From the size of her bulging eyes, it looks an awful lot like a yes. “First things first.” Her tone is somber. “You control you. Your body is your body, and you remind yourself of that every day. Something like what you’re describing wants to colonize your sense of self. So you set a boundary. In short, you tell it to buzz off.” She leaps up, comes around the table, sandwiches my face between her hands, and forces my spine to straighten. “Don’t let it get to you, and it might just leave you alone.”

“Is that . . . all it takes?”

“It takes belief.” She turns abruptly and traverses the room, her gown trailing behind her. “It takes self-esteem. It takes knowing that your reality is not up for debate. And last but not least? It takes assertiveness. Say its name if you know it and tell it to get lost. You want it away from you bad enough? It works.”

I tried. It didn’t work. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Well, then you may have to work on your directness, or your self-esteem. Check on your smells too. Smells that they remember fondly will vitalize ghosts with energy. The wrong ones ward them off.”

I always burn the wilderness and wildflowers incense in my room. But maybe Sawyer likes that smell too. Maybe he’s drawn to the forest, or nature, or maybe he just likes some of the same stuff I do.

If Sawyer is responsible for everything that’s been happening, and if he wants to possess me, he’d do it by bothering me first. Toying with my sense of safety, weaseling his way in, and destroying my morale. Sawyer has a hit list and the intention of possessing me, both.

I stand up abruptly. “Thank you, Ms. Josette.”

She doesn’t move immediately—she’s not finished. “Gone so soon? You dropped a lot on me in a moment.”

“You helped me. I should finish my work from the weekend—there’s a lot.”

If the point is to reduce Sawyer’s presence in my mind, then I have to take my mind off of him. And being around all this metaphysical stuff isn’t exactly helping. Here, my whole existence feels tied to my curse.

Ms. Josette follows me to the curtain of beads in front of the door. “Is everything gonna be all right, Jake?”

“Yeah, I’ll be good!”

I don’t want her to worry.

But I feel inadequate. Not good enough. Not fearless enough. Definitely not confident enough. Most of the time I’m afraid of my teachers and peers judging me, or of being beat up by my brother, or of disappointing Mom.

I’m just a regular kid. I save my birthday money and buy one new thing every six months. Headphones, a bow tie, a mini trampoline. I become obsessed with that new thing and throw all my time and emotions into it.