Sorry about the lack of updates. I work part-time but I'm available all day at my local grocery store, so that's been hectic. I have to get my college stuff squared away, and they aren't helping much. And I got a new phone, which took a chunk out of my money. And I need to get my license, insurance, and buy our extra car from my grandad.

Thank you for being patient with this middle-aged-man-girl.

Burn

Twenty-Six

Words

It's two-thirty in the afternoon and my fingers still hover over the number pad on my cellphone. I want to dial those familiar numbers, as familiar as my last name, but I can't make myself do it. My hands shake with the strain of my internal battle.

I know I hurt her badly before I dropped all contact, had seen the darkness clouding her eyes, the shine in them dying right before me. I remember her pressed against me in the car, all skin and bones, delicate, like a flower petal but bonier. Her tank top was low, and I could count the bones of her breastbones through the sea of milk-white skin.

"Just call her, you dumb—" Tori starts, her maroon lips twisted in a sneer, but her voice stops half-way when I lift my eyes to glower at her. She quiets, her eyes downcast now.

Then she sighs very loudly and clomps over to me, her feet dragging across the carpet. For such a tiny person, she sure makes one hell of a racket. "Look, dog boy," she says, her voice soft, gentle even, "I know you think you've fucked up big time. Like you could never repair what you broke. But you have to try. You can't say, 'I can't,' without trying goddamn it." She grabs my shoulder.

Her face is red and her eyes are shiny, wet. "I like her. She's...I care about her, and I know she cares about you, you fucking idiot, and I don't know what happened between you guys, so don't be a coward, Derek." Her hand drops away from my shoulder but I grab it between mine.

"What if she hates me?" I can't help but ask. My voice is thin and tired.

Tori looks at me then, her dark eyes sad and heavy-lidded. "Then you lick your wounds and move on eventually."

I pick up the phone again, holding her hand with my other one. Unlock it slowly. My thumb is shaking so bad, I have to press my passcode twice. Tori never lets go of my hand.

Slowly, my thumb presses the familiar seven digits. The dial tone rings four times. I'm sweating so badly, I'm surprised Tori hasn't made a comment yet.

And then she picks up.

"Hello?"

Her voice is reedy and quiet. She sounds stuffy, like she has allergies.

"Hi, Chloe." The words come out thick and choked.

Silence. "Derek?" she whispers. "Derek. Oh, God. Why haven't you called?" Her voice is warbling and I know she's crying.

I don't want to admit my fuck up, but I need to own up to it. "Because I was scared. That you'd hate me—hated me."

Someone speaks in the background, a man's voice.

"Never," she says fiercely. "I could never hate you. Ever. Derek, I don't know what's happening anymore."

I'm piqued. "What do you mean?"

"Royce."

All breath in my lungs rushes out in a gust. I feel as though I've punched in the stomach. "Royce? What do you mean?" I demand, unease rising like vomit.

She sighs and the sound crackles in my ear. "Let's talk about it. Come over. Please." The phone goes dead, the loud, outlandish beeping telling me she's hung up.

I stand up, dropping Tori's hand. She smiles but its tight at the edges and her lips shake a little.

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Chloe's house is just as I remember. Big, long windows, a patch of bright green grass for a front yard, a winding driveway.

I knock on the front door and a guy about my age, sort of brawny with swarthy dark hair, answers the door.

"Are you Derek?" he asks.

"Yeah, I am. Who are you?" I'm looking over his shoulder for Chloe's familiar hair.

"Ramon. She's getting some ice for her head. Come on." He opens the door wider, letting me through, so close I can feel the heat of his skin, and the door closes with a loud click behind me.

He leads the way, like he knows the inside of the house like the back of his hand, and I think it's weird because she and I have been close, thick as thieves, for a long time and I've only been to her house...once. When we met and the next night and the day we really became friends.

The silence is eating away at my worries so I ask Ramon, "How'd you meet her?"

"Lyle House. I just got out for good behavior." He smiles flatly, flashing his teeth.

"Good behavior?"

He stops and turns; we're headed into what I'm assuming is the kitchen and den area. "I didn't carve myself up like a turkey. If you get sent there, honestly, they don't give a shit if you get better. Just gotta walk the walk and let them fill you up with pills." He shakes his head.

"Derek!"

My arms are full of Chloe, soft and bony. She's cold, like ice, and I can feel the knobs of her spine against my palms.

"How's your head?" Ramon lifts up some hair and inspects her head,

"What happened to your head?" I ask.

Her smile drops. She pulls away hurriedly, avoiding my eyes. "You'll yell at me again if I tell you," she murmurs, gripping Ramon's shoulder.

My eyes are glued to the thin, lily-white fingers. Would she ever gain the weight back? Would her cheeks ever be full and strawberry icing? Would I ever hug her and not shiver from the icy temperatures of her skin?

"Chloe," Ramon says against her hair. His dark eyes are on me, not narrow but not quite trustful. Cautious.

"It was Royce. I think I'm being haunted," Chloe blurts, her big eyes on me, pleading with me.

"Royce...haunting you?" I'm having trouble connecting the dots. Ghosts aren't real; magnetic fields and tectonic plate shifts are.

"Der—" My name is choked off in an soundless scream, her eyes wide, scared, as Ramon is suddenly whipped away from her, thrown half-way across the room. He crashes into the wall and slides down, moaning.

"Did you really think you could leave?" a low voice demands, pissed, and I see his shape, hovering mid-air. A low, deep laugh that comes from the throat. "You're one fucking stupid bitch."

I'm knocked flat on my ass and then it's quiet, blood roaring in my ears, heart pounding. "What the fuck was that?" I whisper, not expecting an answer.

Chloe's thick, hoarse voice. "Royce, Derek. He's haunting me."