Mostly Dead Girls

we live in a dark place now

Something had occurred to Dorita. "Don't you go to school?"

"Eh. Online courses. Greg tried to put me in a normal high school around the same time he sent me to a shrink, but the shrink said the high school was causing me more distress than my checkered past. It's like I said—I don't do so well with people. So I get online stuff, lots of catching up and remedial work. It's OK."

"I was looking at colleges." Dorita felt a lump rise in her throat.

Faye blinked. "How old are you?"

"Two weeks from twenty."

"Nineteen. Wow, I thought you were my age. I'm seventeen."

"That's not much difference."

They sat in silence for a minute more.

"I saw him die," Faye said abruptly. "Nicolas. I was fourteen, and he'd been stupid and killed some cops. They sent a bunch of people—and DSAC agents. I was out walking with him, and he saw the people waiting and told me to go. But I saw..." She trailed off, staring upwards. "Explosive bullets," she said, almost dreamily. "He was one of those people who could keep walking with six normal bullets in him, so he wasn't afraid enough. Didn't even try to dodge. They got him."

For a long moment, only crickets chirping broke the silence.

"How come you didn't... wind up with Greg until recently?" Dorita asked. Talking was beginning to grate on her throat again.

"Marcelina ran. We moved around until they caught us, about nine months ago." Faye fiddled with a blade of grass. "Then I spent a couple of months in DSAC custody, until Marcelina killed herself and they decided I wasn't interesting enough to keep."

"Oh."

"Please don't say you're sorry," Faye said. "Everyone says that, but I don't need to hear it. She wouldn't have wanted to hear it either. She hated people who weren't me or Nicolas."

Dorita hesitated, but finally reached out and put her hand on top of Faye's. "OK."

They stayed like that for a while, until Dorita's palm warmed to almost normal temperature.

"Why did you want to meet a dead girl?" Dorita asked.

Faye pulled the blade of grass up. "I guess that since I didn't fit in with normal people, I thought I might get along with strange people. Not that you're strange," she added quickly. "But you're recent. And you don't sound like you've met any other dead girls."

"No." She didn't mention the girls that sometimes had come to the edges of the yard and called. She wasn't sure what to do about that yet—or whether they'd even find her, in this new place.

"And it seemed that girls my age that were... different, were mostly dead girls. So I wanted to meet one."

Dorita slowly shook her head. "I guess it's just hard," she croaked. "Understanding that. Never wanted this. Anything like this."

Faye's gaze flicked to her, filled with concern. "You don't sound great. I'll bring you more batteries tomorrow."

"Thanks." Dorita traced a vein on the back of Faye's hand with her finger. "Isn't much to tell, but—tell you then. I'll tell you about me then." She coughed, trying to clear her throat. "So we'll be even."

The back door of the house rattled open and Faye stood up quickly.

"What are you doing out there?" It was a woman's voice—Julia.

"Just looking around," Faye said. "You know some of these things are blueberry bushes? I thought maybe there'd be berries."

"I think it'll be a couple more months until that happens."

Faye shrugged. "Oh well."

She lied so quickly and smoothly—with her face as well, wiping all signs of concern and distress from it in seconds. Without thinking, Dorita put her hand out to touch Faye's ankle, behind the screen of the grass and bushes. It's almost a threatening gesture, she realized a moment later; but Faye seems to feel the comfort that was intended.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Dorita whispered as the door creaked closed.

Faye's foot taps against the ground—once, twice, and Dorita feels her mouth curving into a smile for the first time in a while. Once for no, twice for yes.

"Shouldn't I be doing the knocking?" she whispered. Whispering was a little easier than talking, she discovered.

"You're not the usual type of ghost, are you?" Faye answered, without moving her lips. Impressive.

The back door opens again. "Faye," Julia calls, "the radio's acting up. Only picking up one station, with a bunch of nineties songs. Would you come take a look at it?" She sounds cautiously hopeful.

"Sure, be there in a minute," Faye called back, her polite smile dropping as the door closed. She looked down at Dorita with a grimace. "I know nothing about machines, but Julia thinks that everyone with hair shorter than their chin grows magical knowledge of cars and radios."

"Good luck."

"I could use luck. With my luck, it's haunted too and I'll have to cover it up."

Maybe it was because she said that, planting the idea in Dorita's head, but as Faye entered the back door (Alanis Morrissette regaling the night with a few static-laden notes of Ironic as the door swung open and closed) Dorita thought she felt the blood-and-electric tingle of another ghost.

The impression was gone in a moment, and she dismissed it as her imagination.