✨A WATTYS 2022 PARANORMAL & "BEST CHARACTERS" WINNER✨
A college basketball star risks everything to prove his innocence with a girl who can communicate with ghosts.
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Ace Jones isn't certain about a lot of things in life, but basketball has always...
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THE CANDLELIGHT vigil is officially underway by the time I find an obscure parking spot miles away from the Student Union.
In an effort to blend in, Ace and I hold hands and pretend to be a real couple. It was my idea. The argument went as followed on the drive here:
"If we hold hands, and I get caught, you're goin' to jail, Devyn. I can't have that."
"I told your butt to stay home tonight, but you wouldn't listen. The cops are keeping an eye out for Ace Jones. Not some bro dragged to a vigil by his girlfriend. We're holding hands."
"Yeah, but Dev—"
"End of discussion."
"You can't risk—"
"I'll turn this car around and take you home."
Ace clamped his mouth shut; I smiled with victory.
My only regret now is that my belly is flippin' and dippin' each time I become aware that I'm holding hands with the hottest and most promising athlete on campus. That just three days ago, a moment like this would've been a daydream during Professor Garfield's long winded lecture on gender roles in early American society. I try not to focus on the fact that his palm is softer than I expected, or that every few seconds he squeezes my hand just to let me know he's as nervous as I am.
We trail a crowd of people, hoping it will look even less suspicious. Peewee forges her own path ahead of us, only to circle back and demand we walk faster every two minutes.
So far there is a small presence of campus police. Are we fooling them? It seems like we are, but who really knows. The only peace of mind is that the evening has tremendously dropped in temperature, so Ace isn't the only tall brotha in a hoodie. Or a mask. A lot of students wear the disposable kind, just like us.
"No sign of Anakin or Jackson," Peewee grumbles.
"Chill, we're not even there yet," I mumble through the mask.
"Fine."
Peewee's been a whole mood. Or maybe the better word is triggered. Her eyes dart from side to side, and the closer we get to the event, the closer she sticks to me. Like she's afraid the Light will summon her at any moment. My guess is that attending this service is a huge dose of reality.
Eventually we start to see the three-story building—its glossy wide windows and decorative palm trees proudly identify Tempe's Memorial Union. In the distance, I make out a skeletal stage under a large metal awning, where a young girl is already talking. Bits and pieces of Peewee's remarkable achievements come into focus while Ace and I intermittently shoot glances at each other. This time I squeeze his hand and his bugged out eyes appear to relax.
After that I do a quick survey of my surroundings. Usually I search for powdery faces with sunken maroon eyelids so I know which areas to avoid. But tonight I'm all too aware of men in uniform.
