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“What's wrong, kiddo?” Dad asked.

I looked up. “What?”

“You sighed, like you're sad about something.”

“Oh, just having some problems with a brat at school.” Which was the truth. Dad didn't need to know the brat was dead.

“That boy from the mall?”

My face heated up. I looked down at my chicken. “No. Just a boy who is being a rotten pain in the butt.”

“Ah, I see.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, kiddo, you don't have any brothers, so let me give you a hint about bratty boys. Usually, they are brats because they want attention.”

“Even if it makes people mad and not like them?”

Dad nodded. “Sometimes even negative attention is better than no attention.”

“Hmmm.”
I thought about what Rufus had said about nobody caring about him, and it suddenly made total sense that he was acting out to get attention. I picked up my plate and put it on the counter. “Thanks, Dad. I've got to go do some homework.”

I got to my computer and googled Rufus along with my school's name. Bingo. There was a news story about him that even had a picture.

“Huh, he was bald,” I said out loud.

“From the treatment,” Rufus said suddenly. He would have scared me to death if his voice hadn't been so soft and sad.

“I'm sorry, Rufus.”

He didn't say anything, so I read the article. “Leukemia—that's cancer, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why would you want to sabotage a fund-raiser for cancer research?”

“I'm dead, what do I care?”

“Well… for other kids. You know, so they don't have to go through what you did.”

There was a long pause before he said, “I guess.”

“Rufus, please. Let us have the fashion show; it's the right thing to do.”

“Can I haunt the dance, then?”

My stomach flipped just thinking about the dance. “Uh, I'd really prefer you didn't!”

“Okay. I guess I won't. It's kind of nice hanging out with you, Lilah. I don't really have any friends anymore. They've all grown up and forgotten me.”

That made me sad.

But also gave me an idea.

Dolly was positively glowing. I couldn't blame her; the fashion show was going perfectly: no tripping, no props falling, no problems whatsoever.

And, thanks, I'm sure, to the marketing efforts of me and my friends, the audience was almost packed. As I peeked out from behind the curtain on the left side of the stage, I saw a sea of faces, both of students and parents.

And it felt pretty good knowing that the money was going to a very good cause, too. Not only was I helping out Dolly, but by ensuring the success of the fashion show, I was helping out with the Cancer Society's fund-raising efforts, maybe helping them to cure cancer someday.

I glanced over to where Dad was sitting. I had sat down with him when we'd arrived but quickly went backstage to help out after he got settled among the sea of empty seats (I had to be there early).

Of course, I felt kind of bad just dumping him at a fashion show (not his cup of tea, as my grandmother used to, er,
still
says), but as I searched through the crowd, I found something quite amazing.

He was smiling and talking to someone who was sitting beside him.

Not just someone, but
a woman
.

“Who is that woman?”

“Your beau's mother,” Bubby said.

“What?”

“Look who's sitting beside her.”

Sure enough, on the other side of the woman was Andy, sitting there, fiddling with his cell phone.

Wow! It was like Dad was having an actual normal conversation with a woman.

“What are they talking about?”

“You starting to wear a bra.”

My stomach rolled. “They are not. Please tell me they aren't.”

“They are. Your father is concerned about you. He hopes you're not missing out because you live with him and not your mother. He knew you were embarrassed at Sears. He doesn't know you have us.”

That made me sad. “I'm not missing out, Dad,” I said, even though he couldn't hear me. Then, a mortifying thought occurred to me. “Andy's not listening, is he?”

Like it wasn't enough he was
there
for the original Brastock.

“No, he's playing a game on his thingamajig.”

Thank goodness.

“No, he's not,” said a man who sounded a lot like Andy's father.

“What is he doing?” I asked.

“He's sending a message to his friend Sean about the dance tomorrow night.”

The dance! With all the drama around the fashion show, I'd all but forgotten the dance was tomorrow!

I hadn't even picked out what I was going to wear or anything.

My heart fluttered just thinking about it.

“Lilah! I need you!” Dolly said from the dressing area.

I took a last glance at my dad, who looked like he was having a really good time chatting with Andy's mom. Maybe, just maybe…

But what about Andy's dad? Wasn't that weird for him?

“Mr. Finkel?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay if…” I didn't know how to say it. It was just too odd.

“I'm gone, Lilah,” which sounded weird, because he was right there talking to me. “I just want her to be happy.”

I nodded. It was kind of like what Bubby had said about my grandfather having a new girlfriend. I guess when you're dead, you just want your family to go on living.

“Lilah! Where are you? Alex's hem needs tacking!”

“You'd better go,” Bubby said.

I nodded. “Keep an eye on them, Bubby. I want a full report later.”

The fashion show was a smashing success, and not just because it went off perfectly, and not just because we raised a TON of money. Not just because we dedicated the show to Rufus Moore, the young student who'd died of leukemia a decade before. And not just because all my friends were totally fierce on the runway, doing their best
ANTM
struts in the clothes I had sewn. But because Dad left there with a big smirk on his face (the kind I'd never seen on him before, but I
knew
it was the smile of
the smitten) and Andy's mom's cell number in his pocket. It was a bit weird that it was Andy's mom, but still, I was glad he was making progress.

He didn't tell me about the phone number, but hey, I'm a medium, I have my sources.

And my sources couldn't have been more pleased. “He's going out with her, Lilah! Do you believe it?” Bubby said as we were in the car on the way home. It was about the thousandth time she'd said it, too. I was getting a little annoyed. But it's not like I could tell her to shut it, I mean, Dad was right beside me.

“So,” I said. “Tomorrow night is the seventh-grade dance.”

Dad glanced over. “I know. You said you wanted me to drive you, right?”

He had plans to meet up with Rachel, Andy's mom, for coffee after they each dropped us off.
He
hadn't told me, but again,
sources
.

“Yeah,” I said. Then I got to feeling a bit mischievous. “What are you going to do while I'm at the dance?”

He looked over at me again. He wanted to tell me, it was obvious. But there was something holding him back.

“He doesn't want to embarrass you,” Bubby said. “Her son is in your class. He doesn't want to make things weird for you.”

Aw, how considerate! But I wondered if Dad knew about me and Andy going to the dance together.

“I'm meeting a friend for coffee,” was all he said.

I didn't push him to tell me who his “friend” was.

And I did wonder if Andy knew what had been going on right beside him or if he'd been too intent on texting Sean about the dance. I wondered how he'd feel about his mom going out with my dad.

Wow, how did my life suddenly get so complicated?

Alex came over so we could get ready together. When she got there, she was practically vibrating, she was so excited. And who could blame her; she looked awesome in her new blue dress.

“You look great!” I said. “That dress is perfect for you.”

She did a twirl. “Thanks, Li! So what are
you
wearing?” she asked.

I looked at the three outfits I'd laid out on my bed and sighed. I wasn't happy with any of them; one was too small, one was too pink, and the third one was… well… boring. “I don't know, what do you think?”

“I think you might have something better in your closet,” she said.

“I agree,” Bubby said.

“Yes,” Prissy chimed in. “Definitely there must be something better in there.”

I shook my head. “I wish. These are my only fancy outfits.”

“Why don't you check,” Alex said.

Knowing I wasn't going to find anything, but apparently needing to prove to my friend and a couple of old-lady ghosts that I didn't have anything better, I opened my closet. “See? There's nothing else in here…”

“Did you look in the back?” Alex asked at the same time as Bubby said, “Look in the back.”

I parted the clothes with my arms and pushed them to the sides.

And that's when I saw it. I gasped then turned toward Alex. “Where did this come from?”

She shook her head. “Not me. Take it out.”

I reached back into my closet and pulled out the beautiful silver dress I'd never seen before.

“We made it,” Ms. Lafontaine said.

“What do you mean,
we
made it?”

Alex just grinned; it was obvious she knew what was going on. But she kept quiet, allowing Prissy to continue. “When we were sewing the dresses for the fashion show, we thought we'd surprise you.”

“Do you love it?” Bubby asked.

“Love it? I
adore
it! Prissy, this design is perfect!”

“I'm so glad you love it,” Prissy said. “But this isn't one of my designs. This is one of Dolly's creations.”

I held the dress up and looked at it again. “Wow, she really is talented!”

“I agree,” Prissy said. “And this dress is perfect for you.”

Alex couldn't wait any longer for me to finish my conversation with the ghosts. “Put it on, Lilah!”

I didn't need any more encouragement than that to strip off my clothes and slip the dress over my head.

“Oh, Lilah,” Bubby said. “It looks beautiful on you. You will be the best-looking girl at the dance.”

“Thanks, Bubby,” I said, looking at myself in my big mirror. Until I got to my bare feet. “But what about shoes?”

“Oh!” Alex said. “Look on the floor at the back—in a pink box.”

Sure enough, there was a fuchsia shoe box that had never been there before. I held my breath as I took off the lid.

Silver shoes!

I jumped up and down a little. They were so perfect!

“I don't suppose we sewed these?”

Ms. Lafontaine laughed. “No, dear. Dolly bought these for you.”

“Dolly bought those,” Alex said, obviously unable
to hear what Prissy had already explained. “And then we got your dad to sneak them into your closet.”

“Wow,” I said, feeling a bit overwhelmed. “You did all this for me?”

Alex threw herself at me and gave me a big hug. “Of course we did!”

I hugged her back and then had a horrible thought: “Don't crush the dress!”

She stepped back and we both checked our outfits.

Whew
, disaster averted.

I slipped on the shoes and then it was time to really get ready for the dance. Alex had brought over her makeup, and with the help of Bubby and Prissy, we managed to make each other up so we looked like movie stars, but without overdoing it. It's a fine line with makeup, you know.

Having fashionable ghosts around was pretty darn cool!

“Are you going to dance with Andy?” Alex asked as she fluffed up her hair.

Like she needed to bother asking. “Of course I am. Aren't you going to dance with Sean?” It sounded so grown up to be talking about our dates. Dates! We had dates!

“I don't know.”

I stopped brushing my hair and looked at her in the mirror.

“What do you mean?”

She shrugged, but wouldn't look at me.

“Alex? What's up?”

“I'm not sure if I like him, that's all.”

Alex totally liked him. Alex liked
all
boys. And there was that hand-touching incident, so I knew Sean was totally on her radar. She was fibbing, I could tell. And I said so.

Alex spritzed product on her hair, seeming to take a really long time to make sure every lock was in just the right place. I was about to say something when she finally blurted out, “Maybe I'm just scared, 'kay? Maybe he's going to try to kiss me.”

Oh.

Kissing.

Okay, that was reason to be scared.

I very suddenly had the same fear—that Andy might want to kiss me. How had I not even thought about the possibility?

“Do you
want
him to kiss you?” I asked, not sure if I wanted Andy to kiss me. Oh, I wasn't fooling anyone;
of course
I wanted Andy to kiss me. But kissing is HUGE!

“I
think
I want Sean to kiss me,” Alex said, looking into my eyes finally. “But I don't know what to do. What you see on the movies doesn't really prepare—”

“You girls are too young to be kissing,” Bubby interrupted, speaking in
that tone
. The tone that
reminded me she wasn't just a fun person to have around. She was also a grown-up authority figure.

“Bubby, please. We are trying to have a private conversation.”

“What did she say?” Alex asked.

“She says we're too young to be kissing boys.”

Alex's face told me she was maybe thinking the same thing.

“Please, Bubby,” I said. “We're not getting engaged or anything. I won't even use tongue.”