Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
KENNEDY
Ifeel as if I’m being pulled through the void again, except my Converse are still stuck to the bathroom floor in City Hall. It takes several deep breaths and a steady hand clinging to the side of the stall for me to remember this and to not fall victim to the swirling panic rising in my chest.
My body is still here, I tell myself. I’m in control. There’s no need to panic.
If that’s true, then why does it feel like a giant is sitting on my chest?
Eventually, I’m able to open my eyes without the sensation of falling. I wipe my mouth on my sleeve and flush the toilet with my shoe. At the sink, I stare hopelessly at my own reflection.
“Claudia’s here,” I say aloud, my voice echoing back to me.
Questions swirl around in my head: When did she move back to Shadow Hills? Why didn’t she tell me? Why did we go so long without talking?
This must be my punishment, being forced to haunt this sitcom of a small town for eternity. This must be what hell truly is.
A knock jerks me out of my wallowing, and I hear Pamela calling me from the other side of the door. “Is everything alright in there?”
I splash water on my face and gargle for good measure.
I wonder if ghosts get bad breath?
When I exit the bathroom, Pamela is holding a peppermint and offers it to me. “If your stomach is upset, these help.” She smiles, knowingly. “I get car sick, myself.”
I take it, wishing to pop it into my mouth immediately, but I pocket it instead. “Thanks.”
Mayor Musthaven shuffles from his office and meets us in the hallway. “If you’re not feeling well, we can continue this another day,” he offers. “I certainly wouldn’t want you to get anyone else sick.”
As if just realizing I could be contagious, Pamela takes a small step back.
“I’m fine,” I lie, and even I’m unconvinced. “But it’s no problem. I’ll make an appointment next time.”
Pamela turns on her heels and heads for her desk. “Let me get my boook,” she sing-songs. But I’m already halfway out the door. “Wait!”
I must not have the energy to maintain my corporeal body, because I no longer feel the ground beneath the soles of my shoes as I stomp up the sidewalk and out through the gate.
My arms and hands are back to being transparent, and I feel physically lighter.
It’s almost a relief, disrobing my human skin and bones, like a physical weight on my shoulders has been lifted.
Floating down Main Street, heads turn as I dodge as many pedestrians as possible, not wanting to move through them without their permission. My body may feel lighter, but my mind is heavy. For the first time since I appeared in Shadow Hills, I truly feel the significance of what’s happened to me.
I’m dead—that should mean I get no second chances, no opportunities to turn things around, because it’s over. Yet I’m here, so what does that mean for my fate?
And what does that mean for my relationship with my sister?
She’s here.
All this time, she was living in Shadow Hills while time stretched further and further between our texts that were just “checking in.”
I feel like I might hyperventilate, and people are starting to stare.
Not only am I the new ghost in town, but I’m hovering in the middle of morning traffic.
Dozens of eyes watch me as I try to navigate through the chaos.
Not twenty minutes ago, this street was quiet and picturesque.
Now it feels like a bustling city, and I can’t catch my breath.
“Who is that?” I hear from behind me.
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“Is she alright?”
“We should call the sheriff.”
At this, I kick myself into gear and book it out of there.
I shoot upward, eliciting gasps from the crowd below, then aim for the forest. I don’t want to go back to the house—I’m not ready to face Theodore with so much on my mind—but I don’t know where else to go.
Once the trees unfurl below me, I lower myself to ground level.
Beneath the canopy of frozen limbs and snow-covered leaves, I feel safe. Away from prying eyes.
The moon is still visible in the morning sky, fading against the blue and white hues.
It’s waning, nearing a perfect crescent.
I wish I could feel the sun’s rays on my face, but I don’t have the energy to shift back into my physical body just yet.
Instead, I wander, hovering over the snow as I move through the trees and allow myself to think about Claudia.
Did the mayor mention she owned the bakery?
I could have been within walking distance of my sister for the first time in years, and I had no idea.
This cannot be a coincidence, and as much as it terrifies me, I refuse to be a coward. There has to be a reason my spirit was brought here, and if this is it, I’m not going to ignore it just because I’m scared.
Flying back toward town, I find the bookstore where Raegan works and use it as a starting point.
In one direction is Double Double, the coffee shop, with a line already extending out the door.
And, a bit of luck, on the other side of the bookstore is a bakery named Bone Appetit Bakery, written in big, curly letters above the door.
Only a few hours ago, I thought I’d never see my family again.
Though my sister’s dance lessons caused a rift in our family, I tried not to let it come between the two of us.
It may have felt like my mother always put Claudia’s interests first, and I definitely resented her for it, but I didn’t put any of that blame on my sister.
I never wanted to take away her dream; I only wished our mom had enough room in her heart to support two daughters instead of just one.
But despite my efforts, time still pushed us apart.
As we grew up, my decision to no longer remain close with my mother consequently affected the way my sister and I communicated.
I didn’t want her to talk about mom, so she stopped updating me about her life, given she was still in it.
Over time, we had less to talk about, until finally, the calls stopped altogether.
Now, I’m standing in front of a store window with pink ruffled curtains, giant red bows pulling each panel to one side, and my heart swells at the thought of finally getting to see her again.
I swear I can smell the sweet scent of sugar and bread wafting through the door.
In the center of the window display is a tray of cupcakes with various winter designs.
One has a pair of ice skates drawn in icing and accented with tiny pearls to signify the holes for the laces.
There are others with snowflakes and snowmen that would catch anyone’s attention with how beautifully they’re detailed, but my eye travels to a much simpler design.
Right in the front is a cupcake covered with plain white icing and dotted with blueberries.
I used to love blueberries growing up. For the longest time, it was the only fruit I would eat, so my mom started sneaking them into various baked goods in order for me to have a more balanced diet.
Apparently, she also snuck zucchini and lentils into my meals, but I wasn’t told that until I was much older.
This is when we started the tradition of having blueberry pancakes on my birthday. I even stopped eating them throughout the year just to make it extra special.
Then suddenly, in the middle of the sidewalk, people filtering around my ghostly form, it hits me…
I remember the day I died!
It was the twenty-ninth of November, only two days before my birthday. I can see myself now, alone in my apartment, staring at the calendar and realizing I was about to be thirty years old. I try to remember what else happened that day, but my memories are blank after that.
I still can’t remember how I died, but remembering the date is progress. Now I know I wasn’t stuck in the void for as long as I thought; it was less than a week.
Only moments ago, I was filled with happy memories of my sister, and once again, the reality of my death has crashed the party. It feels impossible that I’ll ever get used to this.
A string of bells on the door chime to signal I’ve entered the shop, my body moving without me even realizing it.
No one is behind the counter, but I hear the faint call of “I’ll be right there!
” coming from the kitchen. My stomach clenches into knots.
I can’t tell if it’s her, so I try to busy myself with perusing the artfully displayed desserts in the glass case.
There are even more cupcakes inside, along with decorated cakes that say Happy Holidays and Happy Birthday.
In another case are pastries of all kinds.
I spy a blueberry scone and immediately want to reach for it.
Everything looks so good, I want to try them all, but I’m not sure if I’d even be able to.
I really need to find out if ghosts can eat food.
I wait patiently for someone to come to the front, but I just hear a lot of banging and muttering of curse words.
It sounds to me like whoever’s back there is a clutz, so it’s a good sign that it could be Claudia.
It’s one of the things we had in common.
In life, I was constantly bruising myself by knocking into things, and I broke my ankle twice by tripping over the sidewalk at my own house.
Finally, a young blonde woman with curtain bangs framing her heart shaped face comes around the corner with a wide smile and big blue eyes.
I haven’t seen her face in years, but I would know it anywhere. She looks just like me.
“Claudia?”