Page 14 of All Her Ghosts

Startled, falling, I jerk the stethoscope away, scrambling up and out of the plastic orange chair.

What in theentire hellwas that?

“Hey,” somebody says from the entrance, “if you want to play doctor, Ienthusiasticallyvolunteer.”

Whirling around, I find Sebastian hunkered in the doorway,crouched down around the corner, out of sight and beneath eye level. Relief hits me so strong I can taste it, as almond sweet as a cyanide- laced sugar cookie. I stumble a step back out of sheer self-preservation, clutching my stolen prize to my chest. I don’t know this kid and I don’t make friends easy. His face in the doorway shouldn’t feel like a compass swinging unerringly North.

“Why are you always on the ground?” I hiss.

“Where would you rather me be?” he asks and actuallybats his eyelashesat me, those strange black eyes alight with patient mischief. My tongue sticks to my teeth. Frozen, I can’t speak, locked in that same crossroads moment I felt in the classroom, in the hallway outside the nurse’s office, possibility sprawling out from my feet.

I can do anything. I can go anywhere. Theycan’t stop me.

I blurt, “You wanna get out of here?”

“Only always.” Grinning, Sebastian rockets to his feet. “Lead the way, Jenny,” he says and reaches for my hand.

I seize the moment, seizehim. Our palms meet like magnets, fingers tangling, a truer North discovered in the way our hands slot so perfectly together. My blood fizzes, head swimming, buoyed by carbonated bravery.

This time, I lead, a tall ship on an empty sea. Sneaking gets noticed faster than looking like you’ve got somewhere to be, so I shove my carpetbag under my elbow, hold that stupid hall pass in my right hand where the cameras can see—another unmagical spell for invisibility.

“I’ve only been here a couple days,” I warn him under my breath, “but there’s this back stairwell I’ve never seen anyone use. I’m pretty sure there’s an emergency door hidden behind there.”

Shoving the heavy stairwell door open, I walk past the stairs to peer around underneath them. Just as promised, the emergency door stares sullenly through the gloom, green exit sign unearthly in the dusty shadows of the staircase arching overhead.

My fingertips buzz. I swallow twice to unstick my tongue from my teeth, that perfectly regular door a gateway to Narnia in my eyes. Sebastian, on the other hand, sizes it up like a seasoned truant. He glances back into the hall, gauges the distance between us and the office, shrugs.

“We’ll have to be quick. It’ll set off an alarm.”

Last chance to back out. The rational part of me, barely more than a whisper, tells me to turn back now. I swallow that voice down.

“I can fix that. Here, hold this.” I hand him my bag, wedging the hall pass inside it. “And tell me if anyone’s coming.”

Sebastian fires off a salute. I scramble over to the door, teeth clenched, holding my nerves like a knife. This shouldn’t be hard—wires travel up along the doorframe, leading to the metal box that houses electronic components and the little speaker where the alarm sounds.

Standing in the darkness, I bounce from foot to foot to hype myself up, shake the tension out of my tingling fingers.

Time for my party trick.

“You can do this,” I whisper, flexing my hands. “It won’t be that bad. It’s never that bad.”

Wedging my shoulder in the doorway to prop my body up, I reach up, feeling around the outline of the box. My fingers hit the grill. I close my eyes. Concentrating, I leave my body just the slightest bit behind, ease my soul out an icy, pin-prickling inch to plunge spectral fingers into the alarm.

I lied. It’s that bad. It’salwaysthat bad.

The cold hits first, jagged teeth clamping my spectral arm as I force my soul through plastic and metal. The sensation sends weird shock waves through my ghost, gnawing all the way up the silvery cord of me and into my still-tethered meat. Then: the electricity, tongue to the socket, caffeine straight to my brain via migraine. My body jerks and shivers uncontrollably. I taste copper—probably bit my tongue again, but I can’t unclench my jaw with my muscles still seizing and half my attention dangling outside my body. My head screams, but I fight through it. I count out every aching second, suck the backwash dregs of life out of the machine onthree, and wrench myself away before I can risk falling into the power line feeding it. My skull overfull and buzzing, I snap back into my body just as the light on the alarm winks briefly dead.

“Okay, we’ve got maybe a minute. Come on,” I croak, pushing the door open. It barks an electronic cough, grumbles back to sleep. Turning, I glance back at Sebastian only to find him elbow deep and digging through my bag. “Can Ihelp you?”

He emerges with my MP3 player and a triumphant grin, my headphones already spiderwebbing between his fingertips.

“A dramatic breakout needs a playlist.”

He steps so close his heat hits me like a wall, the scent of his ghost spray coiling around me, lavender and ash. Haunting. Familiar like a word on the tip of my tongue, a name I don’t quite remember. He holds out an earbud for me to take, his black eyes on mine strangely solemn. Like he’s offering me something important. As if my choice—my toes curled on the lip of one last jump into the yawning abyss—matters.

Reaching out, I pluck my earbud from his fingers with a tremble inmy own. The bright-red cord hangs suspended between us, stringing our hands together. The moment doubles, overlapping déjà vu—

(Three old women pass a thread from hand to hand, ceaselessly weaving.)