“Seriously?” Home was the first place I would have gone if I’d woken up and discovered I was a ghost.

She sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek. She laughed just a little, then sank down on my bed and flopped to her back. “Yeah, you’d think everyone would want to go home when they were dead. But I hated my parents, so I didn’t. After a few months I thought maybe they would be able to see me. They’re my parents, after all. But you know where I went?”

I hazarded a guess. “Their work?”

She sniffled and nodded. “Their work. I went to their jobs. Even as a ghost I wanted things my way and on my terms. I’m such a spoiled brat.”

“No, you—”

“Don’t lie.”

So I didn’t.

The room was still dark. I thought about turning on the light, but it seemed too harsh. Instead I flipped on the bathroom light and closed the door halfway so a soft glow illuminated the room. I sat beside her on the bed. After a while that felt funny, so I lay down instead, at an angle so our heads were almost touching.

“One year, four months, and four days. That’s how long it took me to go home.” She rolled over onto her elbow, our faces only a breath apart. “And you know what? They loved me. They weren’t the greatest parents—I know that—but they loved me. Still do. They have my room just the same way it was, but with more pictures and old awards than I ever let them put out before. They have a huge painting of me in the entryway. It’s little embarrassing, actually.” Her voice was very quiet and serious. “My mom puts fresh roses in my room. Over a year later and she still puts fresh flowers in my room. I stood and stared at those roses for, like, an eternity,” she said so quietly I strained to hear her. “They were so beautiful and I could almost smell them. I wanted to try to touch them but I couldn’t stand to see my fingers pass through one more beautiful thing.

“Then I caught sight of the mirror on the wall and looked at myself . . . and I looked perfect. Just like always. When I was alive, I would have killed for makeup that never came off and hair that always fell just right.” The tears shone in her eyes for a few seconds, but she blinked them away. “I lost it, Jeff. I didn’t want to look like myself anymore. I wished so desperately that I could see whatever it was my parents saw.”

She smiled now, and it was a different smile than I’d ever seen on her. There was no guile or trickery in it—it was the kind of smile I was used to seeing on other people’s faces.

It was the way Sera smiled.

“That’s when my clothes changed. And my hair and face. And for the first time I can remember, I looked in that mirror and I liked what I saw.”

I smiled back. For real. “I’m glad. And for what it’s worth, I think you look better now too.” I didn’t mean the clothes and makeup. The real change in her appearance was something else—something deeper. And I could see it.

“Thanks, Jeff. That means a lot to me—really.” The tears fell onto her cheeks now, but she didn’t really cry. Her shoulders didn’t shake and there were no sobs. Just tears.

“Kim—”

“Don’t. Don’t try to convince me I was just some girl who made a few mistakes. Don’t let me keep doing what I’ve done for the last year—the last five years. Don’t let me hang on to the lies.”

I couldn’t speak as her wet, blue eyes bore into mine.

“I was a bad person, Jeff.” The volume of her voice hadn’t changed, but she spoke with intensity. “I was a bad person and it’s about time I faced up to that. I had everything in the world, and it wasn’t good enough. And you know what’s worse? You were right; I hated everyone. Can you imagine hating everyone you know?”

I shook my head again and she laughed sharply. But when she spoke, her words were soft. “Of course not. You’re too good. Too willing to see the best in people. Even me.” She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. “I don’t know how to be a good person, Jeff. I don’t naturally do the right thing, like you. But . . . I think I want to learn. And maybe I’m finally ready.”

I nodded slowly. “Maybe you are.”

“Could . . . could you teach me?”

I was silent for a long time as I contemplated this. “I don’t know,” I said honestly.

She looked disappointed, but nodded. “At least you didn’t say no. I would have.”

“So what now?” I asked.

She sat up and looked down at her hands in her lap. “Would you do me one last favor?” She peered up at me from under her lashes—but it wasn’t the flirtatious look she’d often used to convince me to do something she wanted—it was a look that said she wasn’t sure I’d say yes.

“I’ll try.”

“I need to return one more thing.”

Thirty-Four

MY STOMACH WAS TWISTING ITSELF in knots as I rang the familiar doorbell. Sera’s mother answered, her smile soft, but wary. “Jeff, I’m afraid we have company tonight.”

“I know, Mrs. Hewitt, and I’m really sorry, but I just need to talk to Sera for two minutes. It’s about school,” I lied, holding up a shoe box.

She glanced in toward the dining room. “All right,” she said, “I’ll get her, but please make it quick.”

Sera came around the corner a few seconds later with a big smile on her face. “Jeff, I can’t believe Mom let me leave the table to come see you.” She stopped long enough to press a kiss to my mouth. “She must be starting to like you.”