Meg Cabot - Haunted

David shrugged. "Okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Then he and Max continued down the stairs.

I was not surprised to find that Jesse was not in my room when I got there. Coward. I kicked off my slides, went into the bathroom, and locked the door. Not that locked doors make any difference to ghosts. And not that Jesse was going to show up anyway. I just felt more secure that way.

Then I ran a bath, undressed, and sank into it, letting the warm water caress my battered feet and soothe my tired body. Too bad there was nothing I could do to comfort my aching heart. Chocolate might have helped, maybe, but I didn't happen to have any in my bathroom.

The worst part of it all was that, deep down, I knew Father Dom was right about Jesse's moving out. It was better this way. I mean, what was the alternative? That he stayed here, and I just kept pining away for him? Unrequited love is all right in books and things, but in real life, it completely sucks.

It was just that - "and this was the part that hurt the most - I could have sworn, all those weeks ago when he'd kissed me, that he'd felt something for me. Really. And I'm not talking about what I'd felt for Paul, which was, let's face it, lust. I'm warm for the guy's form, 111 admit it. But I don't love him.

I'd been so sure - so, so sure - that Jesse loved me.

But, obviously, I'd been wrong. Well, I was wrong most of the time. So what else was new?

After I'd soaked for a while, I got out of the tub. I rebandaged my feet, then slid into my most comfortable, hole-filled jeans, the ones my mom told me I was never allowed to wear in public and was always threatening to throw away, coupled with a faded black silk T.

Then I walked back into my room, and found Jesse sitting in his usual place on the window seat, Spike on his lap.

He knew. I saw with a single glance that he knew Father Dom had talked to me and that he was just waiting - warily - to see what my reaction was going to be.

Not wanting to disappoint him, I said very politely, "Oh, you're still here? I thought you would have moved to the rectory by now."

"Susannah," he said. His voice was as low as Spikes got when he growled at Max through my bedroom door.

"Don't let me stop you," I said. "I hear there's going to be a lot of action over at the mission tonight. You know, getting ready for the big feast tomorrow. Lots of pinatas left to stuff, I hear. You should have a blast."

I heard the words coming out of my mouth, but I swear I don't know where they were coming from. I had told myself, back in the tub, that I was going to be mature and sensible about the whole thing. And here I was being peevish and childish, and it wasn't even a minute into the conversation.

"Susannah," Jesse said, standing up. "You must know it's better this way."

"Oh," I said with a shrug to show him how very, very unconcerned I was with the whole thing. "Sure. Give my regards to Sister Ernestine."

He just stood there, looking at me. I couldn't read his expression. If I'd ever been able to, I'd have known better than to have let myself fall in love with him. You know, on account of the whole his-not-loving-me-back thing. His eyes were dark - as dark as Paul's were light - and inscrutable.

"So that's all," he said, sounding, for reasons I couldn't begin to fathom, angry. "That's all you have to say to me?"

I couldn't believe it. He had some gall! Imagine, him being mad at me't

"Yes," I said. Then I remembered something. "Oh, no, wait."

The dark eyes flashed. "Yes?"

"Craig," I said. "I forgot about Craig. How is he doing?"

The dark eyes were hooded once again. Jesse seemed almost disappointed. As if he had anything to feel disappointed about! / was the one whose heart was being ripped out of her chest.

"He's the same," Jesse said. "Unhappy about being dead. If you want, I can have Father Dominic - "

"Oh," I said. "I think you and Father Dominic have done quite enough. I’ll handle Craig, I think, on my own."

"Fine," Jesse said shortly.

"Fine," I said.

"Well. . . ." The dark-eyed gaze bore into mine. "Good-bye, Susannah."

"Yeah," I said. "See you around."

But Jesse didn't move. Instead, he did something I completely was not expecting. He reached one hand out and touched my face.

"Susannah," he said. His dark eyes - each one containing a tiny star of white where my bedroom light reflected off them - bore into mine. "Susannah, I - "

Only I never did find out what Jesse was going to say next, because the door to my bedroom suddenly swung open.

"Pardon me for interrupting," Paul Slater said.

16

Paul. I had forgotten all about him. Forgotten about him and just what, exactly, he and I had been up to these past few days.

Which was a lot of stuff I did not particularly want Jesse to know about.

"Knock much?" I asked Paul, hoping he would not notice the panic in my voice as Jesse and I pulled apart.

"Well," Paul said, looking pretty smug for a guy who'd been suspended from school that day. "I heard all the hilarity and figured you had guests. I didn't realize, of course, that you were entertaining Mr. De Silva."

Jesse, I saw, was meeting Paul's sardonic gaze with a pretty hostile stare of his own. "Slater."

Jesse said in a not particularly friendly voice.

"Jesse," Paul said pleasantly. "How are you this evening?"

"I was doing better," Jesse said, "before you got here."

Paul's dark eyebrows rose, as if he were surprised to hear this. "Really? Suze didn't tell you the news, then?"

"What n - " Jesse started to ask, but I interrupted quickly.

"About the shifting?" I actually stepped in front of Jesse, as if by doing so I could shield him from what I had a very bad feeling Paul was about to do. "And the soul transference thing? No, I haven't had a chance to tell Jesse about all that yet. But I will. Thanks for stopping by."

Paul just grinned at me. And something about that grin made my heart rate speed up all over again.. . .

And not because anyone was trying to kiss me, either.

"That's not why I'm here," Paul said, showing all of his very white teeth.

I felt Jesse tense beside me. Both he and Spike were behaving with extraordinary antagonism toward Paul. Spike had leaped onto the windowsill and, all his fur standing up, was growling at Paul pretty loudly. Jesse wasn't being quite that obvious about his contempt for the guy, but I figured it was only a matter of time.

"Well, if you're here for Brad's party," I said quickly, "you seem to be a little lost. It's downstairs, not up here."

"I'm not here for the party, either," Paul said. "I came by to return this to you." He dug into the pocket of his jeans and extracted something small and dark from it. "You left it in my bedroom the other day."

I looked down at what he held in his outstretched palm. It was my tortoiseshell hair clip, the one I'd been missing. But not since I'd been in his room. I'd been missing it since Monday morning, the first day of school. I must have dropped it then, and he'd picked it up.

Picked it up and held it all week, just so he could fling it in Jesse's face, as he was doing now.

And ruin my life. Because that's what Paul was. Not a mediator. Not a shifter. A miner.

A quick glance at Jesse showed me that those casually uttered words - You left it in my bedroom the other day - had hit home, all right. Jesse looked as if he'd been punched in the stomach.

I knew how he felt. Paul had that effect on people.

"Thanks," I said, snatching the hair clip from his hand. "But I dropped it at school, not your place.

"Are you sure?" Paul smiled at me. It was amazing how guileless he could look when he wanted to. "I could have sworn you left it in my bed."