From My Window by Karen Jones Page B

“Mason mentioned you. Thank you for getting that letter to us. Did he tell you his sister is in Africa?”
    Mason was so concerned over the letter because his sister is working with orphans in Africa. He told me it wasn’t always safe there and if he doesn’t get a letter every week, he gets worried.
    “He did tell me,” I say.

Chapter 16

    The talk with Mason’s mother, Margaret, has left me feeling bold. That’s the only way to describe it. Mason and Margaret can see me, they can hear me, they have spoken to me. And I drank a Coke.
    I have the insatiable urge to do something. Anything. But, I’m not sure what. Maybe, visit Mason again. Definitely, visit Mason again. Or surf. Wouldn’t that be wild? Me, surfing. The salt water, the fresh air, the sunshine. And since I’m dead, I don’t have to worry about getting sunburnt.
    My mind is racing with the possibilities. So many things to do, to say, to try. And I want to eat something. I’m never hungry, but after tasting that soda, I want to try all the things I’ve seen on TV and heard about. I want to taste a milkshake. Yes, a milkshake. I want to go get a milkshake with Mason.
    Speaking of Mason, there he is. He’s wet from surfing and his feet are all sandy from walking up the beach. His redheaded friend must have gone home. He’s almost at the gate to his yard. I dart down the stairs to try to catch him before he goes inside.
    When I come out of my house, he’s in his yard toweling off his hair. His surfboard is leaning up against the railing of his deck. When he looks up, I wave. I’m trying to be nonchalant, but I can feel the ridiculous smile spreading across my face.
    But Mason’s smile spreads ridiculously too.

Chapter 17

    I’m sitting with Mason in his hammock. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately. He doesn’t think it’s odd that I don’t go anywhere. He doesn’t mind that he hasn’t met my parents. He doesn’t question every little thing that would seem abnormal to most people. He’s perfect.
    “I’ve really enjoyed these last few weeks,” I say to Mason. He’s holding my hand and squeezes it.
    “Me too,” he says. “I’m really glad I met you.”
    “I’m so happy right now,” I tell him.
    “Me too,” he says. “And we’ll be happy forever.”
    His comment is sweet. But I don’t understand it. We haven’t sworn our undying love for one another. It’s not like I can swear an undying anything to anyone. So where does he get the idea we’ll be happy forever? Does he just mean we will both find a forever-kind of happiness? Or does he mean actually happy together? Forever?
    “Forever?” I ask. I don’t know what else to say. I need more information. I need to know what he’s thinking.
    “Yes, forever, Ellie. We’ll have an eternity together.” He pauses a moment and a strange look crosses his normally sunny face. “Unless you don’t love me.”
    Love him? It seems a little soon to be talking of love. And how could I let myself love a living person? I can’t allow this. I can’t fall in love with him. And I can’t let him love me. I’m a ghost. He’s alive. It would be deceitful. To let this go on would be the worst form of cruelty. To him and to me.
    I don’t want to love someone and watch them grow old and die. He won’t want to love someone who can’t be a real, living, part of his life. He’ll want children. He’ll want to go places. I can’t do any of that.
    “Love you?” I question.

Chapter 18

    “Yes. Love me, Ellie. Don’t you love me?” he asks.
    I jump up from the hammock. I’m shaking and confused. I’m angry for getting myself into this situation. I’m angry at myself for putting Mason in this situation. Why did I do this? I’ve spent forever hiding away, keeping to myself, avoiding the living. Why did I take this risk? And with Mason?
    Because I do love him. If I’m being truthful, I started falling the moment I set eyes on him. And when I realized he saw me,