Page 19 of Haunted

He stares at her, unblinking. “No. No. It’s not true. It’s not like going to sleep. Because if it’s like what happened to me, it’s coughing until you make yourself throw up, and still being unable to get the air in even after you’re heaving and your vision gets dark. You can’t breath and you’re so scared. We just saw them, Lance.” He turns to me, panic widening his eyes. “We just saw them and they were fine.”

I take the hand he’s reaching out and pull him into my arms. He drags in one shaky breath, and then everything he’s been holding gives way at once and he sobs into my shirt.

I look around the room. Mom has both arms around Bree, who is crying into her shoulder. Dad is staring at the floor. Shelley has her hand over her mouth. I’m not far off myself.

“I’ll just—we’ll be—” I tip my head toward the hallway and get him out of there.

I sit him on the bed and wrap my arms around him while he cries, muttering Elliott’s name over and over. Elliott didn’t even understand what was happening. He was fourteen years old and he thought it was a game.

I kiss the top of Parker’s head and rub his back while he buries his face in my shirt. He clings to me, and I keep rocking, long after the first wave has faded and he’s been reduced to ragged, choked breaths.

I don’t know how long we sit there. Long enough that the light through the curtains shifts, and I can hear Mom’s voice in the other room—low, careful, talking to Shelley. Long enough that my arm goes numb where Parker’s weight presses against it, and I don’t move it.

“You don’t have to go out there,” I tell him. “You don’t have to see anybody.”

He shakes his head. His eyes are red-rimmed and swollen. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“It’s okay.” I want to tell him that I’m honored that he trusts me with this, but that seems like the wrong thing to say.

He sits for a while longer, staring at his hands in his lap. I watch him pull himself together piece by piece—the breathing steadying, the jaw setting, his spine straightening. It looks like it costs him everything he has.

He rubs his eyes. “God, your shirt.”

I take it off, and he looks away while I put a fresh one on. “There. Problem solved.”

“I’m okay now. Thanks. I’d better go and talk to Aunt Shelley.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No. On my own. But thank you.”

I nod and open the door.

When we go back into the dining room, all conversation stops on a dime as the adults turn to look at Parker.

“Hi, Parker,” Mom says. “We were just talking to your aunt. Come sit down.”

“I know I can’t replace what you’ve lost,” his aunt says. “But I’m your guardian now, and I’m your family, and you will always have me. Always. You are not going to be alone in this.” She stops and steadies herself. “It’s only a studio apartment. I don’t even have room for a sofa. We’ll make it work. But you might have to transfer schools.”

Transfer schools. That means Central, over by the university—a different school. It wouldn’t be far on a map. It’d be far enough. I sink into the nearest dining room chair.

“Oh,” Parker says.

Mom reaches across the table and covers Parker’s hand with hers. “We don’t have to figure any of this out today. There’s time.”

Shelley nods, and I can see her hands shaking in her lap. She looks as wrecked as Parker does.

Parker looks at me, then back at his aunt. “Can I talk to you?” he says to her. “Just us?”

She stands and follows him out to the front porch, and I see their silhouettes as they sit on the wooden bench next to the living room window.

“Is she nice?” I ask.

“She seems nice,” Mom says cautiously. “But she’s not prepared. She’s grieving herself, and she’s overwhelmed. I would be, too.”

“Why can’t he just stay here?” I can hear myself getting loud. “Then he wouldn’t have to change schools or anything. He can have my room. I’ll set up in the basement if you’re worried about something happening. He won’t be any trouble. I swear.”

Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “Son, whatever we think, it’s his decision to make. Not ours.”