10. Foster
10
FOSTER
T he girl yelped and whirled toward me.
Oh my God, she panted, pressing a hand to her heart. Oh thank goodness, it s you.
I didn t feel so grateful, though. Letting go of my door handle, I stepped into the hall, growing pissed. Why are you in my house?
She glanced around herself, then asked, Is that where I am? I had no idea.
Yes, I seethed from between gritted teeth. This is where I live. Breaking and entering is becoming quite a thing with you, isn t it? How did you even get in here?
I… Wincing at me, she shrank a step away. You re really not going to like it if I tell you I don t know, are you?
Ah, Jesus. Of course, she didn t know.
Look, I don t know what s going on— I started, done playing games. But I felt suddenly deceived. I d been fucking worried about her, hoping she was okay. And all this time, she d been following me around town ?
Breaking into my house was the last straw, though. My family was sleeping just on the other side of all these doors.
I stormed forward, but before I could grab her arm and manually escort her outside, the door to Reed s room opened, and he stuck his head into the hallway. You okay, Foster?
I froze, gaping at him when he completely ignored the girl, acting as if she wasn t there, even though she was literally standing right in front of him.
I thought I heard you talking to someone, he added, still not acknowledging her.
Yeah, she spoke up, waving at him slowly. He was talking to me, sorry.
But Reed didn t respond to her. He simply kept watching me for an answer as if he hadn t heard her.
Uh… My brain stalled out, trying to make sense of what was happening. Yeah. I mean, was I?
Meanwhile, the girl slowly waved her hand inches in front of his face.
He didn t even blink. I heard you talking, he said, cocking his head to send me a strange look. Were you sleepwalking or something?
I d never been known to sleepwalk a day in my life, but I nodded slowly and swallowed hard. Maybe, I murmured as the girl standing between me and my brother hugged herself and started to back away from Reed slowly as if she was afraid of him.
He doesn t see or hear me, does he? Why doesn t he see or hear me?
Her voice fluttered with panic, and she started to breathe hard.
Can anyone else hear me? Hello ?
She shrieked the last word, and I flinched, gritting my teeth, sure she was going to wake the entire house.
Well, do you need anything? Reed asked, shifting uncomfortably, obviously not sure how to handle my bizarre behavior.
No. I waved a hand to dismiss him. I mean, I m fine. Sorry for bothering you; you can go back to bed.
Meh. I was still awake, he admitted. Just finished my book.
Cool. I bobbed my head in a daze. Was it any good?
Grinning, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and shrugged bashfully. It was only my favorite of the series so far.
Nice. I ll see you in the morning, kiddo. Okay?
Uh, okay. Seemingly confused by my abrupt dismissal, he squinted at me but then said, Night, Foster.
Good night, Reed.
After he turned away and went back into his room, shutting the door behind him, I heaved out a breath, glad he hadn t realized how freaked I truly felt.
Once again alone in the hallway with the girl, I transferred my gaze to her. She stared back, looking petrified.
What…is happening? she asked.
Knowing I couldn t speak aloud and wake anyone else, I widened my eyes and tipped my head toward my open door before motioning her inside.
She jumped and then hurried forward, darting past me to get into the room. I felt the air stir from her dash, and I shook my head, not sure how to even begin to deal with this.
Stepping in after her, I shut the door and pressed my back to it, heaving out a deep breath.
This is bad. This is bad. This is really, really bad, she chanted to herself, freaking out as she shook her hands and glanced around my room as if she d just found herself in a dungeon. He couldn t see me. Why couldn t he see me? Focusing on me, she demanded. Can you still see me?
Yes. I nodded. I can see you. And hear you.
Well, what does that mean ? she cried.
I… I lifted my hands to look at this objectively. I m not completely sure. But I m guessing that either you re a figment of my imagination, and I m hallucinating right now, or?—
When I paused at the second option, she stepped closer. Or what?
Or… I blew out a breath and couldn t believe I was going to even suggest this before I just blurted, Maybe you re a ghost.
A ghost? She blinked at me once, then blurted out a laugh before stopping abruptly to scowl. No. No ! Shaking her head, she began to pace the room. I don t like that option. Being a ghost would mean I m dead. And I m not dead.
Are you sure? I asked hesitantly.
Halting abruptly, she swerved around to send me a harsh scowl. I think I would know if I was dead!
You d think you d know your own name, too, I countered with a cringe.
She gasped, insulted, and then narrowed her eyes. Okay. Alright. Fair point. But if I was dead, could I do this ?
Spotting my wallet and keys sitting on top of my dresser, she tried to sweep them off with a swing of her hand.
Except she missed.
What the hell? Blinking in confusion, she tried again, but her hand went straight through the items.
Easing forward, I pointed out a single finger and nudged the keys, making them scrape across the top of the dresser.
Oh, dear God, she breathed, turning to send me a horrified grimace. Am I dead?
I don t know, I told her honestly. But I ve never been able to see ghosts before, and I m positive I ve been in the presence of a few.
Then I m not dead, she answered astutely and tried to grab my arm to prove it, only to cause a cool, misting sensation to coat my flesh when her fingers went right through me. Ugh!
I glanced down at the spot she d tried to touch and then back up again. I m going to go out on a limb and say you re not exactly alive either.
But I have to be, she told me, shaking her head. I—I—No! This can t be happening to me. It s all a dream. A crazy, stupid dream. Backing away, she looked toward the ceiling and cried, Well, I m ready to wake up now. When her back met the wall of my room, she added, You hear me up there? I m ready…any time. When nothing changed, she sobbed out her defeat and began to sink to the floor. I don t like this. I don t like this.
Plopping heavily onto the carpet, she drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them, rocking slowly.
When her rapid, stuttered breathing started to border on hyperventilation, my heart went out to her. I knew the beginnings of a panic attack when I saw one. And she was about to have an epic meltdown. My heart wrenched in sympathy, and I knelt in front of her.
Just breathe, I encouraged. Slow, deep breaths. You re okay. I m here. This will pass.
Shaking her head and having trouble processing words, she managed to stutter, B-but?—
No, I warned softly. Don t think about the scary stuff right now. Just think about the air going into your lungs and then coming back out again. Think about something nice, and just…breathe. This will go away.
Okay, okay, she tried. Something nice. Something nice. She glanced around only to return her gaze to me and say, Like your eyes. Your eyes are nice. You have beautiful blue eyes.
I huffed out an amused sound and shook my head. Whatever works for you, I guess.
It s working, she assured, looking deep into my eyes, so deep, in fact, that I had to swallow against the pulsebeat of feelings that surged through me.
She didn t have bad eyes herself. They were light hazel, almost gray, but definitely not brown or blue or green. They were simply…captivating.
Heaving out a settled breath, she whispered, It worked.
I blinked rapidly, realizing we d been trying to calm her down, not exchange intense eye contact.
Clearing my throat, I shifted backward and avoided looking straight into her face again. Good. Good. But when I glanced around my room, I felt different. Like something basic had altered inside me.
The girl blinked her lashes, then squinted in realization before she blurted, Wait. Is this your bedroom ?
Laughing over the random question, I pushed back to my feet and ran a hand through my hair. Yeah. Why?
Her brow furrowed thoughtfully as she looked around. Huh. Never guessed I d have to die before getting to see the inside of Foster Union s bedroom. That is just my luck. Gaze skimming back to me, she looked me over from head to toe. And this is what you wear to sleep in each night?
I glanced down at my attire: a brown T-shirt with our yellow Stetson the Stormin Stallion mascot on the front and a pair of black boxer shorts.
This is what I wear to bed, I answered with an affirming nod.
Hmm… She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth and looked momentarily disappointed before admitting, I was kind of hoping you d wear—you know—less.
Feeling my face heat, I laughed and shook my head, shifting a few more steps away from her. Sorry to disappoint. But my four-year-old sister likes to randomly come in and crawl into bed with me in the middle of the night, so I usually keep the man thong tucked out of sight.
She brightened. You actually have a man thong?
I lowered my eyebrows. No.
Oh. She slumped dismally, only to snap her fingers. But you could at least take your shirt off. Four-year-olds don t care if grown men go shirtless.
Amused and flustered at the same time, I shook my head with an embarrassed laugh. I m not stripping for you, sorry.
But I ve seen you pose in your social media page without a shirt on when you ran a 10K.
I lifted my hands. Then why do you need to see my bare chest now?
Because that was a picture. This is real life.
Oh my God, no.
I could be dead , she argued, pressing an impassioned hand against her chest. Do you really want to begrudge a poor, frightened ghost girl from what could possibly be her last wish ever ?
How about we focus on trying to figure out your name? I countered.
If I remember it, will you take off your shirt, then ?
I exhaled heavily to seek some patience, only to give in with a dry, Sure.
Really? Yes ! She clapped excitedly before clearing her throat and drumming at her chin with two fingers in thought. Let s see. Let s see. What pairs well with the middle name Diane?
No clue. Returning to my bed, I collapsed onto the mattress with a sigh. How about Elizabeth? And with a yawn, I stretched out my legs, then draped the back of my arm over my brow.
When the ghost didn t answer within ten seconds, I lifted my face to make sure she hadn t disappeared on me again. But she was still there, sitting against the wall, just blinking at me.
Hello? I asked, waving a hand.
Hmm? What? She jerked her gaze from my legs and lap area to ask, Did you say something?
I groaned and bent up my knee to conceal the family jewels a little more from her avid stare. You mentioned someone named Kinsey last night. Is she your friend? Does she attend HaveU as well? Maybe I can look up her name in the school directory and?—
Nope. Sorry. My ghost was already shaking her head. Kinsey s my sister and lives in Galveston. She didn t go to college at all.
Galveston? I repeated, sitting up and reaching for my phone. Are you from Galveston?
Yep. Born and raised. I lived there with my dad and sister until I came to Westport to attend HaveU.
Really? And your last name is…? I asked as I started to type the town s name into a search engine. The island was located a couple of hours north of Westport, but I d only been there maybe once or twice in my life.
The girl on the floor sighed as she pushed to her feet and wandered over to the bed where I was scrolling. Can t remember, sorry.
What about your mom? I asked as I opened pictures of Galveston.
Died giving birth to me, she answered, sitting on the bed next to me as she pointed to my phone. Hey. There s Pleasure Pier. And Moody Gardens! I actually worked at the garden during the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. I fed the monkeys and two-toed sloths. Did you know sloths eat, sleep, mate, and give birth upside down?
Of course, she d remember that over her own name.
Shaking my head, I admitted, I had no idea.
She nodded. Yeah. Carlton was my favorite sloth. He was such a sweetheart.
Did you live near there? I asked.
About fifteen minutes away. Just a couple of blocks from Moody Mansion, in fact. And the captain—that s my dad—he runs a fishing service over on the pier.
Oh, yeah? Listening to her details, I pulled up a map of Galveston before zooming in to the mansion she mentioned, hoping she could point out where she used to live. And what s the name of his charter?
It s—oh crap. With a crumpled expression, she scowled at me. I can t remember.
That s okay. No problem. Showing her a picture of the entire island, I asked, Could you maybe point in the general direction of which pier he works from, though?
Sure. Her index finger extended. It s east of I-45, there, and just south of Pelican Island in the channel.
Perfect. I slid the map left so I could see more to the right of the mansion, then entered a search for the word charter . When a host of red pins popped up, showing us all the charter services in that area, I blew out an overwhelmed breath but then began to read them off to her anyway.
Bill s Fishing Company? Up and Away Adventures? Texas Rich Charters? Casting Crew Guide Service? Chum Charters?—
There! She jabbed her finger at the screen. That s the captain. Chum Charters. Ooh! And he s Captain Chum. Kinsey and I actually named him and his service. He decided to go into business for himself when we were just kids, and the only show we could all stand to watch together back then was SpongeBob, so we named it that after the Chum Bucket.
Nodding as I did a search for Chum Charters in Galveston, I asked, But not after the Krusty Krab, huh?
No, she sounded depressed to report. The captain was worried people would think he only specialized in catching crabs, so we finally settled on Chum Charters.
Makes sense.
Pulling up the website, I clicked on the About page and quickly found the name Captain Mitchell Chum Bollen as the sole proprietor with a picture to the side of a man in shorts, a T-shirt, and a ball cap, sporting a neatly trimmed beard as he knelt between two young girls and helped them hold up a decent-sized redfish that had to be a good three-feet long.
Squinting, I leaned in and looked at the younger girl on the right. She had the same red-brown wavy hair and square-shaped face as the woman next to me.
That s you, I said, glancing over at her. Isn t it?
But holy hell, she was an actual person that existed out in the real world; she wasn t just a figment of my imagination.
She leaned in to look. Yep. And that s Kinsey right there.
Her sister had more brown and less curl in her hair, but she looked as pretty as the younger girl.
Feeling as if we were finally getting somewhere, I said, So your dad is Mitchell Bollen?
She nodded. But Kins and I call him Captain. The other kids in school thought I was so weird for calling my dad Captain, but… She shrugged. That s who he s always been.
And that would make your name Blank Diane Bollen? I guessed.
She was thoughtful a moment before zipping her gaze to me and answering, Yes. Oh, wow. You re quite the detective. Shifting her shoulder over toward mine as if she was going to bump hers into me, she said. Man, you should ve majored in that instead of pre-med.
I shook my head as I logged into the campus directory. It s completely beyond me how you can know what my major is but not your own name.
I know! Isn t it, though? The brain is such a funky thing.
Typing Bollen in the last name box, I then clicked on the search bar and held my breath.
When two results popped up, I bypassed the first one—deciding she probably wasn t faculty member Dr. Richard Bollen—and moved on to the next name on the list, only to suck in a surprised breath and slap the screen of the phone against my chest before she could see it.
Oh shit! I blurted, unable to stop myself.
What? What?
I swallowed heavily and then glanced up to meet her wide, curious eyes. I… Dammit. How was I going to be able to tell her this? I think I know who you are.
Well? She rolled her hand, encouraging me to spill it already. Who am I?
Is your name Raina?
Her eyes filled with recognition, and she smiled wide at me as she pressed both hands to her chest. Yes! Oh my God, yes. I m Raina Diane Bollen. Wow. Thank you. Moaning, she rolled her eyes in pleasure. Do you know how awesome it feels to finally remember who I am again?
I couldn t celebrate with her, though. Realizing she must not have survived the wreck, I blew out a heavy breath and fell back against the headboard, feeling strangely bereft.
I mean, I didn t know her, hadn t once met her while she d been alive, but it didn t seem fair at all that this beautiful young vivacious woman was no longer breathing.
And last night, she d told me she had a life wish, dammit.
Letting go of my phone, I let it slide into my lap as I cupped my head in both hands, shell-shocked.
Raina slowly seemed to grow aware of the fact that now was not a time for celebration. Falling somber, she demanded, What? What s wrong?
I winced at her, and then just said it. You were in a car accident.