Phantom [h.s]

Thirty one

Harry and I look at each other for a few long moments, my breath caught in my throat with shock. Wesley is gone, just like that-no warning, he was just gone. Crossed from the in between to the afterlife in the blink of an eye.

"We need to go," Harry whispers and tugs my hand up, careful to dodge the gaze of Wesley's mother, who still stands in the garden. She doesn't pay any attention, though-she sits back down on the bench, wiping the tears off of her cheeks.

We quietly and hurriedly make our way back to the cemetery. I can tell Harry is shocked, too. His jaw is locked tight and he drops my hand to run it through his hair as we walk.

Although I knew Wesley was already dead, having him cross almost seals the deal, and I feel like I have truly lost him, even though he is at peace and I will see him again once I die and cross to the afterlife, eventually. A ripple of pain shoots through me as I contemplate how I will react when Harry crosses. I push away the thought.

We arrive back to the graveyard and the sun is gone, fallen behind the dark line of the horizon. Clouds shield the stars and the air feels damp with the threat of more rain, as the light drizzle had stopped earlier. My feet sink slightly in the muddy earth beneath me.

"Em!" Harry shouts, eyes scanning the rows of graves. "Em, get over here!"

From behind a tall oak I catch sight of a pair of eyes and the small girl emerges, worry etching into her face as she approaches the two of us. Her bare feet sink in the muddy ground and her blonde hair is slightly damp from the rain-not that she can feel any of it, so it's no wonder she hardly notices how darkened her feet are from the dirt and rain.

"What is it?" Em asks. Her eyes land on me for a split second before shifting back to Harry, who practically towers over her petite figure with his lanky frame.

"It's Wesley," Harry says. "He crossed."

Em's eyebrows shoot up, her expression surprised. "Crossed? When? How?"

I stand patiently beside Harry as he briefly explains, his voice hushed. Em stands with her hands by her sides, frowning.

I can't help but notice her premature wisdom yet again. The way she stands, shoulders back and spine straight; the way she speaks, her lips forming each word with care and compassion. Ten years she has been stuck in the in between-ten years. If she had lived, she would be twenty two. It's obvious to me that although her body has not aged, her intelligence certainly has.

My thoughts drain from my mind as Harry finishes relaying the story to Em.

"Interesting," she says, tapping a finger to her bottom lip. "I didn't think he would cross for a while, at least. His mother was so..." She trails off.

Harry nods. "We all thought so."

"Well," she says. "We should be happy for him. We will see him soon, anyway." She smiles slightly up at Harry.