Chapter 5

I died on a rainy night.

Lena had a late study session at school that evening and wouldn't be home until ten.

Mom and Dad were both home. Dad was in the living room replacing a burned-out light bulb. Mom was in the kitchen making me chicken soup.

I couldn't keep anything down by then, but she made it every day anyway and said it was good for me.

I lay in bed listening to the rain hammering the window. It was so loud it sounded like someone crying.

Breathing got harder and harder, like a hand was squeezing my throat. I wanted to call out, but no sound came. I wanted to press the call button by my bed, but I couldn't lift my arm.

So I just lay there, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. They seemed to move, as if they'd come alive, stretching slowly and branching out like a tree.

The tree kept growing until it covered the whole ceiling. Lena was standing underneath it in her old hoodie, her hair in a ponytail, waving at me.

"Ethan," she said, "come on. We're going to be late."

I wanted to go to her, but my feet were heavy. She came over and took my hand. Her hand was warm and soft, just like when we were kids.

"Don't be scared," she said. "I'll take you."

I nodded and followed her. After two steps, I looked back and saw myself still lying on the bed, gray-faced, eyes closed.

Oh. So I was dead.

The realization came so calmly, like I'd finally paid off a debt.

I floated up through the ceiling, through the roof, out into the night. The rain was still falling, but it couldn't touch me. I drifted through it like a weightless leaf.

Then I drifted back home.

Mom and Dad were still there. Dad finally got the bulb in and flipped the switch. The light came on. He let out a breath, sat back down on the couch, took out a cigarette, and lit it. Mom came out of the kitchen with the soup. "Ethan, soup's ready."

No answer.

She went to my door and knocked. "Ethan?"

Still no answer.

She turned the knob, and the door opened. She walked in. I stood beside her, watching her.

She saw me lying on the bed, not moving. The bowl slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor, splashing soup all over her pants.

"David!" she screamed, her voice tearing apart. "David!"

Dad rushed in. When he saw me, the cigarette fell from his fingers. He threw himself at my bedside, felt my neck, then my wrist. Then, as if every bone had been pulled out of his body, he crumpled to the floor.

Mom gathered me in her arms and started to cry. Her sobs turned from whimpers into wails, like an animal that had lost its young.

I stood beside her and reached out to pat her back. My hand went right through her, like it was passing through air.

Oh, right. I was dead. Dead people couldn't touch the living.

That made me a little sad, but not too sad. All I could think was, what about Lena? She was still at school. When she came home and saw this, would she lose her mind?

The rain came down harder, like it wanted to drown the whole world.