“You’d be surprised how many people try to talk to me just because they want to know the details of what happened that night,” Jen says. “It’s creepy, you know?”
I wonder what she’d think if I told her I could see dead people, and that her dead friend is in this parking lot with us and has been talking nonsense about something having to do with her and a shovel. Probably she wouldn’t be too thrilled.
“That makes sense,” I say. “I know that a lot of times when I tell people my mom left, they act all concerned, but really they just want to know the gossip.”
“Your mom left?”
“Yeah,” I say. I decide to leave it at that. She doesn’t need to know that my mom left when I was so little that I don’t even remember her. And that even if people did want to know gossip about it, I don’t know any.
“I’m really sorry.”
“ ’S okay,” I mumble, and then look down at my shoes. God, I am getting a lot better at this acting thing. It used to not work so well, if you want to know the truth. In fact, one time my subpar acting skills got me kicked out of a mini-mart by the police. (I won’t get into it, but the ghost I was helping had a dad who ran the store.) I add in another sniffle for good measure.
“Hey, don’t cry,” Jen says, sighing. She rummages through her bag for a tissue, and then hands it to me. I pretend to blow my nose.
Daniella’s mouth drops open. “Wow. You are actually really good at this.”
“Thanks,” I say to Jen. And Daniella. Even though I do feel kind of bad. I mean, I shouldn’t really be playing on the poor girl’s emotions. Especially since her friend died not that long ago. But I tell myself that I’m helping Daniella, and that’s more important. And in the process maybe I’ll be helping Jen, too.
“Well,” Jen says, “um, good luck with your gymnastics.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Good luck to you, too.”
And then Jen walks away and gets into her car.
“That’s it?” Daniella screams. “You didn’t find out anything!”
Obviously she doesn’t know the most important part of acting—knowing when to end the scene.
• • •
“My hair is a mess,” I moan, looking at it in the mirror over the sinks.
“Your hair?” Ellie cries. “What about mine?”
“Your hair looks perfect, as usual,” I say honestly. We’ve been in the bathroom of the movie theater for fifteen minutes now, which means we only have five more minutes until we have to meet the boys if we’re going to stick to our be-five-minutes-late plan. And I’m nowhere near ready.
It’s a miracle I even got here on time. My idea was to kind of blindside my dad with the whole going-to-the-movies-on-a-date thing at dinner so that he wouldn’t really have time to think up a million reasons why I couldn’t go. Also, I figured that by telling him the truth, it would show that I was capable and responsible. And the fact that Ellie and Kyle were going was, like, a bonus.
Of course, he had to call Cindy to find out what she thought, which was über-annoying, but whatevs. Cindy said it was okay, so I couldn’t be too mad at her. Although I’m still a little mad at my dad for giving her so much power in our lives. It’s like just because Cindy is a woman, he thinks she knows everything related to raising a daughter. But it doesn’t mean she knows anything—especially about dating. My dad needs to learn to trust himself a little more. I’m turning out perfectly fine. I don’t need a woman role model. Although, if my dad was relying on himself to make the decisions, he really might have said no. So I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.
I survey myself in the mirror. Skinny jeans. Boots with a low heel. White sweater that’s off the shoulder. Very cute, but also casual. “Okay,” I say after smoothing my hair one more time. “I’m ready. You?”
“Yes.” Ellie and I look at each other and squeal.
We walk out to meet the boys, and Brandon looks sooo cute in his jeans and black sweater. We stand in front of the concession stand, having a huge discussion about what to eat. Kyle wants to get Junior Mints, Swedish Fish, nachos, ice cream, and a hot dog. Which he does. And it comes to, like, fifty dollars, which is crazy. (Also, where did Kyle get all that money? My dad gave me a twenty and told me to bring back the change.)
But the real problem comes when Brandon and I order our snacks. A medium popcorn and a soda for me, a red slushie and a package of Reese’s Pieces for Brandon. Which isn’t the problem. The problem is that since it’s Friday night, the theater is so packed that there’s this huge long line, and so when it’s our turn to order, the girl working the stand rings us up together. And then there’s this totally awkward moment when Brandon hands her twenty dollars and I don’t know if it’s supposed to be for my stuff and his stuff or just his stuff.
So then I reach into my purse and hand over twelve dollars, but then Brandon says, “Don’t worry. I got it.” Which makes me blush, and makes the girl behind the counter smirk, like I have no idea what I’m doing. So then I start to think that maybe Brandon thinks I have no idea what I’m doing, or worse, that maybe he thinks that I don’t think this is a date. And then I remember how Ellie said that he said doing homework together was just okay, and I realize I still haven’t gotten to the bottom of that, which makes me nervous.
So by the time we get into the theater, I’m kind of on edge. The only good thing is that Daniella isn’t here. I’m not sure exactly where she went. Maybe she figured the night would be boring. Not that I’m complaining. The last thing I need is her here, making her little comments and getting me more anxious than I already am.
“Where should we sit?” Brandon asks.
“I usually sit halfway up and to the side,” I say.
“I like sitting in front,” Kyle says. He takes a bite of his nachos. “That way you’re closer to the action.”
“We always sit in the middle and to the side,” Ellie says firmly.
“Whatever.” Kyle shrugs.
When we sit down, somehow it works out that I’m sitting closest to the wall, followed by Brandon, followed by Kyle, followed by Ellie. This seating arrangement is horrible for a few reasons. One, because Ellie and I aren’t sitting next to each other, so we can’t whisper to each other about anything scandalous that might happen. And two, because now I’m stuck near the wall. Which means that if I have to go to the bathroom, I have to climb over all three of them. And I know it’s not a big deal, that everyone goes to the bathroom, but something about it just seems super-embarrassing, you know?
I don’t think I’m going to make it through the rest of the night, but once the lights go down and the first preview starts, Brandon leans in close and says, “I love the previews.”
“Really?” I say. “I’ve never really been a fan.”
“Really?” He seems shocked. “Why not?”
“Too much like commercials,” I whisper, and take a handful of popcorn.
“Yeah, but you get to see what movies are coming out,” he says. “So you know what to see.”
“True,” I say. “But if I want to know what to see, I’ll just watch the preview online or something. The previews have always been kind of boring to me.”
“That’s because you’ve never watched them with me,” he says. “I have a whole system.” He explains that for every preview you have to give the preview itself—not the movie—either a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down. Fun!
For the most part we agree about the previews. We give two of them a thumbs-down, one a thumbs-up, and then are split on the last two, a romantic comedy that I think looks really good but Brandon claims looks really silly, and an action movie that has way too many explosions for my taste, but which Brandon seems really excited about.
I like that we don’t agree on every preview, because I think it would be boring to be with someone that agreed with you about everything.
“You want some popcorn?” I ask Brandon as the lights dim even further and the opening credits of the movie start. He reaches into the carton
and my heart speeds up. I am sharing popcorn with Brandon Dunham! I’ve never shared popcorn with a boy before. It feels very scandalicious.
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.
Chapter
9
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.