Wanted by Kym Brunner Page B

name it.”
    I nod, mentally adding “missing my mom” and “court case” to my list, as a screeching girl in a pink hoodie races past us. She’s holding a baseball cap high in the air while a boy chases after her, laughing. “Give it back, Melanie!”
    Jack watches them as he does one of his bang flips. “Plus, I don’t believe in all that paranormal stuff—ghosts and spirits and all that other crap.”
    I shrug. “I don’t know. So many people believe in it that part of me thinks it has to be true. Take those ghost bus tours, for example. People must believe or they wouldn’t pay to go on it.”
    â€œSome people might believe, but that doesn’t make it true. Kyle’s dad points out places where people actually died, but you have to decide for yourself if you sense ghosts around.” He balls up the wrapper from his burger. “Kyle and I went on it once for fun when we were like in fifth grade. We secretively kept touching some of the tour guests with a pigeon feather we found. One lady got totally spooked thinking the ghost of her dead brother was touching her. Kyle and I laughed our heads off behind her back.”
    â€œReal nice,” I say, smiling. If nothing else, Jack seems to have a good sense of humor.
    He goes to dip his fries into the ketchup cup, but knocks over his Coke by accident. “Dang it!” He grabs for it, but not before the lid falls off and Coke starts running across the table in seven directions.
    â€œI’ll get napkins.” Dashing to the nearest condiment station, I grab a stack about four inches thick and race back, tossing them on top of the brown river tributaries. Jack and I blot up the liquid, throwing the drenched napkins onto my tray, which now has a Coke pond with French fries floating around like dead koi fish.
    â€œWell, that was—” I hear a metallic clink. “Uh-oh.” I touch my pocket and feel the outline of only one slug. My heart falls out of my chest. “Shit!” I scoot to the edge of the bench and look down over the side.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Jack asks.
    â€œOne of the slugs fell out of my pocket!” A gold blur catches my eyes as the slug snakes lazily across the aisle. Skater leans over, stopping it with his foot.
    I leap out of my seat as Skater grabs the slug, holding it out to me.
    â€œSorry about that. Thank you.” I open my palm, smiling.
    As he places the slug into my palm with one hand, he latches onto my wrist with his other. I’m about to protest when the most intense, pleasurable calmness washes over me. It’s the once-in-a-great-while feeling of total happiness, like when you wake up and hear the ocean, or the boy you like smiles at you from across the room.
    In a flash, a low buzz surrounds us, blocking out all other sounds and images. When I look into his eyes, I gasp. His irises have turned completely white, with only the pupils visible. They glow dimly from within, as if made of candlelight, making me wonder if he’s even human. But if he’s not human, what is he—an angel? A demon?
    â€œDo not be afraid,” he says in a soft, comforting voice as if reading my thoughts. “I have been sent to bring you a message. Powerful forces have taken up residence within you and your ally—forces that have proven deadly in the past. You two must toil together to appease these spirits with haste, thus ridding them from your body, or they will dwell within you for the rest of your days.”
    I try to yank my arm out of his grasp, but he gently squeezes my wrist. Another wave of warmth and reassurance courses up my arm, as the intoxicating scent of lilacs fills my nostrils.
    His pupils dilate and then contract as he gazes at me, hypnotically pulling me in. “An opportunity exists at the moment of death to purge these spirits from existence. Do not squander this gift like the ones who came before you. While many