Blend

25:00 | waste of potential

BY THE end of Health and Culture, I want to put a sock in the dead girl's mouth. Not only has Peewee tested my patience since I rolled over to find her smiling back at me from my pillow, but also: she. won't. stop. talking.

And as if on cue—

"Wouldn't it suck balls to live in ancient times?" Peewee stretches out her legs on the empty auditorium seat in front of us, yawning. "Did you get that last bit about Augustus' punishment for unmarried girls, Dev?" A pause. "Girl, you type slower than a senior citizen."

I bite my tongue, ripping my attention away from the tablet to glare at her.

Peewee doesn't read the social cue. Instead, she shakes her head at another marriage stipulation from the famed Roman emperor. "Men are shameless dicks. Except, of course, your Ace. He's the only tolerable one I know."

My Ace?

I won't take the bait.

"Speaking of, what do you imagine he's doing right now? Probably scared out of his mind, right? I bet he didn't sleep a wink."

The truth is I've thought of nothing else. But I flip the front part of my twists so that they whip right into Peewee's face, hoping she'll get the message to shush.

Not even a flinch.

"Honestly," she continues, unbothered, "if I have no greater purpose than bringing you two together, I could live with that...I think."

I huff, glancing at the digital clock on my tablet. Professor Thompson should almost be done.

"You know, it really bothers me you won't admit you like him." Peewee scoffs. "What could you possibly lose in telling me of all people?"

"For the love of God, will you please shut the fuck up!" I yell-whisper.

The professor stops talking and cuts me a look. Every head in the auditorium turns. They all hold the same expression—one that questions if I need mental help or if I'm just that bitch.

I recoil, sliding down my seat under a wave of embarrassment.

Peewee snorts. "You could've just ignored me. You're pretty good at that."

| | |

I storm across campus with Peewee hot on my heels. She's apologized a hundred times but I don't care. The sooner this is all over, the better.

"You're acting like a big baby," Peewee mutters. "I'm not the one who cussed out an entire auditorium."

My eyes flick around the empty pathway. I seethe, "You made me do it!"

"I'm sorry. How is this my fault?"

"Because you're driving me fucking bonkers, Peewee! You're always talking my ear off about this, that, and the other—and always at the most inconvenient times when you see that I'm clearly busy, such as listening to my professor's lecture."

"Sheesh, sorry. I didn't realize I was that much of a distraction."

"Well, you are." I harrumph. "And it's obvious that you can't sit still for one goddamn minute. You're like this...afraid little toddler."

Peewee purses her lips. "An afraid toddler."

"Yes." I nod firmly. "Afraid of coming to terms with it all. Of what happened to you."

"Ohmigosh, stop. Are you done being dramatic so we can get back to what really matters?"

"SEE! There you go again. You're the whole reason why I don't entangle myself with ghosts. You refuse to admit things have changed, that you're no longer alive."

Peewee crosses her arms. "Okay, first? I didn't realize I was such a burden for you. But don't worry, I can catch a hint. Secondly, I'll solve my own murder. So thanks for nothing, Devyn Brooks. At least I'm not a huge waste of potential—even in death."

Her words bite. Not because they're laced with venom but because they call out every insecurity I have about myself. I'm a soon-to-be college Junior, fumbling around with no idea how to pursue a passion because I'm too scared of where it might lead. A huge waste of potential is exactly how I feel.

I stop walking and make a raspy groan. Turning around, I see Peewee stalking off in the other direction. I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling like a heartless ass.

"Girl, come back."

Peewee does.

"I'm sorry," I sigh, readjusting my shoulder bag. "I know you didn't ask for this. I shouldn't be so insensitive. I'll try my best to stop ignoring you."

"Aw." Peewee is all smiles again. "So you'll still help me?"

"Of course. I want to catch your punk-ass murderer as much as you do."

"OMG, Dev! We just had our first real fight. We're official bffs." She hops up and down and I can't help but chuckle with a head shake.

Of course, Peewee hasn't acknowledged what I said earlier—that she needs to come to terms with her death. Not to mention how we won't be friends for long considering the Light will come to take her away. But if she's not ready to face that yet, then I won't push her. The time will come. Eventually.

After a gushy exchange of how we won't fight again, we head for the car. Peewee drones on about tonight's plan and I nod my head like I'm listening until a dark feeling spreads in the pit of my stomach.

I freeze.

In the distance, I spot the source: a drifting spirit.

At least he's not the demon kind. He's a young looking guy, following an ASU tour group with apt determination, like he's college bound tomorrow.

Another ghost in denial. They try so hard to blend in—just like me.

My heart goes out to him, it really does. He looks like a lost puppy in need of a huge reality check, but I signal to Peewee because the last thing I need is another stray ghost.

She adheres to my hand signal just as we've practiced before: separate and avoid contact with the lost soul.

Five minutes later we meet at my car and after I've confirmed we're spirit-free, she turns at me with a grin. "So. On a scale of one to ten, how excited are you to get into Ace's pants tonight?"

"You'll be the death of me."

"I'm thinking a 10.5 based on how loudly you moaned his name in your sleep." She closes her eyes. "Ace! ...Ooo, yeah baby....Ace!"

I smile with sarcasm, cranking Kid Cudi all the way up.