Page 55 of Ghosted

I pull my sleeve down and keep walking, trying not to think about Alice in that basement with Johnny standing too close. Trying not to think about his smile, her mouth, the way he looked at her like he’d already found a new way to fuck with me. Trying not to think about how still she went when I walked in, like she knew exactly what kind of storm she’d been standing in the middle of.

I make it as far as the chapel path before I stop lying to myself.

The library is behind me. The dorms are ahead. Between them, the back path cuts through the trees, narrow and dark and slick with rain. The old cemetery fence runs along one side, black iron spears wet beneath the lamps. Beyond it, stone markers sit crooked in the grass like the dead are tired of pretending this place has any respect for peace.

Campus lights glow through the rain.

Close enough to safety.

Far enough to make reaching it interesting.

I slide the backpack off my shoulder, unzip it, and pull out the mask.

White. Horned. Black mesh eyes. Jagged teeth.

Ugly as fuck.

Perfect.

I toss the empty bag into the trash can by the chapel gate, shove it down beneath wet coffee cups and soggy flyers, then turn the mask over in my hands.

My mind goes right back to Alice outside the arts building.

Rain on her lashes. Her umbrella tipped back. Her mouth acting bored while her eyes gave her away. She stood there beneath that covered walkway, too close to me, too curious for her own good, looking at me like fear wasn’t something to run from if she got to choose the shape of it.

That’s what stuck.

Not just that she wasn’t scared.

That she wanted to be.

Just enough.

Just in the right way with the right monster standing in front of her.

My thumb drags over the sharp edge of the mask’s mouth, and my own curves before I can stop it.

Fine, ghost girl.

Let’s see how much you really like it.

I slide the mask on and tighten the strap behind my head. My breath warms the inside immediately, and the world narrows through the black mesh eyes until there’s only the path, the trees, the rain, and the library doors in the distance.

Then I step back into the shadows and wait.

The rain keeps falling, steady and cold, dripping from the branches overhead and turning the path into a slick black ribbon between the chapel and the trees. A few students leave the library first, huddled under umbrellas, laughing too loud, heads down, completely fucking useless to everything around them.

I don’t move.

Then Alice steps out.

Black coat. Camera bag tucked against her side. Hood up. Boots splashing through shallow puddles. She pauses under the library awning and looks out at the rain like it personally offended her.

My pulse kicks once.

There you are.

She adjusts the strap of her bag, tucks a wet strand of hair behind her ear, then heads down the steps. For a second, I think she might take the main path toward the lit part of campus.