2
The heavens had decided to open up and unleash a torrential downpour just as school spat us out. I was stuck, hobbling around with my leg in a cast, wondering how the heck I was going to navigate my way home - or even remember where home was - when a voice cut through the drumming rain.
"Syd, move it! This rain's gonna turn biblical."
I squinted through the downpour and spotted her - Zadie Warner, the kind of girl who wore the school uniform like it was a potato sack and had specs perched on a nose so flat it looked like it lost a fight with a frying pan. Not exactly a head-turner, but there she was, my not-so-glamorous knight in damp armor.
I hobbled over, leaning on her like she was my crutch. Before I kicked the bucket and got stuck in this teen drama rerun, I was the gal everyone called Boss, the dude who got along with everyone. And it seemed like OG me had left behind some friends.
I slung an arm around her, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. "What's with the bear hug?"
I grinned, all teeth. "Just stoked to see a familiar face in this monsoon, that's all."
My eyes darted to her name badge - yep, Zadie Warner, no surprises there. But then, I caught a glimpse of someone else - a tall drink of water with a side of cheekbones, strolling past with a backpack slung over one shoulder. His hair was a dark waterfall of 'touch me' vibes, and even the crappy fluorescent hallway lights couldn't hide that nose - sharp enough to slice through my patience.
He was your textbook high school heartthrob, the kind that had every girl and a few of the guys doodling hearts in their notebooks.
But as Mr. Poster Boy strutted down the stairs, his eyes locked on mine - quick as a Snapchat and twice as chilling. It was like getting a DM slide from a ghost.
Zadie, still squished under my arm, muttered under her breath, "It's 'cause of Sawyer Leighton, right... Dream on, girl."
I cocked an eyebrow. "What about him?"
She gave me a look that screamed 'duh.' "Don't even. That dude's so out of our league. Sasha Snow, the runner-up Prom Queen and human Barbie, tried to shoot her shot, and he left her on read. And you know her, right?"
I shrugged, playing it cool. "What's her GPA rank up to?"
Zadie blinked, thrown off by my chill. "Beats me. I don't keep tabs on that stuff. But I heard she's aiming for Princeton. Not that our school's churned out Ivy Leaguers lately."
I filed that away. So, the school's rep was as sketchy as a thrift store Gucci. Good to know.
"But Sawyer? He's the golden boy. Would've been a shoo-in for a recommendation if life hadn't thrown him a curveball."
I was still mulling over Sawyer Leighton when BAM - I got a shoulder check that sent me sprawling.
"Watch it! Can't you see I'm half a hopscotch champ here?!" I snapped.
The culprit, a dude in a hoodie so black it could suck the light out of the room, spun around. "My bad, I'm Zephyr Yarnell, senior class. If there's damage, I'll cover it."
I took him in - hoodie, blingy cross, sneakers that screamed 'more money than sense.' Classic rich kid with the 'too cool to care' vibe.
Just another day in the life of a teen spirit, I guess.Okay, so get this: Dude literally scoops me up like I'm some ragdoll, hurls me at my bestie like we're playing dodgeball or something, and then bounces like he's in a Fast & Furious chase scene. "What the actual eff?" I blurted out, my voice a mix of surprise and irritation, as I scrambled to my feet.
"Girl, you trippin'?" My friend gaped at me, her eyes wide as saucers. "Since when do you get all up in a dude's grill?"
Plot twist: Sydney Morrow, that's me, is the poster child for #SociallyAwkward. But hey, who said wallflowers can't have a little ghostly fun?
Turns out I'm just a soul hitchhiker, body-hopping to crack the case of my own mysterious demise. Who knew that when I'd jack Sydney's body, she'd be knocked out cold in the loo, OD'ed on Z's. Her spirit had already jetted, leaving me - a ghost on the lam - to play tenant in her skin.
