The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen

“What are you doing?” I shout-whisper, flapping a hand at hip level to try to beckon her back.

Instead she gives me a lopsided smile, plants her hands on the guard’s desk, and leans into his face.

“Hey!” she shouts at him. “You really won’t let me in?”

The guard doesn’t respond. He’s still looking at me, though. He moves his magazine slowly to the side, and folds his hands.

“Annie,” I say, getting desperate. “Seriously, stop it!”

She waves her hands in the guard’s face, inches from his nose. Then she turns back and smiles at me. I’m about to pass out from anxiety as she climbs up onto the guard’s desk on her hands and knees.

“Hey, YOU IN THE HAT,” she shouts right up next to the guard’s ear. “I’M GOING INTO THE LIBRARY, ALL RIGHT?”

The guard’s face remains impassive as he rolls a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. With a last long glance at me, he resettles himself in his seat and picks up his magazine. He turns a page with disinterest.

I stifle a laugh of disbelief.

“ALL RIGHT THEN!” she hollers, jumping up and down in front of him. “I’m going in! Here I come! No ID! Just into the library, happy as you please!”

Annie vaults over the turnstile at a run, lands on both feet, dashes into the center of the atrium and turns a completely awkward cartwheel, flashing everyone with old-timey long white bloomers. I can’t help myself, and crack up, burying my laughter under my fists. The guard glares at me.

Annie whoops in triumph and yells, “Come on, hurry up!”

She flops to the floor and sprawls on her back in the atrium, lying splayed like a starfish across the tile pattern that’s supposed to look like giant spikes. People keep walking past her, stepping right over her, and nobody so much as looks twice.

I try to compose myself, swipe through the turnstile with a polite machine beep, show the guard the inside of my camera bag, and walk over to where Annie is lying, out of breath on the atrium floor, grinning up at me.





CHAPTER 5


How did you know he couldn’t see you?” I whisper as we meander through the library.

She chuckles, skipping alongside me. How can she be so happy? She’s . . . She’s . . .

I can’t bring myself to say it, even inside my own head, where nobody can hear me. Shouldn’t she be sad? Or scary? Why am I not scared of her? Okay, sometimes I’m sort of scared of her. But not for the usual reasons.

She glances up at me from under her eyelashes, and her eyes glitter.

“Lucky guess?” she suggests.

I stop and fold my arms. “Come on,” I insist. “How’d you know?”

She laughs, and her laughter sends a shiver of pleasure up to the roots of my hair. Whenever she laughs, I find myself staring at her mouth. Her little bow-shaped mouth, with that mole.

Can you kiss people who are . . . who are . . .

Who are Rip van Winkles?

The moment the thought blooms in my mind I try to crush it. That’s insane. Right? It couldn’t be any more insane. For one thing, she’s older than my gran. Actually, she’s way older than Gran. I cast a quick glance over at her, at the creamy line of her collarbone where it disappears behind velvet ribbon at her shoulder. Then I immediately stare up at the ceiling.

And besides. What about Maddie, who I’m supposed to be seeing later? It’s not like she’s my girlfriend or anything, but even so. She was just in my room, last night. I flash to a memory of the stark outline of her black lace bra against pale skin in the night shadows of my dorm room. The thought makes me stare even harder at the ceiling.

“For the most part,” Annie is saying, “I’m pretty sure nobody can. Not here, anyway.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” I insist. “I can see you!”

She looks at me strangely.

“So far, you’re the only one,” she says, her voice quiet.