Laura Whitcomb

In the class of the high school English teacher she has been haunting, Helen feels them: For the first time in 130 years, human eyes are looking at her. They belong to a boy, a boy who has not seemed remarkable until now. And Helen--terrified, but intrigued--is drawn to him. The fact that he is in a body and she is not presents this unlikely couple with their first challenge. But as the lovers struggle to find a way to be together, they begin to discover the secrets of their former lives and of the young people they come to possess.

Jenny’s eyes closed and her hands folded. I decided I couldn’t wait forever. I stepped over the sleeping child and sat where Jenny was sitting. The ringing sound of crystal vibrating was all around me. I felt like I had pressed myself into cold marble. I stayed in her, and in a moment I started shaking. It was frightening, but I wouldn’t let myself run. I tried to see James in my mind’s eye, smiling at me. The ringing stopped with a popping sound. I felt like an ice sculpture starting to crack into pieces. Then it happened. I felt the shape of her, the shape of myself, inside the fingers and shoulders and knees of her. I even felt the snug shoes and the difference between her warm arms inside her sweater and her cool legs exposed to the breeze. I could feel the tickle of Jenny’s hair brushing my cheek. My hand went to my mouth when I heard myself cry out in amazement. I opened my eyes to see every face in the circle turned to me, and then the ground flew up and I was in the dark.

“Give me that blanket.”

I could hear excited voices. Rose colored flashes appeared as my face was passed over by shadows and then sunshine glowing through my eyelids. My eyelids. I opened my eyes and saw a cluster of heads hovering with concern.

“It was during the prayer,” someone whispered.

“Maybe it was the holy ghost,” came another voice.

“She just didn’t eat enough,” said Jenny’s father. He picked me up under my arms and knees. “Let’s not get too excited.”

I was overwhelmed by having so many people pay attention to me. I couldn’t speak. The feeling of the father’s strong arm around me, the texture of his shirt felt through my own skin. I was still shaking.

“Oh, honey,” I heard Jenny’s mother coo.

The father set me down on a bench by one of the picnic tables. I couldn’t help myself. I began to cry, sobbing into my hands and, to my surprise, making tears, the salt of a forgotten sea.