come outside, but she didn’t.
“Fine,” I said. “Be that way.”
I walked back, scuffing my feet on the pavement, left the books by her front door, and went home.
She called when it was starting to get dark. My parents were across the street at a neighbor’s and I was slouched on the sofa, flipping through television channels.
Instead of hello, she said, “Did you leave books at my house?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “I found them at the used bookstore in Timonium. Did you like them?”
“Yeah, they’re cool.”
“Want to come over?”
The phone got quiet, and then she said, “Okay, but only for a little while. I’ll come up the alley.”
I waited in the backyard. When we were little, me, Becca, and my dad had camped out here with a tent and sleeping bags. I’d once asked if we could do it alone, but Dad said it wasn’t safe. Too many roaming perverts. But no one was ever completely safe anywhere. I knew that from the books in Becca’s house.
When she came in, she plopped down on the grass with a muttered “Hey.” The bruise on her cheek was turning green at the edges. I told her about the books I got, but when I stopped talking, she stayed quiet, too.
“So you really liked your books?” I said.
“I told you I did.”
“Just checking,” I said.
A lightning bug flew past me, flashing as it did, and I caught it in my palm. Its legs tickled as it traveled the side of my hand before it flew off.
“Remember last summer when Rachel’s brother smooshed one and rubbed the light all over his arms? Then he cried because it wouldn’t come off?” she said.
“Yeah.”
“He said it was an accident,” Becca said, flopping back on her elbows and talking to the sky. “But I bet it wasn’t. Lots of people say things are accidents when they aren’t. Or they pretend they are when they really wanted to do them in the first place.”
I plucked several blades of grass. “Didn’t you hear me today at the house when I knocked on the window?”
She blinked a couple times. “I wasn’t at the house.”
“But the light was on in the basement, and after I knocked, it went out.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I just—”
“I said I wasn’t there.”
“So who do you think it was? Your mom, maybe?”
She made a sound in her throat. “She was in bed all day. She wasn’t feeling well.”
“Oh,” I said, sticking my hands underneath my thighs. “Maybe another real estate agent?”
“Does it matter?” she said. “I said it wasn’t me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t think anyone else was supposed to be there.”
She tipped her head back. A few stars were starting to appear, but not enough to make out any constellations yet. Not that I knew many, other than Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper. Gia knew a bunch and always got frustrated when the rest of us couldn’t find them.
“I have to go,” she said, rising to her feet as if pulled by a string.
“But you just got here.”
“I have to get back before she gets mad.”
“But you said she was in bed. How will she know you’re not home?”
She glanced over her shoulder, expressionless. “You know that ghost isn’t her, right? The one in the book?”
I plucked more grass. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“She’s so much better than a ghost,” she said as she slipped out the gate.
“Well goodbye then,” I said to myself.
I tried watching TV, but there was nothing on that I wanted to see, so I went to my room and read until I was tired.
In the middle of the night, I woke up, gasping for air. It felt like my mouth was full, but the only thing in it was my tongue. I had a vague impression of a person standing behind me, saying my name, and then the dream faded. Becca always remembered hers. I hardly ever did. Once when she spent the night, she had a nightmare. She woke me up, too, and we stayed up until the sun rose.
I rubbed my face. Something moved beside me. I whipped my head around, but nothing was there. I rolled onto my side, facing the wall, but I couldn’t fall asleep. I hated the way things had changed between me and Becca. Hated the way she was someone else now, someone who wasn’t my best friend anymore, someone who didn’t even like me very much. And I didn’t know what I’d done wrong. I was the same Heather. All I