An icy trail seared down my spine and I shivered.
oveWhat?” I squeaked, and looked around the room, trying to see past the normalcy, past the fa?ade of my band posters, my stuffed animals, my photographs I’d framed. I looked for that warpy shimmer in the air that I had seen many times before, too many times. But there was nothing.
He closed his eyes and raised his hands up in the air slightly. I watched him, afraid to breathe or move. I wanted to feel it too. How come I couldn’t see Abby like I could the others? Were ghosts able to pick and choose who saw them?