The Girl He didn't choose

insult. Too bright, t

th Vivienne's name

s stacke

al

rt two t

ghost

e letters blurred. Ghost. Funny, co

the least "I've been crying into my sheets" outfit I c

ishable by at least fifteen years in my personal court. She b

h a laugh, like my silence was a quirky person

ne. The one I'd held last night. The one with Vi

odie tighter.

d. "What's

e holds proof that the boy who looked at me

id flatly, slammi

oes. Usually she gets it. Usually she knows when to pu

she floated off, already catching someone else'

a ghost (fitting). Second period w

s checking if I'd survived the n

on the margin of my notebook: lines that looped in

l hesitated, a memo

ing the box of

: goodni

Vivienne by

de half the class jump, Victor included. I mumbled "s

d me a seat. Of course

sk me to homecoming. But like, should I even say yes? He's cute but also..." She kept tal

eyes tracked him automatica

lightly, like she was rearranging

display but hollow inside. She didn't

o little fires. I thought about what it would feel like to tell Vivienne I knew. To t

ghosts don't raise theirs without

e. My aunt was home early, for once. She looked up

the day collapsed. I mumbled "hi" back and went straight u

r had dog-eared the poem he asked for. I ran my finger down the page, the words bl

s. Light. Ghosts. I didn'

ng I couldn't stay