Deception by Lee Nichols

Bennett’s.
    “The door at the end of the hall,” he told me.
    “Isn’t that the attic?”
    “Yeah.” He shrugged. “It’s peaceful up there.”
    “This is literally a museum,” I said. “It doesn’t get much quieter.”
    “Well, when my sister lived here …” He shook his head, smiling softly. “Never a moment’s peace.”
    “You have a sister?”
    “I did,” he said.
    We’d stopped outside my door, and I guess I’d been hoping for a good-night kiss. But now I didn’t know what to say. He did have a sister? So … he didn’t anymore? Was she gone? Disappeared like my family? Dead?
    Before I could respond, he kissed me.
    On the forehead.
    “Good night,” he said, and walked away.

12

    I woke early the next morning and went through my daily ritual. My parents were still out of their calling zone — you can imagine my surprise — and I sent Max an SOS message in an e-mail.
    For the first time in ages, I texted Abby.
    I need u!!!!
    I waited a moment, but didn’t get a response, probably because it was only 3:00 a.m. her time.
    Chk ur eml.
    And I started to write. I told her about everything, from Natalie to Bennett, from the ashes to the death mask, from San Francisco to Echo Point, from visions to nightmares, to what I really thought was happening to me.
    I was seeing ghosts.
    Crazy, right? But lying in bed last night, still feeling like I was twirling in the ballroom with Bennett, I’d pieced it together. My imaginary friends when I was a child were too real, too complex for a seven-year-old to make up. Plus, my parents pretended not to notice, but the ones in the house moved things, started showers, and made cups of tea no one asked for.
    And everything else that had happened: the smoke and ashes at home, the death mask, the flashbacks from someone else’s life I’d been having since I’d come to Echo Point, the man in the brown suit who cast no shadow. They all led back to one thing.
    Dead people. I saw ghosts.
    It felt right, the pieces all clicked, but it was insane . That’s why I e-mailed Abby. She knew me better than anyone — better than myself, sometimes. She’d know what to think about all this. Maybe she still blamed me for the breakup with Max, but when she read the e-mail, she’d respond. As I clicked Send, I heard stirring downstairs: definitely Bennett this time.
    I couldn’t face him in my plaid pajamas, so I slipped from bed and warmed myself by the fire for a moment before dashing into the bathroom.
    I started the shower and braced myself for the icy coldness — and a cloud of steam enveloped me. Warm water!
    I laughed in pleasure and showered for twenty minutes. A total luxury. And having finally revealed the truth to myself, I felt the tension that had accumulated over the last few weeks begin to loosen.
    After the shower, I did the best I could with my hair and makeup, then made a face at myself in the mirror. If only I looked more like Sara — or even Brittle Britta. Back in the bedroom, I dressed in my uniform, adding black tights and, of course, my black boots. Harry had openly wondered if I owned other shoes, or I was just hiding cankles.
    For the record, I did own other shoes, but didn’t like any of them. And my ankles were fine, thank you very much.
    I stomped downstairs into the kitchen and found Bennett in the breakfast nook. He was reading a book while eating scrambled eggs and toast. I may have been spotting ghosts on every street corner, but the hot shower and the sight of Bennett first thing in the a.m. did wonders for my mood.
    “Good morning!” I said.
    He stopped cold, toast halfway to his lips. “Good lord .”
    “What?”
    He gestured with his toast at my skimpy uniform. “ That .”
    “You have no one to blame but yourself. Anyway” — I pirouetted, allowing him to see just how short the skirt actually was — “I’m already known as the school slut.”
    “You don’t look slutty,” he said, repressively. “You look juvenile.”
    I