Read After Obsession for Free Online

Everyone except Courtney and Chuck. Right after the séance I had this vision thing where Chuck died on his way home, but that was after the other freaky thing that happened, after everyone left.
    In my vision, I saw a Saab smash into his mom’s Subaru as she was waiting to turn left into the Tideway Market. I saw her car jump into the path of the box truck carrying lobsters. I saw Chuck’s body smashed up in the backseat, his mom sobbing, blood running down her white shirt. Her arm was broken but she was still trying to push away the EMTs, still trying to hold on to Chuck.
    I must have gasped because Chuck, the still-living, still-breathing Chuck, bounced away from me, hitting the coffee table with his leg. “What? What did you see?”
    I shook my head and stared at him and Courtney before finally lying. “Nothing.”
    He died. Of course he died. He died just the way I saw. He died on his way home that day. I shake the memory away. What is wrong with Court? She knows I can’t deal with this at all.
    I sit at my desk and trace the graffiti on it: EVERYTHING SUCKS. Juvenile, yet profound.
    Somehow it does not make me feel better that some other person sat at this desk and felt the same way. I eyeball Blake and Court, who are stuck across the room. Assigned seats in here, which is very fourth grade considering it’s AP. But our teacher, Mrs. Bloom, is like that, all yip-yap peppy like she’s a cheerleader for the classics.
    Court makes a face that tells me I should check out Mrs. Bloom’s ensemble. I do. It’s a sweater that’s way too matchy-matchy with a big plaid skirt, and what looks like her husband’s brown trouser socks, pulled up, but not quite to the hem of her skirt.
    “Bea-u-ti-ful,” I mouth to Court.
    Court mouths back, “I want it.”
    Briley Flood glares at me. She’s sitting in front of Blake and he snaps his finger into her shoulder, telling her to turn around. Briley’s always nice. I don’t know why she’s glaring. People are all on edge lately, even Blake.
    Mrs. Bloom claps her hands together and chirps, “Class! I am so excited. Today we continue our discussion about William Shakespeare’s classic play Hamlet. ”
    I slump down in my chair, because I might as well die right now.
    “Miss Avery! Sit up!” Mrs. Bloom says. “Why don’t you read the part of Ophelia?”
    I fake smile. Great. The crazy female. Perfect, given the way I’m feeling.
    Mrs. Bloom pulls at her bra beneath her armpit like it’s chafing her and starts preaching. “Let’s talk about Ophelia first. Who do you think is the most boring, one-dimensional character in Hamlet ?”
    That’s a tough one. I raise my hand because I need bonus points after slouching. Mrs. Bloom points at me with the super enthusiasm that only a bra-adjusting English teacher can summon. “Miss Avery?”
    “Ophelia,” I say, feeling pretty brilliant because this should be enough to show her that I am listening and that she doesn’t need to call on me ever again in this class despite my slouchy posture.
    Mrs. Bloom keeps chirping along. “That’s right. Now why? Aimee?”
    Crap. I have the follow-up answer responsibility, too, unless some butt-kisser jumps in. Countdown to butt-kisser. Three … Two … One … It’s Court. Only she’s butt-saving instead of butt-kissing. She tries to be casual, leaning back, legs out straight like a girl jock. She taps her pen on her desk and says, “Ophelia is really boring because she has all this potential, right? Like she could be the whole tragic heroine deal, but instead she just lets herself become crazy and she loses all the heroine potential and just becomes tragic.”
    “Right!” Mrs. Bloom beams.
    “But …” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it.
    “What is it, Miss Avery? Is there something you want to add?”
    I swallow and my stomach flops into itself. “I just … I just don’t think you let yourself become crazy. Mental illness is usually some kind of chemical