Seven days. A rough, terrible number. A number that seethes and moans. I have hardly left my bed. I have missed five days of school. Now I’m not sure how I’ll ever go back. Dad is away on business. I told Mom I was sick. This is the truth. I am sick. And hungry.In the grocery store: I flick my ey...
The secretary (wo)manning the lobby of Carol Kohl’s office peers through the glass at me, and I see her hand feeling for a switch beneath her wooden desk. I’ve had that same watched feeling ever since I left the park. Maybe it’s residual ghost-sensitivity. I expect to find Stern, secreted away in...