It's a Wonderful Death - Sarah J. Schmitt Page 0,40

behind my ear, cutting off my argument. “But you did. After my funeral, your mother stepped in to arrange for local churches and business leaders to bring meals to my house so that my husband, a widower with five children, didn’t have to figure out what to make for dinner. She persuaded the mortgage company to give him a three-month grace period on the house payments. She also made sure my entire family was given time and space to grieve. And she kicked them in the butt when it was time to pick up the pieces and start moving on. For that I will always be grateful.”

“All because I helped Abby?”

She nods her head. “My husband was broken after my death. If not for your mom, well, I’ve seen the future they would have had and it wasn’t a good one.”

I bite my lip and look away. She may know what happened to her kids in the old lifeline, but I don’t. Abby and I never spoke again after that night. Her dad lost his job and they moved in with her grandmother in Tulsa. “What happened with Claudia? Did she stop harassing Abby?”

Angelica’s smile widens even more and I’m afraid her face might split open. “With you by her side, my daughter will never have to worry about being picked on again.”

The tears are falling freely now and I wipe them off with the back of my hand. “You mean we’re still friends?”

“Yes. You’re not as close as you used to be, but once a year you meet up at the playground for a mini-reunion,” Angelica says, giving me another gentle smile. Off in the distance, a chime rings and she stands. “It’s time for me to go.”

I reach out for her, not wanting her to leave. “So, did I pass?”

She pats my hand gently before placing it in my lap. Before backing away, she touches my cheek. “It’s not my decision, but if they ask me, I’ll tell them you aced it.”

And then she’s disappears. And I’m alone. Again.

Chapter 16

I don’t know how long I wait for the next ghost to arrive, but it feels like forever. After a while, the white mist takes on the dark appearance of storm clouds, and even though I can’t feel any change in temperature, a cold shiver runs over me. Through the dense fog I see a figure approaching, and when the shadow emerges, a boy with eyes the color of gooey honeycombs glares down at me. Why does it seem like everyone in the Afterlife is mad at me? Okay, sure, I probably wouldn’t win a Miss Congeniality title, but I can think of tons of people who lived worse lives than I did. Hitler springs to mind.

“You ready?” he growls, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his black jeans.

I can’t stop staring at him. He is the definition of hotness. The dirty-blond hair topping his tan, square face is tousled like he just woke up. I move closer to get a better look at him, but he shrinks away.

“Have we met?” I ask.

He shakes his head but doesn’t answer. Instead, he turns and walks away.

“I knew Angelica. Well, sorta. So it makes sense that I would know you, too.”

“You don’t know me,” he says, not even bothering to look at me.

“Well, can you at least tell me your name?”

“Trevor.”

The hostility coming from him hits me hard. Yeah, I probably did something to him. Death Himself must have had a blast picking out the ghosts who hate me almost as much as he does.

“Where are we going?” I ask, following behind him.

“I thought you wanted to get back to your life.”

Sarcasm sucks when I’m not the one dishing it out. “Yeah, but I could use some words of wisdom or something.”

He stops short and I almost run into his strong, lean back.

“You want a pep talk?” he asks, turning slowly to glare at me.

“Um, I guess. Sure.”

“Because I’m not warm and fuzzy. Not like Angelica.”

“Yeah, I get that.” What is this guy’s problem?

“Fine. My advice: don’t be you.” I can feel the color drain from my face and a look of satisfaction appears in his eyes.

He turns sharply and walks away.

“Hey!” I yell after him.

He stops but doesn’t turn around.

I’m shaking as I walk toward him, my hands forming fists. “Who do you think you are?” He doesn’t answer. “I’m talking to you,” I yell and grab his arm, spinning him around. He turns his head away, but