Synopsis | Reviews | Excerpt
Can’t a girl choose
her own boyfriend without his kid brother haunting her?
Ghosts might not be heavy, but the guilt Heather’s best
friend, Xavier, is carrying around for his dead little brother weighs at least
a ton. Of course, just as Heather’s crush, Drew Blanton, shows some interest in
her, Xavier’s haintly brother Stevie shows up.
Ten-year-old Stevie has a simple request—he’ll only move on
if Heather goes out on a date with his brother. But as Heather knows, nothing
involving ghosts is ever that simple, and Stevie is a determined troublemaker.
With him interfering in Heather’s love life, her Halloween may be more trick
than treat.
Although
Georgia author Maureen Hardegree concedes to having all the usual baggage of a
middle child, she is NOT a ghost handler. She does, however, believe in
connecting with her inner teenager and in feeding her active imagination—it
likes Italian food and chocolate.
Coming soon!
Chapter One
TRUTH BE TOLD, Xavier Monroe’s house was
haunted. And not just because it looked scarier with its shabby paint,
off-kilter shutters, and unkempt yard than any of the other houses near it.
This summer, after he’d tackled removing the unwanted pine saplings from their
dogwood and azalea island, Xavier had tried to convince his parents to hire
painters to fix the peeling white gloss, but they’d obviously found an excuse
not to.
As the bus hummed in its idle mode, I,
Heather Tildy, ghost handler and girl most likely to be labeled a freak,
clenched my gut and tried not to breathe in too deeply as I prepared to argue
my case with our bus driver Ms. Beadle. There was still a trace of David
Butler’s b.o. hanging in the air despite one of those scented cardboard tree
cutouts hanging off the door lever.
Rather than look at me, the fair-haired
Ms. Beadle glanced out the school bus windshield toward my friend’s neglected
brick home. Home, however, was a debatable word choice at this point because
Xavier’s traditional colonial-style house inspired no warm fuzzies whatsoever.
More like chills and creepy thrills in its current dilapidated state.
The Monroes’ house, in fact, appeared
more in keeping with the upcoming Halloween holiday than even their neighbor’s across
the street with all their Styrofoam grave markers, giant fake cobwebs attached
to porch rails, and lights that would glow purple and orange once the sun set.
There was good reason for that. Shortly after Xavier’s brother Stevie had taken
up ghostly residence, Mr. and Mrs. Monroe’s home fell into neglect.
"This isn’t
your stop. No can do,” Ms. Beadle twanged as I attempted the impossible while
sweating like a pig thanks to the typical Atlanta autumn afternoon approaching
summer highs.
She turned up
the volume on the radio blaring Jason Mraz’s I Won’t Give Up.
"Sit down,”
some boy yelled, then muttered, "Stupid” and another word that rhymes with
itch.
"Can you
please make an exception?” I asked, not budging. "I need to check on Xavier. He
wasn’t at school today.” I gave her my best puppy dog eyes. Not gonna lie, I’ve
got the pleading expression down. The song refrain about not giving up didn’t
hurt my case either, or so I thought.
Her glance
darted to the rearview mirror. Cars were backed up behind the bus and would
probably start honking any minute. "Check on him after I release you at your
assigned stop.”
"But...”
I had nothing. You’d think my gray matter would conceive of some excuse that
would sway her. "He wasn’t at school today.”
My bus driver
did not pull the lever to open the door, which she had shut before I, at a safe
distance, could follow David Butler, the freshman with legendary armpit stench
who shared Xavier’s bus stop.
"Really?” the
bus driver said. "I had no idea.”
Apparently,
I’m not the only one on the bus with sarcasm in her arsenal, not that I was
even attempting it with Ms. Beadle.
"And, um, the
one year anniversary of Xavier’s brother Stevie’s death is coming up. So I
really need to make sure he’s okay. You know, emotionally. All right?”
"It’s not that
I don’t believe you, Heather, or that I don’t care about Mr. Smarty Pants. It’s
that I could lose my job for dropping kids off at the wrong stop. Sit down.”
Foiled, I sat
in the closest open seat. The bus lurched forward, and the seats squeaked and
shook as we rolled along to the next stop.
Seriously,
some of these rules were ridick. I guess this is one of those
situations, which my dad always talks about, where people are afraid of being
sued. I was not looking forward to trudging up the hill, hoodie in hand, in the
hot afternoon sun. Yeah, that’s fall in Georgia—cold mornings that encourage
you to layer with cozy sweaters, followed by sweltering afternoons that make
you wish you were allowed to wear tank tops to school.
After Ms. Beadle
dropped me off at the corner near my house, I trekked back toward Xavier’s. The
neighbor at the corner was changing out her usual porch lanterns with plastic
jack-o’-lanterns. She stopped to wave. "Hi, Heather!”
"Hi, Mrs.
Rollins,” I called back.
I prayed
Audrey and her car pool friends didn’t drive by and ask me what I was up to.
I’d become upwardly mobile since Zac dated me, Randy befriended me, and my last
ghost convinced me to start that better foods campaign, which had sort of gone
by the wayside once I got her to move on because I had to pull up my dismal
grades. I was sort of willing to risk being seen at Xavier’s, but part of me,
an admittedly big part, was hoping I wouldn’t have to find out if a sighting at
a known geek’s house would demote me. I knew it wasn’t very nice of me. But
hey, I’m being honest.
My only joy
came from stepping on the dried up fallen leaves which made a satisfying crunch
under my Docksides. Oh, and thinking about the sort of costume I wanted to wear
for Randy’s Halloween party also lifted my spirits as I trudged along. Of
course, my parents hadn’t yet agreed that Audrey and I could go to this party
because of what happened to Audrey over the summer at another
party... which really wasn’t her or Randy’s fault.
I’d already texted
Mom that I was checking on Xavier, which I hoped would score a few points with
her. My parents really liked it when I acted like a responsible teenager. They
also liked Xavier because he was super smart, had a pretty good sense of humor,
and because he sometimes acted like my conscience—which for some reason they
thought I needed.
I imagined
myself in the costume I was hoping to borrow from Tina, who never wears the
same one twice. It’s one of those sexy outfits with a short skirt and
thigh-high stockings. A German beer girl or something like it. Only in my
imagination, the risqué ensemble looked better than it would in reality because
I had bigger boobs than the cherry tomatoes I currently sported. Go big or go
home. Drew, the junior who made my heart beat faster and run to second period
so I could see his gorgeousness in the hallway before Spanish class, would see
me in the costume and like what he saw. Not that he’d done anything more than
give me hope that he would one day ask me out. But things could change at this
Halloween party.
All I needed
was Mom to agree to buy me one of those padded push-up bras that add two cup
sizes. If I wore one of those and that German beer babe costume, I was certain
Drew wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off me. He’d look me over from carefully
coifed head to pointy-toed stilettos. He’d be wearing something manly and hot
like a pirate costume with an open collar revealing his gorgeous chest muscles
and hinting at the rest. Those ice blue eyes of his would lock with mine. He’d
smile and walk over toward me. I’d pretend that my heart wasn’t about to burst
from my chest. He’d tell me I looked pretty, and he’d want to know if anyone
had asked me to Homecoming yet and—
I stumbled on
an uneven chunk of crumbling asphalt that I didn’t see and nearly landed on my
hands and knees in the middle of the road. Flushing with the heat of
embarrassment, I looked up and down the street to make sure no one had seen my
close encounter with a pratfall. The street and yards bordering my near tumble
were empty of human activity. Thank goodness none of the middle schooligans
were out and about to see what I’d almost done. They’d no doubt harass me.
Makes you thankful that high school gets out so early in the afternoon. The
other advantage? If you get your homework done, you can watch all the prime
time TV shows.
As I
approached the Monroes’ house, I noticed the tall weeds sprouting throughout
the browning Bermuda grass, which hadn’t been mowed recently. Red, orange, and
tiny yellow oval leaves and a smattering of acorns littered the lawn, driveway,
and curving sidewalk. Even the squirrels stayed away.
Xavier’s
brother Stevie’s cool otherworldly presence materialized as I paused to adjust
my backpack. The best way to describe this sensory experience is like when you
smell food cooking, but you can’t taste it. He hadn’t ever appeared to me, so I
kind of knew he didn’t want my help, which was too bad for him.
No lie, I’m
pretty darn good at helping ghosts move on. Not that I was jonesing for a new job.
Lunch Lady Ghost had really worn me out. And even though Postman Ghost
who followed her was relatively easy in comparison, I was still in recovery
mode. FYI: If ghosts don’t appear to me, I can’t help them. There’s a whole
list of rules that I’ve gradually discovered. But I was here on a different
mission than establishing contact with a ghost who supposedly wanted nothing to
do with me. I had to make sure Xavier was okay. He’s not the type to miss
school even when he’s sick.
If I were a
different sort of person, I might be offended that Stevie didn’t want my help.
But he was ten, and ten-year-old boys are still in that girl-hating mode. Or
maybe he didn’t want to move on because he felt guilty about eating the candy
that killed him instead of waiting until he got home for his parents to inspect
it. Stevie had a peanut allergy.
Taking the
shortest path to the front door, I crossed the yard and successfully avoided a
hefty deposit left by someone’s dog, now attracting a few flies and one curious
yellow jacket. The chill to my right that was Stevie stuck with me all the way
to the doorbell. But he wouldn’t materialize or talk to me.
I pressed the
button to ring the bell, which apparently didn’t work because I heard nothing.
Great. I stepped back from the door and noticed all the blinds were drawn. The
mud wasp nest in the top corner of the sidelight window was bigger than it had
been in June when Xavier had squirted it with insecticide. I pressed the button
again, to make sure it was broken, then knocked loudly against the hard wooden
door, which kind of hurt my knuckles.
Maybe they
weren’t home. I rapped again. I mean, I could understand that maybe they didn’t
answer the door unless they knew someone was coming over, but I was Xavier’s
friend, and he had to be home. It was Thursday. He was probably studying for
all his Friday tests and didn’t want to be disturbed unless it was me.
"Xavier,” I
called, "it’s me. Heather.”
He would have
told me if they were going out-of-town or possibly to the doctor. He wasn’t above
using a little sympathy to get me to agree to go out with him, which I hadn’t
done yet.
I pressed my
face to the glass to peer inside the darkened house. "Are they home or not?” I
asked out loud, acknowledging the ghost literally chilling to my right.
Of course,
Stevie didn’t respond. Or appear.
"Where is
Xavier?” I asked him, turning toward the cool air.
Stevie
remained silent and invisible.
"You know they
won’t ever be able to move on until you do,” I said. Not that I was sure about
that or anything, but he made me mad. And the way Xavier’s parents continued to
mourn Stevie and neglect the one child they had left made me madder.
"Too stubborn
for your own good is what you are,” I added. Not that Stevie cared.
"Who are you
talking to?” Xavier asked, appearing on the other side of the glass sidelight,
muffling his deep voice yet scaring the bejesus out of me.
My pulse sped,
and I pointed to the door.
Xavier
obliged, opening it and thankfully waving me into their way-too-dusty foyer,
not that I’m a neat nut. Sunlight streaming through the door’s sidelight
windows revealed a fine gray layer on the upholstered wingback chair’s
armrests. Rather than ask what I really wanted to—how long has it been since
anyone vacuumed—I attempted to explain what must have looked like me talking to
myself. "I was having a very one-sided conversation with your brother.”
The fine dark
hairs that were slowly filling in to form a mottled five o’clock shadow glinted
as Xavier shook his head vehemently, then put his index finger over his lips to
shush me. One of the few things Xavier and I didn’t really talk about was his
brother. Today was no different.
"Who’s there?”
his mom’s fragile voice called down the equally dusty carpeted stairs.
"It’s just
Heather,” Xavier said as I sneezed.
"Just
Heather?” I repeated, noting he still hadn’t bitten on my comment about trying
to talk to his ghostly brother. "Thanks.”
Xavier
groaned. "I didn’t mean it that way. I meant she didn’t need to come down.
She’s resting.”
I took in his
mussed hair, his long-sleeved gray tee shirt and blue plaid flannel pajama
pants that were two inches too short, revealing his hairy ankles. "Looks like
your mom isn’t the only one who’s been resting.”
"What’s up?”
he asked, getting to the point quickly, which wasn’t like him. Normally, he’d
be trying to find a way to extend our chat.
"I came over
to check on you since you weren’t in school.”
He smiled,
revealing that dimple that counterbalanced some of his other deficits in the
looks department. "You’re playing right into my hands. Resistance is futile.”
Yeah,
unfortunately, thanks to my geeky father who somehow thought he was no longer a
geek, I understood the Star Trek reference, but I certainly wasn’t going
to acknowledge it. "So... why are you home and still in your
pj’s?”
Xavier
shrugged. "I got sick.”
"Funny, you
don’t look sick.” He wasn’t all pasty or coughing or anything.
"Stomach
bug—last night.” He scratched his head, then his worried expression etched
lines between his thick dark eyebrows. "You know, I probably shouldn’t have let
you in here. Don’t touch anything, and make sure you scrub your hands with soap
and hot water through an entire chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ when you get home.
Trust me when I say you don’t want this.”
"You don’t
have to lie to me,” I said, certain that he was.
He crossed his
arms over his chest. "And why would I lie?”
"Because we’re
getting close to the anniversary of, you know, Stevie—”
"Two weeks
away, not today,” he said, deep voice rising, his dark eyes glinting with hurt.
Yeah, I’d hit
a nerve.
"Maybe you
should talk about it,” I suggested. "You know, to one of the counselors at
school if not to me.”
"Right.
Because talking has really helped my parents move on.”
I reached out
to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and he shrugged me off, stepping
back. "What don’t you get about me harboring germs?”
Stunned that
he was rejecting my sympathy, I didn’t know what to do. So I stood there,
probably looking as stupid as I now felt for coming over here when I could be
home surfing Facebook.
He raised his
arm to check the time on his wrist watch. Xavier was one of the few guys I knew
who wore one. Most everyone else looked at the time on their phones. "Shouldn’t
you be stalking Drew right about now?”
Low blow. Wait
a minute. How did he know?
I focused back
on my friend and his angry expression. "What?”
"In a
nutshell, don’t you have better things to do than bug me?”
Maybe he wassick. "So now my concern is bugging you?”
"I don’t want
your concern if it doesn’t come with benefits. I’m not your after school
project.”
"You know,
you’re being really ornery, more so than usual.”
"Because I’m
recovering from a nasty bug.” He took a deep breath, and the sound of a toilet
flushing floated its way down the foyer. "Believe me now?”
"I’ll go. Just
let me say this. I’m sorry if the next few weeks are hard for you. I’m your
friend, and I want you to know that I care. Okay?”
"Okay,” he
said and walked over to the door to open it for me.
I remembered
the treat I’d won in Spanish for knowing the word for fish. Pescado. A
box of Nerds had been my reward. Maybe Xavier would want them. I recalled
something about him and Nerds, and no, it wasn’t that some people considered
him one. I unzipped my backpack, pulled out the bright pink and purple box of
candies, and shook it. "Here.”
"What’s this
for, besides stereotyping?” he asked.
I almost
laughed. "I won it at school today, and since I prefer chocolate, I don’t want
them. Then for some reason I kind of thought you did. Like them.”
He shook his
head and lobbed the box back to me. "Not me. My brother.”
Strike two.
"Sorry.”
"You’ll make
it up to me.” His expression was thankfully hopeful, not angry.
"I will?”
He smiled. "I
hear Randy’s having a party.”
"Yeah. So what
does that have to do with me and you?” I asked, the hairs on my arms rising in
alarm.
"Well, since
you and Randy have become friends, I suspect he’s invited you.”
I could see
where he was headed with this. I lightly scratched my now itchy arms and neck.
"My parents haven’t said that Audrey and I can go yet.”
He nodded.
"Why would they after what happened the last time he had a party?”
"Hey, he
wasn’t the person who slipped something into her Red Bull. His parents are
going to be home for this party, and they’ve hired security.”
"Wow, you must
really want to go to have all those facts lined up... which
means Drew will be there. Are you hoping he’s going to fulfill some adolescent
fantasy of yours and ask you to Homecoming at this party?”
Heat spread up
my chest and neck and made my cheeks throb in embarrassment. My skin begged to
be scratched. How did he know?
"What do you
think about me going to Randy’s Halloween party with you?” The sincere hope in
his voice made an outright no impossible.
"Will your
parents let you?” Yeah, I was being noncommittal because if he went with me and
stuck too close, people would think we were dating, and then Drew would never
ask me out.
"The question
should be whether your parents will let you go without someone
like me tagging along. And don’t think I didn’t notice you’re avoiding the Drew
question.”
I shrugged,
which backfired when the sharp point of a large textbook jabbed under my right
shoulder blade. "I assume Drew will be there.”
"Ah-ha. The
truth. So don’t you get in enough stalking on Facebook?”
"I don’t stalk
Drew,” I lied, my raspy voice rising with the denial.
"Right.”
"I don’t,” I
said more emphatically. Don’t you hate it when your friend knows you too well
and calls you on stuff you’d rather pretend you didn’t do?
He raised a
dark eyebrow. "So what costume is he wearing?”
"Very funny.”
But inside I cringed. I’d been trying to find out. Randy wouldn’t tell me.
"Seriously,
though,” Xavier said with a snort of laughter. "In case I decide to crash
without you, what will you be dressed up as?”
"I thought you
were recovering,” I reminded him.
"Nice try, but
I’ll be more than recovered in two weeks.”
"Unless you
come down with something else due to your weakened immune system. I’ve seen it
happen.”
Xavier cocked
his shaggy-haired head to the side. "Stop ignoring the question. What are you
wearing?”
"I haven’t
decided. I have a nineteen fifties-style poodle skirt.”
"Does that
mean you’re going to wear it?”
Dadblameit. He’d read my
not quite white lie. "I haven’t decided.”
"Right. What
is it? Oh, I bet I know. You want to wear something you shouldn’t even be
considering.”
"Fine.”
Sometimes I wished he wasn’t so smart. "I was thinking about borrowing Tina’s
German beer garden costume.”
"Seriously?”
He shook his head. "You mean you want to wear one of those babelicious costumes
with the garters and the corset? As intriguing as that fantasy might be, I
doubt your mom and dad will let you out of the house dressed like a—”
"Do you have a
better idea?” I interrupted.
"How about
going as a ghost? All you need is a white sheet and a pair of scissors.”
"Funny.” But
then only Xavier, Aunt Geneva, and I would get the irony. I have to admit it
was kind of nice to have someone besides my eccentric aunt know about my
ghost-seeing capabilities.
"Oh, even
better,” he said, smiling and revealing his dimple once more. "Go as Princess
and the Pea. You could get a green toy ball and wear some princess costume.
Much more inventive than something you could buy in a store.”
And less
likely to be thought of as sexy. Unless... I could convince
my mom to take me shopping at Victoria’s Secret for the proper enhancement.
I had to
admit, I kind of liked Xavier’s idea. Making fun of myself and the preschool
nickname that had haunted me my whole life was clever. Drew would think so too.
"Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
"You forget I
might go, too. Once you realize I’m your only ticket to your parents saying
yes.”
"And what
would you go as? Boy Who Pukes?”
"Cute.” He
took a deep breath. "It would be wrong of me not to go, now that I can see
those wheels turning.”
"Wheels?” I
widened my eyes to create an expression that read innocent of all charges. "I
have no idea what you’re talking about.”
"Oh, yes you
do. You have that ‘who me?’ look on your face—the one that usually means
trouble for everyone around you.”
"Maybe you
have a fever, and it’s making you see things that aren’t there,” I said. I was
determined to get Drew’s attention at that Halloween party, and I’d never keep
it if Xavier was trailing me that night. "See you tomorrow.”
"I predict
you’ll be texting me soon and begging me to come with you,” he said.
My eyes were
drawn to the mud wasp nest once more. I looked around the rest of the forlorn
yard.
Xavier’s gaze
took in the red clay furrows and then skittered to the dead impatiens in the
crescent bed that he’d faithfully watered over the summer, but the bright pink
flowers had withered like they always do once the nights cooled. "I should
probably do something about all this,” he said.
Contrary to
what you might be thinking, I saw that cry for help for what it was. And even
though my rising social status was important to me, I realized that Xavier was
more important. Not gonna lie, that revelation was a little scary.
"Would you
like some help? I mean, not that it’s... I mean,
we... I...”
He put his
hand up in a halting motion. "No need to explain any further. I’d love some
help. Let’s say Saturday morning? If you come by early, you won’t have to worry
that helping me will ruin your street cred.”
"If I come by
early, I won’t get to sleep in at all this weekend.” And by sleeping in, I
meant past nine a.m.
"Right. I
forgot. Gotta get in that beauty sleep for Drew,” he teased.
"I have lots
of other things I could be doing on Saturday,” I said with an indignant huff.
"I know. I
know. I’m sorry. I get grumpy when I’m sick and my gut muscles are sore.”
"Muscles?” I
echoed, lending the word a generous dose of skepticism.
"Yeah, you
want to see?” He grabbed hold of the bottom of his shirt.
"No!” I
shrieked, and we both laughed.
I waved
goodbye to Xavier and couldn’t help but smile to myself as I took the sidewalk
to the driveway instead of cutting across the weedy lawn. I’d made him laugh,
and it felt good. Almost as good as I was going to look as Princess and the
Pea.
One of my old
dress up princess outfits that Mom had saved for her future grandchildren would
be as short as Tina’s German beer maiden costume. I might actually look really
cute for Drew. And sexy.
A cool breeze
lifted my hair. I looked up at the leaves on the pretty gold-leafed maple next
door which... weren’t moving. The wind I felt wasn’t stirring
anything but me.
That’s when I
realized that little chill had a name and had followed me to the curb, what I’d
assumed was the edge of his haunting parameters. Something Stevie had never
done with me before.
No, I was
wrong. At the beginning of the summer, he’d followed me, my first ghost Amy,
and Xavier, while I pleaded for Xavier to help me get to Amy’s journal in the
special collections room at the library where he volunteered. So his parameters
extended to the front entrance of our subdivision.
Why had Stevie
followed me today of all days, especially if he wouldn’t communicate or appear?
Had to be the Nerds. I took the box of candy out of my backpack again and left
it on the curb near the Monroes’ mailbox.
Weird. I was
actually doing something deliberately nice for a ghost who hadn’t glommed onto
me. I must be coming down with Xavier’s stomach bug... or
something worse.
Chapter Two
TWELVE DAYS
AND counting until the party that in all likelihood could change my life, and
my parents still hadn’t agreed that Audrey and I could go. As I read through my
list of items to rejuvenate the Monroes’ front yard, I still could not quite
believe I’d willingly rolled out of bed before noon on a Saturday to help my
friend Xavier. Here’s hoping further evidence of my kindness would turn my
parents’ maybe to a yes. Audrey and I had tag-teamed the parents
with all sorts of promises and gift certificates for car washes. She had even
thrown in going to the grocery store, and I’d offered to help Mom with her
Sunday craft class tomorrow—full of small whining children, which is equivalent
to eating cold, chewy lima beans. And the united front of undecided hadn’t
budged.
Clarification:
I swear my offer of craft guidance wasn’t based on the fact that Drew’s sister
Morgan had signed up for the class. But I have to admit I was hoping he’d be
the one to drop her off or pick her up. I should receive some small benefit,
right?
First, though,
was the Monroes’ front yard.
Flowers?
Check. I crossed through item number one on my list and then gathered the
chrysanthemums Dad had divided from ours. When I’d mentioned the Monroes needed
a little help with their front yard and that I’d promised to help Xavier, Dad
thought they might appreciate something that didn’t have to be replanted every
year. My dad works for the state environmental protection division, and he’s
always talking about stuff like sustainability and waste. The bright yellow and
orange flowers would be a welcome substitute for the dead impatiens in Xavier’s
mom’s planting bed.
I placed the
chrysanthemum pots in the old metal wagon we kept in the garage.
Gloves. I
lined through the next thing on the notepad, then threw in my mom’s long-cuffed
rubber gardening gloves next to the plastic pots o’ flowers. I hate when I get
dirt under my nails. Even worse is when you get clay on your hands, and it
sucks all the moisture out of your skin, and you have to add some sort of
intensive lotion once you wash the clay off so your hands don’t hurt. One of
the many crosses I bear in life, thanks to my ultra-sensitive skin.
Next, I
dropped a heavy trowel beside the gloves, and the steel clanged against the
rusty wagon bed.
Water! I ran
inside, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed the ginormous bottle I’d chilled
overnight. Couldn’t forget that.
"Where are you
going?” Claire, my younger and, for the most part, nicer, sister asked as she
followed me out onto the screened porch and through the screened door to the
spot where I’d left the wagon on the driveway.
"To the
Monroes’. I’m helping Xavier with yard work.”
"Why not wait
‘til after Halloween? It kind of looks spooky the way it is now.”
"I don’t think
that’s on purpose, and I also don’t think they’re giving out candy this year.
So don’t ring their bell.”
"It’s sad
about his brother,” she said.
I nodded in
agreement. What was even sadder was the way Xavier’s parents were going through
the motions, but not really ever exhibiting typical parental behaviors, like
threatening to ground him for something. I had to admire my friend for the way
he trudged on and tried to pull his parents into the here and now even though
they seemed stuck in the horror of yesterday.
Claire tucked
a strand of her perfect bob behind her ear. "I saw him that night.”
"Who? Stevie?”
I asked, hoping she would have a little information that might prove helpful to
me... if I could ever get Stevie interested in leaving. I
knew she hadn’t inherited the ghost-seeing gene. That’s a gift you get when you
become a woman, if you get that gene from Mom’s side of the family, and Claire
had gotten her period before I did, even though she’s younger. She, of course,
wants to see ghosts. Go figure.
"Yeah,” she
said, "Stevie looked like he was having a good time, laughing with his friends,
going up to the house where they have the man with the fake chainsaw.”
"Did you hear
his friends dare him to eat his candy?” That’s what I assumed had happened, because
boys will do stupid things if you dare them. I had pictured a Russian roulette
type situation only using a pillowcase full of candy rather than bullets.
"No,” she
said.
So maybe
Stevie’d gotten jealous that his friends were able to eat whatever they wanted,
that they didn’t have to wait until they got home. Maybe he’d been sick of all
the years of being so careful. Or what? And why hadn’t he had his EpiPen?
Crappola! Where was
mine? I felt my pocket for the tube-like container and realized it was still in
my purse. Upstairs. In my room. Maybe.
"It’s scary to
be that allergic to something that it kills you so fast,” Claire said.
"Yup.” And I’d
almost done something as foolish as Stevie had.
I ran back
inside, smelling the lingering sweet-baked scent of blueberry muffins and
noting the breakfast dishes still hadn’t been done. Was it my turn? I hoped not
because I was already late.
Claire
followed on my heels as I took the back stairs two at a time. I’d slept a
little longer than I’d planned to.
"Do you want
some help at Xavier’s?” Claire asked as I started lifting discarded and most
likely dirty clothing from the piles on my floor that I’d spend the afternoon
washing.
Audrey poked
her fully made-up face into my room. Yeah, on a Saturday morning she looked like
she was red carpet ready. "Sorry, Claire. You’re not getting out of cleaning
the bathroom. If you head out, we all know that Mom will make me do it, and Idid it last Saturday.”
Maybe I’d left
my EpiPen on my desk. I moved papers and books and folders.
"Don’t you
think helping Heather help Xavier is more important?” Claire asked.
"Nope,” Audrey
said. "Clean the bathroom. Now.”
"You’re mean,”
Claire said as she left.
I didn’t stick
up for Audrey, who was actually in the right for once, even if she was mean. I
moved onto my bed and found an earring but no EpiPen or purse.
"What exactly
are you looking for?” Audrey asked.
"My purse.” I
expected something snotty to come out of her mouth next, because even though we
were getting along better, she wasn’t the type to offer help unless she was
getting something out of it.
She rolled her
eyes. "It’s probably with your book bag downstairs.”
Duh. I can’t
believe I walked right by it. I ran back downstairs.
Audrey
followed, which meant she wanted something. And when Audrey wants something, I
usually end up on the short end of whatever stick she has up her behind.
"While you’re
hanging with Supergeek, see if he can come up with an argument that’ll convince
Mom and Dad to let us go to Randy’s party.”
I stopped at
the shelving system that we girls were supposed to use, and there was my purse.
I’d actually put my purse and my backpack where they were supposed to go. "He
came up with something. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Intrigue lit
her dark kohl-rimmed eyes. "Go on.”
"You’re not
going to like it.” I repeated, expecting that she wouldn’t, because I certainly
didn’t like his idea. I unzipped my purse, grabbed my EpiPen, and shoved it in
the front pocket of my jeans.
"Tell me. God,
you’re so annoying.”
"He said if we
brought him with us, Mom and Dad would basically consider us well-chaperoned
and would agree.”
Her pin-up
eyebrows drew together in concern.
See, I was
right. There was no way—
"It’s worth a
shot. Tell him thanks.”
"But Audrey,
everyone will think one of us is going out with him.”
"Not one of
us. You.” She laughed. The wiener.
"So I’m
supposed to sacrifice all the strides I’ve made socially. And what happened to
that whole thing about me hanging out with Xavier bothering you and your
friends?”
"Believe me
when I say this. You do more to damage your”—she made quote marks—"rising
popularity than Supergeek will ever accomplish. Stop being so dramatic. All you
have to do is split off from him once we get to Randy’s.”
Yeah, like
that was going to be easy. He didn’t really know anybody who’d be there except
maybe Drew. Xavier’d be stuck to me like glue, like Super Glue, like that crazy
epoxy Dad uses with the warnings on it that makes Mom worry he’s going to glue
his fingers together, and they’ll have to go to the emergency room. "Easy for
you to say.”
"Do you want
to go to the party or not?” she asked.
If I wanted
any shot at my fantasy involving Drew asking me to Homecoming at this party, I
may have to allow Xavier to come with us. But I wasn’t ready to cry uncle yet.
"Let me see if something else works first.”
Her face a
dictionary sketch of dubious, Audrey tapped her foot and blocked my way out the
door. "What is the something else?”
Who knew? But
I’d come up with a better strategy, or my name wasn’t Tildy, Heather Tildy. "I
haven’t worked out all the particulars yet.”
She snorted.
"I’ll give you until tomorrow night, then I’m asking Mom and Dad if having
Xavier with us will make a difference.”
"That’s not a
lot of time.”
Audrey smiled.
"Your devious mind works better under pressure.”
Four months
ago, she wouldn’t have been so nice. I’m not gonna lie, her new attitude made
me more than a little wary. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.
Irked that she
had nothing at stake, and that she’d probably get her way and I’d have to beg
Xavier to come with us, and then owe him something, I did what any other
fifteen-year-old girl with a poopy older sister making her do something she
didn’t want to, would do. I jabbed back.
"You like him,
don’t you?” Him meaning Randy, not Xavier. Xavier she tolerated.
"Shut up.”
I couldn’t
resist. "Audrey and Randy sitting in a tree...”
"Shut up!”
BY THE TIME my
wagon and I rolled alongside Xavier’s driveway—it had taken longer than usual
because I’m not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and I hadn’t been
able to successfully sneak any coffee—he’d already raked a giant pile of leaves
in the center of the dormant Bermuda grass. I have to admit I was a wee bit
tempted to jump in them—or I would have been if I were still in middle school.
But I was so much more mature this year, and I’d put my hair in a cute, bouncy
ponytail. My hairdo wouldn’t be so bouncy or cute if it were askew. Plus, the
leaves would stick to my lip gloss—the attempt to look somewhat attractive was
all for Drew’s benefit. In case he happened to drive by, which was a long shot.
Xavier looked
up and shook his head. "I thought you’d at least be here before lunch.”
"I am. I just
had breakfast.” I sensed Stevie as my right side chilled. "Are we bagging the
leaves?”
"Yeah. I
guess.” He scratched the side of his shaggy head. "I’ve got to get some bags.
Be right back.”
He went inside
the house, and I saw a curtain move. Probably one of his parents watching. It
seemed to be taking Xavier a while to locate the bags, so I looked to the curb
where I’d left a pink box of Nerds for my silent personal refrigerator the
other day. It was no longer there.
"You’re
welcome,” I said to Stevie.
Still no
materialization or a "thank you.”
After what
seemed like forever but was only ten minutes tops since he went inside, Xavier
came around the corner of the house and waved a couple of folded brown bags.
"Found them in the basement.”
He had those
big brown bags that people other than Tildys use to put yard waste in. My dad,
Mr. Environmental, composts instead.
As Xavier
opened the bag, I jammed my mother’s gardening gloves on and started scooping.
"Have you
thought some more about my offer?” he asked.
"What offer?”
I stalled.
"Randy’s
party.” He pointed back at the house. "From what Audrey indicated on the phone
just now, I think you two need me.”
That rat fink!
The leaves sifted from my hands back to the pile below. "She called you? How
did she get your number?”
He shrugged.
"The neighborhood directory, I imagine.”
"The land
line,” I whispered to myself. She was devious, going behind my back. "Well, I
hope she also told you that I have a few other ideas I plan to try first. Your
offer is plan D or E.”
"That’s not
what Audrey said.” He smiled smugly. His dimple mocked me.
"Well, that’s
because neither one of you know what I know.” I grabbed another scoop of leaves
bigger than the first. Some escaped my grasp and somehow managed to stick to my
lips. I spat as he laughed at me.
"And what
would that be?” He came close and pulled the leaf particles from my mouth. It
made me feel weird to have him look at my lips and touch them. He probably
wanted to kiss me. My face burned with embarrassment.
"That’s for me
to know,” I said.
He shook his
head. "Like you know that lip gloss and leaf raking don’t mix? Not that I mind
that you went to all that trouble for me.”
"It’s not for
you. I like to look my best.”
"In case Drew
happens to swing by.” He scooped up twice as many leaves as I had and dumped
them in the paper bag. "You do know that the chances of that are pretty
minimal.”
Fine. He could
do all this himself. "I’ll leave the chrysanthemums on the front stoop. Plant
them yourself.”
"Come on,
Heather. Stay. I’m only kidding. It’s my way of dealing with the fact that the
girl I like is infatuated with some other guy.”
"Okay, now I’m
even more uncomfortable.”
"Why don’t you
work on the flowers, and I’ll finish the leaves.”
My chill
companion stuck with me as I weeded the bed of its dried up impatiens and its
burgeoning autumn weeds. "You’ll probably need more mulch once I get these in.”
The front door
opened. Mrs. Monroe, who stood there in her bathrobe, looked about ten years
older than the last time I’d seen her, which was—I thought back—probably about
a year ago. Her hair had about two inches of a warm chestnut dye left on its
ends. The rest was an unkempt mixture of dull brown and gray. She pulled the
shawl collar of her bathrobe close to her neck. "What are you doing?”
She was
looking at me, and her voice had lost that wispy bereaved quality. If I had to
characterize the tone, it wouldn’t be friendly. Or neighborly. Or even halfway
close to nice.
"I’m, um,
helping Xavier with a little yard work.”
Xavier dropped
his rake and walked over toward me and his mom.
"Well, you can
stop. You can both stop. Right now!”
"Mom,” Xavier
said. "We’re not doing anything wrong.”
Her nostrils
flared. "Did you ask my permission? Did you?”
"Why should I?
You don’t give a rat’s ass about how the yard or the house looks.” The veins in
his throat strained as he yelled back. Not exactly the kind of language you’d
expect of an altar boy.
My cold little
friend moved away from me. I guess I wasn’t the only one who was uncomfortable.
"You will
apologize, then go to your room, Xavier. I will not be spoken to in that
manner. Especially in front of your friend, who apparently is having all sorts
of negative influence on you.” Her pain-filled gaze directed back to me. "And
you, you can—”
"Don’t you say
anything to Heather. She hasn’t done anything wrong. And neither have I. We’ve
got to move on. What? You think if we don’t paint the house or take care of the
yard that he’ll come back?”
She ignored
her son. "Heather, I want you to take those flowers of death back to wherever
you got them from. I don’t want them.”
"Yes, ma’am.”
I had no clue as to why bright colors made her think of death, but I wasn’t
going to argue. I was going to hightail it out of there. My only regret was
that I couldn’t take Xavier with me.
"You’re being
ridiculous,” Xavier said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.
"Who are you
calling?” his mom screamed and tried to grab the phone from him.
Holy shiznet.
His mother was losing it. I didn’t want to be here. Hurry. I pulled the
cuttings from the holes I’d managed to stick two of them in and shoved them
back in the little plastic pots my father had found in the basement.
As I loaded
them in the wagon, I heard Xavier say, "Dad, do you have a problem with me
fixing up the front yard a little?”
"I don’t care
what your father says. I say no!”
"Can you hear
her? She’s yelling at me and my friend for cleaning up the yard.”
I then picked
up my trowel and the other two pots of one orange, one burgundy that would have
looked pretty once they filled in with the yellow ones. Mrs. Monroe and Xavier
were still at a standoff as Xavier listened to whatever his father was saying
to him.
"I’ll
just...” and I picked up the wagon handle and wheeled myself
away from the domestic drama that made me shake inside. Xavier’s mom had gone
off the deep end.
As I rolled
away from their house and approached the spot where their driveway meets the
road, I noticed that my chill companion was still with me. Dreading what was
about to happen, I breathed in the cool autumn air. This wasn’t a disaster yet.
I would have nearly two whole weeks to move this haint along before what could
become the most momentous night of my life. If my parents relented. If I had a
super cool costume. If Drew went to the party and saw me, and please God, asked
me out.
I glanced to
where I suspected Stevie was about to reveal himself. He didn’t disappoint.
"Hi,” the
pint-sized version of Xavier said. His costume? Black turtleneck, jeans, little
wired frame glasses, and a fake goatee. Steve Jobs, founder of Apple, I
guessed.
"So you
changed your mind,” I said.
"About
hopscotch?” he asked, referring to the argument he’d had with my first ghost,
Amy, in June. She’d told me about it.
"No. About me
helping you,” I said.
"I don’t need
you to help me. I need you to help Xavier.” And that’s when he jumped the curb,
following me into the street, something he shouldn’t be able to do
until... I reviewed the rules I’d
learned... he had to do three nice things for me. But what
were they?
Because we’d
already progressed to the unfortunate point where this ten-year-old boy could
follow me around anywhere he wanted, I knew Randy’s party wasn’t going to be as
stellar as I’d hoped. Not to mention my so-called life. As much as I wanted to
help Stevie for Xavier’s sake, I never really had a hankering for a little
brother. A cute older brother with cute friends who had secret crushes on
me—yes, that scenario I could have gone for. I tried to imagine Audrey
as that older teen brother. She’d probably be all about the stubble, since that
seemed to be the current rage in Hollywood.
But if Stevie
and I had made this much progress without me being aware, perhaps this haunting
would go relatively smoothly, and I’d be rid of him before the party. No
worries, right?
"So how
exactly would you like me to help Xavier?” I asked. After all, there was no
reason yet not to look on the bright side. I reached into the wagon for my
water bottle and took a sip. My stomach groaned like I hadn’t eaten breakfast
an hour ago.
"Isn’t it
obvious?” he said in a stinky tone.
"Not to me it
isn’t.” I wanted to add butthead, but I refrained. Okay. So maybe he
wasn’t going to be an easy ghost.
"You’re so
dumb. I don’t know why he likes you.”
I took another
sip. "The longer you spend insulting me the more time you waste and therefore I
waste.”
"Take him to
the Randy party,” he insisted.
"My parents
haven’t even said I could go,” I pointed out. Seriously, he had to have heard
the word "no” from his parents on occasion. Audrey, Claire, and I weren’t the
only ones out there with parents who didn’t cave to our every whim. Were we?
Stevie fisted
his ghostly hands. "Take him.”
"Look, you
don’t understand how this stuff works.” I’d give him the 411. "You’re only
ten.”
"I understand
plenty. Oh, and you’re taking him as your date. Or your life is going to get a
lot more bumpy.” He kicked the wagon, and it flipped on its side, spilling
everything on the asphalt. Yeah, I guess he needed to prove he was serious.
Raise your
hand if you think this handling is going to be easy.
No takers?
