Tonya Hurley_Ghostgirl_02 by Homecoming Page A

from trying to cross over — she was too stubborn for that — but other things. Things like how much he cared for her, how much he missed her. How much he needed her. Things she needed to hear from him.
    Desperate, he reached out to her the only way he knew how, through music. They had exchanged songs and albums like love letters from their earliest days together, and even if she couldn’t hear him, she just might, he fantasized, be able to hear their music. He reached into his backpack and pulled out his iPod, loaded with bands she had turned him on to, most of them way cooler than anything he’d ever heard before. He gently pushed the speaker buds in each of her ears, and, recalling their first real date, scrolled to the track he was after — Artist>Death Cab For Cutie>Album>Plans>Song>I Will Follow You into the Dark — selected the song and hit play.
    As the tinny sound bled from the headphones into the hospital room, the “if onlys” started swirling in his mind like a flock of diseased pigeons. Maybe he had made too much of Petula’s illness, or maybe his expression or tone of voice revealed an unconscious flicker of dormant affection for Petula, despite his true feelings for Scarlet. Maybe that’s what really set Scarlet off. But he was only trying to help Petula for Scarlet’s sake. How could she not know that? Was bringing back Petula Scarlet’s way of saving her sister and their troubled relationship?
    Whatever Scarlet’s motivation, he needed her to return. And for Scarlet to come back, Petula needed to also. However out of sync they were before, Scarlet and Damen were now on the same page. They both wanted Petula back.
    Chapter 9
    Bird on the Wire
    If I, if I have been unkind,
    I hope that you can just let it go by.
    If I, if I have been untrue,
    I hope you know it was never to you.
    —Leonard Cohen
    Live and learn, but really, Death is the best teacher.
    When you’re faced with death you are forced to dig deep within yourself to understand who you really are and what you really feel. It rubs you raw, like a harsh facial peel, scrubbing away the mask of denial, excuses, and other gunk built up over a lifetime. What’s left is not always so pretty to look at, at least not at first. Scarlet was hoping that her near-death experience wasn’t going to become a life sentence.
    Scarlet had no idea where she might find Charlotte, but felt herself drawn, almost like a homing pigeon, back to Hawthorne High. Back to Dead Ed. Why, she could not imagine. Everyone was gone as far as she knew. Graduated. What was the point of turning up in an empty classroom? She was compelled nonetheless and followed her gut back to school.
    For a second, she thought about Petula as she floated in the building and how odd it must have felt to come back to a familiar place, but with all the familiar faces gone. And of Charlotte too. How scary was it to be in a new place, to be the new kid?
    As she hovered down the long hallway, her worst fears were confirmed. The school appeared to be vacant, but before she could be completely discouraged, she heard voices in the distance. She zeroed in on the sounds and, sure enough, saw a light emitting from the last classroom. She approached it, stopping to eavesdrop just outside, and peered in the window.
    “This must be it,” Scarlet thought. “Dead Ed.”
    She looked through again, this time for a bit longer, hoping to spy Charlotte or anyone she recognized.
    “Come in, come in, whoever you are,” Ms. Pierce said playfully.
    Scarlet reached down tentatively for the polished brass doorknob and, with some effort, turned it until the latch released and she could pull the heavy door open.
    Ms. Pierce was a gentle woman of indeterminate age: pleasant-looking with a few wrinkles and a firm but caring voice. Her hair was tied up in a bun held there by a number two pencil, and she was wearing a smart silk long-sleeve blouse with a conservatively cut wool skirt. She seemed from an era when a