Free Heavenly by Jennifer Laurens Page B

time I'd ever seen somebody dead before. Creeped me out."
    "Yeah." I nodded. "I bet."
    "That night, as I lay in the motel room, I think it was a Motel Six, not a Best Western, because the towels were pretty
    soft. She was there, standing by the bed, looking at me. She didn't speak. She just watched. I felt..." he glanced around, leaned closer and in a lowered voice said, "I felt calm. Peaceful. I wasn't scared even though I knew she had died and was... a ghost."
    I swallowed. "Wow."
    "But I don't like calling her a ghost. In fact, I never did. But she didn't look like us. There was a transparency to her body and clothes. Faded colors. And she wasn't wearing what she'd been buried in, either."
    "What did she have on?"
    "In the coffin?"
    "No, when you saw her."
    "She dressed like a gypsy most of the time. When I saw her, she had on a gauzy dress in soft yellow, and she was
    barefoot."
    I nodded, processing the information. No barriers went up. No red flags or whisperings came, challenging his words. I
    accepted what he told me as truth.
    He sat back, staring at me. "You think I'm nuts, don't you?"
    "No." I reached out, touched his knee and his eyes locked on my hand. I withdrew. "That's why I asked you. I knew you'd have an intelligent opinion on the subject."
    "You...did? Really?"
    I nodded.
    "I haven't told anybody about that," he said. "Except my family. They thought I was hallucinating. They thought that I had food poisoning from the funeral potatoes served at the family dinner the neighbors put on for us."
    "That's lame," I said. "I definitely don't think you were hallucinating." I debated telling him about Matthias. But since I still wasn't sure who Matthias was, I decided against it.
    "So have you had any... sightings?" He pushed his glasses back up his nose.
    "No. Kinda. Maybe."
    "Tell me about it."
    "I can't... yet."
    He nodded. The sober expression on his face told me he believed. My shoulders felt a little lighter.
    'When you're ready," he whispered. Then he pulled out his cell phone. Can... I have your number? You know, just in case we want to talk about this again?"
    "Um." His hand, holding the phone, trembled. I fought a chuckle. "Sure." I gave him my number.
    "Do... you... want mine?" he sputtered.
    "Oh. Sure."
    I entered his name and at his insistence, his email addy into my cell phone. I felt connected to him now, in a
    mysterious way. It'd be nice having someone understand what I was going through, even if he didn't have the same puzzle
    piece I did: a handicapped sister.
    I noticed our little pow-wow had caught the eye of a few of our classmates, and I stood. '"Thanks, Chase."
    "Yeah. No prob. Be in touch." Chase tipped back in his chair again and I returned to my desk.

    - - -

    After school, I went to Mr. Brinkerhoffś room feeling like I could ace anything.
    I took the test, popped out the essay and was done in less than forty minutes. Mr. Brinkerhoff smiled when I handed
    him the papers. "Beat your last record, Zoe."
    "You keep track?"
    "I've never had student plow through work like you do. You're one of my quieter students, but, like Brittany, you're
    also very popular. There's irony in the fact that you're a stellar student and you're socially acceptable."
    More of Mr. Brinkerhoffś irony. I grinned.
    I left the building and checked my phone for texts. None. My good mood popped.
    If Britt was waiting for me to apologize first, it'd be a long wait. As I walked to my car, greeting faces as I passed, I
    realized I was right: she had Weston. The hole I'd left behind in her life was in his shadow.
    But I had Chase now.
    I got in my car, started the engine. I didn't really have Chase, not like Britt had Weston. But he was someone I could talk to. Mr. Brinkerhoff noticing I was on Britt's social level amused me. How many other teachers had taken the time to
    deduce the same?
    Britt and I had been friends since 9th grade—four years now. Sure, her face and body had opened a lot of social