Manifest by Artist Arthur Page B

you, me or Trina or…or…whoever crying girl was in there,” I snap and immediately feel the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks.
    Jake and Sasha are looking at me.
    “I think she’s talking to the dead guy,” Sasha says in a singsongy voice, barely moving her mouth, looking and sounding as ridiculous as I probably do.
    “Where is he?”
    Jake’s immediately looking up and down the hallway. He really wants to see a spirit. He has no idea that if I could I’d give him this creepy power in a heartbeat. I huff, “He’s over there.” I point to where Ricky is standing across from us.
    Don’t worry about Trina, she’s just trying to help out. She can’t get me through so she wants you to do it.
    “Why? So you two can live happily ever after? I’m not into fairy tales, you know. And just who is this other chick?”
    Damn, girl, what is your problem? If you’re not complaining about one thing, you’re arguing over another. I don’t even know that girl in there, he says, pointing toward the equipment room.
    I fold my arms over my chest and realize two things: (1) I’m jealous of two female ghosts because Ricky may or may not know them, and (2) Sasha and Jake are witnessing aone-sided conversation. Am I living in Lincoln, Connecticut, or Freakyville?
    Only one way to deal with this without further embarrassing myself in front of these people. “Okay, look, I’ve gotta get home or Janet will send out a search party.” I start walking toward the doors again.
    “Sasha will take you home,” Jake offers.
    Sasha mumbles something but I can’t see her nor do I care what she said. “That’s okay, I’ll get the bus.”
    “Bus has already left,” Jake says.
    “My car’s around the other side,” Sasha says as we approach the doors. “That’s where I’m heading, all those riding with me better follow along.”
    I look at Jake who’s got this pleading kind of look in his eyes, then mumble, “Great. Just great.”
    He is the polar opposite of Sasha. I mean, besides being a boy and all. But Jake’s not pushy and he’s not bossy. He kind of just goes with the flow. Sasha, however, is moody and grates on my nerves. She’s pushy and controlling but is soon going to find that I’m not a Lincoln-bred girl. I’m straight from the city and will knock her out if need be.
    Take the ride with Sasha and stop being so stubborn.
    I cut my eyes at Ricky as we hit the doors. I’m already walking behind Jake, following along just like Ms. Sasha said. So I’m ignoring Ricky because my head is hurting and my stomach is doing funny things. A cross between the heated ball I feel when I’m around Janet and those stupid butterflies fluttering whenever I see him. And let’s not forget the fear from crying girl, that’s still churning around inside of me like a cruel reminder that I’m not normal.
    I don’t want this power.
    I don’t want to help spirits.
    I don’t want to be friends with other kids with powers.
    Hell, I don’t know what I want anymore.

eleven
    Well, I calm down enough to let Sasha drive me home. She has a cute little car, a red BMW. I should have expected nothing less than a sporty vehicle for her majesty. What I don’t expect is the huge guy that she calls Mouse who is supposed to be her driver.
    Mouse looks like Shaquille O’Neal on steroids—yeah, he’s that big. I know he has to be more than seven feet tall. How he squeezes himself into Sasha’s teeny-tiny car I don’t know, but he does, right beside me. His head is bald, his skin the darkest I’ve ever seen. His eyes seem quiet, not mean or anything.
    I sit in the back because being in her car is enough; I don’t really think I could stand sitting right up front with her during the drive home.
    “Wow, great house,” Jake says as we pull up in front of my house.
    I glance out the window while waiting for the car to come to a complete stop. Looking at it in the low sunlight of late afternoon, I guess it is kind of cool. It’s a mixture of