An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 15)

“Sit.” she ordered, taking a seat at the large armchair in the center of the room, and motioned for Miguel and I to take a seat on two large piles of books that appeared to be her version of stools. I did as she said, fearing what she'd do to me if I didn't. Hit me with that wooden spoon of hers, probably.

“So. Sammy.” she said in that no-nonsense voice of hers. I shot Miguel a look, as if to say what did you tell her? But he just shrugged, looking about as confused as I felt. By the looks of it, he hadn't told her anything.

“Uhm...yeah. How do yo-”

“I am channeler. I see boy. He loves you very much, misses you also. He...” she struggled for words, furrowing her brow in concentration as she apparently listened to Sammy.

“Murder.” she said suddenly, her eyes growing wide. “Solve it, he goes on.”

Well, yeah, I'd kinda already figured that part out on my own. Although, there was still one thing I hadn't been able to figure out...

And so, I spent the next few minutes filling her in on what had happened with the steam in the mirror this morning, and how whoever had done it hadn't been Dallas or Sammy. At this, she'd looked very concerned.

“Do not know how to explain in English.” she informed me, before launching into a full on ramble to Miguel, in what I guessed was Spanish. Then again, considering the only Spanish I knew was amigo and fiesta, I couldn't be totally sure.

After she was done, Miguel turned to me, a doubtful expression on his face, and said, “Apparently, Sammy doesn't have enough power to fully communicate like that. He can do small bursts of stuff, but then immediately has to rest for a few days. The longer you're stuck wandering around on earth, the stronger you get. So he went around, did some favours for some very important people, and then finally convinced this really old guy who died in like 1840 to show up and get that message to you.” he paused for a second, then looked at me with a frown. “That's nasty. Some old, dead guy was lurking in your bathroom, and there's like a 500% chance he saw you naked.”

“He hasn't gotten any action in like, nearly 175 years. Can you really blame him for wanting to get a look at all this?” I asked, motioning down at my body. There was a beat of silence, before Miguel and I both burst out laughing at the same time.

“Good one.”

“Thanks, I try.”

“Children.” Miguels grandma scolded, slamming her tiny fist on to the table top. “We must hurry. He is fading.” she said, pointing frantically to the air behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, but as usual, I couldn't see him. It sucked, especially considering everyone on the face of the earth could see him except for me, apparently.

Okay, so maybe I was exaggerating, and it was just Mickey and Miguel's grandma who could see him. But still. It was super unfair. Like, I was his best friend, shouldn't I be allowed to join this magical ghosty club, too? I mean, we'd been inseparable when he'd been alive, that had to count for something, right?

Apparently not, because as soon as it occurred to me to ask Sammy what the phone number he'd given me was for, it was too late. Miguel's grandma went very still, and said, “He's gone.”

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“Call me when you get home so I know you didn't get murdered!” Grant called out the door after me, and I smiled, waving at him and Miguel as I trudged down their driveway. Miguel had dropped me off at Grant's house since he was headed back there anyways, and considering I only lived about a five minute walk from Grant's new place, I decided I could make it back to my house. My real house, not just Mickey and Poe's apartment.