Page 35 of Paper Ghosts

She gave him a strange look. “You’re not thinking of tossing me in the creek to see if I drown, are you?”

“Isn’t that what they do with witches?”

She backed away from the water. She wasn’t sure if he was joking.

“Does your grandmother know you’re out here with me?” he asked as he watched her sit on the twiggy forest floor and take out her phone.

“No,” she said, scrolling through her music.

He flicked some ash from his cigarette. “Good.”

She cued up “Everywhere Girl.” “I could introduce you one day. I think she might like you.”

“What an interesting invitation. So what am I, a pet project?” He took one last puff, then tossed the cigarette into the creek. He walked over to her and sat so close she could feel the buzzy heat of him. “What are you listening to?”

“A singer named Andy Smooth. He was from Hen Town, and my grandmother was in love with him. I found a picture of the two of them together. I like to think this song is about love.”

From the windshield of my van

Night grew blackberry blue

And stars overhead made their evening debut

Your lips to mine, I fell into you

Everywhere Girl

Just for one night

Go everywhere, girl

He threw his head back and laughed. “I hate to break it to you, but that song isn’t about love.”

“Yes, it is. It’s about experiencing something new and beautiful, something you never expected,” she said. “Among other things.”

“Is that what you call it? Other things?” he said, leaning in.

She leaned her head back in tandem. “Let’s just talk for now.”

“Talk,” he repeated. “Okay. About what? Here’s my vote: Other things.”

Bailey rolled her eyes. “What did you mean when you said you were going to burn everything down around you? We don’t have the rules of school anymore, but there are still rules to Hen Town.” She gave him a pointed look. “Pretty sure arson is one of them.”

“I wasn’t referring to arson. And I’m not staying in Hen Town, Bailey girl.”

“You’re not?”

“Hell no. I hate this place and everyone in it. And I’m going out with a bang. That’s what I meant.” He reached over to twirl some of her hair around his finger. “But I get why you’re staying. Here you have money. Your grandmother’s protection. The permission she gives you to look at people like they’re beneath you. You’re a perfectly crafted replica of her, but with nothing inside.”

She flinched at that. She had wanted to be understood, she just wasn’t prepared for him to understand the worst parts of her, as if that’s all there was. It was a fear she kept quiet, but one always there—that because Mim didn’t represent good things, maybe there wasn’t anything really good about Bailey, either.

“That was a mean thing to say,” he said softly. “I apologize. Outsider rage is what my middle school counselor called it.”

“I get it. I feel like an outsider sometimes, too,” she said.

He smiled, but when she didn’t smile back, he said, “You’re serious.”

“My grandmother must have felt the same way when she was my age. It was the only time she rebelled.”