Possess

sprinted down the hallway to his room. “Mr. Moppet! Time to play.”
    “You know, you could look a little more excited to see me,” Matt said.
    “What are we, best friends?”
    Matt shrugged. “We used to be.”
    Low blow.
    “Don’t you remember, we used to play hide-and-seek downstairs? But I’d only have, like, a minute to find you because you were so scared of the spiders in the garage you’d pop out of your hiding place and give up.”
    “I was six. I don’t give up as easily now.”
    Matt grinned at her. “I know. That’s one of the things I like about you.”
    “One of the things?”
    He smiled, pushed open the kitchen door, and sauntered to the refrigerator. “What does a guy have to do to get a glass of water around here?”
    Bridget sighed and pulled a glass out of the cupboard. “Promise you’ll be out of here in five minutes?”
    “Deal.” He grabbed the Brita pitcher and poured himself a glass. “If you still want me to.”
    “Four minutes, fifty-three seconds.”
    Sammy ran back down the hall. “Mr. Moppet? Bridge, I can’t find him. Can I go downstairs and look?”
    Bridget shook her head. Yes, Sammy. Please keep bringing up the dead cat in front of Matt. “Sure, Sammy. Just be careful of the spiders.”
    Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Matt smiling. “Shut it,” she said, before he could remind her of her phobia.
    “I didn’t say a thing.”
    Bridget sat down, rested an elbow on the table, and cradled her head in her hand. Matt sipped his glass of water, watching her carefully.
    “You look tired,” he said.
    “Thanks.”
    “Bad day?”
    Let’s see, she’d gotten assaulted by both a priest and one of her oldest friends, and then found out she was going to have to perform another exorcism. “You could say that.”
    “Anything I can do to help?”
    The question should have annoyed her, but it didn’t. “No. Thanks, though.”
    “Is it about the dance?”
    “The what?”
    “The Winter Formal. Are you upset because we’re going?”
    It was so far from what was actually worrying her, Bridget laughed out loud.
    Matt set his glass down on the counter. “What’s so funny?”
    “Nothing. Sorry.” With some effort, Bridget got herself under control. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”
    Matt sat down next to her. “But something is bothering you, right?”
    Sammy’s muted voice drifted up from the garage. “Mr. Moppet, where are you?”
    Bridget sighed. She wished it was just “something” bothering her rather than the nightmare she was up to her neck in. “I’m okay.”
    “You can talk to me, you know. If you want.”
    Bridget closed her eyes. Not about this, Matt. Sorry.
    “I know it’s important for you to be tough. I totally respect that. But you used to trust me, you know.”
    “It’s not that,” she said, opening her eyes. “It’s just—”
    “I mean, I know we didn’t see each other for a long time, but I’m still the same seven-year-old who used to protect you from spiders.”
    Bridget laughed softly. “This isn’t as easy as killing spiders.”
    Matt bent his head close to hers. “So there is something? I knew it.”
    Bridget opened her mouth. For a moment, she was tempted. Tempted to spill everything that had happened to her that day, that week, everything since the night at the Fergusons’. It would have been so easy.
    “I want to help. I want to be there if you need someone.” He smiled slightly, just enough to make her breath catch in her throat. “I want you to let me in.”
    Bridget looked into those soft hazel eyes. “Matt, I—”
    “Bridge!” Sammy burst into the kitchen. “Bridge, I can’t find him.”
    Bridget straightened up. “What?”
    “Mr. Moppet. Help me, Bridget. Help me find him.”
    Matt got to his feet. The moment was gone. “I should go.”
    “Right.” Bridget stood mechanically and followed him to the door. “Um, thanks. You know, for bringing Sammy home and everything.”
    Matt opened the door, turned around, and smiled. “My offer still stands. If you want to talk, I’m here.”
    “I’ll remember.” Don’t hold your breath.
    Matt stood there for a moment. He made a move like he was about to hug her. But then he thought better of it and stepped outside. “Bye.”
    “Bye.”
    “So how is school?” Her mom’s voice sounded far away.
    “Fine.”
    “Classes are okay?” The words were muted and fleeting.
    “Yeah.”
    Bridget hardly noticed the dripping dishes she took