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like mint and the leather coat he was wearing. “I’m Alden Thomas. Lenzi had a problem with Zak, so I stayed with her to make sure she was okay until you arrived. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He extended his arm across me while I stifled a groan as my mom shook his hand.
    “I’m Julia Anderson, Lenzi’s mother.” She dropped his hand and immediately lit into me. “Why on earth are you in the cemetery after midnight? Making me drive all the way from Bellaire in the middle of the night! You’re lucky it’s your birthday, Lenzi. I had half a mind to leave you here!”
    Alden rapped his knuckles on the door of the minivan. “Mrs. Anderson, I apologize for interfering, but Lenzi’s had a rough night. I doubt she’ll do something like this again. Why don’t you wait to discuss it until you’ve both had a good night’s sleep and time to reflect?”
    Mom and I stared at him openmouthed.
    “It was a pleasure to meet you,” he continued. “Bellaire. We are neighbors. I look forward to seeing you again, Lenzi. Good night.” He got into a gray Audi parked farther up the street and drove off.
    I crossed my arms defensively across my chest, anticipating the onslaught of mother artillery. None came.
    Mom pulled out on the street, looking somewhat dazed. “Alden seems like a very nice boy. The kind of boy I’d like to see you hanging out with.”
    I almost laughed out loud. If she only knew! A reincarnated, soul-sharing lunatic. Ghost Boy—every mother’s dream.

FIVE
     
    I spent the weekend avoiding Mom and doing homework. I’d fallen so far behind in my classes recently, I felt like I’d never get caught up.
    I decided to take the Santa Claus approach to Alden’s reincarnated ghost mediator story. When I was a little girl, Dad told me that Santa Claus would come as long as I believed he was real. Once I no longer believed, Santa stopped coming. This was how I was going to handle this ghost business. I didn’t believe, so they were not real and would stop coming.
    The problem was that approach wasn’t working. The voices were getting worse, despite my constant mantra that they weren’t real. And despite the Xanax too. I couldn’t decide which was worse—going crazy or actually hearing ghosts.
    My cell rang right as I finished a hideous trig worksheet. A lump formed in my throat as I stared at Zak’s name on the screen. I hadn’t heard from him in two days.
    Zak was the first person I met when I moved back from Galveston three months ago. He was working at a shoe store in the mall and convinced me to buy an outrageous pair of strappy red heels, flirting the whole time. I was immediately attracted to his deep blue eyes and gorgeous smile. I had never worn those shoes, I realized, as his name flickered on the screen.
    I decided to not confront him about the cemetery. I couldn’t risk losing him too. “Hi, Zak,” I answered, tapping my pencil on the table.
    There was a long pause, and I thought for a moment he’d hung up. “Hey, babe. I . . . um . . . I’m really sorry about Friday night. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
    I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “It’s okay, Zak.”
    “Can I make it up to you?”
    My fingers touched a piece of paper, and I instinctively began to fold. “Sure.”
    “How about I take you for seafood in Kemah? You like roller coasters, right?”
    I made triangles from the edge moving in, tension ebbing from me into the folds. “Love roller coasters. Sounds fun.” I turned the paper over and repeated.
    “Awesome. I know you have school tomorrow, so we’ll make it an early night. I’ll pick you up at six o’clock, okay?”
    “Great.” I pulled on the edges of the triangles slightly, without looking.
    He was quiet for a moment. “You okay? You seem distracted.”
    I looked down at my hands. My trig worksheet was now a crane. “Yeah, I’m great. I was just finishing some homework.” I unraveled the bird and smoothed the worksheet