“She can do that later,” Nakita said primly. “He won!”

I felt a twinge of guilt. I had promised to work with him after school, but I’d forgotten I’d also promised Ms. Cartwright I’d take pictures of the track meet for the school paper.

“Sorry,” I said softly, and he shrugged, making no effort to hide his boredom.

For all his sour attitude, Barnabas had been on earth longer than Nakita and therefore had all the subtle nuances of human behavior to fit in with the track moms and cheering girlfriends better than Nakita. His lanky build and faded T-shirt only added to his sigh-worthy looks, but Barnabas truly didn’t have a clue how good he looked. Nakita didn’t know why guys followed her around looking for dates, either. That the two of them hung out with me had the popular cliques cross-eyed.

“This was his only race,” I offered hesitantly, and Barnabas leaned back, stretching out on the warm bleacher to put his hat over his face.

Turning back to the track, I snapped a picture of Josh as he accepted the congratulations of his teammates. Sweat made patterns on his shirt, and his blond hair was dark with it. He was the only one apart from Barnabas and Nakita who knew I was technically dead; not only had he been there as I had died, but he had held my hand during the whole thing. Yep, I was dead: no heartbeat unless I got excited or scared, no need to eat—though I could do it in a pinch to fit in, and I hadn’t had so much as a nap in months. It had been fun at first, but now I’d give just about anything to enjoy a juicy hamburger and crispy fries. Everything sort of tasted like rice cakes.