Girl Meets Ghost (6 page)

She turns to me, her green eyes cold. “Are you looking for gossip or something?”

My mouth flops open. “Gossip?”

“No, of course not,” she says, sounding like she's talking more to herself than to me. “You're too young to know any of us, but maybe you have an older sister or someone who sent you?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I don't have an older sister. And I'm not looking for gossip. I don't know what you're—”

“Then why are you so interested in Daniella?” she asks. The bus is turning onto my street now, and I have about thirty seconds before I have to get off.

“I told you,” I say. “I'm a fan of hers. I love gymnastics, and—”

“Oh, please,” she says as the bus pulls to a stop at the corner near my house. “You don't know anything about gymnastics.” She stands up, giving me an icy stare. “And I don't want you to bother me ever again.” And then she gets up and moves to another seat. And I'm left to run up the aisle of the bus like a crazy person so that I don't miss my stop.

•  •  •

Wow. So that whole thing was a complete and total disaster. I mean, Jen was onto me! Who knew Daniella's friends would be so smart? Once I'm off the bus, I run up to my room, grab my red notebook, and then head over to the graveyard. I'm hoping I'll be able to come up with some new plan to help Daniella. Preferably without ever having to see Jen again.

I settle down on my fave bench, open to a fresh page, and write “
PLAN B
” in big letters across the top. Now I just need to come up with an actual plan B. I'm still racking my brains when Daniella shows up.

“Oh, fancy seeing you here,” I say, kind of snotty. “Where the heck have you been? She was asking me all
those stupid questions about gymnastics! You had to know she was going to do that!”

“I just . . . I couldn't stay,”
Daniella says, ignoring the fact that I'm yelling at her. “It was too hard.” She shakes her head, and I almost feel sorry for her. I mean, Daniella actually looks upset, like she's going to cry or something. It's different than when she saw Travis Santini in the mall. That was more like something that made her mad, and this . . . this is like she feels bad for someone else. Maybe she's not as self-centered as I thought.

I quickly tell her about Jen accusing me of looking for gossip. “And now . . .,” I sigh, “I have to somehow figure out a way to get her to talk to me. Which isn't really going to be easy, since she thinks I'm a total crazy person.”

“Well, Kendall, it
was
pretty crazy how you tried to track her down at school like that. And after practice! Everyone knows that no one comes to practices! It would have been better if you'd just gone to one of her meets or something.”

I stare at her, incredulous.
Now
she's telling me this? “
Now
you're telling me this?” I ask, throwing my hands into the air. “You could have told me that before this whole thing happened! And by the way, if you're going to—” But I stop talking because Daniella's face has gotten all scrunchy, and she's wrinkling up her nose and staring off into space. “What?” I ask. “Are you remembering something?”

“Yes,” she says, pulling at her hair. “I mean, kind of. I'm . . . I'm remembering . . . digging.”

“Digging?”

“Yeah, digging.”

“Digging, like in the dirt?”

“Yes.” She looks at me and shakes her head. “And now it's gone.”

“Great,” I say. I slide off the bench and flop down in the grass near my grandma's headstone. I stare up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily with the breeze. “We are in so much freaking trouble.”

Digging in the dirt? What kind of thing is that to remember? Why the heck would Daniella be digging? She's definitely not the outdoorsy type. Is it possible she's just remembering her own funeral? Maybe Jen didn't come to her funeral, and so Daniella's all mad about it? God, I hate this part. Trying to figure things out can be so frustrating!

A little boy and a woman go walking by, holding hands. The woman gives me a sympathetic look, I guess because she thinks I'm mourning whoever's grave I'm at. But even though I'm at my grandma's grave, and I do miss her more than anything, I'm not sad for her. I know she's moved on to somewhere better.

“What's she looking at?” Daniella asks, staring at the woman. “Move it, lady. Nothing to see here!” She waves her hand at her.

I laugh, and the woman gives me a disapproving look.

“Come on,” I say to Daniella, sighing and picking myself up off the grass. “Let's get out of here.”

• • •

When I get home, my dad's at the stove, stirring something really yummy-smelling in the frying pan. There's a cut-up pile of tomatoes and lettuce sitting on a platter on the counter.

“Hey, honey,” he says. I peek into the frying pan.

“Mmmm, tacos,” I say, inhaling the scent of ground beef and spices. “Delish.”

“Tacos are so good,” Daniella says. “I wish I could have some.” Ghosts don't really ever get hungry. But they do sometimes crave food. It's like they can't break the emotional attachment they have. “Not that I ever ate them much when I was alive.” She sighs. “I was always in training.”

“Try this.” My dad holds a spoon of seasoned ground beef out to me. “Does it need anything?”

“Yum,” I say, eating it. “No, it's perfect.”

“So how was studying after school?” he asks, turning back to the pan.

“Good,” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable that I told my dad I was staying after again. But it's not like I did it to hang out with Brandon. I was on official business. I grab a handful of shredded cheese out of the bowl on the counter and pop it into my mouth. If my dad's suspicious about me staying after school, he doesn't say anything, which
actually makes me feel worse. Obviously he still trusts me, even after what I did yesterday.

“Kendall,” he says, “don't do that with the cheese.”

“Why not?” I ask. “I washed my hands.”

My phone vibrates. A text from Ellie.
Talked to Kyle abt u and Brandon! He is def into you, will call u tonight with deets!

Tonight?
Is she crazy? I cannot wait until
tonight
to get deets! I'm about to text her back that she better tell me now, before I freak out and completely die from anticipation, but then my dad says something that makes me forget all about Brandon.

“Cindy's coming to dinner.”

“What?
Why?
”

“I ran into her at the grocery store, and she saw the taco ingredients in my cart, and she mentioned that Mexican is her favorite. So I invited her over.”

“Who's Cindy?” Daniella says, looking interested. “Is she your dad's girlfriend?”

“Dad, she's not your girlfriend,” I say. It's more for Daniella's benefit than anything else, but it's also good to remind my dad of this fact any chance I get. Then I glare at Daniella while my dad's back is turned. When she sees Cindy, she'll figure out the ridiculousness of even asking if Cindy is my dad's girlfriend. No one who meets Cindy Pollack would ever think that.

“I know that, Kendall,” my dad says, pulling three plates down from the cabinet over the dishwasher. “But she
is
my friend, and I expect you to be nice to her while she's here.”

“Of course I'll be nice to her,” I grumble.

“Wow,” Daniella says. “I guess you don't like this Cindy person too much. She's the one who told on you for being at the mall, right? What a jerk.”

She's right. I don't like Cindy too much. Even though, I guess, technically, she didn't tell on me for being at the mall. I mean, according to my dad, she thought it was cute.

The thing about Cindy is that even though she's not my dad's girlfriend, she
wants
to be. Which is not okay. And not because I don't want my dad to have a girlfriend. It's just that I don't want him to have Cindy as a girlfriend. She's loud and opinionated, and every time she sees me, she says something like, “Ohmigod, Kendall, your hair looks so hip!”

She's trying to be nice, because she thinks we should be BFF. It's totally fake, of course—she just wants to get in good with me so that she can get closer to my dad. I mean, making a comment about my hair? Cindy knows nothing about hair. Hers is horrible, this bleach blond mess that she styles up so high, it looks like some kind of beehive with bangs.

Of course, my dad thinks I don't like Cindy because I don't want her dating him, and he thinks it has to do with
my mom leaving when I was a baby. Which it so doesn't. I mean, of course I don't like the fact that my mom left when I was so young. But I do want my dad to be happy, and if that means dating, I'm totally fine with it. I just don't think he'd be happy with Cindy, and honestly, I don't think he does either, because if he did, he'd be dating her.

When the doorbell rings a couple of minutes later, I get really busy playing around with my phone, texting Ellie back.

“Kendall,” my dad says, “can you go and answer the door, please?”

“Fine,” I grumble, sighing like it's a big imposition, and then shuffling my feet all the way to the front door.

“Hello!” Cindy says when I open the door. She's wearing a low-cut black sweater and holding a store-bought cherry pie. “How are you, Kendall? I love your shirt. It's so retro hippy.”

“Thanks.” I look down at the shirt I'm wearing, a brand-new aqua T-shirt with a rainbow across the front. I had some cool rainbow beads that I wanted to put in my hair, and I thought it would be awesome if I had a shirt to match. But this shirt is definitely not retro.

Cindy follows me to the kitchen, and I suffer through dinner, not even able to enjoy my tacos as Cindy prattles on about things that are really boring, like tax rates and some new dining room table she's planning on buying.

“Can I be excused?” I ask finally as Cindy wraps up some really long story about a problem she's having with the guy she hired to renovate her kitchen.

“No,” my dad says. “We haven't even had dessert yet.”

“I'm full,” I say, draining the last of my milk.

“I hope you're not mad that I called your dad when I saw you at the mall yesterday, Kendall,” Cindy says. “I didn't know you were on a secret date.” She looks at me and winks, like we're two old friends.

“It's fine,” I lie. “I'm not mad.” I grab a plain taco shell off the plate on the table, break off a bite, and pop it into my mouth, hoping she'll see that my mouth's full and so I can't talk. And what does she mean, “a secret date”? It wasn't a secret date. It was just some friends getting together to study.

“Wow,” Daniella says. She's standing behind Cindy's chair, peering into her hair. “How does she get her hair to stay up so straight like that?”

“I don't know,” I say.

“You don't know what?” my dad says.

“Nothing.” I put my fork down. “Dad, please can I be excused? I have a lot of homework to do, and I don't really feel like dessert.” I pat my stomach. “I'm full.”

My dad hesitates, but then finally says, “Okay.”

Cindy looks happy, like she can't wait to be alone with my dad. But I don't even care, because I'm too excited to be out of there, and even more excited to finally be able to call
Ellie and get the deets on what Brandon told Kyle.

“I knew you were going to call,” Ellie says when she picks up. “You are, like, the most impatient person ever.”

“That's so not true,” I say, leaning back onto my bed and settling in for a nice long gossip session. My bed is perfect for long phone calls with Ellie. I have, like, three million throw pillows in all different colors, and they're
soooo
cozy.

“So tell me,” I say.

“What's it worth?” Ellie asks.

“Ellie!”

“Okay, okay,” she says. I can hear her stirring something in the background. Probably macaroni and cheese. Ellie's a vegetarian, and so she eats a lot of pasta. It's the only thing she really knows how to cook, and her mom refuses to make anything special for her. That's because Ellie has five brothers and sisters, and also because she has a reputation for abandoning her big ideas. But she's been a vegetarian for six whole months, which is pretty good. “So I was talking to Kyle.”

“And?”

“And so I said, ‘That was crazy, wasn't it, how Kendall's dad just showed up at the mall?'”

“Ellie!” I yell, burying my face into a pillow. “You didn't!”

Daniella, who's doing splits and stretches on my floor, rolls her eyes, like she can't believe whatever drama I
have going on is even worth getting upset about. Which is annoying, but also kind of justified, since her drama of having to find out what's going on with Jen so she can move on to wherever it is she's supposed to go is def more serious than the crush I have on Brandon. Still. You'd think she'd be a little more supportive. Especially since I'm the only one who's going to be able to help her.

“I had to,” Ellie says. “How else could I get it out in the open?”

“It didn't have to go out in the open!”

“Then how was I supposed to find out what Brandon thought about it?”

“I don't know,” I say, chewing on my lip. “But there had to be a better way.”

“Well, it doesn't matter,” she says. “Because Brandon obviously didn't care. He was freaked out at first, but it's okay now.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he told Kyle something.”

“What did he tell Kyle?”

“He told him that he was going to ask you to hang out tomorrow!”

She shrieks, and I shriek, and Daniella almost falls off the bottom rail of my bed, which she's walking on like a balance beam. I guess Jen was right—Daniella definitely needs some more work when it comes to the balance beam.
Or maybe she just needs to work on her concentration. I mean, if a little shriek is going to get her so distracted that she falls off, she probably needs better focus.