‘What, is that your favorite word?’ Like he was trying to be smooth or something.”


“What. A dork,” Amelia said, sliding from the arm of the couch to a cushion. “Who just…comes up to someone like that? Especially a guy; at night? That’s just weird…”


“That dude seems shady, guys. I would avoid him, if I were you.”


“Yeah, but if we were you, what do you suggest we do?” Amelia asked. Jake shrugged; his eyes flickered to me then back to Melia.


“Give him a swirly?” I suggested.


“No, that’s child stuff. If you’re a guy, you can’t pull kiddy pranks to nerds like that. As you grow, so must your methods of cruelty…As for me? I’d probably use threats or something he hates; like fire. Nerds generally don’t like fire.”


“Chemists…”


“They’re an exception, Melia. The kids with no lives that just sit around playing video games all day are afraid of everything that doesn’t involve a remote controller.”


“Fire?”


“Yeah, fire. That hairspray junk girls use, the aerosol cans are best for writing little…messages in various places; like driveways.” Jake shrugged. “As long as you don’t get caught, you’re as good as golden.” Amelia frowned, standing.


“That still sounds like an amateur’s pull to me. I’m going to look it up,” She raced up the wrought iron stairs, leaving Jake and me in the main part of the hang out. He asked me to sit next to him, so I did; he put his arm around me.


“What about Melia? She could come down at any time…” Jake turned to me leaning close.


“Who cares?” He asked, still inching closer. My heart pounded; I didn’t know why.


“What?”


“Done,”


“Done?” I asked. “You mean .”


“I told her,” He said quietly.


“She…knows?”


“Yep,” His lips pressed against mine; then his hands touched my back. Then he stopped, looking at me.


I decided to bring up a new conversation. “I’ve never seen your house. You and Melia have seen mine.”


He sighed, looking away. “Technically, you’ve seen my house. The house you live in? Yeah, that used to belong to my mom. And I used to live with her. That is, until that nerd’s dad made us move out because he wanted to live there instead. That house was the only thing my mom could afford; and once we had to leave, she couldn’t keep me anymore. So she did the one thing she vowed never to do: she sent me to live with my dad.” He paused.
“My dad’s…got problems. He’s an alcoholic for one; and he’s got a nasty habit of not keeping his minimum wage jobs; and getting…involved with people on a daily basis.” Jake paused again. “When I was a kid, he used to beat me. That’s why I lived with my mom in the first place. Bottom line, the guy’s a real adventure to even sleep under the same roof with. So I’m not particularly fond of that nerd, his dad, or my own dad.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, waiting a few seconds. “I’m sorry, Jake. I really am,”
“It’s okay,” He said. “It’s not your fault,”
“If there’s anything at all that I can do .”
“Actually, there is something…”
“What is it?”
He leaned close to me, speaking against my skin. “Will you…kiss me?” I looked at him for a second, then nodded, closing the rest of the distance. The world outside my closed eyes stopped, Jake being the only one I could think about.
“Hey you guys, I found anoth .”
Jake and I straightened, facing a motionless Melia. She gripped a stack of papers in her hands; they were held in mid shuffle. She stared for a minute, and then dropped the papers to the floor. Her gaze turned cold as she looked to me.
“Can I speak to you for a second?” I stood, following her past the stairs and out the back door. When the door quietly closed, she whirled around to face me. “What the hell were you doing?” She demanded in a whisper.
My eyes looked her over, my arms crossing across my chest. “Melia, you’re sixteen years old. I’d think you’d be able to figure it out,” My voice answered. Her jaw dropped.
“You know, I thought that while you were kissing him you might have just remembered all of those times I spent telling you how much I liked him. But I guess not. So thanks a lot; you’re a great friend.” What was she talking about?
“You never said a word to me about it.”
“What? Yes, I did. You must have select hearing or something; because I can tell you the exact dates and places of most of the times that I told you. Most of them were at your house, when you and I had a sleepover or watched a movie.”
I shrugged. “Maybe I was asleep or too focused on the action scenes.”
“Well, maybe I was too stupid to actually believe we were friends.” She jerked the door open, pulling me through; it slammed behind us. She yanked me past the stairs and out to the sitting area. Jake was still sitting there as we passed.
“Wait,” I said, my arm ripping away from her. “I forgot something,” My feet carried me over to the couch, my thoughts praying that she was watching. My eyes focused on Jake, a smile spreading across my face. “See you later?” I asked, pulling him to his feet. She better be watching, I thought as my hands touched his back. I kissed him, putting on the best act I could for Melia. “Bye,” I said, turning to walk away. Amelia boiled motionlessly as I shoved past her to leave through the door. And I didn’t realize until I was half asleep that Jake had said that he told Amelia about us.

The next day, it was Saturday; which meant my mom would be home; which meant I would be out. I went for another walk, only because I had nothing better to do. I took a new route, down a road that commonly had kids playing hockey in the street. I watched them as I walked passed; who would want to play a game that was periodically interrupted by cars eager to get by? The idea seemed silly and useless to me.
I took a left at the end of the street, which was the one with the market. I made my way to the store, glancing at the glass door as it opened. Amelia slid out, turning in the direction that I was headed. “Amelia,” I said, hurrying up to her. She turned to me, staring for a second.
“What?” She said shortly. I stopped, and then started walking again.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. She didn’t miss a step and kept her eyes forward.
“Don’t be immature,” She said. Her pace quickened, forcing me to fall behind. “And stay away from me.” She added; she left me in the dust. I couldn’t figure out what she meant, or why she would say something like that.


I ended up standing in the park, under a large tree, watching kids play tag. I heard the familiar sound of acorns falling; I looked just in time to dodge one. I picked it up, throwing it. “Stupid acorns,” I raged. I turned away when it hit someone, and they looked to see where it came from.


“Are those still attacking you?”


I saw Aaron standing behind me. “Why do you care?”


“Because, those things are like pennies off the Empire State Building.” Something clicked in my memory.


“I wouldn’t be surprised if your caring turns out to be fake.”


His head titled. “Why?”


“My friend? Jake, he told me that your dad kicked his mom and him out of their house, because he wanted to live there. And now Jake has to live with his horrible, drunkard dad because that was the only house his mom could have and still afford to take care of him. So tell your dad I said way to be selfish.”


He didn’t reply right away. “What? Who told you that?”


“Jake, my friend.”


“That punk?”


I glared. “If you prefer to call him that; then yes, that punk.”


“And you believed him?” Aaron asked, still shocked. Excuse me?


“What are you talking about?”


“That kid just lied right through his teeth, and you actually took his pathetic bait.” He laughed once.


“You’re a jerk, you know that? You don’t know anything about him, and you don’t even know the whole story. So shut up and leave me alone,”


He crossed his arms across his chest, moving to stand next to me. “Oh, but I do. You see, that house was mine; but it was never, ever his.” He paused, glancing at the people around us. “Do you want to walk with me?” I wasn’t planning on it, but somehow he got me to fall in step beside him as we walked down an empty street.


“Your house belonged to my parents before they died. It burned down, along with that new hang out that’s a few blocks away. Your house was completely rebuilt following the original plans, but this small town couldn’t afford to rebuild both. Anyway, my parents died a while ago. And…” He glanced around. “So did I,” I stopped, facing him.


“What?”


He held out his hands in a shrug. “Scared?” My eyes looked him over.


“So you’re…a…ghost, then?” He nodded.


“Yep; a soul with unfinished business. Or…never mind; you’ll find out later…Anyway, I’m waiting to go through the door to my parents’ world. But since it’s hidden in your mom’s room, I can’t. Not yet, anyway.”


It felt dream like as he told me this. I wasn’t hearing it, so the shock hadn’t set in. “Wait, so this…door is hidden in my mom’s room? And you can’t get through to your parents because…?”


“Well,” Aaron hesitated. “Ghosts are extremely sensitive to the emotional barriers of others. We don’t like to get mixed up in their problems; we have either have enough of our own trying to get through them so we can move on or we’re worrying about those problems somehow making us have unfinished business. In the end, all we care about is getting through to the other side.” He paused. “If we do get too involved, our instincts tend to want to…possess, I guess, the person with the problems. Like I said, all we care about is getting unfinished business taken care of; and everyone says that if you want something done right, do it yourself. In layman’s terms, that’s what happens when we possess people.”


“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, there, buddy. What exactly are you saying here? Are you implying that I have to…fix some sort of problem in my life in order for you to be able to move on?”


He glanced away calm. “Yeah,”


“What problems? I don’t have any,”


He laughed, walking again. “Have you been paying attention for the past few months? Open your eyes and start looking around. Have you noticed that you’ve barely spoken to your mother since you two moved here; or that that Jake kid is taking you over? And Amelia, you’ve probably lost her as a friend for good. She’s pretty angry and hurt. I doubt she’ll ever trust you again.” Unexpectedly, he reached out, touching my hair. “And your life isn’t the only thing that’s messed up, either.”


I looked at ground. My eyes were still dark, my hair still black and chopped off. I pulled my sleeves lower around my wrists. “I…I guess you’re right, Aaron.”


“So you’re ready to do this?” He asked.


I looked at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”


He smiled at me, stopping. He reached his hand out. “I’ll talk to you later,”


I shook his hand, stunned at how cold it was. “Yeah…you, too.” Aaron turned, walking away. He kept moving, but nodded above us.


“Watch out for those acorns,”

I walked home immediately after that, my head clouded with a new burning that I had never felt before. Unsure of what I was even doing, I walked swiftly through the house until I found my mom. She was sitting in her bathroom, painting her nails. I took a deep breath, stepping from the cover of the doorframe. She didn’t notice me until I spoke. “Mom,” I said in a shaky voice. She turned around slowly, almost surprised to see me standing there.


“Um, yeah, sweetie?” She put the bottle of nail polish down, giving me her attention. “What do you need?” I sighed again, moving to sit on the edge of the bathtub. I fought back welling tears. Why was I being such a baby?


“I, uh…wanted to ask you something.” I paused. “But first…I just wanted to say that I’m…I’m sorry, mom; so sorry.” I was crying by now, and she moved despite her wet toenails to hold me. “I’m a horrible person, mom. I know it’s been…been hard on you. I’m sorry for the worry I’ve put you through, the cold words, and the inexcusable behavior. I’ve never really opened up to you since… But I figure I might as well do it now. There are days that I don’t feel like getting out of bed, and there are days that I never want to come home. I’ve been ranting about what seemed to me your annoying complaining to my friends. And I guess they really weren’t my friends in the first place.


“Amelia hates me for reasons that I must not be able to remember. And Jake…” I cried harder. “I’m so stupid mom, and I’m sorry that…” I stabbed myself in the chest ”I can’t make dad as proud as he wanted me to make him.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “I promised him I would…but I failed. And I hate myself for that. I’m s so sorry, m mom.” She ran her hand over my hair, stroking it as she held me.


“Shhh,” She said. “It’s okay, sweetie. It’s okay. I know,” She paused. “I know, baby.” We sat for a minute, and she waited for me to stop crying before she spoke again. “It takes a lot, after you reach a place so low, for you to admit your mistakes and ask for forgiveness. And, you know what? I think that’s all your dad ever wanted. He…he wanted you to be as strong as you possibly can; life is hard, and he knows that. He just wants you to keep going no matter what. And so do I, baby. Even if you fall, just pick yourself up and keep moving. And if you can’t pick yourself up, we both want you to be able to ask someone to help you.” She paused.


“I know you’ve been having problems. It scared me to death when you cut all your hair off and started hanging out with those crazy kids. But I should have had the guts enough to come ask you if you needed me. Even if that meant getting a door slammed in my face…but that would have also been my own fault. I should have been more involved since…since your dad left. I’m sorry I made you grow up with out a mother.”


I looked at her. “I haven’t grown up yet,”



The next morning, I mustered up the courage (actually, I just ignored the fear and spat out the words) to ask my mom the question that has been rankling me for the past ten years. “Mom,” I asked slowly. She looked up from her breakfast.


“Yes?”


I hesitated. “I…um. I was wondering…” I took a deep breath, looking at the floor. “Why did dad leave?” I let out my breath. She stopped chewing, fork raised in mid air, and stared at me for a second.


“I…I…don’t know what’s the best way to put this .”


“Just say it,” I said. My fingers gripped the edge of the table. The seconds seemed to fade into years as the silence ate my stomach alive. No no no, my heart beat in time with my thoughts. My mom stared at me for a second, her eyes and features unreadable. I didn’t know whether I liked or disliked that part. But either way, I was about to find out whether I wanted to be able to get a few hits before hand or not.


“He…didn’t love me anymore.”


My superhero vanished.


“What are you saying? Are you saying there was anoth .”


“No,” My mom said quickly. “There was no one else. He just…didn’t want me.”


“No,” I whispered, desperate to hang on to the superhero like image I had always had for my dad. I jumped up from the table, knocking over my chair. “Dad loved you,” I said quietly, turning on my heels and running from the house.


The sudden desire to see Jake washed over me as I hurried down the street. I couldn’t get to the Hang Out fast enough; I needed something to make me forget to feel hurt. I burst through the doors, rushing past the couches, and up the stairs. Please, I thought, be here. When I reached the top, scanning the loft, there he was. Jake was sitting in the computer chair, spinning lazily. “I’m so glad you’re here,” I said, sprinting to him. Jake stood, hugging me.


“Hey, what’s goin’ on?”


Suddenly, I didn’t care about what Aaron had said about Jake yesterday. For now, just for a little while, I was safe from everything; I was as long as I was with him.


“I need you to distract me for a while,”


I don’t remember anything else that happened that day.

The weeks passed like the slopes of a roller coaster. Some were bad, barely dragging by with rough spots staining my memory. They were the ones where Amelia didn’t even look at me, and I had more harsh words toward my mom than I did nice ones. I didn’t know why these things were happening; they just seemed to horribly fall into place. But at least Jake was still there; I saw him almost daily during the bad weeks.


During the good weeks, my mom and I would laugh and cry only out of humor. Amelia didn’t practically sprint to the other side of town when I walked past her. Even though I still couldn’t figure out what I had done to make her so angry. Occasionally, Aaron and I would run into each other in the park or at the market. During the good weeks, nearly everything would go well for me; except those were the times when I wanted to see Jake the most. But something I couldn’t figure held me back from giving in and going to find him.

When something breaks, depending on what it is, repair ranges from easy to impossible; but what about lives? Can those be mended like a broken arm; just put it in a sling for a while until it heals itself? Or do you have to actually find the superglue and tape; does it require personal input on the sufferer’s part?


Even though I had been trying as hard as I could, my life refused to pick up the pieces I had carelessly scattered. Just when I thought things were finally turning around for good, something would always set off the first domino.
It could be something as small as a stubbed toe that made you miss an important phone call a call that told you whether or not to pick up your little brother from school. And if you didn’t, when you really had to, he would come home later with your mom and tell her all about how he was left at school. Then you would get yelled at by your mom, get sent to your room, and spend two weeks grounded. But don’t think that’s the end of it. Somehow, other little things would be triggered to make your next two weeks even worse.
I wasn’t afraid of trying to make the best of things when they got rough; I was just tired of trying and not getting even an iota as far as results go. They wouldn’t get better, and they wouldn’t get worse. I felt like I was floating in a motionless, silent world, and I had absolutely no control over my actions, my speech, or my choices. I felt like something was controlling me.


And when that happened, I would go see Jake.

It was a good week when I was sitting at the kitchen table and the doorbell rang. My mom was outback, reading some novel, so I went to answer the door. “Hi,” Aaron said, standing a few feet from the door. I looked at him for a second.


“Oh, hey,” I paused, “Um, do you…need something?”


“I was, uh, just in the neighborhood. But so is .”


“Everyone else, yeah.” A second passed.


“So, how’s it going? It’s been a week or two.”


Try three, I thought. I counted how many bad weeks I had in a row. “I’m doing good, I guess…Do you want to come in?” He nodded, stepping inside as I closed the door. “Tell me if anything’s changed,” Aaron looked around, still wearing that safari hat and khaki shorts.


“Nothing’s really changed. Even some of the decorations were replaced.” He wandered to the living room, taking a seat on the couch. I sat on the opposite end, waiting a minute to disrupt the silence.


“How did it burn down?”


“My dad owned a café twenty years ago; which is the place that your friends dubbed their ‘hang out.’ Then one day he decided to run for mayor; and, long story short, some of the citizens weren’t too happy about it. They…came in the middle of the night and lit both our house and my dad’s café on fire. And…I guess that was the end of his campaign career.” He laughed once.


“Oh, I’m sorry,”


“Aw, don’t be,” He waved it away. “Once it was over, it didn’t really bother me that much. All I had to do was wait around for someone to help me open that stupid portal. All that was left to do was wait; eventually, I’d be with my parents again.”


I told him about my childhood; pretty much restating the scrapbook metaphor. When I got finished, he nodded, looking away.


“That’s how mine was; except none of us had a choice when it left us stranded… I had a twin brother, and he died, too. He almost could have escaped, because he was invited over to a friend’s house. He normally would have accepted, because he was extremely gregarious. But, for some reason, he didn’t.”


“Why do you think it worked out like that?”


He shrugged, standing. “I’m not really sure. Maybe it was so he didn’t have to pick up the pieces. All anyone had to do was have a moment of silence and rebuild the house; just like sweeping the dirt under the rug, I guess.”


“Your family wasn’t treated like dirt, was it? Everyone around here is so cheerful and friendly.”


“Things can be deceiving, though. That behavior came after the town was rid of us. The people around here thought they were better off without my parents, my brother, and me.”


I thought for a second, standing. “You mean this place really isn’t as great as one would think it is?”


“I never said that. I just said appearances and behaviors can be lies. You can think something is helping you, but really it can be harming you.” Aaron paused. “You just have to watch what you choose to get involved in; it might be helpful for a little while, but eventually it’ll start sucking your life away.”


I didn’t answer right away. “Where’s that portal?” I asked.


“In your mom’s room, why?”



“Because,” I said, stepping around him, “we’re going to open it.”


Minutes later, I was dragging a big trunk from against the wall. “You could help, you know,” I said breathlessly.


“I…can’t. I would, but I can’t. You know how you see movies with ghosts going through walls and unable to pick things up?”


“Yeah, so? You shook my hand.”


“It’s the bulk of the object that matters. If it’s too heavy or not solid enough, I can’t touch it.” Aaron said, standing in the doorframe. I rolled my eyes.


“Can you unpack boxes?”


“Sure, but what’s the point? You’ve already got it moved,”


I looked down; the trunk was out of the way. “Oh how convenient,” I said, sitting on the trunk. “What are we looking for? A vent or something?” Aaron shrugged from the doorframe, approaching the wall that I was looking at.


“I’ve heard it looks like a faint stain on the wall; or an outline of the object that it rests behind. And…I’ve heard it can’t be seen.”


“Then how are we supposed to know if it’s open?”
“You could try runni .”
“You can go through walls, you test it.” I said quickly.


“Are you saying that I should just run up to this wall and see if I come out the other side in Limbo?” Aaron asked. I shrugged.


“If that’s the way you’d prefer to do it,”


He frowned, his eyebrows dropping in frustration.


“Okay, but I need some privacy…”


I sighed, rolling my eyes again. “Fine,” I said, standing to leave the room. I went downstairs to find my mom; she was still outside reading. “Hey,” I said, sitting down beside her. She looked up, that look in her eye that said: it’s a good week, isn’t it?


“Aaron leave?”


“Oh, no. He’s,” I paused for a split second. “In the bathroom.”


“Okay,” A second passed. “Boy, he’s got some cold skin, right? It felt like I was shaking hands with an ice sculpture,”


I hesitated. “He’s from Alaska. His dad’s part Eskimo.” Part Eskimo, I thought. Are you serious?


“Riveting,” My mom said, glancing behind me. Her book covered her face again. Aaron stood awkwardly on the porch, I moved over to him, pushing him inside before I closed the door.


“Part Eskimo? Can that even be an insult?”


“Shut up,” I paused. “Any luck?”


“Nope, the portal’s still closed.” I sighed, my legs giving out. I sat in the chair beside me.


“What now?”


“There’s something else that needs to be done.”


I gave a pained expression. “Like what?” Aaron sat down next to me.


“Well,” He said, ticking off on his fingers. “You’ve done something that you vowed you would never do. You’ve granted your mom’s most desired wish…Self sacrifice and generosity.” He paused. “Hmmm…”


“What else could be left? Aren’t those virtues or something?” Aaron didn’t answer right away, too deep in thought. Several silent seconds passed, and I listened to the tick tick tick of the kitchen clock. I almost jumped when he spoke.


“There is…one thing left. There’s always the rule of self sacrifice and generosity. But there’s something else that you need in order to be good to others and to yourself…Personal care.”


“Hey, I shower .”


“No, not that. Like, taking care of yourself for the long run. Doing something for yourself because a) it’ll help you later on in life, and b) you’re not doing it to please others. It’s just a little gift to yourself.” I stared at him.


“And what could that gift possibly be?” Before Aaron could answer, someone called out across the street. We looked out the front window, and Jake passed by, talking back to the yeller. Aaron slowly looked at me, shrugging.


“Him,”


“You mean l .”


“Letting him go, yes,”


I laughed: shocked, scared, and unwilling to believe. “You’ve got to be kidding. Jake’s, like, my best friend. What would I do with out him?” Aaron inched toward the door, putting his hand on the knob.


“Do yourself a favor, before you go to sleep tonight, think about what you do each day when you have a bad week; then think of what you do during the good ones.” He left through the door, leaving me in silence.

The next morning, when my feet dropped to touch the wood surface of my bedroom floor, they didn’t feel the aged boards. Instead, they felt a smooth, papery surface; I looked down, seeing a couple of short stacks of newspapers at my feet. Curious, I picked one up. It was dated over twenty years ago; and so were all the others. I started reading the front page headlines:



Local Café Owner Decides to Run for Mayor!



Town’s People Shocked Over Café Owner’s Plans!



Candidate’s Rep Gets Ripped.



Candidate’s Past V.S. Town’s Future?



Campaign a Battle Ground For Town!



Town Enraged!!



Café Roasted!



Candidate Canned; House Burns Along With Chances of Winning Election.

Empty Funeral

Town Citizens Clean Up City

Previous Candidate’s House Rebuilt

Finally, Our Future Is Safe!



I dropped the stack on my bed. How did these get here? Did Aaron give them to me? If he did, why did he want me to see them? Then I remembered the previous day; what he had told me I have to do.


I hurried, pulling clothes on at random. I didn’t bother to brush my teeth or my hair as I ran down the stairs and out the front door. I didn’t know where I was going, or what I was going to do when I got there. I made my way down the grass and tree lined sidewalk. No one was awake, apparently. Stores were closed; blinds were shut. The small town was, for once, completely dead; and I was suffocating; I realized where I was going: to do the one thing I couldn’t bare to do. But what if it was for my own good? I didn’t see how it could help me; but everything else Aaron had suggested up until this point had turned out, for the most part, to be for the better…but then there was Jake.


I made it to the front doors of the old building with only breaths left to spare. My lungs burned, my heart beat me straight into the ground, and my thoughts raced; a cold sweat broke out on my skin. I was hot, but still so cold.


I turned the doorknob, cursing when it stopped suddenly; locked. Keeping a look out, I crept around the back, trying the back door. That one worked, swinging open without a sound. I looked around, and then moved for the stairs.


“What are you here for?” Amelia dropped down the side of the stairs, skipping the last couple of steps entirely.


“I w .”


“Jake’s not here.” She said, ripping a piece of paper from the book on the table beside her. She wrote furiously, shoving the note at me. “Here’s his address. His dad’s gone,” she added, “so don’t worry about being shot at or something.” I stared at her.


“Thank you,” I said, stumbling over the words. Why was she being nice to me? Did I fix the mistake I had made; whatever that may have been. “Thanks a lot, Melia,” I turned, heading for the door.


“My name is Amelia,” She said as I closed the door. I didn’t have enough energy or sweat to move faster than a walk’s speed. I would just have to live with not getting to see Jake as soon as I had hoped to. My thoughts were bombarding me as I turned a corner; I ran into someone.


“Sorry,” I said, looking up. I took a surprised step back. Aaron stood in front of me.


“No harm done,” He said with a smile. “Where are you headed off to this early in the morning?”


“I was…headed to Jake’s house.”


“Ah, that’s good.” He paused, stepping around me. “Just remember what you went there for,” He said, turning and walking away. I spent the next ten minutes shaking as I tried to find Jake’s address. Aaron’s last words pounded through my head; beating with my terrified heart. What was I supposed to do now? Would I even be able to do this?


At last, my stomach was left at the top of the coaster’s incline when I saw the numbers on the corner house mailbox. I approached the driveway, taking a deep breath, and walked to his front door. Thump thump thump. I waited, hearing footsteps inside. The door opened; I forgot what I was going to say.


Jake looked at me. “What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice calm. He stepped outside, closing the door.


“I…um, had to .”


“See me?”


I hesitated. “Yeah, that’s it. I just really, really missed talking to you.”


“Well, you’re in luck, because here I am. My dad’s not here to yell or break lamps.” My arms threw themselves around Jake; my mind still wasn’t sure what was going on.


“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry your dad is so…awful.”


“It’s not your fault,” He said. “It’s that nerd’s dad’s fault, remember?” He paused. “And, you know what?”


“What?”


“I wouldn’t be surprised if that kid wasn’t just like him. You’d better stay away from him,” But I had already spent time with him; he was the only one who didn’t have too many personal problems that kept him occupied most of the time. Amelia was mad at me; for reasons I had yet to figure out. And Jake had a horrible dad. I was messed up in my own way. But Aaron…he was the only one who was still…unbroken; a realization tried to squeeze itself into my thoughts, but it was shoved out.


“That kid probably just wants to ruin your life, or something. It’s the nice seeming ones that you have to watch out for. But, then, I’m nice, right?” He pushed the hair out of my eyes; I forgot what I was thinking about.


“Of course, why else would I be your friend?”


Jake laughed, letting a second pass. “Hey, how’d you find me?”


I looked up, the realization pushing its way into my vision. “Amelia gave it to me,”


“Amelia, really? I’m surprised she’s even talking to you .”


“Amelia?” Amelia was mad at me; because of me and Jake.


“Yeah. I guess it’s a good thing she learned about it sooner than later, huh?”


And Jake said he had told Amelia. But he didn’t.


I backed away from him, staring at the ground in shock.


“You…you said you told her; but you didn’t. You lied. You lied to Amelia and me.” I paused, taking a deep breath. “You’re horrible, Jake. Why would you do something like that?”


He stared at me, his eyes cold. “Look, I didn’t mean for it to happen like that, okay? I’m…I’m sort of under a lot of pressure here,” He nodded to his front door. My thoughts stopped, changing direction suddenly; the house…Aaron’s house.


“And you said that Aaron’s dad kicked your mom out of your house…”


Jake opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him.


“No,” I backed away more. “No. That was always their house. But it was burned down by naïve, narcissistic people who didn’t care about anyone but himself. And do you know what? Aaron’s family didn’t survive .” And neither did Aaron, I almost said.


“Are you actually going to believe some kid who doesn’t have any friends? How long have you known him, anyway? For, like, a day? Are you going to choose his side over mine? How could you?”


I stared back at him with threatening eyes. “You lied, and you’ve caused me more problems than good memories…how could I not choose Aaron?” I turned, sprinting away. Why hadn’t I realized that when my weeks were rough, Jake had always been around? I guess it was because, when I was with him I would be okay. Then as the minutes ticked by after we parted, my day would slowly turn vicious again.


But before all of this happened, Jake had been a good friend. He had always listened and cheered Amelia and me up when either of us were upset. The good memories that I had of him were from dark times; when my eyes were darker, my tone was sharper, I didn’t sleep, and I barely spoke to my mom. But still, even when my life was pinned so tightly against the bottom of the canyon, I couldn’t ignore the burning thirst to go back to those times…

I sprinted home, the first full two mile stretch I’ve ever run in my life. But when I got home, I didn’t care about the ache in my side. I ran up the stairs and into the bathroom; where I showered and tried to clean myself up the best I could possibly manage at the time.


Hours later, when I got out of the steam flooded bathroom, my mom called up to me from the bottom of the stairs. “Sweetie, Aaron called only seconds ago. Can you call him back?”


“Yeah,” I said, heading down the stairs. I found the phone and called him back; my heart still thumped loudly in my ears.


“Hello?”


“Aaron? Hey, it’s, um, me,”


“Oh, hey. I just called a few minutes ago to see if I could…maybe stop by? Did you did you get everything taken care of this morning?” I wanted to cry.


“Yeah, it’s done,”


“Okay, then. I’ll…I’ll be right over.”


“Bye,” I hung up the phone, sinking to the floor.

“Is your mom not here?” Aaron asked, stepping through the door. I closed it, resting against it for a split second before turning to answer.


“I’m really not sure,” I said. “I can’t remember where she said she was going,”


He shrugged, heading up the stairs. “Okay, let’s see if this thing’s open,” I followed him, my thoughts switching to the present.


“I hope it works this time,”




“Me, too. If it doesn’t…I’m not sure what else there is to do,”


I smiled at him, opening the door to my mom’s room. “We’ll figure something out,” The trunk was never pushed back; my mom decided to keep it as a coffee table like thing. So at least Aaron couldn’t laugh at me trying to move it. That much was a relief on my day’s part.


“Do you think it’ll look different from last time?”


“Probably. If it’s open, that is.”


We looked closely at the wall, looking for anything that didn’t belong. For five minutes, we looked at every inch of the wall; neither of us found anything.


“Well,” I said, “what now?” Aaron sighed, leaning against the wall.


“I have no idea…”


“We could try agai .”


“No,”


“How about something diff .”


“Like what?”


“I don’t know…something.”


“I just wish I could get through that stupid door. All I want is to be with my family.”


I didn’t answer right away, thinking about my response. “At least you have that option…” Aaron’s head moved from looking at the floor, focusing on me. He put his hand on my shoulder.


“Who said family has to be together to be happy?”


“You,”


“But my case involves different worlds entirely.” He paused. “Your family is only miles away. Do you know what I would give for that? I hate being stuck here, separated from the only thing that I could ever count on in my life…Just because your family is spread out, doesn’t mean you have to stop loving each other. And…that doesn’t mean that you have.” The room grew colder. I glanced around.


“Do you feel that?”


Exchanging glances, Aaron and I whirled around to face the wall.


“See anything?” I asked Aaron as he peered closer; he took a few steps back.


“No…You try,”


I stepped beside him, taking the wall first in parts then in whole. Nothing. “Try…sticking something through it. Like a hand, or something.”


Aaron shrugged. “Good idea, it could work,” He approached it cautiously, reaching out an arm and touching his palm to the wall. “It’s cold…”


“Push harder. Remember the density and how solid an object is?”


He leaned against it; we held our breath. A second passed. Two seconds. Then three. “It’s not worki .” His hand slipped through the wall. “Sweet mother of Swiss cheese, look!” I rushed over to him.


“Is there anything on the other side?”


“It’s still cold…”


It was hot outside.


“Keep pushing,”


Suddenly, he pulled it out, turning to me. “Not yet,”


“What? Why? What if it closes?”


“It won’t, trust me…I just wanted to thank you before I left.” He smiled at me. He was kind of adorable; like a teddy bear. “I…don’t know how to say this. But…would a hug be okay?” I laughed, holding my arms out.


Aaron’s skin was cold, colder than it had been the other day. Or maybe it was just because more of it was touching me this time. Either way, it was weird; but still nice. Hugging him was like trying Salt & Vinegar potato chips: they’re gross and shocking at first, but the more you eat, the better they get.


Several seconds passed, then Aaron dropped his arms, stepping away. “That was,” He paused, thinking, “nice. But you wouldn’t want to hug me for too long. Because ghosts, like pasts, are nice to hold on to once in a while. And they’re fun to speak to and look at. But you shouldn’t focus on them for too long, because they can eventually…consume you.” I shook my head, amused.


“Just go, Aaron. Seriously, don’t keep your family waiting any longer than you already have.” I said. He smiled, stepping around me. I watched him face the wall, take a deep breath, then reach his hand out to the wall. But suddenly, he stopped, facing me.


“Could you come over here for a second?”


I went over to him. “Sure what’s wr .” He kissed my cheek; an ice cube sliding down my throat.


“I…didn’t want to leave this place without ever having done that before,” He paused. “Sorry,”


I glanced away, and then smiled. “It’s okay. Just go, okay?”


“Thank you, for all of your help.”


I should have been the one thanking him. “You’re welcome. And thank you for helping me.


“You’re welcome. So now we’re even?”


“Even,” I said, watching him disappear.

For how small Bent Water Hollow is, I never spoke to Jake again. Occasionally, I would see his figure flash past outside a store window. Or I would just glance up to notice him turning a corner. And not one time went by that I didn’t have to tighten my grip on myself and fight off the urge to run up to him and tell him how much I missed him. But, luckily, I had my mom to help me. She would turn me away, or grab my attention with a funny story. She always tried to make it as easy as possible for me.


Every now and then, Amelia would pass by me without a single word. And other times she would smile and make a quick conversation of short talk. But something my mom pointed out one day was that her cruel days where when her hair was messy and her eyes were tired and dark. And at that I would usually smile, and wonder whether it was Jake she had been hanging out with on the previous day.



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