Frizzy haired and overweight, sixteen year old Elizabeth Summers hears ghosts. She also reads people's auras often seeing when something bad is headed their way. Unfortunately, she can't choose which ghosts visit her psychic hotline or when her para...
Dazed from the fall, I looked up into the masculine face of Dylan Grant. He's the school loner, an Aussie transplant who plays in the alternative rock group, Shattered. I'm so relieved to see someone else, I forget to be shy and nervous.
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"Dylan, thank God! Some creep in the cemetery was chasing me!" Urgently, I point to the stone bridge. "He's over there, lurking by the lake." I try to keep my hand steady, but it trembles uncontrollably.
Despite my shaky countenance, Dylan looks unperturbed. He glances towards the deserted bridge, then back down at me. "There's no one there now. Are you all right?" Leaning forward he offers me a hand while his face remains inscrutable. When his fingers clasp mine, a strong current of energy races up my spine. Almost an electrical jolt. Quickly, I jerk my hand away and then manage to stand unassisted.
"I'm fine, thank you." Privately, I'm beginning to feel like an idiot. I'm sure he doesn't believe there was someone else was here in the park threatening me.
After assessing my sweaty, mussed condition, he quizzically raises an eyebrow. "What are you doing in the cemetery, Elizabeth? Don't you know it's dangerous to be here alone?"
I start brushing dirt and smeared grass stains off my shorts. "Actually, I was jogging." I'm not going to explain to him that I'm here trying to lose weight. My body is still tingling from the energy that came off him, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"Jogging?" His eyes narrow in disbelief as he calmly inspects me. When he reaches out and gently removes a feather from my hair, my embarrassment intensifies into mortification. He must think I'm crazy, like my mother.
Uncomfortable with his scrutiny, I abruptly turn his question around on him. "What are YOU doing here, Dylan? Especially at this time of day." He doesn't immediately answer, as if weighing what he wants to share with me.
"I was talking to the caretaker." Nonchalantly, he nods in the direction of the park's office.
"Funny, the groundskeeper's never around when I need him. That crotchety old man never leaves his office except to yell at kids sledding here during winter break." I'm a little shocked at my own outburst. Why am I babbling on about how much I dislike the grouchy caretaker?
As Dylan's silence hangs in the air, I perceive he has no intention of disclosing his true agenda at Lakewood cemetery. Finished with small talk, he firmly grabs my elbow, then leads me towards the parking lot near the grounds keeper's brick building. "Come on, Elizabeth. I'll give you a ride home." His commanding presence makes me feel extremely irritated, but also wonderfully safe after my fright.
"If you insist, Dylan. Thanks." Exhausted, I allow myself to be herded to his car. He has a mustard colored Mustang with black stripes running down the hood. As he opens the passenger door, his silent staring becomes unbearable. "Is there anything wrong?" I prompt.
He pauses, looking at me with his intense green eyes. "Elizabeth, there's something I've always wanted to ask you. How did you know?"
"Know what?" I avoid looking at him, because with this cursed paranormal Sight, I already know what he's about to ask me.
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