Bathroom. The bathroom is always the best excuse. I can feel his energy pulling at my skin, stealing my breath, and I play with the evil eye on my backpack.

After a moment, Chase pauses, looks over his shoulder, and then takes my hand.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I manage, but the word escapes my lips breathlessly, so I smile.

“You know they can’t hurt you.”

My smiles fades fast. “What?”

“The dead. They can’t hurt you.”

There is silence between us for a long moment and then, “You can see them too?”

He smiles that warm smile I’ve become so familiar with over the last few weeks. It makes my chest feel like it’s on fire.

“Yeah.”

Until this moment, I’ve never met anyone who can see the dead. I burst into tears. Chase’s brows knit together, and his hands cup either side of my face.

“Hey, hey, hey.” His voice is gentle as he brushes my tears away. “It’s okay.”

“I know,” I say, sobbing. “It’s just…I’ve felt crazy, you know?”

He sits beside me on the table and pulls me to him. “You’re not crazy.”

Later that night, I sit at the kitchen table with my chemistry book and notes spread out before me. I have two more exams before the end of the school year, and I need to ace both of them to bring up my failing grade. I’ve managed to avoid the topic of my report card because Mom’s been too busy with work to realize it’s midsemester. I’m hoping I can make it to the end of the year before she even thinks about grades.

My phone vibrates on the table. Before I look at the screen, my heart starts to race in my chest.

Chase.

I smile as I pick up the phone.

What are you up to? he asks.

Studying.

Want a break?

I just started.

Did you eat first?

I laugh. No, why?

You’ll need fuel to keep you going. Come eat with me.

I’m about to reply I can’t, Mom’s cooking dinner when she enters the kitchen.

“Lyra, what’s this?”

Mom holds a piece of crumpled paper. It’s my report card. My smile evaporates, and I feel the color drain from my face. I put my phone down and meet her gaze, even though I want to run far, far away. Why didn’t I take Chase up on his offer? I could have been out the door moments before she walked in.

“It’s my report card.”

“And why was it in your trash can?”

“Why were you going through my trash?”

“Lyra,” she warns.

“You know the answer, Mom!” She can read. Why does she have to rub it in?

“I want you to tell me.”

Why are parents the worst?