The Girl in Acid Park by Lauren Harris Page B

burned.
    "Maybe it won't help us see ghosts," he said. "But at least you've relaxed."
    "S-hort of," I coughed, waving a hand to clear away my graceless puffs. "This shit smells like sage. I'm craving Italian food."
    He chuckled, then tilted his head back and let the smoke curl from barely-parted lips. I think he might have been more relaxed than I was.
    It had been my idea to go to Acid Park, even though most of the whirligigs were gone. I guess I'd read enough about the place to be curious, whether the reflective splendor of its original design was gone or not. Part of me was also convinced by the claims of haunting, which made it the perfect testing ground for our experiment. And any opportunity to get out of school was attractive to me right now, especially if it involved Jamie.
    "How do we know if it works," he said, using his middle finger to push his glasses back up his nose. Back toward the road, a soft rumble heralded the approach of a car. "I still think we should have stayed where we know for sure there's a ghost."
    Headlighs filtered through the trees, then swung sharply away again as the car arrived at that fateful bend in the road. For just a second, they flashed off the rusted VW van's bumper.
    "You didn't see Amy Barnes," I said. "If you had, you wouldn't be asking. I'd rather watch Fox News than look at her."
    "Gross." He smiled as he said it, following the passage of the car with his eyes.
    "You begin to see my point."
    He breathed out through his nose, sending two streams of fog into the chill air. "Yes. I don't know how Satou does it."
    I winced. That had been exactly Hiroki's point--he couldn't choose which ghosts he saw and when. I couldn't imagine getting used to something like Amy Barnes. That heavy, swinging form. The tap of her blood pooling below. The outstretched hand.
    I shuddered, glancing around the trees for any hint of hanging girls. Tall pines lining the highway between school and Acid Park extended down the quarter mile of driveway. Though some of the trees had been cut down to aid in removing the whirligigs, enough remained to preserve the place's isolation. They stretched overhead, branches extending across the driveway like fingers weaving a roof. It was peaceful. It was away. It felt good.
    I took another drag off the joint and shifted my weight against the tailgate.
    "Hey." I kicked Jamie's shoe in case he was too high to realize I was talking to him. He glanced at me. "Thanks," I said. He reached for the joint. It was down to a twist of paper, but his fingers grazed mine, and he took it. Dropped it into the gravel.
    The silence stretched out, but I must have been a little high myself because I didn't worry that he didn't respond. His leaned his head back and stared through the branches.
    I wasn't one hundred percent certain why he was helping me. Part of my reason for thanking him was in the hope that he might tip his hand. Was it just to pay me back for helping Aaron move on? Was he being nice to me because everyone else wasn't?
    He exhaled again, as if blowing out another stream of smoke. I thought he would say something, but he rocked forward, swinging himself around to the back tire, and climbed into the truck bed. I followed, but I must've been more high than I thought, because I couldn't tell how hard I was holding onto the truck. My fingers slipped free and only a majestic flail kept me upright.
    When I finally joined Jamie in the truck bed, he'd stretched his arms out over the cab like a cat, long fingers tapping. I crossed my arms and leaned next to him, my chest pressing into the cold back window.
    "Doth my gratitude offend?"
    He shrugged. "No, I just don't feel like it's something you should thank me for, so saying you're welcome would be...weird."
    "You're really high right now, aren't you?"
    "I am really high right now. But I don't want you to thank me for--I don't know--not being an asshole. I mean. I usually am an asshole. It doesn't make one worthy of praise. That should