Something I Don't Know

11: never touch a cursed plant

Jamie and I spend the whole night explaining, you know, the world to Levi the Ghost, and when I pass out on the couch without even putting on pajamas, I forget how pissed off I am at Safiya.

But once I wake up, I remember.

I sit up, and there's an awful crook in my neck, one I try to rub out while simultaneously nudging Jamie with my toe. He's asleep on the floor, splayed out upon the rug, one arm thrown haphazardly atop the coffee table. He doesn't stir, so I nudge him again. One eye—the blue one—opens. "Grey?"

"Wake the hell up," I snap at him, throwing a pillow down at his face. "We're going to Safiya's."

"Who's Sophia?" says Levi's voice behind me, and I nearly fall of the couch and right onto Jamie, he startled me so much.

Instead, though, I catch myself on the couch arm. "Jesus Christ, dude," I say, peering up at him. I like him better in the dark; the sunlight makes him look more translucent, which is sort of weird in a way that makes me not want to look at him too directly. "Don't tell me you're just gonna be doing that all the time now."

Levi asks, "Is Sophia your girlfriend?"

I look at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. "It's Safiya," I correct, "and no. I'm not...I'm not her type."

Levi frowns. "Ah."

"Neither are you," I say. "Or Jamie. Or anyone with XY chromosomes."

Levi frowns more. "Ah?"

The translucent thing is really creeping me out now. I throw another pillow at Jamie, who squeals. "We're leaving."

Safiya only halfway opens the door. "If you're coming here to unload Jamie for another four hours, you may leave now, before I eat you."

I catch the door in my hand. "You would never eat me," I say, and she glares at me in a way that almost says Are you sure about that? "Besides, that is not what we're here for. We are here to discuss the fact that you bought me a house that's freaking haunted."

"His name is Levi," pipes up Jamie from behind me. Safiya's eyes float down towards his, her face screwing up into a scowl. "He died in a house fire in 1864 and he's slightly racist."

I glance at Jamie.

He adds, hopefully, "We are working on making him less racist."

Safiya exhales languorously before opening the door, allowing us the full view of her cashmere sweater dress and—you guessed it—scarlet knee-high boots. I start to step over the threshold, but she holds a hand out to stop me. You'd think I could brush her arm away, but Safiya's way stronger than she looks. It's probably the vampire thing. "You came here to bitch about a ghost in your house?"

"A racist ghost."

"He lived in the Confederacy. What do you expect?"

Jamie, once again, adds, "He seems very open-minded, though. Willing to learn."

"Jamie," I say, shutting my eyes. "Please stop talking."

He stops talking.

Safiya still doesn't let us in. "This is so not my fault. How was I supposed to know the loft was haunted?"

"I don't know!" I exclaim, throwing up my arms. "Didn't it feel haunted when you bought it? I bet it did, and you bought it anyway, because you still hate me. You still hate me, don't you?"