I left before Dad could try to parent me again, or before Grandma Claire could call out my bad behavior, or before Lorelai could make everyone laugh with some stupid joke.
I headed straight for my bedroom, walked into my closet, and had breakfast with Mom.
She never made me feel ugly.
If anything, my dead mother was the only one who made me feel somewhat alive.
***
Ellie drove Lorelai and me to school about twenty minutes after breakfast. Lorelai talked the whole ride until we reached her elementary school, which wasn’t surprising. Lorelai was always talking. She and Ellie laughed together, and I hated that. I hated how quick Lorelai was to like people. She had no boundaries around allowing people into her life, no matter what. She had this odd belief that all people were good people.
One day, that would bite her in the ass. It sure bit me when I realized that most people were jerks cosplaying as friends up until tragedy struck and no one stuck around.
Lorelai was dropped off first, which left Ellie and me alonein the car. Luckily, I kept my head down, headphones on, and Ellie didn’t dare try to communicate with me. She was probably scared I’d start growling at her again.
When we were about three or four blocks from school, though, I finally spoke up, slamming my hand against the back of the driver’s seat. “No! Stop here!” I hollered.
Ellie glanced back toward me. “What? Why?”
“No nanny has ever pulled up to the school and dropped me off in the past ten months,” I lied.
Ellie laughed, and I hated the sound of it. “What? That can’t be true.”
“Itistrue,” I exclaimed. “The last thing I need is to be embarrassed by having an adult drop me off in an expensive-ass car like a freaking ugly diva and then have everybody watch me limp into the building. It’s high school—everyone’s an asshole, even to the crippled girl.”Especially to the crippled girl.“So if you could please just stop the car.”
My brain was debating if that woman would buy the lies I was feeding her. I saw the doubt floating in her eyes before she cleared her throat and pulled the car over to the sidewalk.
Idiot.
She’d be fired and replaced in no time. It would probably be a new record.
I unlocked my door, then climbed out of the car. As I did so, Ellie turned to face me and said, “Listen, I know people in high school can be jerks, and if there’s anyone who is bothering you, you can talk to me. I can be your safety net,” she offered. “Or I can talk to the principal. Whatever you need, Karla, I’m here.”
I rolled my eyes. That was nothing personal toward Ellie. I always rolled my eyes at humans because I found them insufferable. “Can you not do that?”
“Do what?”
“Act like the ‘cool’ nanny. Listen, just because you work for my father, it doesn’t mean you get to act like you know me. We’ve known each other for, like, two hours. You’re nothing to me, and I’m sure it won’t take long for my father to find a reason to fire you, too. So don’t get comfortable. You’re just another temporary thing.” Without another thought, I slammed her door shut.
Ellie seemed even weaker than the other nannies. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she cried after she drove away. For a split second, I felt bad for being so harsh toward her. Mom would’ve made me apologize. Then again, if Mom was around, Ellie wouldn’t be, so, well... her fault for dying.
How utterly selfish of her to do such a thing. Death wassodramatic.
I started in the direction of the school as Ellie drove away. The moment she turned left, I went right, and found myself back at the cemetery, where I’d spend the next few hours.
As I walked up to Mom’s permanent home, I was surprised to see another person standing in front of her tombstone. He was a boy around my age, maybe a little older, kneeling down, talking to her as if he knew her. He was dressed in all black like me and staring directly at Mom’s spot.
My breath caught in my throat as a wave of nerves shot through my system. “Who the hell are you?” I spat out, my voice cracking on the word “you.”
The boy turned around to face me, and I gasped when our eyes met.
He wore a worn-out black hoodie that was oversized for his slim figure, scuffed black shoes, and black jeans that had seen better days. He had unkempt jet-black hair that fell forward, brushing against his thick eyebrows, and light-brown eyes that almost felt like comfort when they locked onto you. Hehad beautiful brown skin without a blemish in sight. I wished my skin was clear and smooth like his. His eyes were dark and unreadable, which left me uneasy. Yet when he lifted his eyebrow, they appeared to have a flicker of intrigue—or curiosity, perhaps? His face appeared as if it were almost sitting in shadows, even though the sun was fully out. He was... beautiful. But not in the normal way that annoyed me. He was a broken kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful that knew sadness a little too well.
The feelings of anger and unease kept racing through me, but it was the uneasiness that took the lead. He felt like a ghost of some sort. I should’ve felt more scared, but he didn’t seem dangerous. He just felt...wrong. Out of place in a way that I couldn’t explain. Almost as if him being alive was a mistake and he was supposed to be haunting the graveyard as part of his daily tasks.
Was he a ghost?
Was I hallucinating?