“Get off of her!” Jack yells, trying to push the ghosts away. The ghosts enter my chest, and leave through my back, taking little bits of my breath with each one. I gasp for air, coughing and choking, and fall to the ground, gravel digging into my skin. I wave my hands in the air, searching for something to hold onto. Jack grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the circle of ghosts, his arms around me. 

“What do you want?” I ask, as they lunge at me but Jack pulls me out of the way. Whispered responses fill the air, and I shiver. 

“Your soul…”

“…a precious one…”

“...very valuable…”

“...she’ll need to be taken.” 

“No.” Jack says firmly. He stands in front of me. 

“Jackie, you were one of us once…”

“...you understand the value of a witch’s soul to us…”

“...you could have untold power.”

“Her life is of more value.” Jack argues. “And I could care less about power.” He grabs my hand and we start to walk back up the hill. The ghosts screech, and grab at my arms, pulling me back. Jack swats them away, and runs with me towards town. “We should be safe here.” He says, leading me into the city streets. “They don’t usually go in public places.” I nod, and cling to him, my heart racing. The screeching in my ears gets louder, and a ghost flies around the corner, grinning at me. “Run.” Jack says, shoving me down the road. “I’ll catch up.” 

I nod, and sprint through the narrow street, onto the main road. Cars rush past, so I don’t cross the street, and instead take the sidewalk down to near the grocery store. I sit outside the grocery store, which is closed. I hide in the shadows. Luckily, I see no ghosts on the street. I wait a few minutes, and when the screeching stops, I wait for Jack to appear. My watch keeps ticking, and I watch the narrow street corner, waiting for him to appear with a grin. After five minutes of waiting, I walk back to the corner, and look around it. 

Jack lies on the ground, unconscious. His face is pale, and his breaths are visible in the low light of a streetlamp. I run over to him, and kneel next to his body, scraping my knee on the pavement as I slip in the mud. I put my hands against his cheeks, still warm. 

“Please don’t be dead.” I plead, starting to cry. “Please, please don’t be dead.” I sob into his chest. This is all my fault. They were trying to get me. I sit up, and yell for help. “Help! Somebody!” The windows and doors facing the street don’t light up. “Please! Help!” I scream, sobbing. 

“What is going on out there?” Someone asks, and sticks their head out the window, gasping. “Fredrick, I think there’s some kids in trouble out here!” The lights in the house turn on, and the lady waves out the window. “Stay there. Fredrick’s calling for help.” The lady disappears, and walks out through her front door a few seconds later. She runs over to me in her bathrobe and slippers. “What happened?” 

“The ghosts. They were trying to get me. But he let them get him, while I got away. He’s such a blithering idiot.” I mumble, sobbing. “It was ghosts.” 

“My goodness, she’s delirious with shock.” The lady says, as a police car and an ambulance drive up. Isaiah steps out of the car, and looks at me. 

“This is why you should have listened to me.” He says, yanking me to my feet, and taking me over to the car, shoving me into the passenger seat. I don’t reply with a witty retort as usual, and just stare at my hands. “You’re such an idiot, Lara. I don’t know how your mother can even stand you.” Jack’s body is lifted into the back of the ambulance as Isaiah drives off. “Well, what happened?” He asks. 

“Ghosts attacked him.” I explain plainly. Isaiah stops the car abruptly, throwing me forward, and glares at me. 

“You need to give up this childish stuff, Lara.” He says. “You’re fourteen, almost fifteen.” I glare at him. 

“They were real. They tried to kill me!” I yell. 

“You’re insane.” He tells me. I sigh, and look out the window. 

“Just because you’re dating my mom doesn’t mean you can control my life.”

“Lara…”

“You’re a ridiculous, stuck-up dictator.” I tell him. He reaches over, and slaps my face. I gasp, rubbing my stinging cheek. 

“I’m taking you home. And you’re grounded.” He says. 

“You can’t do that.” I say. 

“Watch me.” He starts the car again. 

“He’s in a coma.” The doctor tells me, when Everly, George and I go to visit Jack in the hospital. “He won’t wake up for a long while. If he wakes up at all.” The doctor watches us, then leaves. “Let us know if you need anything.” George goes and kneels next to his brother’s bed, his fists clenched and trembling. He always intimidated me a little. But now he’s just sad. I walk over to Jack’s bedside, my black skirt clinging to my dark pantyhose. It seems appropriate for something like this. Everly stands by the door, her usually smiling face grim and gloomy. 

Jack looks pale. His brown freckles stand out against his white skin. His chestnut brown hair curls over his forehead. He looks frail. I hold his hand in mine, searching for his particular warmth, but there’s nothing. 

“I’m so sorry.” I whisper to him, holding his hand in both of mine. “This is all my fault.” I set his hand back down on the white blanket, and stare at the floor. Everly hugs George, her face blank. The clock ticks, hours go by. I stay by the bed, watching Jack. Please wake up. I think, my eyes filled with tears. Please. 

Mom arrives halfway through the afternoon to take me home. “We’ve got that meeting tonight, remember?” She whispers to me. I nod, and stand up. Maybe I don’t want to be a witch. Because that’s why Jack won’t wake up. I think. I’m an idiot. 

“How can you date that guy?” I ask, as Mom waves to Isaiah as she walks me home. 

“Lara, be polite.”

“He says I need mental help, and he slapped me!” I tell her. Mom sighs. “He says I’m delusional and stupid for believing in ghosts.”

“I’m going to have to talk to him about the abuse.” She tells me, opening the door. “But he’s been helping us financially, and it’s saved us.” Mom sighs. “And you should know better than to talk about ghosts in front of him.”

“What was I supposed to tell him about what happened to Jack?” 

“You could have said he fell and hit his head or something.” She offers. “And I’m sorry about Jack. I don’t mean to be insensitive. I know you were close.” Oh, great. We are using the past tense with Jack now, are we? I think.

“Mom, he isn’t dead.” I tell her. 

“Then why are you dressed like that, honey?” She asks, gesturing to my clothes. As she makes dinner, I stare at the floor, despite Tessa’s attempts to talk to me. 

“I’m sure Jack will be fine.” Tessa says, sitting on the couch with me. Emie and Kelsie run around the living room, giggling in blissful ignorance. “We’ve got really good doctors here.” I sigh.

“They said there isn’t much hope of him waking up at all.” I tell her, sighing. “Good doctors or not, he might not live much longer.” Tessa hugs me. 

“I’m so sorry. I know you liked him a lot.” 

“Stop using past tense!” I shout at her, finally snapping. 

“Well, you’re the one who’s being less-than-hopeful. You shouldn’t talk!” She retorts.

“Dinner time!” Mom yells, and we move to the table, not looking at each other.