Ethereal

  I don’t really know what playing hard to get does for you, other than make you hard to get. Maybe if I were hard to get, Logan would be drooling all over me instead of Michelle.

  The diary. That’s exactly what Michelle’s doing, playing hard to get. Unfortunately for me, it seems to be working.

  “That girl that died, Logan and she used to go out.” I add.

  My mother drops her pen. “That’s…” she searches the air for words. “Creepy.” Her fingers strum across the granite. “That reminds me. Your father dated a girl in high school who died unexpectedly.”

  My eyes bug out as I continue to swipe the floor—so much death and carnage. What’s the purpose?

  “Oh yeah? You know her name?” I ask.

  “Candy something. Oh, it was probably something like Candace. They were seniors together.”

  I bet I could look her up in dad’s old yearbook. I bet if I dug around real good I’d discover she was a Celestra.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Covetous

  It’s registration day at West Paragon, so Drake drives us down to campus to get our classes settled. Brielle is like a racehorse dying to get out the gate to show us around.

  I’m used to the practice field so I’m familiar with that much, but this time Brielle has us park in the main lot and we enter campus from an entirely different direction.

  Stone cobbled pavers fan out in circular patterns that extend the entire length and breadth of the walkways. Two tall, red brick buildings soften in a cloud of fog so thick you can hardly see the landscape beyond them. If I hadn’t been here for cheer practice I would never have known the buildings are encased in trees that stretch hundreds of feet into the air like javelins.

  Brielle leads us into the shorter of the two buildings. Inside it’s filled with all of the familiar faces from the parties I’ve been going to. I see Gage and Logan finishing up towards the front of the line. I try and pretend not to notice when I see them making their way over.

  Ellis Harrison steps into my line of vision. He’s sporting wireless glasses, and a plaid shirt. I hardly recognize him with the clear eyes and the stony expression.

  “I got you in two classes.” He boasts.

  “How do you know?” I try and ignore both Logan and Gage standing off to the side.

  “It’s posted up on the wall.”

  “Oh. I thought we were registering.”

  “Nope, just copying a list they were too lazy to email. Plus this way they get you to sign up for the after school stuff without infringing on their precious time.”

  Gage and Logan still wait patiently.

  “So what classes do I have with you?” I widen my smile. Maybe if they think I’m suddenly interested in Ellis they’ll leave me alone for good. Mama said there were more fish in the sea, right? Ellis is looking mighty fishy right about now.

  Logan steps in between us.

  “Ellis, will you excuse us a minute?” He says.

  Ellis looks from me to Logan.

  “You want me to leave you two alone?” He directs the question over to me.

  “Not really. What were those classes again?” I step around Logan to get a better view of the ledger in Ellis’ hand.

  “Sociology and Algebra two.” He points to them as he says it.

  “Algebra two? You good at math? I’m going to need lots of tutoring.” I say. If Logan isn’t writhing from the daggers I’m churning, I’m pretty sure I’m not the fish for him.

  “Are you done?” Logan pushes into Ellis with his shoulder. It’s like he’s gone animal, which reminds me of that roar. His kisses stream through my mind like a slideshow, causing my stomach to bottom out like I’m on a roller coaster.

  “Enough.” I bite the air with my anger. “I’ll talk to you.” I turn to Ellis. “Thank you. I look forward to your help.” I whisper.

  “For the record I tutored him in math two years in a row.” He waits until Ellis is gone before he says it.

  “Like I said you’re a real superhero. So how long before you get your girlfriend’s diary back? A week? A month? Next two years? I really don’t want your excuses.”

  “I’m not giving excuses.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “I checked the schedule. You know how many classes we have together?”

  “You and I, or you and Michelle?” Honestly, I don’t know anymore.

  “You and I.” He looks like a statue of perfection in this light. He’s so gorgeous it hurts. I might actually have to look away to stop the pain.

  A hot spear of raw attraction bisects my abdomen.

  “How many?” I’m hoping for at least three.

  “None.” A genuine look of disappointment sweeps across his face.

  “None?” I say trying not to sound too alarmed.

  “What are the odds, right?”

  “I don’t know.” I’m perfectly stunned. “What about lunch?”

  “You have B, I have A.”

  “Lovely.” Then I start to panic about Brielle and what about Michelle? Will she be dining with Logan? I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. “I’d better get up there.” A huge knot lodges in the center of my throat. I pull a pen and paper from my purse, ignoring the ones laid out, and head over to the boards until I find my name. As I jot down my classes it occurs to me both Ellis and Logan had to have checked their classes and compared them to mine. I’m not so surprised Logan did it, but Ellis? Interesting.

  I take my list and look down at the O’s. I find Logan and Gage together like usual. Logan’s right—nothing together. I compare my classes with the ones Gage is registered for. English lit, World History, Algebra Two, I scan down the list. All the same classes. All the same times.

  I try to find him in the crowd.

  “Boo.” He says, standing square in front of me.

  “Did you do this?” I hold out my schedule accusingly.

  “No, I didn’t do this. But it’s pretty cool.” His eyes laser through mine, and for a minute I’m right back in that truck again, melting away like delicious warm chocolate.

  Michelle comes in with Emily and Lexy, and the three of them make a beeline over to Logan. Michelle doesn’t waste any time snatching his schedule from out of his hands and comparing notes. She nods approvingly. Her hand flies up and he meets it with a high five.

  I’m not sure what Logan doesn’t get about the way I feel when I see the two of them together—how it feels like someone set your clothes on fire and refuses to help put them out.

  I rake my hand through Gage’s hair.

  “Yeah. It’s pretty cool.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Burn

  Outside the dark sky boils as it seals in the last hot spell of summer. A light pepper of rain falls, refreshing us in this oppressive heat.

  Drake wants to stop for lunch at the bowling alley since Brielle has to work a shift. Since mom and Tad have put him in charge of my whereabouts today I don’t really have a say in the matter. Tad assumed Drake wouldn’t lose me. I wanted to inform him Drake was very responsible with me the night before, but I bit my tongue. Besides, Mia and Melissa were sitting right there. I don’t want to give them any ideas about sneaking out in the middle of the night.

  The air conditioning is on full blast in the bowling alley. It feels amazing in contrast to the hot sticky climate percolating outside.

  Gage insists on giving me a tour of the kitchen. Large stainless appliances line the back wall. A long center island cluttered with bowls and utensils is bustling with a pair of busy workers preparing the orders streaming in.

  He leads me over to a large metal door, and a white fog billows out when he opens it.

  “Walk-in freezer. Hang out in there a few minutes and it’ll really cool you off.”

  “Can you get locked in?” I’d be afraid to work here for that reason alone.

  “Nope.” He slides his hand up and down the smooth inside of the door. “Shuts just like a refrigerator.”

  Logan come
s back and walks past us as he pulls down a giant sleeve of hotdog buns.

  “Are you ready to work for me?” His brows twitch in a flirtatious manner. Logan’s eyes are the most amazing amber color I’ve ever seen. There’s something wild about them, almost primitive. I’m fascinated by how they glow.

  “Maybe I will. I think I’d enjoy working with Gage.” I say, just to piss him off.

  His expression sours.

  “Him I’m about to fire.” He remarks, taking his bag and heading back into the kitchen.

  “You guys usually get along?” I have a feeling the riff is a new thing, and it’s all my fault.

  “We’ve fought before.” Gage leans into the kitchen with a dark expression.

  “Over Chloe?”

  His lips pull into a line.

  I don’t know Gage as well as Logan, but it seems to me in a lot of ways they’re opposites. I’m starting to wonder if Gage is better boyfriend material than Logan. Gage told me he’d never do the things Logan was doing.

  “Why does Michelle have Chloe’s diary anyway?” I pull back and spy on Logan as he works the food line. You’d never know he runs this place. He’s right in the mix with the rest of the employees pulling all the hard jobs, not bossing anyone around. Brielle’s forever telling me she loves working here.

  “She says her mother gave her a box of Chloe’s things. She found it.”

  “I bet she read it cover to cover.”

  “You’d think.”

  “So were you and Chloe pretty close?”

  “We went out a few times.” He socks his fist softly into a metal shelving unit.

  A loud hiss comes from the corner of the kitchen and the noxious odor of burning tortilla chips permeates the air.

  Gage bolts back into the kitchen and attempts to put a lid over the fryer, but a tornado of flames shoots up out of it and runs halfway across the ceiling.

  “Skyla!” Logan shouts from the other side of the counter. He jumps through the service window and rushes over to where I’m standing, frozen.

  The kitchen drains of employees as Logan commands them out. I turn to move and knock something solid over with my foot causing a gush of liquid to rush around my feet.

  “Get out now!” Gage shouts as he struggles to pull me in his direction.

  In nothing more than a quiet whisper, the floor ignites in flames. Tall spears of fire separate me from Gage. An entire barricade forms and a huge rushing wall erupts between Logan and I.

  I try to move, but it feels like my tennis shoes are being suctioned to the ground. The first air-brained thought that whizzes through my mind is that I must have stepped in gum. I lift my shoes and it looks more like I stepped in a pile of marshmallow fluff, only what’s really happening is the white cheap tennis shoes my mother bought are melting right off my feet.

  “Help!” I choke out the word. A dense black smoke fills the kitchen. A loud blowing noise drills in my ear. It forces the flames down, extinguishing them into a sea of white clouds.

  My eyes seal shut from the smoke. An arm reaches under my knees and lifts me off the ground. I push my face into the shirt of whoever has me and desperately try gasping for breath. We move outside in a fury. I take in the fresh air, choking out what’s left of the smoke.

  “You’re OK.” A kiss drops down on the top of my head. It’s Logan’s voice I hear.

  “Logan!” I circle my arms around the back of his neck. “What just happened?”

  “I don’t know. We’ve never had anything like that before.”

  “Skyla.” Gage walks up gasping for air. His face is blackened from soot illuminating his eyes like twin beacons. “You OK?”

  Logan replaces me on the ground causing my shoes to stick unnaturally.

  “I’m fine.” I try to dust off the soot from my jeans only to smear it into long black streaks.

  The shrill cry of a siren drills through the air.

  “I checked the temp and the oil was fine.” He gives a quizzical look to Logan.

  “Do you think?” He doesn’t finish his thought.

  “I know.” Gage and Logan’s locked eyes are immovable.

  “What?” I yell at the two of them. “This involves me. I was in that fire.”

  “Fire is the only sure way to kill a Celestra.” Gage says.

  “Fire?” My father died in a fire.

  Logan opens his mouth then shuts it as Brielle dives in on top, blanketing me with a hug.

  “I can’t believe you survived! They made us run out the back. I had no idea you guys were standing out here. The entire kitchen is destroyed.”

  “I’m sorry.” I direct it at Logan. It’s because of me. Whatever it was, it wanted me.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Smash

  Mom and Tad are frantic when they pick me up from the emergency room. The doctor on duty assured them I had no signs of damage to my lungs, and my blood oxygen level was perfectly normal.

  After I shower and dress, my mother makes me lie down in the family room where she covers me with a blanket and makes me try and eat disgusting day glow yellow chicken soup from powder, and drink bland tea.

  “I almost burned to death. I don’t have diarrhea.” I’m quick to remind her as she ups the ante and offers to make me toast.

  She holds her hands up near her temples and shudders.

  “I can’t lose you Skyla. Too much has already happened here. I’m starting to think moving was a very big mistake.”

  I toss the covers off. It’s stifling in the house, and her last comment sends a heated rush of adrenaline through me.

  “I think moving here was the best thing that’s happened to this family in a really long time.” Like before daddy, but I don’t say that part.

  “You think the best thing about moving here is named, Logan.” She says his name like it’s the plague.

  “I’m sure there are boys named Logan everywhere.” I try and appease her by making it sound as though I could have fallen for someone anywhere, but deep down inside I don’t believe a word. “You met Tad at work.” I shrug. They both worked for the same design firm in L.A. The way Tad whooped about opening his own division on Paragon you’d think he won the lottery. I think my mom assumed she’d be an equal partner, but from what I’ve seen, she’s nothing more than his secretary.

  Tad walks by and breezes into the kitchen. We watch together as he inventories the refrigerator then slams it shut with disappointment.

  “Lizbeth, there’s no food in this damn house.” He says it in such a comical way I think he’s half joking. Who talks to my mother that way? My dad would shoot him if he could. He’d probably want me to do it for him. Sure my mom and he fought, but he never addressed her that way, at least never around me.

  In less than ten minutes my mom and the Gestapo are doing a grocery run. Unfreakingbelievable.

  Drake and the girls are quiet upstairs so I head on up to grab my phone so I can chat with Logan. My jealous rage towards Michelle seems to have subsided for the moment. I mean he did pull me out of a burning building. He did kill a Fem for me. And then there’s Gage who lifted Logan’s truck out of the way of oncoming traffic.

  A cold chill descends upon me as I climb the stairs. I rub my bare arms running up the final steps. It’s freezing up here. Drake’s door is shut and so is the girls. The hall window is fixed so it can’t be coming from there. I lay my hand across the glass, warm like the weather outside. So where’s this cold air coming from? Neither the heating nor the AC works in this place. I have a feeling the blue light special had a little more to do with this defunct lemon and all of the broken amenities, than it did the disappearance of one of its residents or any so called ghosts.

  The air continues to become more frigid as I move down the hall. I bypass my bedroom with my hands extended before me like a zombie.

  “Oh my gosh.” I whisper in disbelief. A light fog fills the hole of my parent’s bedroom. I walk in treading with caution. It looks remarkably normal. The comforter i
s drawn tight over the bed and a hundred microscopic pillows sit neatly arranged in rows. “Please God, kill me if I ever live like this.”

  I head in a little deeper into the heart of the sharp, glacial chill. It’s so cold it stings my flesh like a sunburn.

  “What is this?” I ask out loud as though I might get some sort of answer.

  The door to the closet is open. I’m immediately attracted in a morbid way to the dark gaping hole. It’s an icebox in here. You could hang meat. I pull the string dangling from the center of the walk-in, and turn on the light. My mother and Tad have divided the closet down the middle. My mom’s clothes are arranged in no special order with the exception of long dresses towards the left, but Tad’s side reeks of anal. Dress shirts are scaled from black to white in color order. Who does that? Maybe a girl would do that—maybe a thirteen-year-old girl would color code her wardrobe, but a grown man? His pants are laid out the same way, even his shoes fan out in a depressed rainbow of color.

  An icy bite of air circles around my left leg. It’s as though it’s speaking to me, telling me something. I crouch down and feel with my hand until I hit the back wall behind Tad’s shoes. It’s dripping wet. My fingers snag on a small lever. I pull it down opening a small door in the wall. I pat my hand around blindly and come up with a stack of paper.

  I rifle through it, my heart feels like it’s going to seize up, not to mention this piercing cold air has me feeling lightheaded.

  A stack of hundred dollar bills—fifty, hundred dollar bills.

  Crap! I never want to hear him harp about not having two dimes to rub together, again. The next time he does this, I might just say, no dipshit—we have Benjamin’s.

  A waddle of newspaper clippings wrapped in a rubber band vies for my attention. I go to loosen the band, severing it on accident.

  Great.

  I open them up and flatten them out with the palm of my hand.