Read Wraith for Free Online Page B

nose into other people’s business, this was too good to pass up. I used my pinky finger to flip the brown folder open and read the first page.
    It was a letter. From Brookhaven Hospital in North Carolina. Under the name of the hospital I saw the phrase: Ill-health, of body or of mind, is defeat. Health alone is victory. Let all men, if they can manage it, contrive to be healthy! - Thomas Carlyle
    My eyes scanned the rest of the page. It was a letter about Connor’s release from the hospital the month before and some information about medication and required counseling sessions with Mrs. Crawford.
    Unwilling to press my luck, I shut the folder and straightened it on her desk before moving back to the chair. I hadn’t heard of Brookhaven Hospital and was intrigued. What had Connor just said about him and rumors? Juvie and mental hospitals? I inched out of my seat to look again but heard the door knob wiggle and sat back down in a rush.
    “Sorry about that,” Mrs. Crawford said as she moved around the desk to her own seat. She picked the folder up and opened a drawer in the file cabinet behind her, sliding it in before shutting it and opening another one and extracting what I assumed was my own. “Are you okay?”
    “What? Why?” I asked, flustered at her attention.
    “You just look a little pale,” she said. “Well, not anymore, now you are red as a beet!” Her comment of course made my face turn even redder.
    “Oh,” I said, trying to think of something, “I don’t know, just tired maybe.”
    “How was your break?” she asked, while scooting back to face me.
    “Good. We went to my grandmother’s.”
    I examined Mrs. Crawford and her creamy brown skin and caring dark eyes. She wanted to help, but that question—the simple question about my break—made me think of Aunt Jeannie and her stories. Before I could stop myself, the truth was twisted and I realized once again how alone I really was.

    M RS. CRAWFORD RELEASED ME when the bell rang. She thought I’d made progress. No public episodes, my grades were acceptable, and I even had a friend. No one needed to know I still saw Evan. No one did know, except maybe this odd boy Connor, but he saw Evan, too. Which meant I wasn’t crazy. Right?
    The hallways were crowded with students laughing and gossiping. Through the crowd, I saw Connor standing with a group of seniors, near the trophy cases. Two were the boys from the lunch room, Trey and Michael something-or-other, but this time a couple of girls also stood nearby. One of them had wiggled her way close to Connor, and from the look on his face, her advances were welcome. I moved closer and recognized the girl. Allison Morgan.
    Gross.
    He had a shoulder pressed against the case, but his body angled into hers. I looked down, embarrassed that the sight of him, smiling down at this other girl, caused a pang in my chest. It was stupid. I didn’t like him. I couldn’t help but notice he seemed relaxed and happy. The tension from earlier was gone. The sarcastic expression was nowhere to be seen.
    Keeping my eyes away from the group, I passed by, feigning disinterest. I was jostled from behind and my gaze moved upward in reaction, meeting Connor’s over the top of Allison’s head, whom he’d been smiling at moments before. I dropped my eyes again and pushed through the crowd, but not before seeing the faint lines of a smirk forming on his lips.

    “I LIKE THIS ONE,” I said, pointing to the tall, rusted sculpture.
    Ava’s eyes followed my finger and tilted her head to the side. “I’m not sure. Religious themes always make me nervous.”
    We moved to the next artist and studied the enormous piece located in the middle of the room. It was a collection of bicycle parts, lawnmower blades, and pieces of rusted, metal shingles that had been painted vivid colors. It was fashioned into a makeshift crucifix, and although it was void of any actual victim, there was a thorny halo of barbed wire at the top and thick