Free Ghosts of Coronado Bay by J. G. Faherty

that he expected of her.
    I can’t wait to see the expression on his face. Maybe I’m not as bad as I thought I was.
    Laughing at his imagined reaction, she hurried out the door and down the street towards Our Lady of Sorrows, Coronado Bay’s only Methodist church.
    Halfway there, a familiar figure stepped out from behind a tree and waved to her.
    “Blake!” She picked up her pace, closing the distance between them, grateful to see a friendly smile on his face.
    I hope that means he’s not mad at me.
    “Good morning, Maya,” he said, his voice as happy as his face.
    “Hi. I’m, like, really sorry about last night. My parents made me work late, and I couldn’t call you ‘cause you don’t have a phone, and then I went to the Lanes looking for you and then walked down to the beach and then these guys attacked me, and--” Maya stopped, belatedly realizing her words were pouring from her mouth in machine-gun fashion.
    “It’s okay,” Blake said. Then his face turned serious. “But I have something important to talk to you about. I--”
    At that moment, the church bells pealed, announcing there was only a couple of minutes until services started.
    “C’mon, I can’t be late or Pastor Harris will tell my parents!” Maya grabbed Blake’s hand and ran down the sidewalk to the church, not pausing until they opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped into the incense-scented semidarkness. A few heads turned and cast disapproving glances as the door banged shut behind them.
    “We’ll sit in the back,” Maya whispered, pointing to a half-empty pew. “That way we can leave as soon as the service is over.”
    “But I--”
    “Sshh!” Maya put a finger to her lips and pulled Blake down into the seat next to her. “Tell me later.”
    For the next fifty minutes, Maya did her best to pay attention to the sermon, but found her eyes continually drawn to the boy sitting next to her. His frigid hand was a constant reminder of his presence, not to mention something of a relief in the warm, stuffy church. Every time their eyes found each other, a little tingle shot through her and made her squirm in her seat.
    Even when he faced forward, as he did most of the time, seemingly enthralled by the pastor’s sermon, he held her attention. She took time to study his profile. His pug nose, which seemed almost babyish when viewed straight on, had a more mature look from the side. His light brown eyebrows bent forward as he concentrated on the pastor’s words. His eyelashes, so ordinary from the front, were in actuality long and delicate.
    She wondered what he was thinking. Had he attended church regularly before he died? How did church today differ from his time? Had he always been so serious, or did that come from being a ghost?
    Grandma Elsa still jokes with me all the time. Maybe Blake was just a shy kid, or maybe it had something to do with drowning the way he did. That had to be a horrible experience.
    Having something other than the Reverend’s sermon to concentrate on helped the time go by, and before she knew it services came to an end. As soon as it did, she and Blake made a hurried exit. Maya didn’t want to get stuck talking to anyone, especially since she still had no idea how she’d handle explaining Blake’s presence.
    “Can we talk now?” Blake asked, as they descended the long stone front steps of the church.
    “Sure. I--” The chime of Maya’s cell phone interrupted her. “Hang on. Hello?”
    “Maya? Where are you?”
    “Just leaving church, Mom. What’s up?”
    “Can you come right over? It seems like half the town decided to go out for breakfast today, and the other half is probably leaving church with you and heading over here.”
    “Sure. Be right there.” Turning to Blake, she said, “I’m so sorry. My parents need me at work right away.”
    He looked distressed. “But I really need to speak with you. It’s important.”
    “Can it wait until later? I get off work at five. Meet me at my