“You were an actress, Mom?” Kyle asks. He reaches over and turns on the radio, scanning the channels for a good song. I cross my fingers, hoping that he turns it up loud enough so that we can’t talk.
“Well, I was in a few plays in college.” She looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Where’s your monologue from, Kendall?”
“Um, it’s . . .” I think about saying it’s from Romeo and Juliet, because honestly that’s the only play I can think of right now. I mean, it’s totally famous. I wouldn’t even know any other place to do a monologue from. But if I say Romeo and Juliet, I’m afraid Kyle’s mom might ask me to do it, and then what would I do? I’ve never even read Romeo and Juliet. So I say, “It’s an original piece.”
“An original piece?” Ellie asks.
“Wow,” Kyle’s mom says. “That’s very ambitious, Kendall.”
Luckily we’re pulling into the skating rink now, and I open the door and hop out to the parking lot before anyone can ask me to do a bit of my original monologue. We all troop inside, and on the way Ellie says, “What the heck is going on?”
“I’ll explain later,” I say, pasting a smile on my face.
We all rent skates from the front counter and then head out onto the rink.
Ellie and Kyle immediately grab hands and start skating, leaving me and Brandon standing there on the ice, looking at each other kind of awkwardly.
“So,” I say brightly, “are you a good ice-skater?”
“Sort of,” he says. “I played hockey, so I can at least stay up. But I can’t do any tricks or anything. You?”
“Just spins,” I say. I spin around to show him, pulling my hands in close to my body and going around and around and around. But when I come out of it, I’m a little bit dizzy, and so I stumble a little, and the toe pick of my skate gets caught on the ice.
“Whoa,” Brandon says, putting his arms around me to stop me from falling. My face is buried in his puffy green coat, and I inhale his scent, not able to stop myself from thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.
“Sorry,” I say, laughing and pulling back. “I guess I’m a little rustier than I thought.”
“That’s okay,” he says, giving me a smile. “I thought it was great.”
We start to skate around the rink at a steady pace, dodging in between the little kids going super-slow and the older kids, who are racing around like they’re in the Indy 500. The ice goes scraping under our skates as we build up a little speed, and after a while we’re skating pretty comfortably, without too many wobbles.
“So did you ever find out how you did on the math test?” he asks.
“Eighty-eight,” I tell him proudly.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling myself blush even though my cheeks and nose are a little cold from being on the ice.
“That’s so awesome.” He puts his hand out to give me a high five, and I reach my mittened hand up to slap against his. But something about reaching for his hand makes me go a little off balance, and I stumble again. It’s not as bad as the first time, so Brandon doesn’t have to put his arms around me. But his fingers tighten around mine, and I use his grip to stabilize myself.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m usually able to stay a lot more upright.” He’s still holding my hand. No wonder I’m sliding all over on my skates. I can’t keep my stomach from flipping all around, and it’s obviously interfering with my knees and legs.
We skate around for a little longer, still holding hands, and then we decide to hit the snack bar for a hot chocolate. We buy two steaming cups and an apple cider doughnut to share, then climb up the bleachers so that we can watch everyone else skate while we eat.
“What do you think of those two?” I ask Brandon, pointing as Kyle tries to do a backflip on the ice. His form is all wrong. Daniella would definitely have something to say about that.
“Kyle and Ellie?” Brandon asks. He breaks off a piece of our doughnut and hands it to me.
“Yeah.”
“I think they’re good together.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “No, seriously, I do,” he says. “I’ve never seen Kyle act so nice to a girl before.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I think he really likes her.”
“I think she really likes him, too,” I say. The moment is so perfect—watching my best friend skate with a guy she really likes, while I sit up in the bleachers with a guy I really like, a nice hot drink in my hand. I close my eyes and inhale the smell of the ice, feeling happy and content.
“Are you cold?” Brandon asks. Probably because I just kind of shivered, mostly because I was so happy and he was so close to me.
“A little,” I say.
“Here.” He takes his hat off and puts it on my head.
“Thanks,” I say. And when he takes my hand again, I lean my head on his shoulder.
Chapter
14
Daniella’s on the warpath. Big-time.
“You,” she says, “are not a very good ghost talker or communicator or whisperer or whatever you want to call it.” She’s wagging her finger at me and getting really loud.
“Stop,” I say. But I’m not too upset about her yelling at me, because all I can think about is how fun it was to go ice-skating with Brandon. He even let me keep his hat. Well, not forever. At least, I don’t think. I’m going to give it back to him at school tomorrow. Yay! We’re back on track! Ellie was right. All it took was a little fun and normal time for Brandon to realize how fun and amazing and smart I am. And now, hopefully, I’ll be able to relax a little around him.
“No, I will not stop,” Daniella says. We’re in my room, and I’m lying on my bed, writing down in my journal everything that just happened at the ice-skating rink while Daniella continues her rant. I’m wearing a pair of comfy black yoga pants, a long-sleeved pink crew T-shirt, and a pair of soft and warm slipper socks. Brandon’s hat is still on my head. I’m warm and toasty and starting to get sleepy.
“You were really mean to me earlier, and now you’re being even meaner! If there were some kind of department or something I could report you to, I would,” Daniella says. “I would report you immediately. I would tell them to take away your ghost license!”
“I don’t have a ghost license,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And if I did, I would love for you to report me. I wish it were that easy to stop having to see ghosts.” Could you imagine? If that’s how it worked, I could just ignore the ghosts until I got tons of complaints, and then they would go away.
“That’s the problem,” Daniella says. “You don’t have to do anything I say. You don’t have to help me. There’s nothing in it for you, and . . . and . . . it’s really hard being dead!” Her voice is starting to shake, and I look up from my notebook in alarm. I didn’t want to make her feel so bad.
“Hey,” I say, jumping off the bed. I can’t hug her, of course, but I should at least try to make her feel better. “It’s going to be okay.”
“No, it isn’t,” she says. “I don’t want to be here anymore, and you . . . you . . . you don’t even care about helping me!” She’s really crying now. Like, sobbing uncontrollably. Yikes.
I sigh. “Fine,” I say. “First thing in the morning we’ll go over to the cemetery and start digging. Just please stop crying.”
“No,” she says, and swipes at her eyes. “Tomorrow’s Wednesday. You have school in the morning.”
“Not until eight,” I say. “We’ll get up at six.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes,” I say. I feel horrible for blowing her off today and making her so sad. Like it or not, I’m the only one who can help Daniella. And it’s my responsibility to try to make things right.
• • •
Of course, when my alarm goes off at five forty-five the next morning, I’m not feeling so charitable. I was in the middle of this delicious dream where I was C
inderella and Brandon was the prince, and I’d left my hat at the skating rink and he was riding all around town on a horse trying to find me and confess his true love.
I reach out and slam the off button on my clock, then bury my head in my pillow, hoping maybe Daniella forgot about our plan.
“Rise and shine!” she yells from the bottom of the bed.
“I’m awake,” I grumble, even though I’m not.
“Come on, come on, come on.” She’s walking over me now, which I can’t really feel, but just the fact that she’s doing it is enough to creep me out. I throw the covers onto the floor, then walk grumpily over to my closet. I pull a sweatshirt on over my pajamas, shove my feet into my boots, and grab my coat.
“You’re not even going to brush your hair or anything?” Daniella asks. She looks at me and wrinkles her nose, like she can’t believe what a mess I am.
“Why would I brush my hair?” I ask. “We’re going digging. I’d just mess it all up.” Even though she’s a ghost, some people actually have to worry about getting dirt all over them.
“Well . . . then why aren’t you wearing work clothes?”
“These are work clothes!”
“Those are yoga pants.”
“Well, I can work in these. I’ve done lots of homework in these pants. Plus they’re washable. I don’t care if they get dirty.” The truth is, I’m just too lazy and tired to change. And honestly, she should talk. She’s been wearing the same gymnastics uniform for weeks.
“I guess,” Daniella says, not seeming so sure.
We have to sneak out of the house so that my dad doesn’t wake up, but I do stop in the garage on the way out to grab a shovel. I take some work gloves while I’m at it, figuring I might as well keep my hands protected. Who knows what kind of disgusting stuff is lurking in the dirt? Probably worms and bugs and thorns. And maybe bones. I shiver and then push the thought out of my mind before I have a chance to really think about it.
We traipse over to the cemetery, and Daniella knows enough to stay quiet as we walk. The sun isn’t quite up yet, but it’s starting to peek over the tops of the trees, and a few birds are starting to chirp. It’s actually kind of relaxing, and I feel my mood start to lift a little.
I mean, honestly, what’s to be upset about? Everything is going well—my math grade is back on track, Brandon and I had a great date, Ellie and Kyle are happy. And my good luck continues, because once we get to the cemetery, Daniella says, “There.” She points over to some roses.
“ ‘There’ what?”
“There’s probably where we buried whatever it is.”
“In the rosebushes?”
“I love roses,” she says, and shrugs.
“So much that you’d dig them up?” Wow. Talk about being inconsiderate. I mean, those rosebushes are beautiful. Although, I guess she didn’t do too much lasting damage, since the bushes look the same as always. But still. Probably someone had to come and replant them.
“So much that I’d bury something with my best friend there because I probably thought it was lucky or something,” she says, acting like the answer should be obvious.
“Whatever,” I say, not really sure I believe her. Also, if anyone comes along and sees me digging up roses, it’s definitely not going to go along with my story that I’m planting a bush for my dead grandmother, Cecilia C. Worthington. (Cecilia C. Worthington is so not my grandmother. She just happens to be the closest grave to the flowers that Daniella wants me to dig up.)
I stick the tip of my shovel into the ground. Luckily, the roses are forming a ring around a tall elm tree, and so I don’t actually have to dig them up. That would be way too sad. And destructive. I just have to dig in the circle of dirt around the tree.
“How far down do you think you would have gone?” I ask.
“Probably not too far,” she says. “I don’t really like to get dirty.” Somehow this doesn’t surprise me.
I get to shoveling. But after about half an hour, I’m starting to think I’ve dug myself too deep. (Ha-ha, get it?) I haven’t found anything, there’s dirt all over the place, and I’m turning into a sweaty mess.
“You have dirt on your cheek,” Daniella points out helpfully.
“Thanks,” I say, and glare at her. I plop down on one of the big rocks that line the garden and swipe at my cheek with my hand. “Look,” I say, “I’m sorry, but I have to go to school now. And I haven’t found anything. So I think we should—”
And that’s when I feel it. My foot brushing against something in the dirt. Something hard. I automatically jerk my foot back, all sorts of thoughts floating through my head about what it could be. Please don’t be a skeleton, please don’t be a skeleton. . . . I turn to look. But it’s not bones. It’s something shiny and metallic. The sun glints off the metal, and I reach down and pull it out of the dirt. It’s a bracelet, and there’s another one next to it. Two beaded silver friendship bracelets.
“Oh my God,” Daniella says as soon as she sees it. “I remember! I remember the whole thing now. I know what happened.” Her face has gone completely white, even whiter than usual. She’s looks really upset, like she might start crying.
“What is it?” I ask. “Daniella, what happened?”
But before she can say anything, I hear a voice behind me.
“Kendall?” Brandon asks. “What are you doing?”
• • •
“What are you doing here?” I ask while quickly hopping out of the rosebushes. Or, uh, what used to be the rosebushes.
“I came to visit my mom’s grave,” he says. He’s looking at the shovel with a weird look on his face.
“This early?”
“Sometimes I ride my bike over here before school.”
“Cool. Me too. I mean, I walk here. To, uh, visit my grandma’s grave.” I push my sweaty hair out of my face, then reach for the hair tie I always keep on my wrist. But it’s not there. Crap. I must have lost it in the dirt somewhere. I scan the ground, but I don’t see it. Not that it matters. There’s no way I’d pick up some muddy hair tie and put it in my hair in front of Brandon.
“Okay.” Brandon hesitates, and I think he’s going to ask me why he’s never seen me here in the morning before. But instead he says, “What are you doing, digging all around?”
“I’m planting a bush,” I say. “A bush for my grandma.”
“But there are already rosebushes here,” he says. “And isn’t your grandma’s grave over there?” He looks concerned, like he knows what I’m doing is wrong and now he’s going to have to make the hard choice about whether or not he wants to call law enforcement on me. But that’s crazy. Brandon would never call the police on me. Brandon is in serious like with me. Isn’t he?
“I know,” I say. “But, ah, I . . . I was thinking I would plant something else.”
“What were you going to plant?”
Good question. “Friendship bracelets!” I say brightly, holding them up.
“You were going to plant friendship bracelets in the cemetery?” He’s looking at me like I’m crazy.
“Well,” I say, “they’re actually, you know, good luck. If you plant them. It’s an ancient Chinese ritual.”
Brandon moves forward and takes one of the friendship bracelets out of my hand and looks at it. “ ‘Besties Forever,’ ” he reads. “These are good luck?”
Daniella guffaws.
“Yes,” I say, “but, ah, I forgot the paper at home, the one that has the special, uh, Chinese prayer you’re supposed to chant before you plant them. So I can’t plant these right now.”
“Okay.” He opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but then shuts it. He’s silent for a second, and then he says, “So, ah, I guess I’ll see you at school.”
“Yup,” I say, swiping at my face again for any stray dirt. “See you at school!”
I stand there for a while, waving at him with a big smile on my face so he doesn’t realize anything’s wrong. What the heck is Brandon doing, showing
up everywhere I go? It’s really too bad, because if he didn’t keep catching me doing ridiculous things, I would think us running into each other meant something—that, like, we were destined to be or something. But obviously we’re not, since all the normalness of yesterday’s fab date just got erased. Sigh. If I hadn’t ruined my chances with Brandon Dunham before, then that definitely just did it.
• • •
By the time school is over for the day, I’m exhausted. Who knew that all that digging would take so much out of me? It’s like that time when Ellie and I thought we’d try out for the track team, but then we went running for a couple of days to get ready and decided it just wasn’t worth it.
Plus Brandon had a dentist appointment during math, and a baseball meeting during lunch, so not only did I not get to see him, I got stuck sitting with Kyle and Ellie all by myself. Ugh. Kyle kept feeding Ellie licorice, which was very annoying. I mean, I’m happy for them and everything, but shouldn’t they know better than to do that kind of thing when other people are around?
Anyway, it’s after school, and now I’m at the high school again, waiting outside for Jen to come out of her gymnastics practice. I have the bracelets I dug up this morning in my pocket. It’s a little cold out here, so cold that I have to keep hopping from foot to foot to stay warm. But I’m afraid to go inside, because if Jen sees me at her practice before I have a chance to talk to her, who knows what she’ll do? Get me kicked out at the least, call the police on me at the worst.
So I’m kind of, ah, hiding behind a bush when she finally comes walking out. Thank God she’s alone. She’s putting on a pair of really cute puffy purple gloves, and I fall into step behind her, la, la, la.
“Jen?” I try.
She turns around, a smile on her face, but when she sees me, her face darkens and she quickens her step. “You!” she says. “Go away!” Wow. She sounds kind of like Mrs. Dunham. Why does everyone think it’s okay to call me “you”? That’s so rude.
Daniella pops up. “Where the heck have you been?” I say to her.