Are they trying to avoid scaring me? Because not answering questions has the opposite effect. Maybe something more sinister is going on? I realize I know very little about this place or the people, ghosts, in charge. When they said they’d teach me, I accepted it without much question. This might not have been the smartest decision in the world.
Then again, maybe Locklear is the best place for me to find answers. I’ll have to be careful about who I talk to, but as my fellow newbie, Rafe seems like the best place to start. Together, we might be able to figure out what in the realm of the dead is going on.
Chapter Seven
The incident in the woods shakes me less than Kaz and Landon’s reactions to my question. Their insistence that students “very rarely” get twisted at Locklear does less than inspire confidence. In fact, it weaves worry into my chest and stitches it up my throat so I can’t think as clearly as I’d like.
I try to breathe it out as I wobble to dinner, all kinds of ready for a little comfort food, and super jazzed about the fact that I can eat in the afterlife. Maybe pizza or mac and cheese will make me feel better. Plus, calories can’t possibly count since I’m a ghost, right? Kaz said eating too much would make me feel like trash, but a little comfort food in moderation won’t hurt.
This, of course, has me curious about how other things affect me now that I don’t have a body. Obviously, I can touch other ghosts, but what else can I still do? What are my limitations? Kissing, for instance. Or…
“Hey, Billie, wait up!”
I jump a little and turn to see Yasmin sprinting toward me, waving as she runs.
I pause, holding the door open and working up a smile.
“Uh, can I sit with you at dinner?” She asks, tugging on the bottom of her striped shirt. “I’ve been sitting alone the last few days. My roommate, Melissa, says her table’s full.”
“Psh, she sounds lovely. And yeah sure, we’ve got plenty of room.” I snort. “As long as you don’t mind one person in our group being a bit cranky.”
As we float to the counters for our trays, Yasmin chuckles. “Landon is a prickly pear, isn’t he? Kind of cute, but broody.” She uses tongs to fill a bowl with salad greens. “There’s a rumor he was a model when he was alive. Maybe starving himself to keep his girlish figure built up a lot of resentment that carried over into the afterlife.”
I snicker. “That would make anybody angry. Or, hangry, I guess. Maybe he died doing some kind of fad diet.”
Yasmin and I grimace at each other, and she adds a couple of boiled eggs to her salad. “Feels weird to be so casual about death, huh?”
“Very.” I spoon some awesome looking mac and cheese onto my plate. “I figure it helps not to tiptoe around it.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Yasmin releases a heavy sigh. “I got hit by a car. It took a corner too fast and, well, the end of that story’s obvious, I guess. I’m pretty sure my unfinished business is a friend of mine, Rosa.”
When she doesn’t expound, I nudge her with a shoulder, add some roasted chicken to my dinner, then lead the way toward my table. Landon and Haya are already there, but Rafe’s nowhere to be seen. Disappointment curdles my gut. I brush it aside and glance at Yasmin.
“I have no clue how I died.”
“Seriously?” she asks.
“Nope. Hoping my memories will come back soon though. Without them I’ll have a hard time completing my unfinished business.” We reach the table and I set down my tray. “Got room for one more?”
Haya grins. “More than enough room. Have a seat!”
As I introduce Yasmin to the group, Landon glowers, but doesn’t protest. Good. I’d be tempted to kick him out of his chair if he did. Yasmin and I settle just in time for Rafe to shuffle up with a freckle-faced kid he introduces as Quinn who carries nothing but a Styrofoam cup I’m pretty sure is full of smoothie.
Why in the realm of the dead would anybody waste their afterlife on smoothies?
They sit and I glance between the two, wondering if this is the less than stellar roommate he’d mentioned before. Based on looks, the kid’s kind of a wash, but not necessarily a nightmare to room with. Then again, basing anything on looks is complete crap. Landon proves this on a daily basis. His gorgeous face can’t make up for his garbage personality. And I’m definitely not into bullies.
I focus in on Yasmin, who is all kinds of lovely. “Were you a supe?”
“Yes, I could fly,” she says. “What about everybody else?”
For the first time I realize I don’t know the answer to this. Apart from Rafe, I have no clue what everyone else’s powers are. I should have asked, and the fact that I didn’t fills me with guilt. This limits my ability to breathe. Even though I don’t need to do it, it still feels painfully necessary. Amnesia is no excuse for self-focus. I lift my brows and focus on the others’ answers.
“Flying sounds awesome. It’s every human’s first answer in the question about what super power they could have.” Rafe nudges Yasmin, dimples at full power.
Even Landon can’t quite dodge their effect. He offers a tight smile I can tell he’s restraining. “Fair point. What about you?”
“Fox shifter. But not tiny like a fennec with giant ears.” Rafe flexes dramatically. “I’m huge. Very tough.”
Yasmin laughs. “Me thinks he protests too much.”
Rafe presses a finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”
To my surprise, Landon answers next, albeit with a healthy dose of sneer. “Supe. I control and create fire.”
“Appropriate, right? I often wonder which came first, the fiery personality or the power. Age old question of chicken and egg.” Haya giggles, then wiggles her fingers. “I’m a straight-up
