~Josh~

I’m doing a good job not thinking about Alice until the day I hear her sing.

After practice, I grab my bag and start walking with Kyler out to the car park. But before we’re out the back door, I hear a note, high and clear, echo from the theater. Kyler and I stop. We thought we were the last ones to leave.

I’m the one who walks back towards the auditorium. I want to see who it is. The melody continues. There are no words, and it’s simple and repetitive. The acoustics of the empty theater cause the notes to bounce around and overlap, which causes a strange sort of harmony. It’s eerie, almost sad but still in a major key. It seems almost impossible that the sound could be coming from just one person.

But that’s what I see when I crack the door open. Alice, standing at the center of the stage with her arms outstretched, as if she’s asking a question to an invisible someone. Her eyes are closed, and she for the first time I’ve ever seen her, she looks happy. I only see this for a second, and I almost start to smile when a chilly wind blows around the theater.

Alice’s hair is lifted by the gust just barely, so it looks electric. She notices and opens her eyes, never breaking the strain. But her eyes widen, and she changes just one note that causes the whole song to shift into minor. It’s no longer just eerie, it’s creepy. Her eyes dart around the theater as though she’s expecting someone to pop out from behind the chairs. I have to remind myself not to be ridiculous.

I almost jump out of my skin when I think I notice something standing just behind Alice. But when I look back, I see nothing. Focusing hard on the spot, just behind her left shoulder, my heart pounds faster and faster as I start to see a faint white shape. It makes no sense, and my mind runs amuck with explanations that somehow don’t fit….

Kyler shoves the door open, and I gasp audibly. Kyler turns, gives me a ‘what’s-your-problem’ look, and then turns to the stage. He looks so surprised it’s almost insulting when he sees Alice. But Alice doesn’t notice him- at least, I don’t think right away. Her startling eyes set on mine for a moment, then she turns and runs off the stage. Faintly I hear Miss Jo calling “Alice!” in the distance. Kyler turns and looks at me, shrugs, and then turns around to leave. I want to get out, too. The last notes of Alice’s melody are fading, dissolving into the air, and I don’t want to be there when the silence takes over.

I shouldn’t be this freaked out. I should just be… nothing, I guess, not really care, maybe be a little embarrassed. But something about the way Kyler doesn’t even talk about it on the way home, Kyler, The Boy Who Will Talk Until His Mouth Falls Off, makes me think that maybe he was a little freaked, too. I want to ask if he saw something, but that would be dumb. The last thing I need is for Shawna to hear that I’m seeing things….


Maybe I am seeing things. Over the next few weeks, a few times I catch something, always near Alice. Once I saw her staring hard into the stage curtain, like she was trying to burn a hole in it, and I could have sworn I saw a faint white outline of something, maybe a silhouette, a little taller than Alice herself. But before I could see more, I accidentally knocked into a rack of costumes. Alice just about jumped through the roof, and I just straightened the costume rack and kept walking on past her, because I didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. That’s the most I ever see, but a few other times I swear I see the white shape behind her, like her presence has manifested into a blurred, almost-clear shadow. But it isn’t dark and familiar, like other shadows. It’s white, and cold, and alien, and I don’t like it at all.

~Alice~


I’m close. Over the next few weeks I can feel him, closer, never as close as he was in the empty theater before that hoodlum Kyler came busting in, but close. Sometimes he says my name in a whisper that I barely feel.

“Alice….” Alice what? I’m practicing my concentration. I’m trying to sleep more so I have more energy. I’ve tried contacting him at home, but it’s just not as strong as it is at the theater. I want to know why, and he’ll have the answers.

He talks to me sometimes. His voice comes through clearly if I listen, but he never stays long. He says he wants to meet me face to face before we talk long. I know the time. Stella has a meeting after practice in a few days, and I’ll have an hour alone in the theater. He has an idea he wants to try, and he says that maybe I’ll see him then.

I know his name now. Will. I have to contact him. I must know more.

~Josh~


Kyler’s out of town. Mom has to work late hours at the hospital with some surgery, and so the short story is I get to be stuck at theater an extra half an hour. Practice seems to go faster than usual, and then I’m left alone in the auditorium. I sit down in a chair in the back row and pull out a book, wishing there was noise to break the eerie silence but not wanting to be the one to make it.

I get both wishes sooner than I thought I would.

I drop the book when I hear footsteps backstage. Not knowing quite why, I duck behind the seats, feeling stupid. But I’m not sure I’m actually supposed to be here, so that’s my rationalization until I see Alice.

I’ve never seen her look so… alive. Even in her dark stage hand clothes, which usually make her look pale, she looks healthy and flushed and more present then she’s ever been. She glances quickly around the theater, then slips backstage. Her hair is down, and flies behind her in a golden curtain.

I debate. Should I follow her? That would be creepy, stalker-ish, completely uncalled for. The idea of being backstage alone scares me a little, so maybe I’m becoming superstitious, which would be really, really lame. I have no real reason to go, except… well, Alice. I’m interested in what Alice is doing.

I slip out of the seat and walk quietly down the side aisle, using my virtually silent tread I usually adopt during quiet scenes backstage where the slightest sound will be magnified. Sneaking down the aisle, I take the side door in.

Once I’m backstage, the whole enterprise seems ridiculous. It’s creepy back here, with black curtains hanging all around, dividing off changing areas and prop storage. There’s also no sign of Alice.

I decide to walk around to the other side of the stage, intending to take the other door out of the backstage and into the audience seating. But as I’m almost to the middle of the narrow strip between left and right stage, I hear a voice.

It’s not Alice. It’s a boy’s voice, and the tone is puzzling. It’s speaking clearly, as if in normal conversation, but is very quiet, like the volume has been turned down on a television. The voice is also very close, so close I shrink back against the shell.

“Focus, Alice,” the voice says. “I can see you. Can you see me?”

“Almost….” Alice’s voice, hers very present but weak, comes to me from the other side of the curtain my nose is almost touching. My eyes widen. Alice sounds like she can barely talk. But it’s the first time I’ve really heard her voice, apart from her singing. It’s musical and medium high, all in all a very nice voice.

I awkwardly scoot a few feet down the shell, making no noise. I’d like to see Kyler try this, I think. Stage hand one, actor zero. I reach the end of the curtain and carefully, barely edge my face around- and then jerk my head back, my mouth clamped shut to keep from screaming.

Alice is kneeling in the middle of a painted circle on the floor. The white paint glows slightly, and she’s sitting with her hands facing out, palms up, as if to push something over. But that’s not what scares me. What scares me is that someone else is in the circle, too.

It has to be the boy I just heard. Kneeling exactly across from Alice, his palms stretched out in front of him to meet hers. Wearing old-fashioned breeches and a crisp ironed shirt, with tousled curls so fair they’re almost white and big, bright blue eyes. Or they would be bright. Because the boy’s whole being is faded, somehow smudged around the edges and fading to white if you look at him directly. He’s a… I can’t bring myself to say it. It sounds crazy, and yet I know it’s true. He’s a phantom, a specter… a ghost.

“Will!” Alice’s voice comes to me, breathless, from around the curtain. “You’re here! I can see you….” There’s a gasp, then a thump. It sounds like Alice’s hands hit the floor. Concern floods through me. Scared for Alice, I force myself to look around the curtain again.

She’s back on her knees, one palm still outstretched to meet his, the other reaching for his face. Just as her fingers reach his cheek, his whole being flickers and he jerks back. Alice’s face falls.

“I can’t touch you,” she confirms in a whisper. He nods sadly.

“Can I, if I try harder?”

“Just concentrate, love,” the boy, Will, whispers to her. I’m in for the biggest surprise of the night. Piercing through the intoxicating haze of fear and disbelief that clouds me is another emotion, eerily familiar. He called her love… and what I feel is white-hot jealousy.

Shock jolts me. It took a phantom boy to make me see.

I’m in love with Alice.

I can’t take it anymore. Hardly conscious of what I’m doing, I rip the curtain back. Alice shrieks, and Will roars “NO!”- but he’s already gone, her concentration broken. His spectral silhouette evaporates into a wisp of white mist, which folds in on itself and implodes, but not before his hauntingly blue eyes set on mine for just a second. Even though he’s gone, it’s like the shadow of those eyes hangs in the air in front of me, and I can’t get rid of them.

Alice scrambles to her feet. She looks just as scared as I feel, but she’s also furious. Her hands shake when she tries to ball them into fists, and all I can do is stare at her. Her hair stands out around her head like a static halo- an angel-

“Josh!” she screams. “What are you doing here? What did you do?”

I’m speechless. I can’t even stutter. My mouth opens, then closes again.

“Leave!” she shrieks. “Leave! Go! Just go!”

I go, running from that awful haunted place. I burst onto the main stage, and vault off it, sprinting up the main aisle. I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder and don’t stop running until I’m out of the building, shrinking back against the fence on the outskirts of the parking lot. Breathing hard, I watch as Mom’s van pulls around the corner. The car slides to a stop in front of me, and I try to act normal as I get in as fast as possible and try not to beg her to get me out of there.

~Alice~


Will has been in my dreams for a long time. But tonight, Josh is there too.

It always starts the same way. I’m walking through a long, misty white room. There’s a light at the end, bright and inviting, and I’m walking out of the dark, curtained recesses of backstage.

It goes the same way at first. Will emerges out of the fog, beautiful and smiling, his eyes shining and lovely. But this time, when I try to run to him, someone catches my wrist from behind. My head jerks around, and it’s Josh. He looks terrified.

“No, Alice, no!” He shakes his head violently. “Don’t choose him! He’s not real!”

Choose? I’m baffled. But he’s holding me back from Will, the only person in the world who loves me, and so I lash out. “Let me go!” I shriek. “You don’t know me!”

“Look, Alice!” Josh yells. I look at Will. He has a knife in his hand, and he’s about to put it to his neck. I go crazy.

“No, Will!” I shriek. “I’m coming!” I turn to Josh. “Let me go, you jerk-” But Josh isn’t there anymore. He’s being dragged back into the dark by tendrils of curling shadow. He’s gasping for breath. He’s going to die, if I don’t do anything-

But so is Will. I stand, unable to help either without forsaking the other, my head going back and forth. This isn’t supposed to happen. Josh isn’t supposed to be here. I’m supposed to run to Will, I’m supposed to wake up.

Will smiles beatifically, his angel’s face content. The knife starts to go in, and I run for him. Behind me, Josh screams.

But when I reach Will, I reach for the knife and grab at colored air. I can’t touch Will. I run right through him, and everything goes dark.

I hate my dreams.

~Josh~


I hate my dreams.

In this one, I stand, frozen, in the backstage room where I saw Alice today while I watch Will kiss her. Then he walks a ways down a white, fogged up tunnel. At the end, there’s light- not sunshine, not natural. She stays where she was, and I hear them talking, but she doesn’t know I’m there.

“Do I have to die to be with you, Will?” she asks, and my mouth opens in a silent scream as Will turns to look at her sadly.

“I think so,” he says.

“Then I will,” she answers, and I find that I can move. I run towards Alice, and grab her wrist as she begins to walk towards him….

~Alice~


I’m going to try again. My dreams haven’t been nearly so disturbing since the one with Josh, and I’m rested up. I’ve been avoiding Josh. I think he’s trying to talk to me, to confront me about Will, and I won’t let him. I’ll let him think he’s seeing things. Any bad dreams he has can’t be as bad as mine.

Will as I saw him was just as I saw him in my dreams. But there is still so much to explain, to understand, that I need to see him again. I’m so well-rested it’s getting harder to sleep at night. I need to try soon. Maybe if I try hard enough, I can touch him.


I kneel down again on the floor, the same place as last time. I stretch out my palms and try to feel the energy, like he told me to. The power of my focus tingles on the end of my fingertips.

I feel it when he comes. It’s a powerful pull, dragging more energy from me. My head spins, but I force myself to focus harder, opening my eyes and finding his inches from mine. He’s smiling- I love it when he’s happy- and I find the strength within me to smile too.

“You’re almost there, Alice,” he whispers. “Are you ready?”

I steel myself and nod.

Another pull, swifter and deeper than the first, and I feel calloused palms pressing against mine. I open my eyes, triumphant, and find Will even closer, so close that I feel his smile rather than see it.

“Alice!” he says, his voice joyous and louder than ever. “You did it!”

“Will,” is all I can say, but my smile must say enough. Putting his arms around me, he pulls me in to him, his face in my hair and my face in his shoulder. His shirt has slipped to the side so I can feel his skin against my face.

His shirt is rough against my bare arms, but his hair is very soft. I tease it as we rock back and forth, our team efforts having finally come together. He’s here. Will is here. I nuzzle my face deeper into his bare shoulder, and realize something. He’s not cold, not exactly- it’s like he’s cold-blooded, the same temperature as the theater around me. Around us.

It’s definitely worth it, even though the effort of bringing Will into semi-reality has drained me of almost everything I have. I’m so glad I nicked some of Stella’s coffee this morning….

Just as that thought has crossed my mind, Will pulls back, his strange, room-temperature arms still supporting me. When he gently puts his lips on mine, the sudden rush of energy that pulses between us is the last energy I have. The world spirals into darkness, and when I fall I hit the stage’s floor of dark polished wood. Will is gone.

~Josh~


Kyler has to stay late to work on lines, and it’s his day to carpool. I wander from the practice room, because if I hear another “the hills are alive” I’m going to strangle someone, beginning with Kenneth Waller- a very good place to start.

I trail through the music wing, but discover that I can’t stay there. The quiet is too unnatural in a place that was built to be filled with sound, and the silence is almost as audible as the music. It’s like that time when Kyler and I heard Alice singing, and we headed for the hills before the silence could swallow the theater.

The theater. Alice.

Alice is still here. Miss Jo is in the room working with the leads on their lines, and Alice, of course, rides home with her. Alice was not in the practice room.

The theater. Alice. Will-

A compulsion takes over me, and I stride towards the back entrance to the theater, accessible via the end of the music wing. Again I fight the incredulity I feel towards myself. Harder to push back is the fear I feel- for Alice, for me. I’m not quite sure what there is to fear from ghosts, but they’re not natural- they don’t belong to this world.

I just about jump out of my skin when I hear a loud thump. When I register that it came from the direction of the little stage alcove where I saw Alice and Will last time, my pulse climbs until I’m actually scared my heart is going to burst. I force a few deep breaths, and then head for the recess.

The sight of Alice lying crumpled on the floor there sends me into a panic. I run over, fall on my knees, and shake her shoulders desperately, trying to wake her up. I turn her over so she’s face up, on my lap, and see that she’s deadly- almost ghostly- pale.

“Alice!” I whisper frantically, bending my head close to her face. What happened? What is wrong with her? Why won’t she wake up? “Alice! Can you hear me?”

Her eyelids flutter, and I exhale with relief. But my relief quickly evaporates when she speaks.

“Will?” she sighs, her hands fluttering limply at her sides. I grab both of them in one of mine, and cradle her head in the crook of my other arm.

“Wake up, Alice, please,” I beg. “It’s me. Wake up.”

Her eyes finally open all the way, then widen farther when she sees me.

“Josh?” she breathes. The confusion in her eyes gives way to alarm. “What are you doing here? Where’s Will….”

She probably would ask more questions, but something about the look on my face makes her stop.

“You were talking to him again?” I seethe. “Alice, that’s dangerous! You don’t know who he is, or even what he is! You have better people to talk to-”

“No, I don’t!” she snapped, moved to anger. She shoves herself out of my lap and sits back in front of me. I don’t think she’s quite able to stand yet. “Who do I have? No one! I don’t have friends, or boys who like me like your precious little Shawna!” She spits the name at me. “Will understands me! He cares! No one else does! And yet you have the nerve to tell me not to talk to the only person who’s ever understood me!?”

I’m quite dumbfounded. All I can think to say is “Alice….”

“Don’t you Alice me. Don’t ever talk to me again.”

She stands up to go, and I stand up to follow her, but she’s still shaky and falls over again. She’s going to crack her head on the wheel of a prop cart, but I reach over and catch her. She’s totally limp, barely conscious, so I pick her up in my arms and carry her over to where a tattered couch on wheels sits ready for the next house scene. We collapse there, and she doesn’t try to get off me this time.

“Maybe not ever again,” she mumbles, and I laugh quietly. We sit there for a few minutes, Alice curled up against my chest, until her breathing becomes even and she turns her head up to look at me and smile.

“Did you collapse?” I ask, and her smile vanishes. I regret saying anything, but she nods.

“It’s hard… getting him there… and today I made him semi-corporeal,” she says, her eyes distant. I nod, understanding, and decide not to ask anymore ghost questions.

“He’s not the only one who cares about you,” I say.

“What?”

“Miss Jo- Stella, I guess you call her- she cares a lot about you.” Alice sighs, deflating. I feel like a jerk. It obviously makes her sad, thinking about whatever she’s thinking about.

“Stella loves me,” Alice finally says simply, “but she doesn’t understand me.” Her big gray eyes stare straight into mine. “She has no idea.” I don’t question her, but my mind is reeling. And Will does?

“Please don’t tell her,” Alice pleads. “Don’t tell Stella.”

“I won’t,” I say, and I know then and there that I’ll honor the promise. This thing, this whole ghost thing, is between me and Alice-

And Will… always there is Will, his shadow eyes following me everywhere….

~Alice~


It’s really not fair of me to be blaming all of this on Josh. But I am.

I wish I had had the strength to walk away after I told him never to talk to me again. Because the farther I bring him into this, the worse it is, for him and me. He doesn’t understand at all. Will and I have dark similarities, black hidden things. But Josh- Josh isn’t like that. He’s an open book, and the light shines out of him. No secrets have ruined him like Will and me. We’re black holes, forever hungry and empty. But Josh is still a star.

Stars and souls don’t cross. But here Josh is, and his energy, his gravity, is pulling me away from my black hole, Will, from the rest I need.

I’m a little lost moon, bobbing back and forth.

Moons have two sides. One is light, and the other is dark.

~Josh~


I start to worry. Practice seems to go too fast, and Alice shies away from me. Every time Kyler has to stay late for lines, I nervously pace the music wing. Alice told me to leave her alone, and that’s turning out to be very hard. But another thing is bothering me, too. Alice knew about Shawna- she thought I still liked Shawna. I wonder if it was that obvious, or if Alice is just receptive, or what.

I know that Alice is wrong, and I no longer like Shawna a few days later.

It’s because of Kenneth Waller. We hear he’s got pneumonia, and he’s not going to be well in time to practice adequately for the role of the Baron von Trapp. Miss Jo is frantic trying to find a replacement because no one thought to hire an understudy. Unfortunately, she decides to ask me in front of everybody.

“No,” I say, too quickly- Shawna is standing right there, and she looks terribly disappointed, the kind of disappointed that would have knocked me flat coming from her before I met Alice. “I mean- I want to be a stage hand. Thanks for asking and all, but no.”

I catch a glimpse of Alice with the most peculiar expression on her face- she looks touched, but somehow frustrated. Is there no way to please this girl?

That night, while we’re driving home, Kyler says I’ve been being “too quiet” and I “look weird”. Later, I look in the mirror. I look normal to me. I’ve let my hair grow out longer than usual, but it’s not that bad. I run a hand through it, but it’s nothing like Will’s. Dark, and real. Will and I are opposites. His blue eyes are bright; mine are dark, the color of the sky over midnight. For a moment, I try to picture me with Will’s fair hair and bright eyes, but only for a moment- it feels horribly wrong. I can’t see myself with Will’s sharp looks and faded edges, not to mention the old-fashioned clothes. What does Alice see in him?, I wonder irritably, and then, on a sadder note, What would she see in me?

~Alice~


I have to talk to Will. I can feel his eyes on me, waiting, growing impatient. I’m resting up again- and still avoiding Josh. He isn’t- well, I won’t say he isn’t good for me. When he found me after I passed out backstage, that was the most alive I had felt in years. But what Josh isn’t good for is my plan- my plan to be with Will forever.

That plan starts with talking to Will again- I need to know everything. Who he was, where and when he lived, how and why he died. It’s hard to get around Josh. He’s always there. It irks me that he’s managed a way around my taboo from when I told him to leave me alone, but I guess what bothers me more is that he’s found a way around all my defenses. He’s supposed to hate me, the odd girl out, the strange one! I planned it like that, and now he’s wrecking my plan completely.

Well, not completely. He won’t ruin everything. He can’t stop me forever. And, as I keep telling myself, I won’t stop for him.

~Josh~


She’s getting restless. I can see it in her eyes. She’s going to try something rash, and I want to be there when she does. Ghosts are dangerous, meddling in the affairs of restless souls is dangerous, and altogether we’re in a very dangerous situation- as far as Alice and I can be called “we.”

I don’t think I’m dangerous.

Alice isn’t dangerous to anyone except herself.

~Alice~


Another planning meeting for Stella. It’s perfect, and I take it as a sign. Today is the day. I make sure Josh is safely out the door before I turn and sprint for the music wing. But just as I turn the corner, I run smack into someone. My mind is backstage already, so I bounce off confusedly and just keep running. Something about the stranger’s face clicks, though, and I realize it’s that Kyler boy, the one who burst in on the song Will liked so, the one that almost got him there. But that memory flies away and I hurtle around the corner and farther back into the niche with the painted circle.

Summoning him is easier than ever. I chant quickly under my breath, see a pair of knees fade into view reflecting mine, and don’t wait. I push, and energy surges from my fingertips. Will breathes in deeply, and suddenly the feeling of another human being fills the small space. In that second, I no longer feel alone.

“Will!” I gasp, my excitement burning through me like a thousand cups of coffee. No way will I pass out this time.

“Alice,” he says back, and I barely notice the new, strange note in his voice. Almost sad, the kind of sadness a child might regard a beloved toy with before passing it on to a new owner. I don’t waste time thinking about it. I get right to the point.

“Will?”

“Alice?”

“I need to ask you something.”

“Anything.”

It’s those little sweet things he says that totally win me over. Josh never says anything like- no. Do. Not. Think. About. Josh.

“I want…” What do I want? “I want to know more about you, Will. How did you die? Where did you live? When? Who- who were you, Will?”

“That’s more than one thing.”

And that’s what annoys me about him, his little ways of dodging questions. His snide remarks. Josh isn’t proud- Do. Not. Think. About. Josh.

Will laughs, and I relax. He slides gracefully over to me, and sits close, putting his arm around my waist. I lean into him, the contact deliciously satisfying.

“Let me show you, Alice,” he says. I love the way he says my name. Sweet, almost a caress. They taught people how to speak back in his day. Will pulls me a little closer, and says, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” I say, before I can tell the truth. Will smiles, then roughly pulls me into his lap. He kisses me, his mouth forming perfectly to mine, and raw power surges through us. The world outside bends in strange ways, so I close my eyes, allowing Will to be the only other thing in existence. There is only us two.

Only us two.

Only us two, and the other thing needling me in the back of my mind. Wondering if the energy runs like this when you kiss living boys. Dark, real, mortal boys.

Will pulls away from me, and I sigh, deciding that that just was the best one minute of my life. But as that thought lingers, another image comes into my mind- a much more tangible image, one that smells like soap and cologne. One dark blue shirt from Hollister. Two dark blue eyes, filled with worry and desperation.

I look around, forcing the other image out. It’s a sunny day in this faded world, pale greens and yellows. On the maple tree over the nearby creek, the leaves are starting to turn. A cabin stands, directly in front of Will and me. I know it’s just a mirage, no more real than a picture on a television, but here I can feel the mid-day sun and hear, from inside the cabin, the sound of a baby crying.

“I was born in Kansas in 1831,” Will says, making me jump. “My parents were Puritans. It was the dawn of the Civil War.”

“It’s beautiful here,” I say, looking around. It is terribly nice. The woods behind the house look safe and protecting, and the meadow is green. A worn, dusty path leads from the house and away, towards the smoke of another cabin on the horizon.

“Fall always was the best time around here,” Will agrees. The creek wasn’t quite too cold to play in, and there was always plenty of good food. It’s October now,” he continues in answer to my questioning gaze. “My birthday was on the 20th.”

He grabs my hand, and pulls again. It takes less energy this time- maybe because it’s closer to the time? Or is it because I’m not as close to him?

It’s the same cabin, but the world around it has changed. I see a small shed by the main house, and a white pen with chickens and a coop. The sound of the creek has fading to a weak trickling. I look over to see that most of it is covered in a thin layer of ice. The grass is a new shade of green, and frosted over in the last freeze of the year. The maple by the creek is covered in buds.

“March,” Will says shortly. He sound irritated. “Here I come.”

Before I can ask what he means, the door to the cabin bangs open, bouncing back on its hinges. A little boy comes running out on short legs. It’s Will, a much younger Will- four or five years old. His lip is stuck out in a pouting frown, and he runs for the rain barrel. To my astonishment, he clambers up onto the rim and begins to shimmy up the gutter, toppling over onto the roof. I look over at the real Will, and he smiles grimly. “Took a while to master that trick,” he comments.

A man steps from the dark doorway of the cabin. He’s tall, with nut-brown hair and a hat in his hands. He wears old fashioned clothes, but what makes me run forward are his eyes. Closer inspection proves it. They are the same color as Will’s.

“Will!” the man calls, looking around. “Come back here right now and apologize to thy mother!”

“No,” mini-Will calls from the roof. The man jumps and looks up, finally spotting his little son with a start. “William Jonah! Get off the roof at once!”

“No!” little Will calls, starting to cry. “I don’t want a sister!” The man sighs, then walks over to the rain barrel, looking up at his son.

“Thou can’t stay on the roof forever, Will,” he wheedles. “Come down. Thy mother and I won’t punish thee.”

The boy on the roof hesitates, then jumps into the man’s open arms. The man gently carries the crying child back towards the cabin. I look over at the older Will.

“Elizabeth was born on in April night,” he says. “The next morning, the maple was covered in flowers.”

“That’s my name,” I say. “Alice Elizabeth Bennett.”

“I know,” he says, and puts an arm around my waist.

A flurry of scenes pass. A sweet little baby girl, a chubby blonde toddler, a curtain of golden hair flying in the wind from the woods. The next thing I know, it’s April again, though I can tell many years have passed. The maple has grown taller, stronger, and is again covered in buds.

“Eliza was the favorite,” Will says. “Some days it was like I didn’t exist.” Through a window in the cabin, I see the silhouette of a little girl in a nightgown walk by. The shape of a tall man picks her up and spins her around, finally crushing her in a fierce bear hug. Only then do I notice the boy on the roof. It’s Will, looking almost exactly like he does today. He’s stretched out on his back, watching the stars fade into dawn.

A woman opens the door to the cabin and walks out onto the porch. Her pale blonde hair is bound back into a conventional braid all the way down to her waist. Her eyes are hazel, kind, and full of life. “Will!” she calls. “Thy breakfast grows cold!”

“Coming, Mum,” the memory-Will calls from the roof, and jumps down, landing catlike and silently on all fours in the grass. They walk back to the cabin. The door shuts.

“Time to go, Alice,” Will says stiffly. I turn to see him tensed. I don’t like being ordered around, and I want to stay here.

“Why?” I say crossly, and at that moment the door to the cabin opens again. Will and Eliza walk out. She’s tiny and blonde, a perfect picture of an eight-year-old girl. Her head barely comes up to his chest.

“Where are we going, Will?” she asks in a high, carefree voice. Trusting. Like a little porcelain bell, delicate.

“Time to go, Alice!” Will growls behind me, trying to grab my hand, but I dodge him and run forward, straining to hear the other Will’s words- “I’m taking you riding, Liza. A birthday present.” I stop, confused. What is so threatening about this memory, so threatening that I can’t see it?

The real Will grabs me from behind, spins me around, and clutches me to him. Energy pulse. Sudden darkness. But before the image fades a way, the voice of the little girl- “Not too fast?”

“Will!” I say, my eyes quickly adjusting to the dark theater. “What was that for? What was so-” I break off. Will is still clutching my shoulders, his breathing ragged. He stares into my eyes, desperate. “I couldn’t let you see,” he says. “I can’t- I didn’t-” He pulls me in again, and this time I hug him back. We rock back and forth for a second, his hand rubbing through my hair.

“What happened, Will?” I ask in a small voice. “What went wrong?”

“Nothing I didn’t plan,” he says bitterly, letting go of me and staring off into the distance. He glances at me, and sees the question in my eyes.

“I took her horseback riding,” he says, self-disgust tangible in every syllable. “I only meant to go faster than she liked, scare her a little, repulsive thing that I was. That I am.” He pauses, probably waiting for me to argue. But I want him to finish. He waits, then continues, resigned. “It was near the Robinson’s place. I went too fast. And Eliza- she slipped off the back of the horse and fell.” Fell? That’s bad, but not so bad as he makes it sound. I meet his gaze, about to say so, and see that his eyes are filled with tears. My mouth opens, but he cuts me off.

“Her head hit a fence post,” he says numbly. “She was gone. Dead.” I gasp, my eyes widening in horror. He looks wretched, and somewhere deep down, I feel pity. It was an accident. A product of his cruelty, yes- but a mistake.

Silence stretches. I wait.

“I left the horse there,” Will continues in a disconsolate, detached voice. “I came home and climbed onto the roof- my favorite place to hide from myself.” He smirks ruefully, not a trace of humor in his features. “My parents came eventually, asking me if I’d seen her. I said no, that I’d been sleeping up there. They believed me. I hadn’t told them what I was doing.” I can see it now, as clearly as if I was still in the memory. The tall man, gray just beginning to streak his brown beard, and the worn, kindly woman, searching the woods at twilight, watching for a daughter who wasn’t coming home.

“They found her,” he continues. “They thought she had taken the horse out riding herself. No one suspected me. They were all too trusting. Like her. Like Eliza.” His voice is near breaking again. “Daniel Robinson made the coffin. His family felt personally responsible, seeing as they found her on their property. I walked out of the funeral, and no one tried to stop me. Even then, when she was dead, my sister was still the favorite.”

“But what about you, Will?” I say, at the same time not wanting to know.

I turn around and see that he has sunk to his knees. I rush over and kneel across from him, tilting my face to look up into his. He sighs, shaking his head. I grab his hands in mine.

“Tell me, Will,” I say, my voice soft and persuasive. “Tell me how you died.” In answer, he shakes his hands, loosening my grasp. He turns his hands in mine.

At first, all I can register is the softness of his skin, the pale color of the inside of his arms. Then I see the jagged cuts sliced repeatedly across the inside of his wrists. In death, they have not healed, and I wonder how I never noticed before. Too wrapped up in his body, figuratively and literally, I never paid much attention to his bled-white hands. Now I am struck dumb. “Oh, Will….” is all I can manage.

“A week later,” he says. “I took my father’s knife. Here it is.” He pulls from his pocket a sleek cylindrical object, almost like a polished black pencil. Scratched in the front and filled in with bright paint against the black are two words- John Sullivan. Under that, in sloppier gouges, is another name. William Sullivan. Will gently pulls on the two ends, and an invisible seam opens as the lid pulls cleanly off. The blade is polished silver, beautiful and seemingly harmless in the shafts of light that come through the curtains.

“How is that?” I say, wondering. “How is it that you still have it?”

“After I died?” He smiles, thoughtfully. “It’s interesting how these things work. I think some greater power kept the knife with me when I was spirit bound.”

“Spirit bound?”

“Yes. It was surprising, coming back after I died. I wandered aimlessly; anywhere I put my mind to, I could go. I tried to hide the knife, to destroy it. I buried it in a hole in the deserts of Africa; I dropped it into the middle of a warring ocean. Always it returned to me. Ironic, isn’t it? A ghost, haunted.”

“But Will… why? Why did you come back? Does it happen like that… to everyone? Shall you always be here? How does it work like that?”

“Alice.” He raises a hand, stopping the flow of questions from me. “I don’t quite know how it works myself. But here it is as I understand it.”

“I suppose some people go- on- right away. Saints, doctors, good people who did good things in life. But some things must be repaid before you’re given a second chance at life. Idol worship. Adultery. Murder… suicide.” He almost savors the word. “As a… a ghost, if that’s what I am, you do good things. When your debt is repaid, you… you go.”

“So you will leave, eventually,” I sigh, disappointment flooding through me.

“Eventually,” he says. “Yes. It’s been a long time wandering, waiting to move on. Over a century has passed. The killing, even the unintentional killing, of a little girl, followed by taking one’s own life… it’s a heavy debt to pay.” He pauses. “Your mother knew that.”

I suck in my breath. He might as well have punched me in the gut. “You knew my mother?” He smiles. I swear he enjoys keeping me in the dark. Josh doesn’t- no. Think of Will. Think of parents. Do not think of Josh.

“Yes, I knew your mother,” he says. “Your father too. Two excellent people. I brought them together, you know. Making Lillie happy- that was my most recent good deed. I thought it would end my penance. But no,” he says bitterly, “yet, I lingered.”

“Spirit bound.”

“Yes. I was still spirit bound.”

“You knew them better than I did,” I say.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “But when I heard of their deaths, I swore that their infant daughter would be my last atonement. I would see that she got to a good home, grew up right. I would make sure she found the man she would love. Just like I did with Lillie and Walter. I would set things right, and then I would go on and set things right with Liza and my parents.”

Suddenly, his full intent becomes clear. He never meant for it to be me and him.

“We’re so close,” he whispers, looking in my eyes.

~Josh~


Text message from Kyler. I sigh, look up from my book, and open it.

bumped into weird girl on way out lol she looked possessed

Weird girl? Possessed? My mind reels. My thumbs blur as I answer.

alice? wat do u mean possessed? when?

dude chill of course her and just when i left she was like way out there

I drop the phone and start to pace around the kitchen. Possessed? Is that possible? Has Will gone and done something to her, something irreparable? I have to get to the theater. I pause my pacing, realizing how ridiculous it sounds. An excuse, I think. Why would I need to be out?

I snap my book shut, and text my mom. In a few minutes, I’m out the door. I’m at the park in her mind, so I don’t need to be back for at least a few hours. That might be more time than I need, but better safe than sorry.

Sorry… it’s a good thing I live near the school. I run the whole way.

When I reach the main doors, panting, I am struck by a sudden problem- it’s nearly five o’clock in the evening in the summertime. The school will undoubtedly be locked. Desperately, I tug on the handle, and swing back with surprise when it complies, the door opening smoothly. Not one to question such luck, I rush in and towards the theater, but my mind wanders. It’s like someone knew I was coming. A chill shudders up my spine. I don’t like the feeling I get in here. It’s like the walls have eyes.

The theater is dark. I quickly shimmy back to the alcove. A cold thrill ripples through me when I hear voices. It’s impossible to separate from the rush of warmth, the excitement I feel at Alice’s proximity. I force my breathing to slow, my pulse reluctantly responding.

“You knew my mother?” Alice asks breathlessly. I frown. That’s a low blow for the perfect 1830’s gentleman. I listen for a while, trying to understand. This word, spirit bound… I don’t understand it. It has to be what they call the phenomenon that brings Will here.

“We’re so close,” Will whispers from behind the curtain, and I’m nowhere close to understanding their conversation. I hate this feeling, like I’m the dim one, eavesdropping. Which, really, I am, but it doesn’t feel good to admit it.

“But Will… I don’t understand,” Alice says, her tiny voice confused and sad. “I want to be spirit bound. I want to come with you. I’ll kill myself. We can be together. Forever. There’s nothing here….” She takes a deep breath, as if she’s deciding something. “There’s nothing here for me.”

“But there is,” Will whispered. “I see him in your eyes every time you look at me. When you’ve… lived, if you can call it that, as long as I have, you know when a person has met the love of their life.”

“You, Will-”

“No, Alice, it’s not me. I’m not meant for you. God knows I wish I was meant to be yours. But I’m not. I’m not even meant to be here. I should have died in Kansas a long time ago. This world- your world- has no place for me.”

“My world is yours!”

“Alice. Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? To hell with reasonable! Like there’s ever been a reasonable in my life! Trust me, Will….” She pauses. “I’ve done damage enough to keep me here with you.” She’s finally caught Will off guard. Before he can speak, she continues in a rush of words- “You said you knew my mother? What if I told you I was the one who killed her? What if I told you I’m the reason they died?”

“Alice?” Will sounds horrified.

“I was little,” Alice says, self-loathing and unbearable sadness radiating off her in waves, penetrating the curtain and piercing me like knives. “I only wanted Mummy to listen to me. So I pulled down the seat and I was climbing into the trunk.”

Bated breath. Silence.

“Daddy turned around and was surprised. He got angry. Mummy turned around too, and they didn’t see the light, and they went right into the middle of the intersection….” Her voice trails away in a chorus of choking sobs. I hear Will scoot over to comfort her, and her sobs are muffled by his body. Hate courses through me, wishing that I was there to hold Alice tight, to tell her that I would never hold such a horrific accident against her.

“You see this?” Alice finally manages tearfully. I have to see, so I scoot over just a little so the gap in the curtains provides a place to see but not be seen. Looking in on them, I see her pull up her shirt so that her side is exposed. Trying not to stare, I focus on the long jagged scar running up to her ribs.

“That’s from Daddy’s glasses,” Alice says. “When he saw where we were, he… he tried to protect me. They told me he died holding me tight, that he saved my life. My mother tried to protect us both- she jumped out of the car and tried to stop traffic. It was too late. No one invited me to their funeral… I guess they thought I was too little, or….”

“They didn’t forget you, Alice,” Will says. “You’re not forgettable.” He suddenly jerks his head up, his blue eyes gazing into mine. “Isn’t that right, Josh?”

~Alice~


I nearly jump out of my skin when Will says his name. It’s like I’m scared he’s going to turn on me and accuse me of loving Josh. But nothing competes with the moment when he rips down the curtains and Josh is standing there, looking dumbstruck and apologetic and open, the kind of honest openness he has. He looks angelic, standing in one of the golden shafts of light coming from the mainstage. I jump to my feet.

“What….” My voice has none of the intended chagrin. “What are you doing here!?” Breathless. That’s how I sound. Not angry, not sad. Like I only learned to breathe once Josh got here. Maybe it’s true, but when I’m with Will I won’t need to breathe. All I will need is him.

“This is what I told you, Alice,” Will says, penetrating the layer of panic and confusion I’m encased in. “He’s here for you-”

“I didn’t follow you,” Josh says. He’s gasping for breath too, like he ran the whole way here. He didn’t- what? Then why is he here?

“I got a message from Kyler,” he stumbles over his words. “I worried- always worry- about you, Alice….” He trips over his words, and I see it’s another way he’s so different form Will. The way he struggles to get his thoughts out is a token to their veracity, their depth. It’s natural, endearing… human.

“See-” Will says, trying to continue orchestrating his brilliant little plan, but Josh and I don’t let him. I’m moving towards Josh like I’m in a trance. Somehow I need to say something to him. I need to let him know that I’m not angry- as, I just realized, I’m not-

“I had a dream about you,” I blurt out, and it comes back full force. His face as the shadows dragged him back- that was here, this very room. I fight a sudden compulsion to grab him, to hold him tight so I can protect him from every dark thing in this world. I don’t want the dark things leaving dark ink stains on the pure pages of his open book.

“I had a dream about you,” he says, and I can almost see it in his eyes, too.

“I couldn’t let you die,” we both say at the same time, then look at each other, half-laughing in awe. I realize I’m much closer to him now, and I reach up to touch his face for no reason that I can pin down….

Light blazes up, and I feel Josh’s arms go around me instinctively, protectively. I stare in wonder at Will, who stands with his arms extended slightly from his sides- a repentant angel, ready to fly. It’s the closest thing to rapture I think I’ll ever see. He laughs, all the angry lines erased from his face.

“I’ll always love you, Alice,” he says, his voice joyful and tolling like a bell. “But you aren’t meant to be mine.” He turns to Josh and says, “Take care of her, Joshua. I cannot express how I wish I were you.”

The light burns even brighter, and I cower closer to Josh, who holds me tighter in response. My eyes squeeze shut, and he holds an arm across his face to shield us both. In a rush of wind and a blast of warmth, Will is gone. The backstage is again dark and dusty, except for the one patch blasted clean where the boy I was once certain I loved stood.

~Josh~


Alice crumples against me, and I carry her, sobbing, over to the couch where we sat last time. She seems to have no problems with me now, as she pulls me closer and cries all over my shirt. Finally she pulls back, sniffling.

“I’ve got you all wet,” she points out ruefully, and I laugh quietly.

“Alice, I wouldn’t care if you ripped the shirt to shreds. As long as you’re okay.”

“I don’t know if okay is the word for it.”

“Yeah… sorry. Stupid question.” And it wasn’t a question, stupid.

“I just never expected Will to know,” she says, and I grimace to myself. Doubtless this will be awkward.

“Know what?”

“Know that I love you,” she says, and fireworks go off inside me. My head spins, and I smile at her. “I don’t think I actually knew myself,” she continues, and the smile fades.

“What? Am I not lovable enough?” I tease, though deep down I’m asking the question. She rolls her eyes, but then she looks directly into mine and says, “No, Josh. I always assumed you were too good to even know me.”

“I felt the same way about you,” I say.

“Yeah, right,” she says.

“No, really,” I protest. “You were this perfect girl with your own thoughts and things, not like anyone I’d ever met before. I thought you would hate me because you thought I was like all the others.”

“Large, burly, and thick?” she asks, smiling. I laugh. “I knew you were different. I have a bit of a sixth sense about people. It comes with my gift,” she says almost proudly.

“What… the summoning thing? Is it a genetic thing, then, or….”

“No one really knows. But not everyone can, and the girls in my family have been able for generations.”

“Wow.”

“Yes… my mother could. I assume that’s how she knew Will.”

“Well….” What do you say to that? “That’s kind of neat, I guess.”

She snorts. “It’s another thing that makes me a freak.”

“No,” I say, deciding to go for it and kissing her gently on the nose. “It’s another thing that makes you Alice.”

It’s a beautiful house in the country, the grass green and soft. A few miles down the road is a town with a middle school, a school that has a dusty theater and an untold story.

It’s getting later, and it’s time for Elizabeth to come in. The little girl, with dark hair and gray, striking eyes, turns her head as her mother calls her from the porch.

Alice sends her daughter into the house, but stands on the porch for a while, staring across the meadow. Josh walks out, puts an arm around her waist, and whispers for her to come inside. She stands on her tiptoes to kiss him, and fancies that she sees a pair of blue eyes and a smile in the clouds from last night’s rain.