Body and Soul

“So…” Mrs. Turner said, leaning back against the door frame, as though she needed the support. “I’m begi

Like this was all my fault? I dug my fingernails into my palms, struggling against the urge to scream.

Yes, technically, it was my fault I was stuck here, but I wasn’t failing intentionally. I don’t fail. I NEVER fail. But this…this was an impossible task. Maybe if I’d known Lily better, or if we’d been more similar to begin with…but that was not the case. Instead, I had to keep banging my head against a wall that was never going to fall, tiptoeing across a minefield without so much as a map. And no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, I was never quite good enough. And nobody even appreciated the effort; that was the worst part. The Turners, of course, had no way to know, but Will did, and he was right up there on the bitching bandwagon.

Something inside me snapped. Screw it. All of it. Will could have his perfect Lily, Tyler his confusing and contradictory sister, and the Turners their i

I stood up, ignoring the jolt of pain in my leg. “I am not her. I am not the Lily you knew.” My words were cold and precise. If Will were here, he’d have been freaking out. Too bad.

Mrs. Turner flinched, but I kept going. If there was even a hope of me sticking it out with the Turners, things had to change. Right now.

“I am sorry, more than you know, but I can’t do this. I can’t be her,” I said simply. “And every time you compare me to her, it makes things worse.”

“You make it sound like you’re a totally different person,” she said with a weak laugh, dabbing at her eyes, which were overflowing.

“Are you the same person you were five years ago? Ten?” I demanded.

She looked surprised at the question. “I don’t—”

“It may not be time that’s the issue here, but I’m not who I was before the accident.” That was as close as I dared come to the truth. “I don’t remember what you want me to remember. I don’t know the things you want me to know.”

I heard the desperation in my voice and hated it. I raked my hands through my hair, too fine and flat to my fingers. I was wearing it that way because that’s how Lily had. God, everything was about Lily, how she would act, what she would say…I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I can’t even say I want mustard without everyone acting like I’m speaking Russian or something. It’s just a freaking condiment!” I swiped at the dampness on my face, cursing Lily’s overactive tear ducts.

“Honey, it’s okay…” Mrs. Turner began, starting to cross the room toward me, her hand extended.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not.”

She stopped and lowered her hand to her side.

“I wish I could be her for you. I wish this was easier. But I can’t, and it’s not.” For that matter, I wished I was a better actress and Lily had left behind transcripts of her life for me to read. But that wasn’t to be. I was doing the best that I could, and please, God, I needed that to be enough for someone.

“What do you want us to do?” Mrs. Turner asked, almost warily, as if she feared I’d suggest leaving me alone forever or tell her that I was moving out.

I took a deep breath, trying to get the tears under control. “We start over. New memories. No comparing me to who I was before, no forced attempts to get me to remember things. I try to be someone you’re not ashamed to call your daughter, and you try to accept me for who I am now.” For as long as it lasted, anyway. Lily wasn’t here anymore, but for the moment, I was. I had to be.

Mrs. Turner paled. “I was never ashamed,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy for you, either, but we’re only trying to help.”

“A fresh start,” I persisted. “Can we do that?” Because even though I understood her pain, if I had to hear one more time about how “I” never did, said, or thought something before, I was going to lose it. Run away screaming, which was not only impractical, it would also probably result in my being locked up somewhere for my own good. I knew she had brochures for a rehab center that specialized in brain injuries and mental trauma—I’d seen them on the kitchen counter.

“We can try,” Mrs. Turner said slowly.

Yes. I let out a small breath of relief. She wasn’t completely convinced, but that was okay. I hadn’t expected her to be. Any amount of wiggle room, any chance to not feel like a complete screwup would be worth it.

“Is that shopping trip you offered still on the table?” I asked, suddenly filled with a fierce determination and a captivating idea.

Mrs. Turner looked startled, but nodded. “Sure.”

Good. If I was failing at pretending to be the old, badly dressed, poorly accessorized, and seemingly color-blind Lily, well, then, what did I have to lose by ditching her? Being a new Lily—one whose changed interior was reflected by an external shift as well—might make everyone, if not happier, then at least slightly less miserable and confused. Except Will. He’d hate it. But he’d get over it when he saw it was for the best, right?

I held my hands out at my sides. “I’m ready when you are.”

It was sotime to ring in the new.

It didn’t take the ghost from Malachi’s very long to hustle everyone out of my room and the hall, even Evan, who was still sputtering at me in incoherent fury. She just…shooed them like they were nothing more than vaguely a

It was almost Alona-esque, actually, and kind of impressive.

Except…it might have been more impressive if I’d done it for myself. Once again, I’d needed someone else to step up and defend me, I realized with a grimace. That idea bothered me more now than it had before, especially with relying on someone other than Alona. It felt like the begi

“So, I heard you’re in need of a new spirit guide,” the ghost from Malachi’s said, turning her attention back to me, when the last ghost passed through the outside wall. She folded her arms beneath her chest, further amplifying the cleavage peeking out of the unbuttoned top of her white button-down, and gave me a too-bright smile.

“Maybe,” I said cautiously. Getting a new spirit guide would solve several of my problems, but also create a huge new one: Alona would kill me. Though we’d never discussed it, I was fairly certain she would see a new guide as both a replacement and a sign that I was giving up on getting her back in spirit form. Neither one of those things would be good.

“Great,” she said, her Miss America–pageant expression still firmly in place. “My name is Erin, and I’d like to volunteer.”

I fought not to show my surprise. She wantedto be a spirit guide? No one ever wanted to be a spirit guide. It meant giving up a certain amount of freedom and tying yourself to a ghost-talker who might or might not even be able to help you. Alona had done it only under duress. There was definitely something…odd about this girl. Aside from the whole hanging out at Malachi’s and the ability to change her appearance so drastically, which was strange enough. If I had to guess, I would have said she was probably rocking some serious power to be able to do that.