Ghosting (15 page)

Dad takes my hand

and that’s when

I burst into tears.

Again.

I spot Chloe’s

blonde hair

across the field.

She’s surrounded by friends.

But no sign of

Anil.

And for some reason,

out of the blue,

I suddenly remember

Anil’s story about the comet

and the

two telescopes,

and

his smile,

and then,

miraculously,

my tears stop.

ANIL

1.
My parents don’t want me

to go to the vigil,

which is okay

because I don’t want to go.

The only reason would’ve

been to see if Maxie was there.

Except what would

I say to her?

2.
I watch TV and go on the Internet,

scrolling from one story to

another about the tragic

shooting in Wilmette.

Sound bites have already formed:

multiple shooting victims near cemetery

tragedy at so-called “ghost house”

homeschooled boy shoots rifle at trespassing teens

teenage prank gone wrong

thrill-seeking, ghost-hunting teens

But no word on:

Felix

Faith

Emma

or Brendan.

Nothing specific anyway.

Just “multiple victims” in critical condition.

That’s all.

Mom turns off the TV

but I turn it back on.

She looks at me,

then sits beside me,

putting her arm

around my shoulders.

One news program shows

clusters of reporters

from different TV stations

around the country,

camped in front of the hospital.

3.
And then,

while we’re watching TV,

a knock on our own door.

Reporters.

My father turns them away,

tight-lipped, furious.

EMMA

Dad is sitting by my bed.

The machines around me are whirring,

tubes, wires, dials sprouting from them.

The tubes are filled with bubbling liquids that are

being pumped into me, to help me heal,

to help control the pain.

Dad is telling me about the vigil at the

football field tonight. How everyone is

praying for me, for Faith, for all of us.

The hospital room is filled with cards and

flowers and balloons. Almost too bright,

too much, and I don’t deserve any of it.

Faith? I keep asking. And they keep

telling me they don’t know. That she’s

still fighting, still alive.

Then the door opens, abruptly,

making Dad jump.

A nurse stands there.

You’re to come, right now,
she says.

Her voice is urgent,

her eyes unreadable,

but she is not smiling.

Dad jumps up.

I can see fear

in his eyes.

I’ll be right back, Emma,
he says.

Just as the door closes behind them I hear

the words
minister or priest?
clear and distinct.

My blood turns to ice.

Faith,
I shout.

Monday, August 30

MAXIE

On Monday instead of going

to school

I go to

the hospital.

Mom and I get flowers

from the grocery store

to take to

Emma,

Faith,

and Felix

Faith’s room is the closest

so we go there

first.

The door is

closed.

I hear the sound of a woman

sobbing

and my brain goes blank.

I drop the flowers and

don’t even realize it.

Suddenly the door

opens

and Emma’s dad is

standing there.

He stares at me

and all the flowers

scattered at my feet.

Then

he smiles.

I look past him into the room

and see Faith and Emma’s mom

sitting by the bed,

and she’s not sobbing,

she’s laughing,

though

tears are running

down her cheeks.

And even more wonderful,

I can see Faith, lying in the bed,

her

eyes

open.

Emma’s dad bends down and

helps me pick up

the flowers.

We almost lost Faith last night,
he says, handing me black-eyed Susans and asters,
but she came back to us.

FAITH

They say

I nearly

died.

Twice.

Once in

surgery,

and again

last night.

And I know

it’s true.

Because of

the birds,

and because

of the voices

calling me

back.

Especially

Emma’s.

Her voice

was the

loudest.

And it

makes sense,

because

after all,

I’ve

never been

able to

say

no

to

Emma.

Tuesday, September 7

MAXIE

For everyone else

school started

a week ago,

but I finally go to school

ten days after

that night.

I don’t want to

but Mom keeps saying it’s best

to try to stick to a routine,

to keep things

the way they were

before

it happened.

As if that was even

possible.

And it sucks.

The minute I walk through the doors,

I know I can’t be

there.

It was already going

to be weird,

as new/old girl.

But because of

what happened

it is like I have this

giant RED letter

pinned

to my chest.

Except I don’t know

what letter

it is.

No one does.

So I either get these

sad,

pitying looks,

or else eyes that

dart away.

Like looking at me

might get them

shot, too.

Emma, and Faith,

and Felix

are all still in

the hospital.

And, weirdly, the silence about

Brendan

continues.

No one knows what happened

to him, even

where he is.

It’s like he’s surrounded

by this

cloud of secrecy.

Even all those reporters

can’t find out the truth.

Chloe and Anil

have friends

who circle them

protectively

like wagon trains

in the

Old West.

I see Anil once,

coming out of math.

He calls out,

but I run,

in the other direction.

Pathetic.

Cowardly.

I can’t talk to Anil.

If I did,

if I looked into his eyes,

the tears

would start up again

and

not

stop.

Hiding behind my

locker door, I overhear Chloe,

pale, foot in a boot,

leaning on crutches,

talking to her friends.

No, I wasn’t shot,
she says.
I just tripped and cut my foot. You guys know what a klutz I am.

Her friends laugh

and hug her.

And I start to feel sorry for myself

because I am the new/old girl,

who nobody really knows,

nobody hugs.

Then I notice two girls whispering,

pointing at me,

not with their fingers,

but with their eyes.

I turn and run

down the hall

and don’t stop

until I get

home.

CHLOE

“Before Ghosting and After Ghosting”

Bad:

Twenty stitches

and a foot I can’t walk on

for a week.

No more Anil.

(His parents

won’t let him see

me,

or any of us

who were there

that night.)

My mother freaking out

all
over me,

all
the time.

At first I wanted her

warm, comforting hugs,

but by the second week,

oh my god.

Reporters,

especially the one

with the flippy,

fake blonde hair

who asked if I felt guilty

because I suggested ghosting

in the first place.

Mom stepped in then

and blasted her.

And one more thing:

Nightmares.

Every night.

Good:

Dad flew in from California.

Yeah, without his new little family.

That was a hug

I’ll remember for

a
long
time.

Teachers are a lot nicer.

Mr. Chandler even gave me

an A I didn’t deserve

on the first paper I wrote

after ghosting.

Oh, and Josh called.

A lot.

FAITH

The doctors

say I lost

a dangerous

amount

of blood.

That I

should

have died.

I sleep

most of

the time.

And when

I wake up

Mom or

Dad or

a nurse is

usually

there,

but once

no one

is there

and panic

flutters

in my chest

like it’s

suddenly

filled with

those

white birds.

But then

I look

over at

the tray

table

next to

me, and

someone

has set

a small

folded

paper

crane,

a gleaming

white one,

right there

beside me.

The fluttery

feeling

eases and

I smile.

Then

another

time when

I wake up,

I open my

eyes to see

not just the

one white

paper crane

but dozens

of them,

all over

the room.

My mom

tells me

that my

friends from

school made

them and

that each

one has

a poem

folded inside.

I’m grateful

and astounded

that my

friends

somehow

knew about

the white birds

even though

I haven’t

told a

single

soul.

Sunday, September 19

ANIL

1.
It has been three weeks

since that night

and today my mother

has spent the whole day

in the kitchen.

She is preparing a

traditional Indian feast.

She says it’s in honor of

Ganesh Chaturthi,

the celebration of the

birthday of Lord Ganesha,

son of Shiva and Parvati,

whose head was sliced off

by Shiva during a fierce

battle of the gods

and replaced with

a baby elephant’s.

Ganesha is the god of

wisdom, prosperity,

and good fortune.

I looked online and

discovered that

Ganesh Chaturthi was

a week ago.

I think my mother is

worried that I am not

eating enough.

2.
The smell of the food

fills the house,

stirring my appetite,

and when I speak on the

phone with Viraj, who has been

calling more often than usual,

he claims he can even smell it

in Boston. And he makes a gagging sound.

But I love the deep rich smell of

Indian cooking.

It is pungent and tangible and I

welcome the distraction

and comfort of it.

3.
My mother made my favorite,

red lentils and rice,

but there are

also
kudumulu
,

steamed rice flour dumplings

with coconut stuffing.

She also prepared six varieties

of
naivedyam
,

my favorite of which is

balehannu rasayana
,

a banana fruit salad.

My mother even dug up

a plaster of paris statue of

the potbellied,

elephant-headed Ganesha,

which she put in the center

of the table.

4.
After dinner I lie on my bed,

stomach full,

looking up at those

glow-in-the-dark stars.

And then,

not for the first time,

or the last,

I think about

Maxie.

CHLOE

“The Break”

After that night

the seven of us who were there

all spin off in different directions.

It reminds me of the “break” in billiards,

which I learned about from Josh,

who plays a lot of pool.

Like the “break”

this is how we all spun off:

Brendan disappears.

Felix is in a coma.

Emma is always away somewhere for surgery.

Maxie no one ever sees, like she’s exiled herself.

Anil’s parents don’t let him hang out with any of us, especially me.

And I guess that makes

the kid with the gun,

Walter Smith,

the cue ball.

Tuesday, September 21

MAXIE

This strange thing

starts to happen.

I hear little whispers of it

here and there,

but then it picks up steam.

The best way I can

describe it is that

a “cult of Chloe”

begins to form.

It starts after Anil writes