Chapter 2

I woke to laughter outside my door.

Dad's low laugh, Mom's praise, and Grace's sweet little voice mixed together.

"Grace was amazing tonight. Pastor Cole said she looked like a real angel."

Mom sounded happier than she ever sounded with me.

I floated in the air and watched the front door open. Even as a ghost, I still wanted to greet them and put their shoes by the door like I used to.

Mom hated when I talked too much, so I always thought if I stayed quiet, maybe she'd look at me a little longer.

"Mom," I called, opening my arms to hug the woman in her coat. "It doesn't hurt anymore. I really won't cry again."

But my hands passed through her body.

Mom stopped and frowned.

"Why is there a draft in here? Did someone leave a window open?"

I looked down at my transparent hands and stared.

I wasn't one of the living anymore.

Dad took off his coat and asked casually, "Has Ava come out yet? She didn't eat dinner."

I looked at him at once.

Dad, please go check on me. I'm right there at the desk.

Mom didn't even pause while changing her shoes.

"If she wants to act out, let her. It was Grace's first time on the church stage, and Ava picked that exact moment to cry about pain. She just wanted us to stay home with her."

Grace hugged the little wings to her chest and leaned into Mom.

"Mom, does Ava not like that Pastor Cole praised me?"

Mom kissed her right away.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. If we don't give her attention, she'll stop."

Dad hesitated, then took two steps toward my room.

"Maybe I should look in. What if something really happened?"

Mom gave a sharp, ugly laugh.

"What could happen? If you go comfort her now, she will use the same trick tomorrow."

Dad stopped walking. In the end, he just sighed.

"Grace is tired tonight too. Let her sleep first."

Mom finally walked to my door and pushed it open.

The light was off. In the glow from the living room, she saw me lying across the desk with one hand hanging down, motionless.

"Still lying there? Do you think I'll feel sorry for you if you fake sleep?"

I floated beside my own body, circling her in panic.

"Mom, I'm not pretending. Please touch me. I didn't cry."

Mom stood in the doorway and refused to take even one step inside.

Grace peeked out from behind her. "Mom, she really isn't talking."

Mom stroked Grace's hair.

"That's not being quiet. That's sulking. A real angel would never make people worry like this."

Grace nodded right away.

"Then I will never make you worry, Mom."

Mom's voice softened at once.

"Our Grace is so thoughtful."

Dad stood behind them and said quietly, "Maybe we should put her in bed. Sleeping at the desk can't be comfortable."

"Why would we put her in bed?" Mom cut him off. "The more you spoil her, the more she thinks crying works. She has to think about what she did."

She turned away and closed the door again. The latch slipped into place with a soft sound.

The room went dark again.

I looked at the body lying below me.

Mom, if you had come a little closer, you would have known I was no longer breathing.

But you never did.

In the living room, Grace began talking about her performance. She said everyone praised her for being quiet and angelic.

Mom laughed softly.

"Our Grace was born to be an angel."

I listened to their laughter and crouched beside my body. On the desk, the paper still lay there, the last line wrinkled under my hand.

I swallowed the words, Mom.

I reached out and tried to push the paper toward the door.

But I couldn't touch it.

I could only comfort the girl below me in a soft voice.

"Don't be scared. Mom will find out tomorrow morning that you really weren't acting out, and you really didn't cry."