There’s something molding in my gut. Death wants something to do with this place, and it’s dazing. Ghosts, ghouls, and ecto-mist were never meant to be so important, but suddenly they’ve decided to weave their way into my immediate surroundings, too close for comfort.

Sawyer’s face looks at me from the sketchpad. I may have made the eyes so dark they’re all-seeing and catch you wherever you are. I’m only good at drawing the bad things.

Grady tries to get me interested in a band later that night over Messenger.

GRADY: DUDE. Listen to Pushing Crazies—“Death on a Lollipop.” Mindblowing.

ME: Will do when I get a chance.

GRADY: You probably won’t like it. It’s not sad alt-r&b.

ME: that’s not all i listen to

GRADY: Sure. Whatever you say.

There’s a knock at my door, and Mom’s already entering before I say come in. When she was a flight attendant, she spent all day and night smiling at travelers and telling them, “Welcome!” Now she’s a pilot, so she wears a different uniform with a white shirt and navy tie. She traded in the skirt for pants but kept the thick bottom heels and dangling amethyst earrings. When she has no planes to fly, when she’s here with me and Benji for the night, she’s found in a black bonnet and silk nightgown, pecan-brown skin shiny and free of makeup.

She sits at the end of the bed. “You good?”

I give her a lackluster nod. I’m not good, but I never am, really. Only pretending.

“Have you added any new schools to your list?”

I shake my head. “Just Augusta, Kennesaw State, Georgia Southern, and SCAD.”

“You don’t think you’ll need more? You should start with at least ten. You want your reach schools, your likely schools, and your safety schools.”

Once again, she looks worried about my lack of engagement. She knows I’ve never been much of an A student. B+ at best. But it’s hard for me sometimes to waste time wondering where I’ll go once I leave home, when I can barely figure out how to manage my day-to-day life.

“I’m still looking,” I assure her.

“Alright. Don’t forget I’m going to Jamaica this weekend.”

I’m not happy for the reminder. She only flies for about half the month, but when she’s gone it’s for days at a time, and sometimes a full week. Most kids would be excited about that. It just makes me feel alone.

“I’m counting on you to hold things down,” she says. “Make sure the dishes get done and your brother doesn’t leave his underwear on the floor.”

I can’t be an older brother to my older brother.