Chapter 24
The first person I meet after seeing the guidance counselor is Xander.
I swear I won’t let another boy make me miss out on a college application again.
Lesson learned. July is nearly here, and August is creeping closer.
But if I end up becoming invisible to more people than just Murray, if I freeze at the age of eighteen forever, then getting out of Penango won’t mean a thing.
On my drive to the Bean, I think through my options for a letter of recommendation.
My cross-country coach and my mathletes advisor wrote the first ones for my college applications last fall, but I haven’t spoken to either of them since December. Plus, every other applicant will probably use teachers or coaches. I need an edge. Someone whose letter will stand out.
Victor might not seem like the smartest person in Penango, but his credentials say otherwise. An environmental health specialist has a nice ring to it. I doubt most people have ever even met one. If he knows how to write, maybe impressing him wouldn’t be a total waste of my time.
The Bean is mostly empty in its final hour before closing. Xander sits in a corner booth slurping a strawberry milkshake. He waves with a grin.
The waitress, the same one who witnessed my fight with Murray, nods at me from behind the counter as I make my way toward him.
“Seat yourself, I guess,” she says.
I hesitate, unsure how to tell her that my friend already has a table. I pop in my earbuds so if anyone sees me talking to Xander—or myself, in their view—I can pretend I’m having a conversation on the phone. Although I doubt that will be convincing.
This whole situation has me acting more bizarre as the days stretch on.
Sliding into the booth, I glance at Xander. Something about him looks . . . different. Then I realize—he’s wearing a shirt. Maybe for the first time ever. And not just any shirt. It says STHS 2014 Mathletes.
“Where did you get that shirt?” I ask.
“Hello to you too,” he says. He slides me a second pink milkshake across the table.
I blush. “Sorry. I’m just surprised to see you clothed.”
“I got you that shake. Hope you don’t mind.”
I eye the cup. “How did you order these?”
“I made them myself in the kitchen.” He winks.
“Are we just doing dessert?”
“Who says dessert can’t be dinner?”
I shrug, then take a sip. The second the liquid hits my tongue, my eyes water. I force a swallow, then break into a coughing fit.
“Oh my gosh, this is so sweet. What did you put in here?” I turn the cup in my hands.
“Oh, just triple the strawberry syrup and extra maraschino cherries.”
I tap my chest, still recovering. “You’re insane.”
“It’s good. I’ll finish yours if you don’t want it.”
“No, I want it,” I say, forcing another sip. “Back to your shirt.”
He tugs at the fabric. “I got this from school. It’s vintage, baby.”
“You were in mathletes?” I tilt my head to the side. “I was too. I thought you weren’t smart?”
He laughs. “I wasn’t an idiot. I just wasn’t at the top of my class. I was more like Cady Heron from Mean Girls. Cool, but still capable of solving for x and y.”
I smirk. “You know Mean Girls?”
“Stetson, do I need to remind you that I’m not dead? I still experience life.” He sips his milkshake. “Which clique were you a part of at school?”
I shrug. “We didn’t really have cliques. There were only seventy people in my class. Everyone did sports. Everyone did theater. We were all Cady Heron.”
He chokes on his shake. “Seventy people?” He wipes his mouth. “Wow. I read about Penango’s population decline but didn’t realize it was that bad. There were almost two hundred kids in my class.”
“It was even worse before we merged with Hancock Valley High.” I swirl my straw in my drink. “That’s how I met Murray. He transferred in sophomore year.”
The waitress appears at our table, her pen aimed at me like a weapon. “How did you get that shake?” Her voice is tight with suspicion. “Were you just in the kitchen? You can’t go back there.”
“I . . . um.” My mouth goes dry.
“Tell her to look over there,” Xander murmurs.
“What?”
“Just do it.”
I gulp and point toward a framed photo on the other side of the diner. It captures Penango’s Main Street in the early 1900s. “Wait, what’s that over there?” I ask.
She scowls but glances over her shoulder. “What’s what?” she asks.
In the split second that she’s distracted, Xander snatches my milkshake.
I furrow my brow. What the hell is he doing?
When the waitress turns back, her face drains of color. “Wait—where did it go?” She blinks at the table. I still see the milkshake, but it must be gone for her now. “I swear there was just a strawberry milkshake sitting right here.”
I press my lips together, struggling to hold back a laugh. Across from me, Xander grins, barely containing his own amusement.
“See? Just trust me,” he whispers.
I clear my throat and morph my face into something resembling innocence. “I’m sorry,” I tell the waitress, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I don’t know what shake you’re talking about. But a strawberry milkshake does sound nice. Could I order one?”
She studies me, then looks under the table for a final check. “Yes.” She straightens. “But if I see that other shake, this will be the last one you get all summer.”
I nod.
With a huff, she pushes through the red swinging doors into the kitchen.
Xander bursts into laughter once she’s gone and slides my shake back across the table.
“How did you do that?” I ask, my pulse still racing.
“Turns out everything I touch goes invisible too. I guess that’ll come in handy with you.” He tilts his head to think. “My invisibility was depressing before, but now that I can interact with the real world, it’s almost like a superpower.”
“Everything?” I press.
“As long as it’s not rooted to the ground . . . or a person. There are exceptions.” He tosses the ketchup bottle between his hands. “I’ve been testing it since I met you. You just haven’t noticed. No one usually does.”
“What do you mean?”
He bounces his eyebrows and sticks out his tongue. “Watch this.” He slides out of the booth and saunters to the counter. A second later, he returns with a napkin dispenser. “Need more napkins?” He smirks.
Just then, another waitress walks by the counter, pauses, and does a double take. “Hey, Brynn!” she calls out. “Can you grab napkins for the counter settings? I thought I already put some out.”
I stifle a laugh.
“See.” Xander shrugs. “People are too busy looking at their phones these days to notice anything weird.”
He returns the dispenser back to its original place. The waitress walks by us again after helping a table and spots the napkins now that they’re out of Xander’s clutches. “Wow, thanks, Brynn.” She taps the counter. “That was fast.”
I narrow my eyes. “Okay, so you’re definitely smarter than you let on.”
His grin widens. “I’m glad you think so. But I won’t be satisfied until I figure out how to break through the internet and cell signals to actually communicate with people. So far, every message I send just vanishes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve tried texting my mom. Emails too. But nothing ever delivers.” He takes a long sip of his shake.
A chill spreads through my limbs. I lace my fingers together to keep them from trembling. “That’s been happening to me.”
His hand pauses around his cup. “How?”
I exhale sharply. “My ex . . . Murray. He was texting me, but I wasn’t getting any of the messages. I thought he was lying. My friend Whitley had to set up our last meeting here and—oh my god.”
Xander sits up straighter. “Are you okay?”
I push to my feet, spin in a circle, then collapse back into the booth. “I had a fight with Murray here. Just two tables over.” I point at the spot. “But it wasn’t a fight. He couldn’t see or hear me. I was invisible.”
My breath stutters as I replay the meeting in my mind. Murray kept checking the time, glancing at the door, waiting. He wasn’t ignoring me. He thought I hadn’t shown up.
“It happened after the Ardor Tree. I just didn’t realize he couldn’t see me at the time.” I put my hands to the side of my head. “I’ve been like this longer than I’ve thought.”
Xander nods. “Do you think we weren’t killed . . . but cursed or something?”
“And that’s why we can see each other. Because we share the same curse.”
“We have to figure out what’s going on with that tree.”
I bite my nail, then turn toward the faded photo of Penango’s Main Street hanging on the wall.
“I’ve been listening to this podcast about Appalachian folklore. Every mystery or curse in these mountains has an origin story.”
“Right.”
“We need to find ours.” I point to the photo again, this time on purpose. “The Ardor Tree is part of Penango’s history. We just have to dig deep enough.”
Xander exhales. “I have been looking, you know.”
I arch an eyebrow. “But I bet you haven’t gone through the county archives at the government building.”
His grin returns. “I certainly haven’t. You’ve been keeping this from me? What do they even have there?”
He slides out of the booth and stands. The snug sleeves of his T-shirt stretch over his shoulders. His sharp jawline cuts through the neon diner lights.
His presence is magnetic, and before I even think about it, I’m standing too.
“I can take you there,” I say, my voice softer than intended. I catch his next breath in my mouth.
He leans in just slightly. “Then let’s get out of here.”
But before we can make a break for it, the kitchen door swings open.
“Hey!” The waitress stomps toward us, balancing a fresh pink milkshake on her tray. “I just made this. Where do you think you are going? You need to pay!”
Xander grabs my wrist, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
I don’t second-guess what happens next. I just run with him.
I trip over his heels as we dart toward the exit. My palms press his back, urging him to move faster. At the door, he fumbles with the handle, his focus flickering between me and the furious waitress gaining on us.
She can’t see him, so he’s not running from anyone, but I can tell he’s enjoying pretending to live again.