Now that we’re dead, just how far can we go?
“Though I will say that if you start trying to train me to roll over or some such nonsense,” Rafe says, “we might have to have words.”
“I’ll be sure to avoid that. Maybe we’ll just stick with playing dead.” I chuckle, trying to mentally sidestep my inappropriate thoughts. “Is it...easier to be in fox form?”
Rafe shrugs. “In some ways, yeah. I can see better, hear better, move faster. When I...first died, it was a whole lot easier...” He trails off.
“You’ll have to tell me about that some time.” When he tenses, I squeeze his ribs, wiggling a knuckle in between them until he snickers. “Only when you’re ready. Maybe it’ll help me remember my death.”
Rafe grins. It’s slightly lopsided, and completely adorable. I can almost see the fox underneath. “If it’ll help.”
“And promise you’ll tell me if I do happen to do something stupid and offensive?”
Rafe hip checks me again. “Deal.”
I grin and dig my knuckle into his side a little more. He snickers and shuffles away from the attack, then falls back into step with me. As we’re crossing the field toward the rec center, I consider bringing up my mission to discover what happened to Haya’s roommate Erin. I need to take advantage of our privacy while I can.
“So, I think something weird is going on.” It’s a clunky opener but gets my point across well enough.
Rafe stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “What do you mean?”
“I mean everybody keeps avoiding my questions about Erin, my roommate’s former roommate.”
“Oh yeah.” Rafe stops in the middle of the grass, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haya and Kaz did both get weird about that. Then Landon’s whole speech about getting twisted...Think that’s what happened to her?”
“Maybe. I sure hope not. If it did, then they’re not talking about it. Probably to keep from scaring us. Still, I’m curious.”
Rafe smirks and starts toward the rec center again. “Team Untwist the Mystery.”
I snicker. “You sure came up with that fast.”
“Long story. But if you do want to do some sleuthing, I’m game. Though just so we’re clear, I’m not going down into any creepy basements. Don’t ask why.” He opens the door for me and sweeps an arm in a sort of overdramatic goofy bow.
I waltz past him, trying to match his dramatic movements and swallowing giggles. Even with all the danger and fear, spending time with Rafe is easy, fun. It takes a bit of the sting out of being dead. And having amnesia. Maybe once I find my body, the afterlife won’t be so bad.
The rec center is a massive building complete with a basketball court, volleyball net, and a ping pong table surrounded by a handful of battered couches. There’s another set of doors on the other side of the room labeled “fields,” which I assume means something like a baseball diamond or tennis court.
Some students hover in midair, tossing or kicking balls back and forth, while others lounge on the couches. A small crowd cheers as a pair of boys with pointy ears battle it out on the ping pong table. Fae don’t usually hang with other supes, but I guess death is the ultimate equalizer.
Yasmin is already in one corner, bumping a volleyball with another girl. I guess everything in here is spelled as well. Haya sits on a couch behind her, scribbling furiously on what looks like graph paper, pausing occasionally to type something into her calculator. Both are wearing casual clothes suited to some kind of physical activity. For about two seconds, I feel grumbly about the fact that I’m still in a pair of jeans, then I remember our handy little ghost trick. I pause and squint my eyes shut, conjuring up something easier to move in.
Rafe laughs. “Nice outfit.”
I give a little spin, lifting into the air to show off a pair of multicolored leggings and a gray tank top with the phrase “I’m here, but I’m going to complain the whole time.” It’s insanely comfortable, and I feel much more prepared to attempt all of the sporty things. Based on this phraseology, and my aversion to this whole idea of catching and throwing things, I’m guessing that this outfit is as close to athletic as I’ll ever get.
“Why thank you.” I smile at Rafe. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Understatement of the century. Those athletic shorts show off strong legs he must use for some specific sport, and that t-shirt follows the curve of his shoulders to perfection. It would be highly inappropriate to run my hands over them, but all I can think about is finding an excuse to do so. Messy hair falls into his dark eyes, and that grin lights up his entire face as he gives me another little hip check.
Yasmin waves at me with a bright grin on her face. “Hey Rafe! Billie!” She bumps the volleyball in my direction.
Before it even reaches me, I know what’s going to happen. I bat at it like some kind of deranged cat. It bounces off my flailing hands and rolls to the other side of the gym accompanied by a chorus of laughter.
“Sorry,” Yasmin says, chasing after it. “Guess you weren’t a volleyball player in your former life.”
“How dare you make fun of my very special technique?” I laugh, glad when she decides not
