Amanda Marrone - Uninvited

UNINVITED

Amanda Marrone

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, Africa House, 64-78 Kingsway, London WC2B 6AH

A CBS COMPANY

Originally published in the USA in 2007 by Simon Pulse,

an imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Division, New York.

Copyright 2007 by Amanda Marrone Designed by Greg Stadnyk and Tom Daly All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978-1-84738-182-8

10 98 765432 1

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Cox & Wyman Ltd, Reading, Berks 2

I close my eyes, hoping he wont come tonight. Its later than usual. I hope hes given up, or just gone, and I can finally sleep. Cool air blows through the window, and I marvel at my bravery. Or stupidity. Its opened just a crack, no more than an inch. But until tonight Ive kept it closed, so I know hell be wondering what it means. I listen for some movement in the branches outside, but the leaves are dry and noisy now. I open my eyes I have to look. Its better when I see him coming. I put every ounce of energy into listening, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. I turn my head, grimacing at the sound of my long hair against the pillowcase. I look out my window, searching the branches, wondering if hed still come if I chopped down the tree.

Jordan, are you awake?

My heart races as I hunt for Michael among the branches. His dark form is pressed against the trunk a few feet higher from his usual perch. How long has he been watching me? He drops down, settling in closer to the window, and I remind myself to look for an ax in the morning.

Jordan, let me in.

Go away, Michael. I will never let you in. My voice is steady and calm, without emotion. Ive said these words a hundred times today, so theyd become automatic. So I wouldnt change my mind.

Michael sighs, and I think I see him nodding. He knows Im not ready to let him in. I suspect he knows I think about it, though. I suspect he knows that a part of me wants to.

You dont know how good you have it, Jo.

I dont like where this is leading. This wont be a lets talk about the future night. Michaels missing his old life and hell keep me up for hours if I encourage him.

Did you go to school today? Did anyone talk about me?

I roll my eyes. This is high school, Michael, youre old news. People have found better things to gossip about. I mean, dying in the summer well, your timing was way off. If having people remember you is important, that is. Theres just way too much happening, people move on pretty quickly. Now, if you had died during the school year, that would have made a bigger impact.

God, Jo! This isnt easy for me, you know.

I nod and wonder if his eyes see better than mine. Can he see Im putting on an act, that every inch of my skin tingles when he sits outside my window? Im sorry, Michael, but Im tired. I need to sleep.

But I miss you, Jo. Its not like you think. I cant sleep. I cant sleep at all. Im awake with nothing to do. Nothing to do but think, and miss you.

Ill leave some books outside for you tomorrow. Maybe you can accomplish something you never did when you were alive you can actually read a book. Or, hey, how about this? You can walk into the sunlight and end this all. Have you thought of that? What would happen if you walked into the sun?

Michaels quiet, and I think he may keep it short tonight until he taps his foot on my window.

Hows Steve and Eric? he asks. They still playing ball?

Oh God. I turn my back to the window. Ask me something I care about. Your stupid friends are exactly the same as they were when you were alive. They live and breathe football or basketball or whatever stupid ball season it is. They still hang out with their gorgeous girlfriends and they still 3

smash mailboxes after a few too many beers. Im surprised you havent joined them. That was one of your favorite pastimes, wasnt it?

He doesnt answer, and I remember Michael making out with some girl one hand up her short skirt, pressing her against the lockers acting like he wasnt making an ass of himself. I wonder how many guys walking past dreamed of trading places with Michael? I know how often I dreamed of trading places with that girl.

So, what, they dont talk about me? Like, not at all?

Hes definitely not letting it go tonight. I think he actually thought theyd worship him forever.

I turn back to the window, but I remember to move slowly this time. Ive seen my cat throw itself against the window trying to catch the birds outside in the tree. I sometimes wonder if Michael will lose patience with me and begin to think of me like that, like a bird. Like his prey. So I move bit by bit because I dont know what I would do if Michael were to throw himself against the glass.

I lied before, I finally say. Everyone talks about you. They actually talk about you a lot. I pause and let Michael think what he will. But theyre not reminiscing. They think you killed yourself. Ive wanted to tell Michael this for a long time, but he was such a mess over the summer, it didnt seem right. But tonight Im feeling mean, and I wont baby him. Besides, he doesnt seem to care about what his visits do to me.

What? Who thinks that?

Everyone. Everyone at school. And Ive been wondering, too. I bite my lip, deciding if I should go on.

Ive told you what happened, he says sharply. You know what I was dealing with. Theres no way I could have stopped it.

Ive been wondering if thats true, but I cant tell him that not yet. Well, they think you killed yourself and they talk about why you did it. And not just your friends. Everyone.

I let my words sink in. I let him mull over the thought of the entire school ignoring his football record in favor of gossip.

You wouldnt believe the theories that went around. Some were really laughable. Michael was bipolar. Michael only had one month to live. But dont feel too bad, it was purely defensive.

People needed to find the flaws theyd missed when you were alive, because if the great Michael Green couldnt handle things, how is everybody else supposed to?

Well, at least you know the truth, he says.

Ive wounded him and catch myself before a satisfied smile emerges on my face. Im long past trying to understand what Michael does to me. Making me wish he were here in my room in my bed again, then the next minute making me relish the hurt in his voice. But I wont beat myself up for bruising his ego. Hes made me his prisoner every night, and Im glad when I can get a dig in.

Damn it! he growls, startling me. Im sick of talking. Let me in!

He suddenly shifts his weight and slaps his palms against the glass. I flinch like its me hes hit.

I try to shrink away from him and sink into the mattress. God, why did I say those things?

My mouth dries to paper as I suck in the cold air pouring in over the sill. I make myself as small as possible and freeze into place. So far the window has barred his way. But that damn inch. I imagine him with new cat eyes that can see in the dark, noticing the currents of air playing around the opening. Does he know what I did can he see? Is that small opening invitation enough for him to enter?

Jordan, he croons. Im sorry. Im so sorry. I didnt mean to scare you. I just miss you so much. I just want to be with you.