The Space Between Heartbeats Read Online Free PDF Page A

stares straight through me, her lips dipping with a tight frown.
    “No?” she asks, still not acknowledging me. “Okay, thank you.”
    My chest restricts, a tight knot growing behind my rib cage. If she can’t see me . . .
    I go to grip the edge of the island, trying to keep myself upright, but my fingers pass straight through the marble. I jerk back with an appalled gasp, staggering away and nearly banging straight into my pacing mother. And that’s when I realize, with horrifying certainty, what I am, why my hand went straight through Trent, why everyone has been ignoring me, why I woke up in the forest and at home.
    “I’m a ghost,” I whisper, my eyes rounding. I grow light-headed from fear, terror racing through me and threatening to pull me to the floor. But if I am a ghost . . .
    Am I dead?
    “No, I went back to my body,” I reassure myself. “I was still moving. I’m alive.”
    I fight to remain in control. This can’t be happening. How is this even possible?
    Stop. Breathe. Think.
    My mind clicks through possibilities as I try to make sense of the impossible. Maybe this morning wasn’t a dream after all. And maybe this isn’t, either. Maybe I’m caught in between—half dead, half alive.
    But if I’m half dead . . . how long do I have until I pass the point of no return? Judging by the state of my body, not long if I don’t find help.
    “Mom!” I wave my arms more frantically, but she stares at the pantry door like there’s nothing blocking her view.
    “Yes, I understand, but can you please contact me if anyone sees her?”
    Her brows knit in worry. It’s the first time I’ve seen her worried about me in a long time.
    “Thank you.” Mom hangs up the phone and fidgets with her earring. Her large blue eyes are glassy as she gazes at her phone.
    “Mom.” I stand right next to her. “It’s me. I need you to hear me.”
    I reach for the phone and my fingers pass straight through it.
    Dammit. Fresh tears blur my vision.
    “Mom, please.” My voice quivers. You would think that the people who love me most should be able to sense my presence, like some cosmic, supernatural connection. But my mom just walks to the coffee maker and pours herself another cup. The phone rings again and she unlocks the screen and presses SPEAKER , continuing to move around the kitchen.
    “Hey, where are you right now?” A deep, familiar voice pops into the room.
    “Dad! Can you hear me?” I know it’s pointless, but I yell it anyway.
    Mom grabs a bunch of wilting tulips from the island and throws them in the trash. “I came home,” she calls over her shoulder.
    “I thought you didn’t have a moment to spare today?” I don’t miss the slightly accusing slant to his words.
    “I don’t, thanks to Jackie. Man, that woman is a pain.”
    Dad chuckles. “Why are you home then?”
    “I just wanted to see if Nicky was here,” Mom says, rinsing out the vase. “I thought maybe she was playing hooky again and just waiting until I left before surfacing.”
    I had no idea Mom knew I skipped. Why has she never said anything?
    “Look, honey, I know you’re worried, but I’m sure she’s fine.”
    “She’s not fine, Mitchell.” She taps her fingers on the counter. “Yes, she gets home at all hours. Yes, she probably gets in trouble with her friends. And yes, she’s dating some loser. But she always comes home. She’s always here in the morning.”
    Dad clears his throat. “Trudy, she’s stayed out all night before.”
    Her nails keep tap-tap-tapping, the sharp sound driving into me. “Not on a school night.”
    “Have you called her?” Dad’s voice is deeper than usual, wearier.
    “I’ve texted and called. It just goes to voicemail.” Mom flicks her hand in the air, the large solitaire on her left hand catching the light. “There’s no point leaving a message, she never calls me back anyway.”
    I lower my eyes, guilty.
    “I’m sure she’ll check in eventually. I don’t think we should worry