Phantom [h.s]

Thirty Six

The next morning, Harry shows up in my car on the way to school. He was sitting in the back seat again, and his sudden appearance startled me, again.

"Shouldn't you be used to me turning up out of nowhere by now?" He asks humorously.

"I should, but I'm not," I say, backing my car out of the driveway and turning onto the road.

He smiles at me, seemingly content with having the element of surprise on his side.

"Interesting conversation you had with your parents over dinner last night," he says, leaning forward to rest his weight on the center console. I watch him in the rearview mirror.

"What conversation?" Blush begins to rise to my cheeks.

He clears his throat. "No, Dad, don't be crazy, I don't have a dead boyfriend," he says, mimicking my voice.

I roll my eyes, flicking on my indicator as I turn a corner. Harry erupts into laughs, pushing himself back to lean against the back seats. He stretches out his arms over the tops of the seats, grinning.

"The pure irony of that entire conversation was hilarious," he says, still laughing. He mimicks my voice again. "Boys would rather die than date me."

"I don't sound like that, dipshit," I grumble, gripping the steering wheel and glaring at Harry in the mirror, trying to fight a smile.

It's Harry's turn to roll his eyes. "Sorry that I can't copy your voice with perfect pitch," he says sarcastically.

I shake my head, still fighting a smile.

Harry smiles teasingly, leaning forward again. "Am I not your dead boyfriend, Jane?"

My vision flicks between Harry in the back seat and the road. "You're going to make me have a car accident."

He laughs again. "I'll take that as a confirmation."

I pull into the school parking lot, taking a spot relatively far from the building to keep Harry out of sight. I cut the engine and turn around to look at him.

"Have fun at school," he says.

"Thanks," I say. "I just love going to school with your old friends, any of whom could be your killer."

"Get good grades!" He calls as I shut the door behind me.

The first half of the day passes slowly, as usual, and I find myself worrying about Harry. Is he going to sit in my car all day? I know he has before, but what if someone sees him this time?

I shake my head and take a deep breath as I walk to lunch. I need to stop worrying. Harry is fine, he's always fine.

After waiting in line for a water (since I conveniently forgot my own on the kitchen counter this morning), I make my way over to the table I usually sit at. I'm almost there, looking forward to breaking into my own lunch after a monotonous morning of school, when someone catches my arm.

"Hi, Jane," Ian says, smiling. "How are you?"

I take a small step back as I remember what my trip to the mirror repair shop revealed: Ian was the one to bring the blood-stained mirror to be fixed the morning after Harry's murder. I regard him carefully, sending him a friendly smile. Or, as friendly as I can make it, when it's more than likely he killed Harry at this point.

"I'm doing fine," I say. "You?"

"I'm cool," he answers, shrugging. "Hey listen, the soccer team's having a scrimmage tonight here and I wanted to invite you to come. Our season doesn't start until later in the school year, but we always have a few scrimmages in the fall against other schools that don't count for anything."