A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb Page A

man says something meant to be flattering to balance his real message. He'd court me if he could, but the trou ble is...?
       "I'm a coward, though," James sighed, looking back at the field. Another small boy was trying to dislodge a white ball from a red plastic stand, with no luck, as his fans called out words of encouragement.
       "I don't have the courage to be without you, now that I've been with you," said James.
       "Do you mean to say that if you had more character, you'd leave me?" I thought he might laugh, but he was very serious.
       "Please tell me what you want," he said. "I'll do whatever you want me to do. If you find any comfort in being with me, then please forget what I've said. You deserve to be happy. What can I do?"
       Don't send me away, I thought.
       He looked at me again. "What do you want?"
       "I want to taste an apple," I said. And your lips, I thought.
       There was a sudden surge of cheers as the white ball hopped and bounced across the grass, and the small boy at home plate turned, surprised, to his parents' calls before scrambling into a run toward first base. James was looking over the field, his face gone pale, the pink bruise standing out like a rouged kiss.
       "Did I say something wrong?" I said.
       "Do you believe I stole this body?" he asked me.
       "You told me you saved him," I said. "You didn't chase him out."
       "Do you want to save someone?" he asked. His voice was even. He put no emotion into the words. He waited, not looking at me.
       Not even when I longed to turn the pages of Mr. Brown's book or bite into James's apple did I conceive of this. It seemed to make no sense. It would be like a knight saying to a scullery maid, "Would you like to slay a dragon, as well?"
       "I couldn't," I said.
       "What if you could?" he asked.
       My fears were strong, but the idea of actually being able to touch his hand, flesh to flesh...
       "But I'm not like you."
       He laughed and gave me a side glance. "Not like me?"
       "I want to be brave."
       "I'll help you," he said.
       I was trembling again, the way I had when he had first spoken to me. "Tell me what it was like," I asked him. He studied me, gently. "Saving Billy's body, I mean."
       The cheers and laughter rose as the children pulled off their hats and went to greet their parents on the grass below.
       "How did you go inside him?" I wanted to know. Something in my voice surprised and aroused James. I saw the pulse at his throat quicken.
       "I lay down in his place, in his body, and fought to stay there until I felt his flesh," he said. "From the inside."
       "Can you go out again whenever you want?"
       He looked apologetic. "No. There's the rub. I have to stay un til the body dies or someone else wants in."
       "Someone else?" I was shocked. "Someone like us?"
       "Or Billy, if his spirit is still alive somewhere."
       "Or something evil," I said.
       He didn't comment on that.
       "How do you know you can't get out?" I asked.
       "I changed my mind after the fourth day and tried to leave." He looked as if he didn't want to describe the outcome. "It was like the pain that would come if I tried to leave my haunting place," he said. "Only worse."
       We were alone now. A bird in a tree across the field screamed, piercing my thoughts like a blade.
       "I need to think," I told him and let myself sink under our bench. Hiding beneath the bleachers, I watched him walk across the green and imagined James watching Billy, in the same way, before he took possession of his body.
     
     
     
     
    Six
     
     
    Like a banner, flying but captive, I floated behind him and then sat on the Amelia house roof, next to a rotting softball, for hours until I saw Mitch's car, a patchwork of rusty mixed parts, turn the corner. I dropped through the ceiling to find James lying on his bed, awake. He smiled without surprise to see me appear in the corner.
       "You do that so well," he