Free Possessing Jessie by Nancy Springer Page B

was Friday–so bleary and nearly asleep on her feet that she did not even brush her teeth or look in the mirror to spike her hair with her fingers. She just stumbled down to breakfast still in the same clothes as the day before.
    And there was Mom piling corn pancakes hot from the skillet onto a platter. Jessie felt her stomach respond with a rumble of hunger, her mouth with a smile as she sat down and dug into a short stack of three pancakes with butter and maple syrup. Yum. Corn pancakes were her favorite–Wait a minute. They were Jason’s favorite. Jessie had never particularly liked them.
    Well, maybe it was just because she was so hungry that they tasted good. She couldn’t remember when she had felt so cavernously hungry. As she gulped down the pancakes in big bites, Mom brought her another stack, then sat down to sip coffee, smiling at her.
    Mom said, “You were out late last night. Showing off the new car? With your friends?”
    Jessie gave a nod and a grunt.
    â€œWe really have to get your driver’s license, Sweetie. Sooner or later the cops are going to stop you.”
    They already had. Jessie smiled to herself, thinking about that poor belligerent cop trying to wrap his slow mind around a “punk kid” who looked like a boy and drove like a boy but had a girl’s slim body, pert little breasts, slender manicured hands.
    â€œYou’re going to be late for school,” Mom said.
    â€œYeah, yeah.”
    As Jessie headed out the door, her mother gave her a swat on the butt. Mom had never done that to her before. Just to Jason. Jessie felt her heart swell. It felt so good to be her mom’s pet, to finally be–go ahead and think it–loved. It was hard to believe that only five days ago she had been a miserable, mousy, grieving girl whose own mother wouldn’t speak to her. And that she had been smart or desperate enough to come up with this Jason game. Now she laughed at cops, laughed at teachers, wasn’t afraid of anything–she had to give herself credit. Her life was so much better since–
    â€œWait a minute,” Mom said.
    Pausing on her way out the door, Jessie turned back to her mother, who stood studying her in the light from outside.
    Mom reached up to stroke Jessie’s face. “Son,” she said with proud love in her voice, “you’re growing up. You’re going to have to start shaving soon.”
    Jessie lifted her hand and felt prickly hairs growing out of her chin.

Chapter Thirteen
    Jessie drove to school in a daze, her mind spinning. She could pluck the chin hairs out when it was time, or wax them off, or there were other ways, laser surgery–
    Rounding a corner a little too fast for safety, she noticed her own hand on the steering wheel, her own flexed wrist and muscular lower arm, like a sculpture by Michelangelo, so beautiful in the sunlight, strong tendons of her fingers and perfect–
    Just like the hand and arm she had seen sprawling out from under the wrecked red Mustang.
    â€œNo,” she whispered.
    What was the first stage of grief? Denial?
    â€œNo!” she said fiercely out loud.
    Reaching school, she parked in a single space instead of diagonally across two. What the hell, the Z-car was scratched up anyway from whatever she had hit last night. She got out, started walking across the parking lot toward the school building, and hey, there was Alisha heading toward her.
    But then Alisha stopped dead and stared at her. In a sort of moan, Alisha murmured, “I was so upset I forgot. I didn’t call him. God help me.”
    Jessie wanted to say hi, but her voice came out sounding like Jason’s. “Hey, babe. ’Sup?”
    Alisha stepped closer, and in a shaky voice she said, “My God, Jessie, go someplace, now. Get away before it’s too late.”
    â€œWhat the hell you talking about?”
    â€œYou know exactly what I’m talking about.”
    â€œAw, get over