Page 13 of Waysider
That guy never intended for Cass to make it out of the water.
Cal had taken it for granted, being alive. Not just having the capability to intervene when Cass was being an idiot, like the day she sent that woman from Else & Bellows away, but the small things, too. As a ghost, Cal couldn’t even flip a light switch, or go for a drive, or hug his parents. He couldn’t pick up a ball or flirt with Teresa.
Now Cal was the one to flinch. He tried not to think about her—his sister’s best friend. But whenever he did, that was how he reminded himself of who she was. She wasn’t Teresa or the girl he’d been crushing on for years. She was Cass’s best friend. Her only friend. If Cal got involved, and inevitably fucked it up like he always did when it came to relationships, Cass might lose her. And Teresa was the only one, besides him, that could ground his chaotic sister.
Even with an entire country between them, not to mention any future together completely shattered, Cal could still hear Teresa’s soft voice. Always encouraging, or urging, or teasing. Sometimes pleading. Just one more math problem, Cass, and then we can go get ice cream. Just one more hour of sleep, Cass, and then I’ll go with you to the record store.
Time—that was what the living took for granted the most. Cal thought he would have so much time. If he had known he wouldn’t live to see his twenty-first birthday, he would’ve just done it. He would’ve said fuck it, and pursued Teresa the way he’d wanted to since he was fourteen years old and Cass brought her home for the first time. Cal had taken one look at her, saw all that tumbling dark hair and those tempting lips, and he was a goner.
He’d never get to touch those lips now. Never know what she tasted like.
A clicking sound drew Cal out of his thoughts. He refocused and saw that Cass had the lighter in her hand again, her thumb flicking against that small, spiked spiral. He watched as she lit yet another joint. Her head tipped back and rested against the edge of that goddamn chair. Cass blew out a cloud of smoke, and her eyes fluttered shut as the numbness took hold.
Helpless. Cal felt so helpless.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was a ghost at their little brother’s birthday party.
Gavin Ryan hated when his older siblings called him that, but right now, Cass couldn’t care less. He was her little brother. She might’ve forgotten he existed a few times over the years, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love him.
And right now, a ghost had Gav in its sights.
It stood behind one of the trees in the yard, tucked in the shadow of the fence. There weren’t any of the usual signs that Cass was looking at a dead person—its clothing was normal, its skull wasn’t crushed in, it wasn’t crying or screaming—but she knew. She just knew. Besides the fact it was the only adult in a crowd of fifteen-year-olds, it was the way the ghost watched Gav.
Like her little brother was something it wanted to eat.
“Have you thought about it?”
Cass jumped at the sound of Cal’s voice, which came from behind her. He’d been gone for hours, off on another one of his mysterious disappearances. Cass didn’t bother investigating where he’d been, since the answer was always the same. Just went for a walk.
Now Cal’s question floated between them, and Cass didn’t ask what he meant. The twins had always spoken in shorthand, before they could even form words, and Cal would see through her in a second if Cass pretended to misunderstand. So she turned her head, peering more intently through the window.
“Can you see them? The others?” she asked. Cass didn’t say the word ghosts. She never said that word around Cal.
He looked at her, his mouth twisted in thought. After another moment, he shoved his hands in his pockets and crossed the room. For anyone else, the floorboards would’ve creaked and moaned. But for Cal, they were silent twenty-three hours of the day—the rest of their family only sensed him between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m. A fact they’d only discovered when Dad had knocked on Cass’s door and asked her to stop pacing, because she was keeping Mom awake.
But Cass had been fast asleep in her bed. Cal was the one who’d been pacing, passing the long hours of the night in his room. Ghosts didn’t sleep, and there were times Cal felt like he was losing his mind. Moving helped.
Staying out of the light, Cal reached Cass’s side and leaned his shoulder against the window frame. He considered what she’d said. “Sometimes. Sort of,” he amended. “I don’t see them the way you do. It’s really more a… feeling. Like déjà vu, almost. You get a rush of images and thoughts, and they’re so intense that, for one second, you forget who you are and become the other. But then it fades, and it’s hard to remember what you just saw.”
Cass kept her attention on the party as she remarked, “That’s fucking creepy.”
“Yeah.” From the corner of her eye, Cass saw Cal’s mouth tighten. “So why won’t you go to that school in San Francisco?”
She’d been expecting him to ask why she was here, in this room. His room. It was exactly how Cal left it, the night he went to pick her up from the bus station. Her brother was predictably tidy, so the bed was made and every drawer firmly closed. But there were small touches, subtle hints that he’d expected to come back—a book, cracked open on the desk. A glass of water on the nightstand. Potted plants lining the windowsill. They were almost dead now. Every single one of them.
Cass’s throat worked. She blinked rapidly. Once her vision was clear, she refocused on the ghost crashing her brother’s party and glared at it. “I don’t want to talk about this, Cal.”
“You never do. It’s been a month. What excuse could you possibly have for turning down a full scholarship? You heard what that woman said. You graduate from that place, and you’ve got it made.”
“First of all, don’t you think it’s weird they’re offering me a scholarship? I’m a broke nobody with a shitty GPA and a police record. And second, you’re not at all worried about that creep down there?” Cass demanded, finally turning to Cal. She pointed at the edge of the yard, her finger jabbing the windowpane. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at Gavin.”
Slowly, Cal began to shake his head. He stared at Cass with a disappointed expression. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes. “And what day is that?”
“The day Cassandra Ryan acted like a fucking coward.”
