Girl Meets Ghost (10 page)

“Um, sure,” I say, even though I'm totally thrown and confused. Why is he asking me to a movie when he told Kyle it was just okay hanging out with me? Is it possible Kyle really did get the story wrong? Or maybe it's just a boy thing? This is all
sooo
confusing!

“Oh! And Grace told me to give you this.” Brandon reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of paper. On it is a crayon drawing of two girl ninjas. One has a big arrow pointing to it that says “Grace” and the other one says “Kendall.”

How sweet! I put the drawing in my bag. Things are totally looking up.

“So, what do you
think it means?” I ask into the phone, peering through the bushes. It's after school, after Ellie's dance recital (which she was totally fab in, btw), and I'm back at the high school, gearing up for another run-in with Jen. After what happened last time, I know she's going to be less than thrilled to see me, so I had to plan a sneak attack.

“I don't know!” Ellie says through the receiver. “Want me to ask Kyle about it?”

“No!” I say. “I think I'll just maybe wait until tonight and see how things go.” The last thing I need is Kyle getting the story messed up again and causing me all kinds of undue mental stress. Not to mention that I need to be
mature about this. If I have a question about how Brandon feels about me, then I should ask him myself, right? Of course, that's easier said than done.

“Oooh, that's a good idea,” Ellie says. “Take it slow and cool.”

“Now, when you see her,” Daniella's saying, “try to be nice. Jen's very laid-back, but when she gets mad, she really gets mad. So just, you know, take it easy.” She's jumping up and down next to me, doing some kind of stretch. I don't know
why
she thinks it's okay to talk to me when I'm obviously in the middle of a very important phone conversation—I mean, rude much?—so I ignore her.

“Are you still going to wear what we planned?” I ask Ellie.

“Yeah.”

“Good, because I don't want to show up in something too similar to yours. How humiliating would it be if they thought we planned to dress like twins?”

“Soo humiliating,” she says.

“Dressing like twins is ridiculous,” Daniella reports, then kicks her legs up into a handstand. I decide not to mention the fact that Ellie and I do dress alike sometimes, just for fun, like if we go shopping together and fall in love with the same outfit. I don't get what the big deal is if it's just a random Tuesday at school. Obviously I would never do it on a date or anything, because that's definitely a little bit ridiculous, but—

“There she is!” Daniella yells, pointing. Jen's walking across the other side of the parking lot.

“Crap,” I say. I thought she'd be coming out the door over here, near where the late buses are. But maybe she's getting a ride, or she's going somewhere else. “Ellie,” I say, “I have to go.”

“Why?” she asks.

“I just do. So, listen, I'll meet you at the theater at six forty-five?”

“Okay,” she says. “We can hang out in the bathroom for twenty minutes and reapply our lip gloss. That way we'll be five minutes late.”

“Perfect,” I say, “and you really were amazing at your recital.”

I hang up my phone and go charging across the parking lot like some kind of crazy woman.

“So much for being calm,” Daniella says, keeping up with me like it's nothing. Of course, she is a ghost. So it's not like she gets winded or anything.

“Oh, hello,” I say when I catch up with Jen. I slow down a little so that I'm walking right behind her.

She turns around and looks at me, a smile on her face. Then, when she sees who it is (aka me), she immediately turns back around and starts walking faster.

“Wait!” I say, doubling my stride to keep up with her. She's really fast for someone so short. “I just want to apologize. Please!” She keeps walking. Then I realize I'm going to have to bring in some of my acting skills if I want this to work. I decide to pretend I'm a clueless middle school girl. Which I guess I kind of am. “Jen,” I say, “please accept my apology. I would just die if I thought you were mad at me.” At the end I put a little sniffle into my voice, like maybe I'm about to start crying.

She turns around, slowing down just a little. “I'm not mad at you,” she says. But it doesn't really sound like it's the truth.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I say, giving her my best smile. “Because I would really just die if I thought the best gymnast I knew was mad at me.”

“I thought Daniella was the best gymnast you knew,” she says.

I smile. But this time I've done my homework. “Daniella was
technically
perfect,” I say. “At the vault. And the floor exercise. Even when she struggled on the beam, you could see her athleticism. But there's so much more that goes into being a good gymnast. Heart. And pushing through injuries.” Jen looks at me, and her face softens.

“Oh, God,” Daniella says, rolling her eyes. “That's laying it on a little thick, don't you think? And I
do
push through injuries! Didn't you hear the story she told about the time I pretty much got a concussion?”

But Jen's eating it up. “Yeah,” she says, “that's true.” She shifts her gym bag on her shoulder, then reaches down and zips up the hoodie she's wearing. “Look, I'm sorry if I was hard on you the other day. It's just that ever since Daniella died, it's been really hard for me, you know? I don't know who to trust.”

“I understand,” I say.

“Oh, please,” Daniella says. “She doesn't know who to trust? It's not like I left her a million dollars or something.”

“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.