Four Walls (Book One) ✔️

Chapter Seventeen

"I... I don't know. I mean, we've only been together a few months," I stutter. Love is not something I'm ready for.

But it is nice to talk to Moira about my boyfriend. I feel like a normal adolescent girl with a normal family. When I was a kid, I used to pretend that she was my mom. I buried that delusion a long time ago, but that doesn't change the fact that she's the closest thing I've ever had to a mother.

Or a parent, for that matter.

Hank has no idea that Jose exists. We haven't said more than five words to each other since school started. He's only hit me once; he had to pee, and I was "blocking his way to the can." It's been quiet in our rundown trailer. Compared to recent years, this one hasn't been so bad.

I help Moira and Damian prepare dinner. By the time we finish, my stomach is growling. I'm practically salivating as I lay out the forks. I almost forgot how incredible of a chef Moira is.

The three of us gather around the table. Before we stuff our faces, we do our usual ritual of naming something we're grateful for. As usual, Moira is thankful for her family. Damian is thankful for the roof over his head and the food on his plate.

I think about my response carefully. What am I grateful for? I have so much good in my life, so much to be appreciative of. The two faces in front of me are proof of that.

Suddenly, the answer becomes obvious.

"I'm thankful for both of you," I declare. "You guys welcomed me into your home when I was five years old. You're my family."

"We love you so much, sweetie." Moira gives my hand a squeeze. "Alright, let's eat!"

<><><><><><>

I glance at the clock on Damian's nightstand. To my surprise, it's almost midnight. My heavy eyelids tell me it's time to go to bed.

I turn to Damian, who looks like he's in need of some shuteye himself.

"What's up?" he asks, yawning.

"You should probably poof me home now," I say. "I think it's bedtime."

"Already?"

"Dude, it's eleven-thirty."

"Oh, wow."

"'Wow' is right."

"You don't have to go," he says with a shrug. "You could just stay."

"As in... sleep over?" My eyes widen. "Wouldn't that be weird?"

"Like you said earlier, you're family," he assures me. "I'll take the floor."

"It's your room, Damian."

"I don't mind, I promise."

I nod my head. "Okay, I'll stay over."

He finds me a baggy t-shirt and a pair of his mom's sweatpants to sleep in. I go to the bathroom to change, still uncertain if this is a good idea. I know nothing will happen between us. We're best friends. He's like a brother to me.

I just keep thinking about Jose and how this would make him feel. Would he be upset? Would he be jealous? If I found out he slept in another girl's bed, even if that girl wasn't in the bed with him, I'd be green with envy.

I decide to call Jose. I won't know his reaction until I ask him.

I creep downstairs and locate the Forbes' phone. I dial Jose's cell phone number and wait for him to pick up.

On the fifth and final ring, my boyfriend answers with a groggy, "Hello?"

"Hey," I say. "It's Layla. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no, you're fine, mi amor," he replies. He sounds happy to hear from me. "I miss you, Fifty-One. How are you?"

"I'm good. Great, actually. How's LA?"

"Awesome. It's nice to be back in the city. Ma says happy Thanksgiving, by the way."

"Likewise," I reply. "So, um, there's something I have to ask you. I was wondering if—"

"Oh, hold on." I hear muffled voices on the other end, followed by the familiar sound of Jose's laughter.

"Um, if you're busy, we can talk later."

"Oh, no, I'm just chilling with Ramira."

I freeze. "Who's Ramira?"

"Family friend. She's like a sister to me and Mariana," he explains. "We actually had Thanksgiving dinner with her family."

"Oh." My chest tightens. I take a deep breath to loosen the knot. "Well, um, I'll let you get back to her."

"Everything okay?"

"Everything's perfect." 

"Well, what did you want to ask me?"

"Nothing that can't wait," I say. "I'll see you when you get home, alright?"

"Alrighty, then. Have a good night, pretty girl."

I hang up the phone and race back to Damian's room. He's already passed out on the floor, snoring loudly.

I get into his bed and pull the covers up to my chin.

<><><><><><>

When Thanksgiving break is over, I return to my hell on earth that is Skarkton High. I watch as my classmates meander through the halls, their eyes glazed over with exhaustion. It's like the world is in slo-mo. Physically, we're here, but not mentally. Our brains are still on holiday.

I'm standing at my locker when I hear someone shout my name. I rotate my head, hoping to see Jose—his flight landed last night—but I'm disappointed when I see Ken Fitzpatrick, Ada's father.

"Um, hello," I greet him. I try to hide my confusion, but I do a poor job.

"Hi, Layla." He forces a smile, but it looks like he's in pain. His brown eyes are red-rimmed, as if he's been crying.

"What are you doing here?" I get right to the point.

"Can we go somewhere and talk?" he asks.

I nod my head and allow him to lead me into an empty classroom.

"God, this is so hard," he says, taking a seat. "I... I have to tell you something."

"Okay." The solemn expression on his face makes me uneasy. "Wh-what is it?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but the only sound that comes out is a broken sob. He hides his face in his hands and cries quietly.

"Mr. Fitzpatrick, what's the matter?"

"It's... it's about Ada."

"What about Ada? Is she okay?" Just the mention of her name leaves me feeling dizzy. "She's okay, right?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm... I'm afraid she isn't."

"What happened to Ada?" I realize I'm crying, too. "Mr. Fitzpatrick, you have to tell me!"

"The facility called us over the weekend," he finally says. "I'm so sorry, but she's dead. She... she hanged herself."

Around me, the room spins. I will myself to stand, but my legs are wobbly. I somehow make it to the hallway, which is a hazy blur of color and light. I'm greeted by a pair of strong arms and a kiss on the forehead. Words are spoken, but I can't discern what they are.

"Layla! Earth to Layla!" I make out the familiar voice of my boyfriend. "Hey, are you alright?"

I bury my face in his chest and begin to bawl.

A/N:
I cried while writing this. Losing a friend is arguably the most painful thing ever. 😭😭😭
But... do you think our little ghost whisperer is really dead? 👻🤔 Let me know in the comments❣️