Read an Excerpt:
Slipping off his jeans and
boxer briefs, he unraveled the straps and stepped into the harness, centering
it to his body. Then, pulling the front cradle away from his skin, he placed
the packer in the sling and positioned it to the left. He had no idea why he
did that, but he did. Pulling his boxers back up, he turned sideways to soak in
the full view. Swiveling to face forward, he pulled his t-shirt over his head
and tossed it on the toilet lid. Inching closer to his reflection, he examined
the scars lining his chest a few inches below his nipples. Tracing the seam
with his fingertips, he peered into the mirror. A lot changed over this past
year.
Glancing to the side, he
cocked his head. Rapid breath competed with the drumming of his pulse pumping
through his chest, deafening all other sounds. He turned toward the small
window that faced the backyard. He was drawn to it, being pulled as if tethered
to a rope wrapped around his waist. Padding towards the glass, he rested his
shoulder on the frame and peered out. Abruptly he pulled back…what the hell was
Kyle doing in his yard? Quickly, he pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and flung
open the door.
“Tesoro, I gotta go
downstairs.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Margaret rushed into the hallway.
“Fucking Kyle is in the
backyard.”
“What? I’m coming with
you.”
The teens swiftly took the
stairs focusing on their mission to confront the bully who’d verbally abused
Alex for the past three years.
Wilby lay on the throw rug
in front of the television when they jumped down to the solid wood floor,
skipping the last few steps.
“Hey!”
“Wilby, stay in the
house.”
“What? Why?”
“Just listen, okay?”
“No.”
Alex narrowed his eyes,
but Wilby followed them anyway. Sliding the glass door open, Alex stepped onto
the small porch that crowned the yard. Kyle stood in the center of the property
on the pathway that split the yard into two equal sides. Behind him stood an
unattached garage. There wasn’t a solid fence, only a row of hedges separating
their property from the sidewalk and any unwanted guests, like the guy who
stood poised and ready for whatever he was ready for.
“Alex, don’t. He’s not
what you think.” A young boy stood at his side.
“Jacob, this isn’t the
time for games.” Alex narrowed his eyes.
Margaret tapped his
shoulder. “What did he say?”
“Not important.”
“Well, looks like Kyle
left in a hurry,” Margaret remarked.
“What? What are you
talking—” Alex glanced down at Jacob. The little boy shook his head up
and down. “You’re kidding me?”
“I tried to tell you,”
Jacob murmured.
“Alex? You can see me,
right?” Kyle asked in a shaky voice.
The boy glared at the
intruder. “Kyle’s like me.”
Jacob had died in a car
accident with his mother, and somehow, they were separated. Afraid to face the
unknown alone, the six-year-old would haunt the halls at his elementary school
until the day he followed Wilby home. He’d heard from others in the ghost world
that Alex had special gifts and helped the dead. Alex tried several times to
convince the little boy he’d be okay to crossover, but fear had rooted deep,
and even the coaxing of a living teenager who talks to the dead wasn’t enough
for the boy to go. He’d been a permanent resident of 55 Geranium Avenue ever
since.
“Now who are you talking to?” Margaret huffed.
“Kyle.”
“Kyle from school? What
the heck? He’s not here—uh oh.”
“Yeaaah. Uh oh.”
“Is he, I mean, is he
messed up?”
Alex understood why his
girlfriend had asked the question. It wasn’t just because she was curious; it
was one of the ways she connected with him. She knew some of the gruesome
spirits he’d encountered over the years. They’d had several explicit
conversations. Margaret was his everything, and that meant shouldering the
burden of seeing things that were hard to look at. Even if it was only through
his descriptions.
“No. He looks like he
always does.” Alex turned back to Wilby. “Bro, get in the house now, or I’m
telling Ma, and you know what’ll happen. You won’t be playing any of your games
for a really long time.”
“Okay, okay. Jeez. Just
because I didn’t get the know doesn’t mean I have to be sent
away all the time.”
“Hey. No one said you’re
not getting it. Just wait.”
“Whatever. I’ll be in my
room.”
Alex’s heart ached for his
brother. He’d been waiting since he was about five to get the gift that most of
his family from his ma’s side possessed. There was always the possibility that
Wilby could be like his dad, but he tried not to think about it. Alex had seen
spirits since he was old enough to talk, but it was different for everyone.
There was still time. Alex let his gaze travel from Wilby to Kyle, the terror
that had been the starring role in most of his nightmares since the ninth grade
now had an aura of a mouse more than a lion. Slouching shoulders, gaunt cheeks,
and eyes wide with fear consumed any remnants of the hulk he was.
Alex took a cautious step
toward the billowing ghost. A new spirit hasn’t mastered the skills of holding
onto a solid appearance, and in the beginning, it can look like ripples in a
pond.
“Kyle, what happened to
you?”
“I…I don’t know. I can’t
remember. Why can’t I remember?”
“It’s okay. You’re gonna
be okay. It happens sometimes. It’ll come back to you.”
Alex glanced over at
Margaret. She was biting her cheek. She knew he was lying. It didn’t always
become clear what happened to the person, and those were the spirits that went
insane. Not fully comprehending their death, how they got there, where they’re
going. They refuse the light and wander endlessly in an abyss of the dead, the
living, and the creatures that are damned and sinister. Telling Kyle that now
would serve no purpose other than a cheap jab at revenge for all the crap he’d
done to him. Alex couldn’t do it.
“Kyle, listen to me. We’ll
figure it out, but for now, I want you to follow me to my room. Can you do
that?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to
do this? The guy’s a beast. A creep.” Margaret huffed.
“I know, but he’s a dead
creep, and he needs my help.”