Reluctant Guardian by Melissa Cunningham Page A

macaroni and cheese. Two young girls eat beside him.
    â€œHey,” I say, sinking down in the one remaining chair. “I'm back. Sorry I had to leave—family emergency.”
    Brecken freezes, the fork halfway to his mouth. He doesn't say a word, but looks around, taking a hesitant bite.
    â€œYou can hear me, right? I'm back,” I say again. “Just so you know.”
    After a slow, controlled breath, he takes another bite, and I take in the scene. Brecken's eyes are the only things that move other than his methodical eating. The two little girls, roughly the ages of twelve and nine, continue to eat in silence.
    â€œI guess you can't see me anymore since you're looking in the wrong direction,” I say, leaning back with a chuckle. “Who are these two?”
    The slurping continues until the younger girl drops her fork in her bowl and says, “I'm done.”
    â€œPut your bowl in the sink,” Brecken says, not looking up.
    The girl obeys and not long after, the older girl follows suit. “I'm going outside,” she says with a half wave.
    â€œK,” is Brecken's only response. When the door shuts firmly behind them, he places his hands on the table and frowns, his lips forming a pucker. “Why did you come back?”
    â€œI'm supposed to help you. Duh.” I figure if I am open and honest then maybe my job will go quicker, and I can get out of here.
    â€œWith what?” he asks, clearing the table.
    â€œI have no idea. They don't tell us. We have to figure it out ourselves. Maybe your drinking problem?”
    He laughs, his eyes squinting, trying to see me. “I don't have a drinking problem.”
    I laugh right back. “Yeah. Well. Whatever.”
    He turns toward the sound of my voice. “So who are you?”
    I forgot I haven't introduced myself. “I'm Alisa.” I'm not sure how much I should tell him, and I can’t ask Raphael or Anaita since I'm pretty sure they already explained the rules when I wasn't listening.
    â€œSo you died or something?” he says, walking out of the room.
    I figure I'm supposed to follow, so I do, floating a foot off the ground. It makes me feel cool and spooky. “Yep. I died.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œI really don't want to talk about it.”
    â€œAnd I really don't want you around.”
    â€œTouché.”
    I follow him to the basement, to the room where I saw him earlier when he took his psycho pills. My mother has strict rules about going into a boy's bedroom. It's a big, fat no-no. And I have a hard time wanting to break her rule now.
    I stare at him, and he stares at the wall, thinking he is staring at me. “Fine. I'll tell you a little about me, and you tell me a little about you. All right?”
    â€œFine.”
    I decide, as his guardian, that it's okay for me to go into his room, because it's not like we are going to make out. I walk in and sit down on a lonely wooden chair that faces his bed. Brecken plops down on this bed, crossing his feet.
    â€œSo, ask me anything,” I say, ready to deflect questions that get too personal.
    He crosses his arms over his chest and contemplates. “I can see you again. Just barely.”
    This is not what I expect him to say, but I don't leave in a panic this time. “How?” I ask, curious.
    â€œI am a man of many talents,” he says with a chuckle, waving his hand through the air. “It's something I've always been able to do. I don't know why. I see auras too, but the light has to be dim. They’re hard to see otherwise.”
    I nod, thinking this over. “I guess that's why you can see me down here in the dark.”
    These are definitely the special gifts Raphael spoke about. They have to be. And if I want to succeed, I have to be okay with it. I take stock of my feelings and analyze them, realizing that for the most part I'm cool with it. Kind of.
    We sit silently for a moment.
    â€œYou're hot,” he says