In Real Life (2 page)

I shrug. Being my real-life bestie, Lo knows all about Nick. Well, not
all
about him; I'm selfish when it comes to my friendship with him, and there's a lot I keep to myself. Even without knowing everything, though, Lo has insisted for years that I must be secretly in love with him. Lately she's been getting snippy when I bring him up, like she's jealous or something. Lo isn't the type who likes to come in second.

She drops her overnight bag on the grass, and she lowers herself to perch on top of it.

“Girl, you know what I'm going to say. It's high time you did something about this situation. Grace and I were literally just talking about this in the kitchen.” She stretches back onto the grass and screams for my sister, who had been raiding the fridge when I walked outside to answer Nick's call. “Grace! Get out here! We need to powwow!”

I moan. “You really don't need to get Grace involved.”

But it's too late. It's only a few seconds before my sister, Grace—clad in her usual uniform of black jeans, black T-shirt featuring some obscure punk band with a weird name, and wearing thick black eyeliner—is outside, too. She throws herself on one of the chaise longues next to the pool, a turkey sandwich hanging out of her mouth.

“What are we talking about?” she asks through bites of sandwich.

“We need to debrief about Hannah and Nick,” Lo says. “Hannah, what is the deal here? Why haven't you guys met? You've been talking to this guy online for, what … four years? That's a long time. Are you sure he's legit?”

I shake my head, as if I could shake away this line of questioning. “He lives in Las Vegas, Lo. It's not like he just goes to a different school. And of course he's legit. I met him through Grace. Ask her.”

Grace throws up her hands, sandwich flailing. “Oh no. Don't bring me into this. I met his brother one time at a show when I was in high school and talked to him for, like, a minute. I'm absolutely not vetting this dude.”

“But you know Alex is real,” I say. “And Nick and Alex look exactly the same, so you know he's not a troll or anything.” I've shown Grace photos of Nick. She agrees that with his messy brown hair, thick-rimmed black glasses, and wide open smile, he's a dead ringer for his older brother, who caught Grace's attention at a concert all those years ago. The full-sleeve tattoo on Alex's right arm is the only visible way to tell the Cooper brothers apart at a quick glance.

Grace shrugs and goes back to mauling her sandwich. “Whatever.”

I gather my hair and twist it into a bun. “I mean, Las Vegas is four hours away, across a state line. You know how Mom and Dad feel about this.”

Lo stands and paces along the edge of the pool. “Here's the thing, Hannah. You're almost a legal adult. You have a car. I assume he drives. If you wanted to, you could make this happen. It's not an impossible distance.”

“We tried once,” I say. “It didn't work, and…”

“And what?” Grace has finished her sandwich now, and she picks the crumbs off her black jeans like she's hunting for treasure. “Yeah, that one time was a total disaster. And it was mostly my fault, which I still feel bad about, by the way. But why didn't you ever try again?”

Lo stops pacing when she reaches Grace, and she stands shoulder to shoulder with my sister. A united front. “That was years ago, girl. Things have changed.”

That day is one of my huge regrets. Once I got over being half-relieved that our plans fell through, I used to wish there were a way to go back in time and have a redo. But Lo knows how my parents are. Mom said I wasn't allowed to drive out and meet Nick. And once Mom says no to something, I can't just go and do it. I mean, I'm not Grace. Far from it.

Grace and Lo keep staring. I never react well under pressure like this, with people in my face, trying to pry me out of my cozy comfort zone. The urge to run from their interrogation is strong, so instead of answering, I do the super-mature thing and roll my eyes. Then I do a nonchalant shuffle toward the house for a safe haven from their badgering. “I have to pee,” I call back over my shoulder.

I don't have to pee, though, and I head upstairs to my bedroom instead of to the bathroom. I just need a break from Grace and Lo, so I flop down on my bed and click through my iPod until I find
Ghost in the Machine,
one of the playlists Nick made for me. It's a mix of Automatic Friday songs and other indie bands with the same mellow style. This particular playlist is my go-to because it has a lot of the angsty unrequited-love-type songs that have always been my favorite. I click Play and smile as the first familiar notes of the lead singer and songwriter's raspy voice fill my room.

I can't count how many times I have fallen asleep to these songs or driven around in my car with them blaring in my ear, taking over my thoughts. And there have been times, especially recently, where a lyric struck me in such a deep way that I wished it were Nick who had written it, and that he'd written it just for me. It was an unusual thought, because that's not how things are between us. Not at all. But there's something about the music that takes my head to strange places.

I asked Nick about the lead singer once, if the passion in Jordy MacDonald's songs was inspired by a girlfriend or some big lost love. Nick said Jordy's a total player, and I know he didn't mean of instruments. He said Jordy was with a new girl every weekend, and the other band members don't even bother to learn the girls' names anymore. I yelled at Nick about that because it made him sound like a total jerk, and he assured me he was just kidding, then proceeded to name the last twelve girls Jordy brought around, first and last names, told me what they all looked like, and added something degrading Jordy had said about each one the following day. I gave up on Jordy's sensitive side after that and stopped searching for a meaning behind the songs. But I didn't stop wishing.

Since Nick is on my mind, I pull out my phone and text him, even though I doubt he'll answer because he's at practice.

I HOPE YOU GUYS ARE PLANNING ON PLAYING MY FAVORITE SONGS AT YOUR BIG DEAL SHOW TOMORROW.

I always beg him to at least play the guitar parts of my favorite songs on our video chat sessions, but he's too embarrassed. I make do with imagining him playing my dream set list at his gigs.

My phone beeps his reply almost immediately. Odd.

WE PLAY THEM EVERY TIME, GHOST.

I look out my window and see Lo has stripped down to her bikini and jumped in the pool. She floats on my inflatable dolphin and talks to Grace, who made herself comfy on the lounge chair. From Grace's bobbing head, I assume they're rehashing Grace's recent breakup with her long-term live-in boyfriend, Gabe, for the millionth time, because it's all she seems to talk about these days. At least my sister isn't crying anymore. That's a happy development.

And
this
is my wild and crazy life, everyone. Spring break of my senior year, and I'm going to spend it sitting around the pool with Lo and Grace, swimming and hanging out, like we've done every weekend since Grace's breakup. My parents are out of town, college is around the corner, and I should be doing something exciting. But I'm staring down the barrel of the most boring, predictable spring break ever while Aditi Singh is on my student government trip and my best friend plays with his band at the House of freaking Blues in Las Vegas like a rock star.

Following the rules for the past seventeen years has gotten me absolutely nowhere.

I really need to do something about that.

 

CHAPTER

2

THE SUMMER AFTER TENTH GRADE

I'll never forget the day Nick and I almost met.

Our almost-meeting lived and died the summer after sophomore year. The inciting text came in while I lay sprawled out on my bed, trying, like the overachiever I am, to get ahead on my Honors English summer reading.

CALL ME WHEN YOU GET A CHANCE GHOST. I HAVE A WEIRD QUESTION FOR YOU.

I glanced at the clock. Grace was driving down from UCLA so we could go to lunch with Mom. But, as usual, she was late, because Grace Time had absolutely no connection to the actual clock. I punched Nick's speed dial icon.

“I thought you were at lunch with your sister?”

“I don't even get a hello?”

“Sorry. Hi, Ghost. I thought you were at lunch.”

“Oh, you know Grace. She's not even here yet. And when she does show up, she's going to want to start her laundry. Lunch will turn into dinner at this rate.” I laughed. “What's up?”

“Are you sitting down?”

“I am.”

“I have a wild proposition.”

“No, I will not rob a bank with you.”

“It's not that wild. But close.”

I bent down the corner of my page in
Slaughterhouse-Five
and reached around to adjust my pillow, pulling myself into an upright position. “I'm listening.”

“Well, now that we both have our licenses, I think we should meet. Like, in person.”

I jolted straight up. Meet in person? Me and Nick? What? We couldn't. That would be so weird. What would we say to each other? It would be awkward. And wrong. And the world might implode. And … no.

No.

“Um … Ghost? You there?”

“Oh, yeah, I'm just surprised. That's not what I was expecting you to say.” Hello, understatement of the year.

“I have it all figured out. I can't expect you to drive all the way out here, and I don't know if my P.O.S. truck will make it all the way to you. But we can meet in Barstow. It's about halfway between us, and it's completely in the middle of nowhere, but it has a cool McDonald's on, like, an old train car. And there's a little outlet mall. And I'm sure there's a movie theater or something. We won't get bored. Not like we would get bored, though. Not if we're together.”

He rattled off all these plans he had for us meeting in Barstow, but I was stuck on the fact he wanted us to meet at all. For two years we had talked—mostly online, but we'd just recently started texting and talking on the phone, too—but for whatever reason, I never considered him, like, a real person. Us meeting for real had never occurred to me, really.

And then there was the possibility we would meet in person and not even like each other. What if we didn't get along? What if our differences, which were fun and interesting on the phone, were too much to bridge in real life? Meeting meant risking our friendship the way it was, and I wasn't sure I could handle that.

“You're awfully quiet, Ghost. What do you think?” He was talking so fast, his voice higher than normal. “Let's do this.”

“Yeah,” I said, but with no conviction. This was one of those defining moments in a friendship, I thought, that could make or break it. I didn't want to break it, and I didn't want him to know how unsure I was and think my hesitation was because I questioned him or our friendship. I so didn't. I just had no idea how this virtual friendship would translate into real life.

“Yeah? Awesome.” I could actually hear his smile. “We'll have to figure out a date and decide where to meet and stuff.”

“I'll have to make sure it's okay with my parents if I drive that far.” As soon as I said it, I realized if I decided I didn't want to do this, I could totally work the parent angle. Sometimes my parents were cool, way cooler than the parents of some of my other Asian friends, but most of the time they were pretty strict. But, for real, even non-strict parents would not be good with their sixteen-year-old daughter driving to the middle of nowhere to meet some strange Internet boy, right?

What kind of teenager was I, hoping my parents would say no to my outlandish request? Lo would smack me on the hand for this, for sure.

Well, if I told her.

“If they don't let you drive by yourself, bring Lo with you. I'd love to meet her.”

Ack, that would be even worse. Lo knew Nick existed, but she didn't know much else. I had zero desire to explain this to her. I'd rather go alone and risk ax murder by Internet stranger so I could keep this all to myself.

“Well, I don't remember what you told me about the driving rules in Nevada, but California law says I'm not allowed to drive another minor in my car yet, and I'm not bringing Grace or my parents.”

“Then it'll be just you and me, Ghost.”

“If we meet in person, then you can't call me Ghost anymore. I won't be a ghost. I'll be real.”

Nick had given me my nickname about a year before, during one late-night chat that turned from ripping apart the terrible movie we'd both happened to see the night before to an unusually serious discussion of our odd friendship. He admitted I seemed too good to be true, and he sometimes felt like there was no way I could be real. He asked me why I kept talking to him when we were so far away from each other, and I admitted he was different from anyone I knew in my real life, but in the best possible way, and that talking to him online was the absolute highlight of my day.

He agreed, and he said I was like something he could feel with him all day, even if he couldn't see me, like a ghost. I was so glad we were only talking online, because that description made me blush so hard, I thought my face was going to be red for the rest of my life.

Ghost was born that night, and he'd called me Ghost ever since.

I was never able to come up with an equally meaningful nickname for him.

“Nah,” he said. “You'll always be Ghost, no matter what.”

My relief surprised me. Maybe meeting in person wouldn't change things.

“I do have to tell you something, though. I know this is going to sound dumb, so don't laugh, okay?” He coughed, and I heard him shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “I'm sort of afraid you won't like me. I'm bad at real life, you know? Talking and stuff. I'm super awkward. I always say the wrong thing and mess things up.”