Chapter 22. Tessa
Tessa
By the time we pull ourselves together to check on Tilly, it’s five minutes after ten a.m. We head straight for Aunt Betty’s to find her at work.
“Why are the lights off?” I ask. “She’s usually here by now.” A chill prickles over my skin. All the other stores along the block are opening, from Lawson’s Deli to Hyperion Realty. It doesn’t make sense. I peer through the window, then remember I can step through. Reed follows.
The back door is locked. There’s no sign of her morning iced coffee or the crocheted bag she takes everywhere.
No. No. No. Did something happen while we were at Hal’s?
It’s unlike Tilly or her mom to leave the store closed, especially without a note on the door. “Something’s wrong.”
“I admit, it doesn’t look good.” Reed wanders behind the counter, looking for any sign of her. “Should we try her place?”
“Yes.” I don’t check if he’s ready. I call up the image of Tilly’s front lawn and send myself there.
Tilly’s car is now the only one in the driveway. Thank God. She’s still here. She probably overslept and is running behind.
Reed arrives on the grassy lawn beside me. “Tilly hasn’t left yet?”
“Not yet. Though it’s not like her to be late.” My fingers drum against my thigh as I wonder why it’s taking her so long.
“Should we go inside and check on her?”
I want to. Desperately. I know I’ll feel so much better if I can just see her face. But I waffle. “I don’t know. The bathroom light is on upstairs, which means she probably overslept and is finishing her shower or getting dressed. Maybe we give her a couple minutes.”
Reed looks mildly horrified. “I never really thought about it before, but you could be a super pervy creeper as a ghost.”
“I guess we’ve been using our powers all wrong.” I sit under the shade of the magnolia tree, with a good view of Tilly’s bedroom window, in case she walks by. I already feel better knowing she’s close. And at least out on the lawn we’ll catch Carl if he drives by again.
Reed plops down beside me. “What percentage of ghosts do you think use their time here to spy on people getting dressed, or watch them have sex? I’m guessing fifty percent.”
“What? You seriously think fifty percent of people in the afterlife are busy being pervs around town?”
“Uh … yeah. You don’t? Honestly, the number is probably higher. I’m reevaluating. I’m going with seventy-five or eighty percent now.”
“No way. Ten percent. If that. People are mourning their old lives or busy investigating the reasons why they died. There’s plenty for them to do besides …” I wave my hand at the house.
“You have far too much faith in humanity.”
“Clearly, we know which category you’d be in if you didn’t have my steady moral presence to guide you.” I knock my knee against his.
“Hey, I’m out here with you, remember? And besides, I don’t need to creep around like that, I have a hot ghost girlfriend.”
My eyes dart over to his, warm and honey brown. “Is that what I am?” I ask as casually as possible, my heart racing.
“A ghost? Yes. Hot? Definitely. And, my girlfriend? I mean … yes? Or … would you like to be? I wasn’t sure if you needed more time to get over Brandon.”
“Brandon?” I actually snort-laugh, which is not my sexiest moment, but I try to quickly recover.
“That relationship feels like a lifetime ago. Literally. Besides, I was preparing to break up with him at the party, but he got there first. He’s a good guy, though, despite how it ended, so none of your snarky comments. ” I narrow my eyes at him.
He pretends to zip his lips closed.
“But no, just so it’s out there, I’m not hung up on Brandon. I like you, Reed.”
His smile is infectious. “Honestly, maybe the whole boyfriend-girlfriend label is wrong. Whatever this is between us, it feels like more than that …” He trails off, suddenly curious about the patch of grass in front of him.
“I know.” I stop his fidgeting by lacing my fingers through his. “Sometimes it feels like we’re here together for a reason. You know?”
His eyes rise slowly to mine.
I’m unsure how to put what I’m feeling into words. It’s a thought that’s been bubbling under the surface for a while. “What if it wasn’t an accident we died here together? Maybe, somehow, I’m supposed to be here … with you.”
Reed gives my hand a squeeze, but before he can say anything more, the Sanderson Construction van screeches into the driveway and Tilly’s father gets out. He’s agitated, stumbling on a crack in the cement and dropping his phone. “Wait. Hang on!” He bends to pick it up. “Say that last part again.”
I exchange a worried glance with Reed. Something feels very off.
Mr. Sanderson struggles to find his housekey on his overloaded key chain. “They moved her to recovery? But did you get a chance to speak with the surgeon about her injuries yet?”
Reed and I leap to our feet. Is it … could it be …? But her car is here. The terror I feel is so palpable I’m afraid I’ll collapse under the weight of it.
When Tilly’s dad pushes past the front door, we follow him.
“Tell me what you need,” he says breathlessly, taking the stairs to Tilly’s bedroom at a run.
Inside he’s a human tornado, careening into lamps, slamming dresser drawers as he tosses her pajamas, socks, and an old T-shirt into a bag.
He runs into Tilly’s bathroom to grab a toothbrush, then returns and halts in the middle of her bedroom, glancing around anxiously—like his mind is spinning to catch up with his adrenaline-fueled body.
“I think I have it all. I’m heading your way now. ”
There’s a muffled voice upset on the other end.
“Dammit, Alicia, the store can stay closed for a day.” He leans over, hand on his knee, to catch his breath.
“Fine. I’ll swing by with the bag, then head over to meet the shipment.
I’m … just glad she’s alive.” A heavy sob reverberates through his chest. I’ve never seen an adult cry like that, except for my dad at the kitchen sink when I went home or Reed’s mom as she clutched the wreath on our porch.
He’s no longer Tilly’s father, builder of houses, teller of great stories; he’s a little boy, alone and afraid.
“What’s the room again?” His voice quivers.
“Two oh four. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
” Then he takes the stairs two at a time and races outside to his van.
Once we’ve transported ourselves to the lawn and Mr. Sanderson is pulling away, I tilt my head back and scream in frustration.
My body vibrates with waves of hatred for Carl.
“How could we be so stupid? We went to help Hal when we should have stayed here with Tilly.” I lash out at Reed.
“You said she’d be fine. You said Hal needed us, and that Carl can’t follow her twenty-four-seven.
We underestimated him, Reed. I never should have listened to you. ”
He rounds on me. “I don’t have any special information that you don’t have.
Okay? I’m trying to make the correct decisions moment to moment like you.
And it was the right thing to help Hal. Maybe it was a mistake for us both to go.
Maybe we should have split up, but you’re not perfect, either, Tessa.
When we got here, I said we should go inside to check on Tilly and you said to give her a minute, so everyone’s calling balls and strikes here and we’re both doing the best we can. ”
I glare at him, so angry I don’t care who gets caught in the crosshairs. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
Brandon would be wrapping his arms around me now. But not Reed. He stands firm. “Feel how you want to feel, it’s just the truth. Besides, we don’t know what happened yet.”
“Oh, come on. We know enough. He’s come for her in some way and now she’s in the hospital, in surgery. Her dad said she’s lucky to be alive! We’re failing, Reed.” I sink onto the grass, the weight of our mistakes ready to drag me into a dark hole I’m not sure I can climb out of.
“Look.” He kneels beside me and blows out a frustrated breath. “We can’t stop him if we don’t know what he’s up to. And getting pissed at each other isn’t helping. So, we go to the hospital, learn what happened, and make a plan from there.”
I nod at last, blinking tears from my eyes. “Let’s find her at the hospital.” Tilly doesn’t have time for me to be lost in my feelings. She needs me and we’re failing.
I’m failing.
Tessa Marie Sinclair, who aces tests and won student body president. Yet I’m unable to do this one thing: make sure my best friend is safe.
Even as I close my eyes to picture the hospital, I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m supposed to be the person everyone looks to as an example. I am not my father and his long line of work and money troubles. I’m not my mother and her disastrous marriage.
Failing is something I cannot let myself do.
And yet, in the darkest corner of my heart, I fear I’m an imposter, a fraud, and that’s exactly what I will do.
Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.
Right when Tilly needs me the most.
I never liked hospitals. I don’t know how Jillian does it every day. But we have no choice. We race through the hallways in search of room 204, past overworked nurses, intake stations, and orderlies pushing carts piled high with meal trays, Jell-O cups wiggling.
When we round the corner, I skid to a standstill.
A man in a hospital gown stands in the middle of the hall.
He suddenly turns and dissolves through a wall up ahead.
Of course there would be other ghosts here, but the sight of him is still a shock.
Reed catches my eye. He’s seen it, too, but he nods for me to continue.
When we arrive at room 204, I’m surprised to find Tilly already here, asleep. She must have been moved out of recovery. Her mom sits beside her, holding her hand. Her father’s probably still headed this way.
Seeing Tilly with an IV in her arm, her body bruised and shoulder in a sling, it’s too much to take in. My feet give out from under me as I buckle to the floor.