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“I'm glad to see you eating the salad today,” a voice said from across the table, where no one sat.

“Thanks, Miss Marion,” I said to the lunch lady spirit. “I figure salad's a safe bet. That chicken à la king looked gross.”

“Indeed it did.”

“Who're you talking to?” said another voice, from beside me.

Uh-oh. I looked up and there was Andrew Finkel, holding a lunch tray and staring at me with a funny look on his face.

“What's it to you?” I asked.

“Are you okay?”

“Why do you care? I'm just a big liar.”

“Lilah.” The way he said my name—kind of softly and not at all meanly—made me look up at him. “I didn't mean to call you a liar.”

“Yes, you did.”

He shook his head. “I just… I just saw you sitting here talking… and wanted to make sure you're okay.”

Clearly he thought I was insane and probably needed to be carted off to the psych ward. I guess I couldn't blame him.

I took a breath and tried to get my heart to stop racing around in my chest. “Yeah, I'm okay. I was just talking to… to myself, I guess.”

“Who's Miss Marion?”

Busted.

I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying attention to us. “She's a ghost, okay?” I whispered.

Andrew said nothing, just stared at me.

It made me a little mad. “You can leave if you want. If you think I'm telling stories or something. You asked, so I told you.”

Instead of leaving, he sat down.

I dragged my fork through the salad on my plate, no longer hungry. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him to go away.

“Can you really see ghosts?” he whispered.

I shook my head, still looking down into the depths of my romaine. “No,” I said. “I can't
see
them. I can only hear them.”

“For real?”

I looked up at him. “Yes, for real. You think I'd make this up?”

He shrugged.

“Well, I'm not making it up. Since the lightning, something in my brain switched and I can hear dead people.”

He swallowed and then started unwrapping his sandwich. “And you really talked to my dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you maybe prove it? I mean, I don't… I'm not calling you a liar or anything, but…”

I couldn't help but think about his underwear and my face heated up. Suddenly my salad was really interesting again.

“I don't even know if your dad is here now,” I said, keeping my head down.

“I'm here,” Mr. Finkel said.

“Oh.”

“What?” Andrew asked.

“He's here.”

“Lilah, tell him about the time George ate the whole turkey. That ought to do it.”

“Okay,” I said, finally looking up into Andrew's eyes. He looked really freaked, but not mad this time. I took a breath. “I'm supposed to tell you something about George eating a whole turkey?”

Andrew laughed but then got really serious.

“Who's George?”

“My grandma's dog. He stole the whole Thanksgiving turkey off the counter, and by the time we realized it, he'd eaten pretty much the entire thing.”

“That's funny.”

He nodded, but he wasn't smiling.

“Are you really talking to him?” he asked, his voice suddenly very low.

“Yeah. He wanted me to tell you he's proud of you.”

Andrew's face suddenly scrunched up and his eyes got all glassy. I could tell he was trying not to cry. Heck,
I
was trying not to cry. Especially in the middle of the cafeteria.

“Tell him he needs to pull up his socks in math and science.”

“I think he wants you to work harder in math and science.”

Andrew nodded. “Is…” He cleared his throat. “Is he okay?”

“I'm fine. I miss you, but I'm fine, Son.”

“He says he misses you.”

“And Mom?”

“Every day, Andy. I miss your mom every day. But you're doing a good job taking care of her.”

I relayed the message, trying not to get all emotional. But it was hard. This was like the hardest conversation ever.

Andrew blinked and looked away.

I took a sip of my water to give him a minute.

“I miss him. Can you tell him I miss him?” Andrew said, still not looking at me.

“He can hear you,” I said.

A tear started to roll down his cheek. He swiped it away with the back of his hand. “I don't really know what else to say.”

I opened my mouth to offer a suggestion, but in that second, Mr. Finkel said, “Tell my son I love him. Tell him I miss him and that he and his mom are in my thoughts every minute of every day.”

Despite my throat getting tight, I took another sip of my water and told Andrew what his father said.

“I love you, Dad,” he whispered.

“Tell him I have to go, Lilah,” Mr. Finkel said after a long, quiet minute.

I did. Andrew nodded.

“But, Lilah,” Mr. Finkel said.

“Yes?”

“Andy likes you. I thought I should tell you. He'd probably be upset if he knew I told you that, though,” he said, and I could even hear the smile in his voice.

I willed my face not to heat up and go red, but I knew it was no use.

“What did he say?” Andrew asked.

I shrugged and took another sip of my water. “Something about getting your skates sharpened and then he had to go. Oh hey, happy birthday, by the way. Sorry I missed it.”

“Thanks,” Andrew said. “It was a couple of weeks ago.”

“How does it feel to be thirteen?”

He shook his head. “Not much different. I don't really feel any older.”

“No?” That was kind of disappointing. I expected that my thirteenth birthday, the one my religion said propelled me into adulthood, would be significant. I mean, it's a milestone, so it should feel different, right?

“So, uh, I guess that's it then?” he asked, pushing back his chair, suddenly looking like he was anxious to get away from the table. And me.

Maybe his dad was wrong. Maybe he didn't like me.

Alex chose to show up at that exact moment. She looked from me to Andrew and back again. “Hey. Everything okay?”

Andrew stood up. “Yes. Uh, thanks, Lilah. Really.”

“Oh,” Alex said. “Did you just ask Lilah to the seventh-grade dance?”

WHAT?
I looked at my friend, sending
SHUT UP
vibes to her with my brain.

Didn't work.

“Oh,” Alex fake chuckled. “I thought when you were thanking her it was for agreeing to go with you to the dance. Because I know she would have said yes.”

“Uh…” Andrew blushed and looked at me. His face was contorted like he smelled something bad. I hoped it wasn't me.

Alex looked at me and winked. Not so discreetly, either. I wondered if I could hire a ghost to strangle her.
Never mind
, I thought,
I'll do it myself.

“Oh, well. I didn't ask…”

“That's too bad,” Alex said, shaking her head.

Andrew looked at me, his green eyes almost sparkling. “But um… Lilah, if you'd like to go…”

“Go! Go with him!” My grandmother hollered so loud it made me jump.

Good thing I had a strong heart.
Sheesh.

“I'd like that,” I managed to say.

“You'll have a great time,” Mr. Finkel said.

Oh, good grief. Who knew when it was time to start dating that I'd have my own peanut gallery making comments?

But I forced myself to focus on the important fact: I had a date!

Andrew smiled. Like really smiled, showing teeth and everything. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he did like me. And wow, he was ten times cuter when he smiled like that.

“Great.”

“Great,” Alex said. “Now I'm going to be a third wheel. You think Tamsin's brother will go to a seventh-grade dance? Yeah, I didn't think so either.”

Alex was clearly insane.

“Do you like Sean? He'll be there,” Andrew suggested.

I looked at Alex, who had liked Sean for about a millisecond when they'd reached for the same tuna sandwich in the cafeteria. Their hands had even touched.

She nodded. “That would be cool.” She said it all nonchalant, like she didn't care one way or another, but I could tell that on the inside she was squealing, just the same as I was. Because we were going on a double date to the dance with a couple of really cute boys.

“Well, I'd better go. Thanks again, Lilah. For you know…” He glanced over at Alex.

“You're welcome, Andrew.”

“Hey, Lilah?”

“Yeah?”

He smiled again before he said, “You can call me Andy. All my close friends do.”

I swear I almost fainted.

Friday night, Dad and I headed to the mall to get him some new clothes. First we stopped for dinner at the Cheesecake Factory (their fried mac and cheese is my favorite!). Dad called it a date, which I thought was kind of sad, but I didn't say anything. I mean, he did have plans to go out with a woman on a real date, so I didn't need to make him feel weird about it.

After dinner, we went to Sears to look at suits. With the help of a really hip young saleslady, we got him three pairs of pants, two sport jackets, four ties, and six new shirts. I was kind of shocked at how willing he was to get a whole new wardrobe, but he obviously knew he was overdue.

When he moved into the underwear department,
it was my sign to exit. Some things you just don't need to help your dad buy.

“I need some socks, Dad,” I said as I pointed to the other side of the store. “I'll be over there when you're done.”

Dad smiled and nodded before returning to the racks of boxers.

So I went over to the ladies' department, and on the way, my grandmother decided to make an appearance.

“You did a good job with him, Lilah.”

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be obvious; I was talking to a ghost, after all. “It wasn't
all
me.”

“You have good taste, though.”

I smiled at the compliment.

“What are you buying?”

“I need some socks.”

“Lilah?”

“Yes?”

“I think it's time you started wearing a bra.”

I stopped walking, even though I was only as far as the panty-hose section.

“What?”

“Lilah, I think it's time you started wearing a bra. You are developing into a young woman and…”

“Bubby!” I felt my face heat up.

“What is it?”

“I don't need one of those.”

“Don't be embarrassed, every woman goes through changes in her body…”

I ducked behind a rack of slippers. “Bubby, please!”

“She's right, dear.” I looked around, but surprise, surprise, there was no one else around.

“Who's there?”

“Prissy Lafontaine.”

“Oh, hello, Prissy!” Bubby said, obviously thrilled that she now had a coconspirator.

“I need socks,” I said, and headed over toward the socks.

“Hmmm.”

I sighed. “What is it?”

“Your grandmother is right. It's time you started wearing foundation garments.”

Great, more fashion advice from a couple of old ghosts. And what on earth is a
foundation garment
? Ugh.

“I'll get Mom to take me when she gets back from her honeymoon.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Prissy said. “Before I became a designer, I worked in the intimates department at Macy's. I've fitted thousands of women for brassieres. You're in capable hands.”

Bubby laughed. I wasn't quite as amused myself.

“It's okay, I'll wait for Mom.”

“Lilah, really,” Bubby said in that voice that meant she wasn't taking no for an answer. “We will help you. Now go into the intimates department, and we'll help you pick some out to try on.”

Oh, this is so not happening
, I thought. I mean, I was kind of excited about getting a bra, but I had always assumed it would have been one of those mother-daughter bonding moments, not a dead grandmother–granddaughter–dead-fashion-icon bonding moment.

With another big sigh, I made my way over to the bra section and the fun
really
began. While I tried not to look like a psychotic preteen talking to herself, I managed to pick out three bras. I took them over to the lady behind the cash register and asked if I could try them on. She smiled down at me like I was four years old and asked if I wanted her to measure me for the bras. I politely declined and watched in horror as she took them out of the boxes and then handed them back to me.

“Here you go; I checked the sizes for you.”

Gee, thanks.

I locked myself in one of the fitting rooms and took a deep breath. A little self-conscious, knowing my two ghostly bra stylists were watching, I took off my shirt and tried on the first bra. I barely had the thing on before I heard my name.

“Now who?”

“Is there a Lilah in here?” It was the saleslady and not another ghost.

“Oh,
I'm
Lilah.”

“Your father is outside. He wanted me to let you know he's here.”

Perfect.
“Thank you.”

After much complicated twisting and contorting and much discussion over underwire versus no underwire (I was strongly anti-underwire), I managed to try on all three bras and the consensus was that the second one looked best. Bubby suggested I get two for now until my breasts “decide what size they want to be” (yikes).

When I came out of the dressing room, the woman was standing there. “So, how did we do?”

“Well
I
did just fine,” I said. “I'd like this one and another just like it, please.”

“Get one in the blush pink,” Prissy said. “You'll be glad you did.”

I asked the lady for the second one in pink. I had no idea why, I was just not in the mood for an argument with a ghost.