20
The shadow disappeared, and the letters scattered in a blast of chill wind. We gathered them back up without saying anything. The delicate process of moving the ancient paper only aggravated my already foul mood.
“Why not just tell me what they say? Why show them to me?” I asked once we had them arranged again.
“Why not tell me the ghost was your father?” David countered.
“It’s not exactly a comfortable thing to say, ‘Oh, by the way, I think my father and your best friend is haunting me. He says hello and might pop by later.’”
David shook his head, but he smiled. “Words have power, Gabriel. You were named for the messenger archangel—that’s significant.”
I had always wondered. My name had always made me stand out among the Anguses and Ferguses and Charlies of my school. “What happe
