Mary Hades (4 page)

“T
hought I’d surprise my best mate,” she says with a wink. “You do still want me here, don’t you? You look weird, like you’re scared. What is it?”

“
It’s nothing… how do you always know where I am?” I ask. “I mean, I know I gave you the campsite address, but how did you know this caravan and this room?” There’s one thing we haven’t talked about. In fact, we’ve been avoiding talking about it. Lacey can come and go as she pleases. One minute she’s here, and the next she disappears without a trace, vanishing into the ether.

I don’t know where she goes.

Is it… heaven? Hell? The past? Limbo?

She
folds her arms and her eyes glaze with contemplation. “I don’t know. I sort of, feel you. I feel your presence. What’s happened? You
do
look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That’s because I have,” I reply. “And no, it wasn’t you.”

Lacey moves forward and sits on the bed. She’s always in the same clothes, but sometimes she appears so real that I feel like I can touch her. She’s like that right now, tricking me into thinking she’s tangible.

“Explain,” she says.

“There was a suicide in the campsite car park. A young boy jumped to his death. It was awful, he was only about ten or so. I saw his body splattered on the floor. And then…”

“Go on,” she prompts.

“I saw his ghost leave. I saw him sucked backwards. And then he was gone.” I shrug.

Lacey’s
facial expression freezes. Her lips straighten into a tense line.

“Do you know where he went?” I ask.

She turns away from me and stares out of the window. “You don’t want to know.”

Dad’s not quite as enthused as Mum about me going to the fair alone. In fact, he takes some persuading. In less than a year I’ll be an adult. I’ll be able to vote, go to university, live on my own… you wouldn’t think that, the way he fusses. The way they
both
fuss. But then, I’ve put my parents through more than most parents ever go through. I can’t resent them for it. I can’t resent them caring for me.

So off I trot, heading towards the noise and lights of the carnival, rea
dy to make friends my own age, except I’m already with a friend—my dead friend.

There’s something about the fair that makes you feel like a child and an adult at the same tim
e. With the exhilarating sense of freedom comes the excitement of winning stuffed toys and riding the dodgems. You remember your first visit—the stickiness of the ice-cream, the sweet crunch of candy floss—but you’re also aware of almost being an adult and eye the nearest bar. I get why my parents worry; there’s a sense of danger about the place. It hums with unused static energy. The air is laced with the tension of adrenaline and alcohol fuelled groups of young people, like when you walk into a pub with more men than women. I guess I can understand my parents, now. I’m their only daughter. I’m their
schizo
daughter.

Lacey
slips through an unsuspecting teenager eating candy floss. He spins around, confused.

“Did you
feel a chill?” he asks his spotty girlfriend.

Lacey
cackles away in the pre-evening air. No one hears her except me. No one will ever hear her again. It’s a waste that has me clenching my fists in anger.

“Man, there ar
e some hotties here.” She pouts and shoves her hands into the pockets of her jogging bottoms. “Check out the rack on her. I can’t believe I’m never going to squeeze a boob ever again.”

I can’t help it this time, the ridiculousness makes me laugh. “
That’s
what you miss?”

“Amongst other things,” she says. “Boobs are important, Mary. Never forget that.”
She flashes me her ever-present wicked grin.

“You’re crazy,” I say, shaking my head.

“Nope. Crazy is talking to ghosts in public. People are going to think
you’re
the crazy one,” she points out. “I miss candy floss like mad. Will you eat some and describe it to me?”

“No, I want to go on a ride.” I want to feel the wind in my hair. I want to be up high so I can gaze down at the people below until they are tiny
, like little dolls. Impulsiveness rushes through my veins. “The Ferris wheel.”

Lacey
gazes up at the metal monstrosity. “You actually
are
crazy, aren’t you? All right. I’ll come up with you. I can sit on the seat thing, I think.”

Over the last few weeks
, since Lacey’s death, we’ve tested out the things she can and can’t do as a ghost. She can’t move things, or pick them up, but she seems to be able to sit on objects like beds and sofas. Though when she sits down, the matter beneath her doesn’t change; the bedspread doesn’t crease and the cushion doesn’t dip. She can’t
change
matter, but she can rest against it. She can walk through things, with some concentration. Her presence often affects lights, which makes me wonder if she is part electric. I think back to the way the little boy flickered on and off before he disappeared. It makes me shudder.

One day
Lacey will disappear like that.

I swallow that feeling away and s
tride towards the Ferris wheel, joining the back of the queue. We end up behind a group of kids perhaps a year or two younger than me. They seem like the type who have not long been introduced the sweet release of eloquent swearing. In the space of two minutes I overhear
lots of tosspots and dickheads, fucknuts and wankers. I smile at the thought that they believe this to be genuine rebellion.

O
ne of the younger lads turns to me and his eyes all but do that cartoon thing of leaving his eye-sockets when he examines my body. He becomes a wanna-be gangster, tilting his head to one side, popping the collar of his Fred Perry shirt, and slouching into his knees.

“Damn
girl, you’re fine,” he says.

“Where are you from?
Yorkshire via Detroit?” I retort.

He narrows his eyes before tilting his head back and regarding me with a smirk. “That’s cool. You’re playing hard
to get, I respect that, but I’ve got one last thing to say.”

I grit my teeth. I know I shouldn’t get into conversation with this
spotty little twerp, but I end up saying, “Oh yeah, and what’s that?”

He leans forward and waggles his eyebrows. “Your name must be Daisy, ‘cos I want to plant you right here!”
And then, as his little crew of acned prats laugh themselves silly, he makes over-exaggerated thrusting motions with his hips, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Knob,”
Lacey says. She runs full pelt at the boy in the Fred Perry shirt, plunging through him in a blur. It doesn’t even faze him. He seems too wrapped up in embarrassing me to even realise he’s just been haunted. “Ugh, I hate this guy.”

I sigh a
nd rearrange my hair so that it covers the scars on my neck. The last thing I want is for them to notice them. Maybe I should leave the Ferris wheel for later, or leave the fair altogether, seeing as it is clear that these little shits are not going to leave me alone. But then, as I’m contemplating kicking the guy in the crotch whilst attempting to think of a witty put-down, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen bustles into the crowd and grabs the kid by the scruff of the neck.

“
What have I told you about bothering the girls here?” he shouts.

The kid whimpers. “Not to.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Now piss off, the lot of you, before I ring your parents and tell them you’ve been bothering the customers, again.”

“Holy crap,”
Lacey says. “It’s your knight in shining armour.”

He
turns around and I get a proper look at him. The sun is low in the sky, but nowhere near setting, which causes him to squint a little. Thick eyelashes cover his eyes, and bushy eyebrows frame them. I’m a pretty tall girl at 5’10” and he is at least a few inches taller. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, revealing intricate tattoos travelling up and down his forearms. As my eyes follow the swallows and song lyrics, I picture myself tracing them with my finger. His physique is slim, but not skinny. The bronze highlights in his hair catch the sun, but the rest of it is dark and thick, matching his sun-tinged skin. My mind wanders to thoughts of running my fingers through his hair, tugging it… My cheeks flush and I avoid his eyes. Nervous fingers arrange my hair at the neck, ensuring my scars are covered.

“You okay?” he asks.

I can’t speak. I nod instead.

Lacey
glares at me. “Talk to him. Don’t just gawp.”

“Okay, good. I’ll be in the ticket booth if you need me,” he says. It could be the low light, it could be anger about the
teenagers he’d chucked out, but his eyes glare down at me. Beneath the lashes is a slither of deep brown. I want him to open them wide, so I can lose myself in them.

“Don’t let him leave!”
Lacey urges. “Seriously.”

“Um, wait,” I say
, as he’s about to leave.

He turns back, shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and eyes me suspiciously.
“Yeah?”

“Ask him to ride the wheel with you,”
Lacey says. Her eyes are wide and bright with excitement.

“You want to… you want to umm…”

He glances at his watch. I’m boring him.

“You want to go
on the Ferris wheel?” I blurt it out in a rush of words.

I’ve shocked him. He leans back on his heels and exhales a little. I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I wait for his answer, and block the sun with my body. Finally
, I get to see his eyes. They are heavy lidded and surrounded by curled lashes, so you get a mere glimpse of what lies beneath. But the colour draws you in. You find yourself lost in smooth, velvet textured chocolate. He has puppy-dog eyes with a human, hard-edged glint.

“Yeah, all right.
You mean, with you, right?” He rubs his stubble and glances at me sideways. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” I say without missing a beat. All right, it’s a white lie. But in six months it’ll be the truth.

He rubs his chin some more, as though assessing me. “Sure, I’ll ride the Ferris wheel with you. But I’m on duty, right now. Come back at eleven?”

“Okay,” I say.

Behind him, Lacey squeals with joy.

“See you then, umm…?”

“Mary,” I reply.

“I’m
Seth.” He nods to me as a goodbye and strolls away. My skin prickles as I watch him leave. Was that me asking a guy out on a date?

“Mary
, that was awesome,” Lacey jumps up and down. “I know I’m into girls, but that guy is
fit
.”

I can’t h
elp grinning to myself. Did
I
do that? It was so bad-ass—not anything like me. I turn away from the ride and smile up at the sun, tilting my head so that it kisses my face. Tonight, I’m going to leave my boring old self back at home. This is my holiday, and what happens here, stays here.

In July
, the night sneaks up on you, like a kidnapper with a hood. One minute you’re basking in the sun with an ice-cream, and the next your skin prickles with goosebumps as the darkness swells overhead. The smell changes. It turns from sticky bodies and rubbish bins to pine from the neighbouring woods, laced with cigarette smoke. A bubbling feeling works up from your stomach, filling the empty spaces inside that we all have, the kind that only disappear when we’re on holiday, or head-over-heels in love. Excitement jolts up and down your spine. It’s night-time and you’re at the fairground. This is the time for magic, mystery and, hopefully, romance.

Lacey
and I—or rather me, with her ethereal body dancing around me—have won two stuffed bears, been on the dodgems, chatted to a group of teens far more pleasant than the last, and got spun so fast I almost puked on the Waltzers.

But the thrill of the rides has been nothing compared to the thrill of knowing I’ll be riding the Ferris wheel with Seth.

I have candy floss in one hand, a jittery tummy, and the knowledge that in fifteen minutes I’ll be meeting him back at the Ferris wheel. Absent-mindedly, I take a bite of the candy floss and chew on the crackly sugar.

“Oh, that’s the stuff,”
Lacey says. “Describe.”

“I dunno
, Lace. It’s like eating fine strings of sugar.”

“Oh yeah,” she says. “More, I want more. Does it taste like heaven in your mouth? Is it
kinda chewy at first and then dissolves really fast on your tongue?”

“
Mmhmm,” I say. “Are you coming along when I meet Seth?”

Lacey’s
eyes move from the candy floss to meet my gaze. “Well, yeah. I mean, you want me there, right?”

The truth is
, I don’t know if I do. What if we decide to kiss, or Lacey starts to distract me? What if her presence makes him feel weird? Sometimes people get a chill or feel uneasy when she’s around. I don’t want him to think it’s me.