By Meg Cabot
My identify is Susannah Simon, and i'm a mediator -- a liason among the residing and the lifeless. if you happen to imagine this will get within the manner of my try at an ordinary sixteen-year-old lifestyles, you would be correct. you are attempting going to the mall whereas continually being accosted by way of the undead.Not that this can be a undesirable factor for all time. Like, for instance, whilst i found my bed room is haunted by way of Jesse, the ghost of a nineteenth-century hottie. whereas i have not made a lot growth with him (only one kiss so far), I stay confident. Jesse's inexplicable resistance to my charms isn't really my purely quandary, although: there is this different man. A reside one, who has an identical present of gab with the undead i've got. within the comparable manner i am after Jesse, this man is after me. And he is aware tips to ship Jesse to the nice past. For good.So i assume you'll say i am haunted. I simply by no means proposal it might be through somebody who isn't really useless.
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Extra info for Haunted: A Tale of the Mediator
I mean, that passion was forme . Me, Suze Simon, about whom no guy had ever felt all that passionate. At least so far as I knew. " "Actually," I said, pleased that I was able to answer this one truthfully. "I really haven't. " But Paul just went on kissing me—not on the mouth, because I had fully turned my head away, but on my neck and, at one point, part of one of my ears. " he asked between kisses. "Because I could care less about being vice president of your stupid class. " "No, this has nothing to do with the student government thing," I said, still trying to wrench my wrist from his fingers and also to keep my neck away from his mouth.
Which is saying a lot, considering how I felt about Paul and everything. I mean, that there was someone who creeped me out more than he did. "Bye, Mr. Slater," I said, not expecting a response . . which was a good thing, since I got none. Out in the hallway, I asked quietly, "What's wrong with him? " "Naw," Paul said, handing me one of the dark-blue bottles of water. "They don't know, exactly. " I had a hard time believing it. Lucid people can usually maintain some control over their own saliva.
He's the one that should be dead. Not me. " "Shhh," I said to Craig. To Neil I said, "That must have really surprised people, then. " "Disappointed them, is more like it," Neil muttered. Still, I heard him. So did Craig. He settled back against the seat, looking triumphant. " "I'm sure your parents are sad about losing Craig," I said, ignoring the ghost in the backseat. "And you're going to have to give them some time. But they're happy not to have lost you, Neil. " "They aren't," Neil said as matter-of-factly as if he'd been saying the sky is blue.