A part of living that we do without overthinking?”
“She’s got a point.” Sawyer stretches out beside me on the grass, holding himself up by his elbows. “If residual hauntings are real then that means ghosts are nothing more than intense memories on replay so there’s nothing to be scared of.”
“I didn’t say ghosts aren’t real.” I’m quick to nix that train of thought. “I think residual hauntings and ghosts are real. Remember the EVP and the picture of the spirit orb?”
“Yeah, Einstein,” Miguel says, “explain that.”
“That’s not the subject at hand.” Sawyer is quick in his retort, and I have to say that I love how he doesn’t bat an eye to debate something he believes to the core is silly. “Veronica’s saying there’s nothing to be scared of and I’m agreeing. We should think this haunting through and determine for the paper whether or not we believe this is an actual haunting or a residual haunting. Fact one: someone named Sarah died in a car crash. Fact two: she’s, in theory, buried a few feet away from us. Fact three: there are reports of a girl walking along the side of the road in a prom dress. Has anyone here read anything about the girl interacting with anyone?”
None of us speak up. The one thing I’ve learned about Sylvia and Miguel is that they take their grades seriously. They’ve researched this hill nearly as much as I have.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Sawyer continues. “This haunting, if it’s real, is a residual haunting. The emotion of the car accident was so intense that it imprinted on this time and space. My guess is that Sarah’s not really walking around here, but at peace. The only thing that would be left behind is the fear she felt due to the crash.”
Sylvia pulls the blanket closer. “Still creepy and not making me feel better.”
“Why does death scare you?” I ask. It’s not a question meant to hurt or to even pry, but the look on Sylvia’s face, the pure fear, makes something deep within me hurt.
“Why doesn’t it scare you?” she spits out like she’s mad, but all I see is fear. “In fact, why am I the only person here freaked out?”
“I’m quaking in my boots,” Miguel says, but he looks about as calm as Sawyer. “At least the deer-slash-possible-ghost portion made me piss my pants.”
“Seriously?” Sylvia bites out. “I’m the only one who’s scared of death?”
“I’m not exactly a fan of it,” Miguel says.
Sawyer sits up, draws his knees to his chest, and rests his arms on them. “I’m not scared of dying as much as I don’t want to die. Sometimes I think of the stupid things I do and how it would be easy for it to go wrong and then question what would happen to Lucy if I was gone.”
Sylvia blinks several times, as if she’s shocked to hear that come from Sawyer.
“Are you scared of what happens to you after you die?” Sylvia asks. “Like, are you scared you’ll be trapped in your own body? As in you can hear, but can’t move or breathe or … you know … didn’t do it all right and end up burning in hell?”
The ends of Sawyer’s lips inch up. “I wasn’t before, but thanks, because I am now.”
We all giggle, but he’s right. It’s all there now in the forefront of the brain.
Miguel runs a hand through his black hair and mirrors Sawyer’s position. “Does any of this make you wonder what your residual haunting would be?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“If you were meant to die in your worst moment, the one moment that had such an emotional impact that it would stick around forever, what would it be?”
It’s a tough question, an honest question, and I hate that I know the answer so quickly.
“It’s not your fault, Miguel,” Sawyer says as Sylvia reaches over and places a hand on Miguel’s shoulder. The pain radiating from him causes me to shrink.
For so long, I thought of these three people as the enemy—the untouchable popular kids who never felt a thing, but sitting here, witnessing this moment of support, I realize that pain is more universal than I had given it credit for. Sylvia slides next to Miguel and places her head on his shoulder and wraps her arms around him, reminding me of me and Nazareth.
“Mine would be after Mom and Dad first split,” Sawyer says. “Lucy was a baby and cried all the time,