Ghost of a Chance (19 page)

“Thank you, Dad,” I say again. “That really means a lot to me.”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back.

“So,” he says, taking a bite of his own sandwich and washing it down with a sip of water, “did you and Ellie make up?”

“I think so,” I say. “I mean, I'm not exactly sure, but she did just text me and invite me to go to the mall with her later.” I fiddle with the hair tie that's around my wrist. I know my dad said we could call it a draw, but I'm not sure if he meant it would be completely forgiven and that I'm not grounded or something. “So can I go?”

He glances at the clock on the microwave. “I can drop
you off at five,” he says. “If Ellie's mom can have you home by nine, I think that would be fine.”

I text Ellie the latest, and she texts me back a few seconds later, agreeing.

Things are looking up!

The mall is ridiculously
crowded because it's Saturday night, and it turns out there's some kind of dance going on at the high school next week, so all the clothes stores are filled with girls looking for dresses and freaking out.

Ellie and I spend some time in Justice, browsing and trying on clothes. She buys a really cute lacy black shirt, and I buy some bangle bracelets and a sparkly red headband.

Then we head over to the food court, where we plan on getting some Japanese food from the make-your-own stir-fry place. Seriously, it's sooo good. As long as you don't think about what really goes into it. I mean, it definitely
can't be good for you. You can practically see the grease pooling at the bottom of the Styrofoam containers they give you.

Next to the Japanese place is one of those toy stores that have all kinds of crazy toys—like remote control planes and stuff.

We're standing in line to get our food when all of a sudden one of the helicopters lands right in front of us.

“What the . . . ,” Ellie says. “Oh!” she says, brightening. “It's Kyle!”

I turn around, and sure enough, there's Kyle. He's standing there, holding the remote for the helicopter and looking mischievous.

“Hey,” he says, giving Ellie a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hey,” she says. “I thought you were at your cousin's birthday party.”

“I was,” he says. “But then it ended early, and so I decided to come to the mall for a little while.”

“Cool,” Ellie says.

Great. Just great. Now that Kyle is here, I'm going to be the third wheel. Which, let's face it, isn't really that fun. Me and Ellie were having such a good time, too. It was just like old times. I wonder if this is how it's going to be from now on—me hanging with Ellie and Kyle, always the odd man out.

Or what if Ellie and Kyle start hanging out with Madison
and Brandon? Oh my God! That would be the worst thing ever. Sure, Ellie says she doesn't like Madison, but Madison can be very manipulative and persuasive. Not that I think Ellie is easily manipulated, but—

“Hey,” a voice says next to me. “Um, I think it's your turn to order.”

I turn around. Ohmigod. It's Brandon. Brandon is here at the mall! Brandon is here at the mall with Kyle, not out with Madison!

“Uh,” I say brilliantly. “What?”

“It's your turn,” he says, then points to where the guy behind the counter is staring at me impatiently.

“Oh.” I turn around to give my order. “Um, I'll have chicken teriyaki.”

“Make it two,” Brandon says.

Ellie is standing in line behind us, with Kyle. The two of them are talking about the birthday party Kyle went to, but every so often Ellie gives me a furtive glance. I can tell she's wondering whether or not I'm okay with Brandon being here.

Am I okay? I don't know. I mean, I
like
him being here, but are we going to talk? So far we're not talking. So far we're just standing here, waiting for our food.

The man puts two Styrofoam containers filled with chicken, rice, and veggies up on the counter.

“Can we have extra sauce?” Brandon asks.

I flush with pleasure. He remembered I like extra sauce! He wouldn't have remembered that if he didn't care about me, would he? Although, Brandon is a very nice person. He definitely could just be being polite.

“You know what?” I hear Ellie announce loudly. “I don't think I want Japanese food after all.”

“What?” I ask, surprised. “You kept talking about how bad you were dying for it.” Ellie's a vegetarian, and so that veggie bowl with rice is one of the only things she can eat in the mall food court.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, “but now I think I'm more in the mood for pizza.” She turns to Kyle. “You wanna go get pizza?”

“Sure,” Kyle says. He's always up for pizza.

“We'll be right back,” Ellie says. And then I get it. She wants to give me and Brandon some time alone, so she's leaving, and she's taking Kyle with her!

But I don't want to be alone with Brandon. I mean, that's so awkward. What are we going to talk about? Besides, the last thing I want to seem is desperate. He broke up with me.

“Are you sure?” I ask desperately. “Because the food here is really good.”

But Ellie just waves and then takes Kyle's hand and pulls him down toward the pizza place.

Brandon and I lapse into an awkward silence.

I should say something. But what? I've never been good
at small talk. That's why even though Brandon sat ahead of me in math class, it took me forever to have a conversation with him.

Luckily, we're at the cash register now, paying for our food, so we're spared from having to talk about anything.

But only for a few minutes.

“So,” Brandon says as we look around the food court for open seats. “You want to sit over there?”

“Sure.” I follow him to the empty table, weaving in and out of the moms with strollers, squealing high school kids, and families out for some shopping.

“So how's your weekend?” I ask Brandon once we're sitting down.

“Fine,” he says, and shrugs. “Kind of boring.”

I want to ask him if “kind of boring” involved hanging out with Madison, but I don't.

“That's good,” I say. Which makes no sense. Why would it be good that he's having a boring weekend? I quickly take a bite of my food. But I can't even enjoy it. That's how nervous he's making me.

“Are you excited for our next tutoring session?” he asks sarcastically.

“Oh, yeah,” I say, just as sarcastically. “I can't wait to bribe children to do their homework.”

He laughs. “Did you see the look on Mr. Jacobi's face when he realized that each of the kids had four tutors?”

“Oh my God,” I say, laughing. “He was about to lose it.”

“I've seen him once like that before,” Brandon says. “When he was trying to photocopy our math tests in the office and the copier wouldn't work. He said a swear word and everything.”

“No way!”

“Yup.”

Brandon and I laugh, and it's like bonding over Mr. Jacobi totally breaks the ice. A few minutes later Ellie and Kyle join us with their pizza, and we all eat together, then spend the rest of the evening wandering around the mall, trying on sunglasses, taking funny pictures of each other on our cell phones, and annoying innocent shop assistants.

It's almost like nothing has changed.

Almost.

Because at the end of the night Brandon doesn't kiss me.

And when I fall asleep that night, all I'm thinking about is how much I wish he had.

*  *  *

On Monday morning I'm in such a good mood that I take extra time to do my hair. I leave most of it loose and flowing around my shoulders but pull one side back into three tiny braids. It's one of my favorite looks, but it takes a long time, so I usually only do it when I'm super-happy.

And honestly, what's to be upset about? Me and my dad
are talking again, Ellie and I are friends, Brandon doesn't seem to hate me, and I helped Lily move on. Everything's on the right path.

Until I get to school.

I haven't even gotten to my locker when I hear an announcement come over the loudspeaker. “Will Kendall Williams please report to the main office, Kendall Williams to the main office.”

Yikes. It's probably so they can schedule my detention for skipping class. But whatever. Detention isn't that bad. At least, not that I imagine. I've never actually been to detention. But I know you pretty much just sit in a room and do your homework.

I stop at my locker to drop my coat off and gather my books for the morning.

By the time I'm done, they've called me to the office two more times. God, don't they have anything else going on? It's that much of a slow day that they have to be that concerned with me and my stupid detention?

But when I get to the office, I find Brandon, Madison, and Micah sitting in the reception area, waiting for me.

“Finally,” Micah says. “Where have you been, babe?”

“I was at my locker,” I say. “Wait . . . what are you guys doing here?”

Madison doesn't answer me. She just taps her shoe on the floor and looks bored. “I hope this runs into first
period,” she says. “And they better give us a pass. I want to miss class, but if I'm late again, Mr. Turturo is going to flip.”

“Mr. Jacobi called us down here,” Brandon says.

“Oh.” I sit down. “It must have something to do with tutoring.”

Brandon shrugs, and I can tell we're wondering the same thing. Why would Mr. Jacobi call us down here about tutoring? He could just talk to us in class. You don't get called down to the main office unless you've done something wrong, unless you're in trouble for something. But we haven't done anything. We—

“There you are!” Mr. Jacobi says, hurrying into the main office. I wonder if he was at that coffee shop, grabbing coffee. He looks at us. “I have received some very disturbing news from Ms. Gruber, the elementary school teacher, about the methods that some of you are using to teach fractions.”

Hmmm. I don't recall any crazy methods we used. Although, supposedly they're changing how they teach math, like, every year lately. So whatever we learned when we were in fourth grade is probably out of date. But how are we supposed to know that? It's not like they gave us any training.

“Does anyone want to explain themselves?” Mr. Jacobi asks. His eyes land on each one of us. Wow. I never realized how penetrating his stare is. “Anyone?”

No one says anything.

“Okay,” he says. “Will this jog any memories?”

He rummages through his bag and produces a magazine. A magazine that he holds up and flutters around in front of him so hard that the secretary looks up from her computer.

“Hey!” Micah says. “That's the magazine we gave to that girl, uh, our student . . . What was her name?”

Oh my God. “Vivienne,” I supply helpfully.

“Good job,” Mr. Jacobi says sarcastically. “You can imagine my surprise when I found out that my students—who were supposed to be setting a shining example for those who are less fortunate—were bribing the young people!”

That doesn't really make any sense. Because Vivienne definitely wasn't less fortunate than us. She had a Michael Kors watch, for God's sake.

“Now,” Mr. Jacobi says. “Which one of you came up with the bright idea to give this magazine to Vivienne?”

Everyone gets very quiet.

Micah looks down at the floor. Brandon just sits there, his hands folded in his lap. My hands tighten around the strap of my bag. Even Madison seems nervous.

I know we're all thinking the same thing—it was Madison's fault, but none of us are going to tell on her. It's one thing to get in trouble for something like this. It's another to actually squeal on someone.

“If none of you want to tell me which one of you came up with this idea, then I'm going to have to assume it was all of you.”

Still no one says anything.

Great. Now I'm going to end up in detention again, probably for longer this time. I glance at Brandon out of the corner of my eye. Is it wrong that I'm kind of excited about the fact that we'll be in detention together? Not that we'll be able to talk, but still. Detention with Brandon seems dangerous and forbidden. Maybe he'll pass me a note when the teacher isn't looking. And then I'll smile and—

“Well, then I have no choice but to fail the four of you,” Mr. Jacobi says.

“What?” I gasp. “
Fail
us?”

“Yes, Ms. Williams,” Mr. Jacobi says. “This is a gross breach of an agreement we had with the elementary school, and all of you will have to pay for that.”

“But that's not fair!” I say. “It's not our fault!”

“It
is
your fault,” Mr. Jacobi says.

I glance at Madison. Surely she's going to step up and admit that she's the one who did it. But she's just sitting there, shaking her head with an outraged look on her face, like she can't believe this is happening to her.

And then I get it. She's waiting for someone else to take the blame.

Ha!

There's no way that's going to happen.

If I'm going to fail because of her, she's going to have to fail as well.

And then I see Brandon.

He's shaking his head, and I know what he's thinking. There goes his A.

But then why doesn't he tell on Madison? Is he going to? Maybe I should just tell Mr. Jacobi she's the one who did it.

But then I realize the problem with that plan. If I accuse Madison, she's going to accuse me back. And if she accuses me back, it's going to look like we're just doing it because we don't like each other. Mr. Jacobi knows that we got into a fight that day right before going into the school.

I look at Brandon again.

He looks miserable.