Girl Meets Ghost (11 page)

About five minutes into the movie, Brandon takes my hand. His hand is nice, warm and soft and not at all sweaty. Pulses of electricity fly up my fingers and rush through my body, and I lean my head against his shoulder. When the movie's finally over, I pretty much have no idea what it was about. I couldn't keep my mind on it. I just keep thinking about Brandon's closeness, and the fact that we were holding hands.

When the lights go up, I look over to see Ellie and Kyle sitting ramrod straight in their seats. Ellie has this super-blank look on her face, and Kyle's scowling at the floor. Uh-oh. I try to catch Ellie's eye, but she's staring straight ahead, not looking at me.

We all traipse up the aisle and into the lobby.

“I'm going to go call my mom,” Ellie says. “To tell her we're ready to be picked up.”

“Want me to go with you?” I ask.

“No,” she says, “I'll be right back.” She heads over to the spot between the front doors so that she can get away from the noise in the lobby.

“I'm going to play a video game,” Kyle mumbles, walking over to where the arcade games are.

“What's up with those two?” Brandon asks.

“I don't know,” I say.

“Well, Kyle can be kind of difficult.”

“Yeah,” I say. And then I can't take it anymore. I have to know, I have to ask him. “Hey,” I say, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Well . . . I don't want to get Kyle in trouble or anything, but Kyle told Ellie that you said we just had an okay time when I was at your house yesterday.” He gets an uncomfortable look on his face, so I rush on, “And that's fine. Really, I'm not mad. It's just . . . Well, I had a really nice time, so I was kind of confused.”

“I had a great time too,” Brandon says. “I really did. It's just that I wasn't sure you did because you seemed to get a little weird when I brought up the stuff about my mom.”

Ohmigod. He noticed! He knew! And here I am, thinking I'm such a good actress, and it turns out it's not even
true. Jeez. “Oh,” I say dumbly, because I don't know what else to say.

“It's okay,” he says, and then squeezes my hand. “A lot of people get a little weird about it, but I don't want you to have to feel uncomfortable, you know? It's really sad, but we don't have to avoid the topic or anything.”

“Yeah,” I say, “I guess I did get a little uncomfortable.” What a lie! If anyone is comfortable with the idea of people dying, it's me. I mean, I have to be. Of course, it's really sad that Brandon doesn't have his mom around anymore. And I do feel really bad about that, and I think it's amazing how well he's doing. I didn't know my mom, but I can't imagine what it would have been like if I'd had her around for nine years of my life and then she died. That's one of the only positives about her leaving when I was so little. A lot of times I feel like if she'd stuck around longer, it would have been harder because I would have missed her more.

“You don't have to be uncomfortable,” Brandon says. He squeezes my hand again. “Seriously, it's totally—”

“My mom's on her way,” Ellie declares, coming back. She looks around the crowded lobby. “Where's Kyle?”

“Playing a video game,” I say.

“Figures,” she says, sounding disgusted. I want to ask her what's going on, but she sends me a message with her eyes that she doesn't want to talk about it in front of Brandon.

But Ellie's mom is driving all of us home, so I won't have a chance to talk to her until later. The four of us head outside and stand on the curb until Ellie's mom pulls up. The conversation is awkward, with Ellie and Kyle basically ignoring each other. When I see Ellie's mom come pulling into the parking lot, I'm relieved.

But then, right before we're supposed to hop in, I feel this weird brush of cold air, and I turn around, thinking that maybe it started snowing or something. But it isn't snow. It's Brandon's mom. And she hops into Ellie's mom's van right behind us.

Okay, so this is
awkward.

Here are the seating arrangements:

Ellie in the front seat with her mom.

Me in the middle section with Brandon.

Kyle in the backseat of the van, his legs stretched out in front of him, and Mrs. Dunham sitting on his legs.

She's a lot fainter than she usually is, which makes me think that she's having to put forth a tremendous amount of effort to even be here. It makes a chill slide down my spine, and I have that same thought again, that maybe she has something really important that she's trying to take care of. Is Brandon in some kind of danger? Is Grace? Why was she talking about a green paper? Would
Brandon know what that meant? Maybe I should ask him.

“How was the movie?” Mrs. Wilimena asks.

“Fine,” Ellie says. She's staring out the window. Kyle coughs. What the heck is going on with those two?

“The green paper,” Mrs. Dunham stage-whispers from the backseat. I force myself not to look at her. But it doesn't seem to make any difference. She just keeps whispering in this very creepy way.

After a few more minutes Mrs. Wilimena and Ellie start getting into a conversation about her cousin's wedding that's coming up, and Kyle pulls his iPod out of his pocket and sticks the buds into his ears. Mrs. Dunham is still whispering, but I'm starting to get a little more used to it. I'm able to tune her out, kind of like when you're trying to talk to someone on the phone and you can hear their TV in the background.

“So,” I say to Brandon, trying to sound nonchalant, “what's your favorite color?”

“My favorite color?”

“Yeah,” I say. That's one of the things you ask someone when you're trying to get to know them better, isn't it? “Mine's aqua. Or maybe purple.”

“I guess mine would be orange,” he says, like he's never thought of it.

“Really?” I ask. “Not green?”

“No,” he says.

“Are you sure? Green is very pretty. Frogs are green.”

“You like frogs?”

“No. I mean . . . Yeah, I guess . . . I don't know.” This isn't going exactly according to plan. “I just meant that a lot of good things are green.”

“Like frogs.”

“Exactly.”

“I like frogs,” he says, “but my favorite animal is probably the jaguar.”

Great. By the time we pull up in front of my house, I'm no closer to getting anything out of him than I was when we started.

“Well, bye,” I say. “Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Wilimena. Ellie, text me later.”

“I will,” she says, and gives me a pointed look, like she can't wait to tell me what went down with her and Kyle.

I walk into my house, and Mrs. Dunham follows behind me.

•  •  •

But she must have expended too much energy while she was doing all that whispering, because even though she follows me up the stairs, by the time I get to my room, she's gone. I don't even have time to enjoy any of my ghost-free time, though, because Daniella takes over immediately. These spirits are really driving me crazy.

“Finally!” Daniella says. “I've been waiting for you all night.”

“You were?”

“Yeah,” she says, “and I have gossip.” She moves her eyebrows up and down.

“What kind of gossip?” I ask warily. Anytime a ghost says they have gossip, it can't be a good thing.

“About Cindy,” she says. “And your dad. She came over for dinner . . .”

“And they got into a big fight and he kicked her out of the house and said, ‘Never come back here ever again'?” I ask hopefully, kicking my shoes off.

“No,” she says. Daniella does a backbend and then a walkover until she's standing up. Wow. That's actually pretty impressive. I wonder how long it took her to learn that.

“Then, what?”

“She started asking him all these questions about your mom.” Daniella sits down at my desk and waits for my reaction.

I'm at my dresser, taking my earrings out and putting my necklace back into my jewelry box, and my heart catches in my throat.

“Really?” I ask slowly. “What was she asking?”

“You know, like how long they were married, and why she left and stuff.”

“And what did my dad say?”

“Just that your mom was always a free spirit, and that she just couldn't deal with the day-to-day stuff having to do with a family. He seemed really sad.”

That's the thing that upsets me the most about my mom. Not even that she left me, because, like I said, I didn't even know her. It mostly upsets me that she left my dad. My dad loved her so much. He hasn't dated since she left.

“She was the love of his life,” I tell Daniella.

“That's what he said,” Daniella says. “Which Cindy
so
did not like. You could tell, even though she pretended that she was all sympathetic.”

I sniff. “Ha!”

“I kind of like Cindy,” Daniella says. She tilts her head to the side and thinks about it. “She's spunky.”

“Figures.”

“Anyway!” She jumps out of my desk chair and onto my bed. She lies on her stomach, her silky blond hair pooling around her shoulders. “Tell me what the plan is. You know, with Jen.”

“Well, tomorrow's Saturday, so there's a gymnastics meet,” I say. “I asked my dad to drive me so I can watch. I told him I'm thinking about joining the gymnastics team at school.”

“Yay!” Daniella says. “And then, after the meet, you're going to ask her about the digging?”

“Ummm . . .” Is she crazy? I can't just bring up digging to Jen at her gymnastics meet. But something tells me I shouldn't tell Daniella that. “Well, I'm going to play it by ear,” I say. “You know, take her lead.”

Daniella looks doubtful, but before she can say anything else, I grab some soft pink pajama pants and a comfy gray tank top from my drawer and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed.

•  •  •

So here's what went down with Ellie and Kyle during the movie:

The previews started, and Ellie was excited to be with him on the date, but she was already a little bit annoyed with him because he'd gotten cranky about where we were going to sit, and because I guess he was getting nacho crumbs all over the floor and on his shirt. So then she said, “Kyle, you look kind of a mess.”

And then Kyle brushed his shirt off and said, “Better?”

And then Ellie was like, “Yeah.” But then Kyle was crunching his chips too loud, and Ellie said, “Kyle, you might want to eat a little quieter.”

And then Kyle was all, “Ellie, you might need to relax a little bit.” And then they didn't talk to each other for the rest of the movie. I have to admit that when she tells me all this over text message, I'm a little disappointed. I expected something with much more drama.

Anyway, I tell Ellie that it wasn't really nice of her to say that Kyle looked like a mess, and then she says she said he looked “kind of” a mess, which I say is basically the same thing. But then she says that if he really cared about hanging out with her, he would have tried to do anything she asked, like eat like a normal person. And then
I
said she had a point, and that even though he might not do
anything
she asked, he could have at least tried to eat a little quieter, or maybe even just said, “I'm sorry, Ellie, but that really hurt my feelings. Next time you have a problem with my eating habits, maybe you could say it a little nicer” instead of just telling her to relax.

But of course most thirteen-year-old boys can't express themselves that way. Actually, most
people
can't express themselves that way. But when I tell Ellie this, she says Kyle could have at least tried, and even if he couldn't put his emotions into words, he shouldn't have just said that she needed to relax, because she thinks she's a very fun person, and not uptight at all. Which is sort of true. Ellie can be pretty relaxed about certain things, like how she went to the mall that day without even thinking about it, but sometimes she does get caught up in manners and etiquette and stuff.

But I don't say this, because she's my best friend, and of course I'm on her side.

Anyway, Ellie tells me all this over text message and it
takes us until, like, two in the morning for her to finally get it all out. We make plans to meet up for lunch the next day at this really cute café that's halfway between our houses so that we can discuss it more.

But first I have to get to the gymnastics meet in Cedar Falls. Which starts at nine a.m. Which means I have to be up by eight. On a Saturday. Which means I'm extremely cranky as I stumble down the stairs and into my dad's car. I told him I was meeting my friend Daniella there. Which isn't really a lie, since Daniella
is
going with me. Although I wouldn't exactly call her a friend, and I'm not meeting her there. She's riding over with us, ha-ha.

By the time we get to the meet, I'm still not fully awake. Thank God they have a concession stand. I buy a cup of coffee and something called “breakfast dough,” which sounds gross but is actually this delicious warm fried dough dusted with powdered sugar and topped with strawberries and whipped cream.

We (well, I) find a seat way in the back of the gym, high up on the bleachers so that I can observe without anyone seeing me.

Both teams are warming up, flying over the mats, flipping all around, their legs and arms and ponytails in a whirl.

“Wow,” I say to Daniella. “You used to do that?” I take a bite of breakfast dough. So. Good.

“Yeah,” she says, looking longingly at the gymnasts.

“You miss it?”

“Yeah. Being part of a team, it was . . . it was fun.” Her eyes start to fill up a little with tears. “It's hard,” she says. “You know, remembering.”