Ghosting (11 page)

They do.

And even if it’s just because he’s

too stoned

I’m glad.

I glance back at Anil and Chloe.

She looks glazed.

He’s staring

out the window.

Then she turns to him.

C’mon, Anil, let’s go,
she says, voice sweet and low.

He shakes

his head,

definite,

but with

no expression

on his face.

Fine,
she says with a frown and lurches past me and Felix.

Her perfume is overlaid

with the scent of

MoonBuzz.

Emma laughs a

happy laugh

and the two girls stand by the car,

swaying slightly and

looking up

at the house.

It’s real dark,
I hear Chloe say.

Emma snatches her cell

out of her pocket

and opens it up.

See, just like a flashlight,
she says.

Then Chloe opens up her cell, too.

I grab

my camera.

Can’t resist the image of their two faces

lit up by the

glowing

cell phones.

Flash.

But the lighting is wrong

so I try it again without the flash

and it’s

perfect.

The greenish light from their cells

makes their faces glow in an

unearthly way.

Felix opens his eyes

at the second click of

my camera,

then closes them again.

A feeling of dread

suddenly squeezes

my heart

and I lean out the open

car door.

Emma, don’t,
I call.

She ignores me.

And the two of them

begin to walk

toward

the house.

FAITH

I love

riding

my bike,

especially

at night.

On

darkened

streets

like a

low-flying

bird

soaring

along

just above

the pavement.

Almost

invisible.

I snuck

out of

the house.

It was

Emma

who taught

me how:

to avoid the

third stair

from the top,

to ease the

screen door

shut.

When

I came

downstairs

I could

hear the TV

on in the

family room.

Polly almost

ruined

everything

with a

plaintive,

drawn-out,

don’t-go

whimper

when she

followed me

down to

the kitchen.

Quietly

I roll

my bike

out the

side door

of the

garage.

On the

sidewalk

in front

of our

house,

my bicycle

wheel

bumps over

something,

something

that makes

a faint

squeaking

sound.

I lean over.

It’s a

black rubber

crow,

with a grimy

yellow beak.

Polly’s

favorite

chew toy,

faded,

gnawed on,

well loved.

Don’t know

how it got

out here

on the front

sidewalk.

I stick it

in the

back pocket

of my shorts,

and it

squeaks,

softly.

I know

the streets

of this town

by heart,

from riding

my bike.

Holding the

handlebars

one-handed,

I flip open

my cell.

After

midnight.

But there’s

still time

to stop

Emma.

To warn

her.

It’s a

sultry night.

Leftover heat

from the day

rises up

from the

sidewalk,

but the

rushing air

on my face

feels good.

There’s a

movie

about a boy

in a small

Midwest town

who loves

to bike.

It’s my

all-time

favorite

movie.

He pretends

he’s Italian,

the way

I pretend

I’m just like

everyone else.

Here is

what I say

every day

when I get

on my bike:

Ciao, bellissimo Midwestern town of Wilmette.

I pretend

I’m off

to Italy,

or London,

or Seattle,

or California.

In just

four years,

I really will

be gone,

so fast

everyone

will choke

on the dust

from my

bicycle wheels

as I ride

out of town.

Off to new

wide-open

worlds

where a girl

can be

who she is

meant

to be.

But for now,

in this place

and this time,

I’m here.

And I can’t

let it all

crumble

beneath me.

WALTER

They’re out there. The bad guys. I can hear them.

Their voices, the sound of the car idling.

Through the trees I can see flickering lights

coming up the path toward our house.

A sheriff has to protect his town,

but he has to protect his home as well.

There is no one but me to do it.

I move toward the closet.

FELIX

we watch emma and chloe go slowly, very slowly, up the crumbling stone steps to the path leading to the house. max is freaked out. i want to tell her not to care so much. to just let things go.

Remember Joey Pigza?
I ask softly.

max looks at me, her eyes wild, scared.

Who?

Those books I read over and over,
I say.
In 5th grade.

Oh yeah,
she says after a moment.

brendan is still texting, intent on the keyboard cradled in his hand. i hear chloe’s giggles drifting back as max and i watch the light from the two cell phones bobbing slowly toward the house.

Joey Pigza was always doing stupid shit like this,
I say.
And he survived.

Joey Pigza,
Max murmurs.
He was the one with ADHD?

Yeah, like me. Hey, Max,
I say, with a big grin,
did I ever tell you how someday I’m going to do research and prove that weed is the best medicine for ADHD?

max smiles.

Good luck with that,
she says.

Actually,
comes Anil’s voice from the back,
it’s not a bad idea.

Really?
I say

i turn around to look at him, surprised.

Yeah, some doctors in California prescribe medical marijuana for ADHD, but there’s very little research to . . .

another set of chloe giggles. louder.

Be quiet, Chloe,
comes Emma’s voice, clear and annoyed. Loud. Too loud.

anil stops talking and max’s smile disappears. her hands are clenched tight on the armrests and i’m suddenly tired of this whole thing. what the hell are we doing here? i should get max home, out of this.

Hey, Brendan,
I say, leaning forward,
this is lame. Can you get your girlfriend back here so we can all go home.

brendan turns and glares at me. looking at his slack mouth and dilated, glittering eyes, i suddenly realize how out-of-his-mind blitzed he is.

Go back to your weed, dickhead. Emma wants her fun.

Oh, that’s right. I forgot,
I say.
You do whatever Emma wants, don’t you?

i lock eyes with him. max darts a scared glance at me. like
what the hell are you doing?
her face says. and she’s right. brendan looks like he’s ready to tear my eyeballs out. but i can’t help it. this i-own-the-planet, gun-toting asshole is seriously messing with EMFAX. god, did i just call us EMFAX again? that’s the third time tonight. i must be more messed up than i thought.

Shut the fuck up, you pathetic slacker loser,
Brendan says,
or else . . .

and like in a dream i see his hand reaching toward the glove compartment. behind us, anil lets out a sharp exhale. and
NO!
bursts from max’s throat. brendan looks back at the three of us. he knows we know and his eyes go to slits.

he pops open the glove compartment and in the blink of an eye that shiny black gun is in brendan’s hand.

BRENDAN

I can’t believe those pussies went rooting

around in my glove compartment.

And who does that useless pothead

think he is, mouthing off to me like that.

Like he’s my fucking asshole dad.

I should fucking scare the crap out of them.

Serves them right.

MAXIE

I feel like I’m in a bad movie,

one with a jittery

handheld

camera

recording everything.

Including a monster

lurking in the shadows.

Except

maybe the

monster

is sitting right there

in front of us.

Brendan is grinning,

waving his

gun.

You know what kind of gun this is?
he says.
A double-action semiautomatic Beretta 92 F.

Put it away, Brendan,
says Felix softly.

Hell no. Teach you a lesson,
Brendan says, his words slurring.

Suddenly Brendan reaches up

and punches a button

next to the moonroof.

The glass panel

silently

slides

open . . . .

Then he thrusts up his hand,

the one holding the gun,

through the opening

to the night sky.

EMMA

Dare you to touch the door,
says Chloe, giggling again.

She’s stopped halfway up the path

to the front door,

blocking my way.

And then suddenly

from the direction of the car

comes a loud popping sound.

What was that?
Chloe cries out, turning and stumbling toward me.

I try to catch her, but she trips on

a pot of flowers, knocking it over

with a noisy clattering sound.

She flounders, trying to recover her balance,

(Chloe always was the world’s biggest klutz),

and somehow she kicks over another one.

OW!
she says, way too loud, falling sideways onto the grass.

I hear the shattering sound

of a third pot breaking,

Chloe’s breath coming quickly.

I hurt my foot,
Chloe bleats.

Go back to the car,
I say, helping her up.

I think it’s bleeding,
she says.

Go back,
I whisper.
I’ll be there in a sec.

Chloe limps her way back down the path.

Even though I know it’s reckless, I have to go on.

I have to know if there’s a ghost.

My cell light fades,

so I tap the keypad.

Light blooms.

I can see the broken pots,

pink roses and dirt tumbled out

onto the path.

A lot of the flowers are flattened from

Chloe trampling on them. Then I hear a

soft sighing sound. From the house.

Who’s there?
comes a whispery, plaintive voice.

I see a screen door, with jagged tears in the

metal netting. And behind the screen door

a woman is standing. White hair haloing a shadowed face.

My roses. Don’t hurt my roses.

The voice is thin, worried. Unearthly.

She moves toward me, her gnarled hands

reaching through the screen like it’s not there.

For just a moment I believe she
is
a ghost.

But then I see she is reaching through the rips in the screen.

A real-life old woman in a shapeless nightgown.

I am suddenly ashamed.

This is a person, a living breathing person

whose flowers we’ve ruined.

I’m sorry,
I whisper and back away.

She opens the screen door,

goes through, letting it fall shut behind her

with a sharp thunking sound.

I keep moving backward. She follows me

down the path. But she stops abruptly

in front of the first broken pot.

She crouches beside it.

And then I see her face crumple,

her mouth gaping open.

I hear a high-pitched wailing,

so agonized and unearthly that at first

I don’t realize it’s coming from her.

MOTHER!
shouts another voice, urgent, coming from inside the house.

My heart starts pounding.

Oh god.

What have I done?

MAXIE

When Brendan sticks

his gun

up through the moonroof

and deliberately lets off

two shots,

my whole body goes

numb.

The shots are loud,

painfully

deafeningly

loud.

I can see Felix’s lips move,

but can barely hear

the words.

He reaches over

and takes hold of my

ice-cold hand.

Put the gun away, Brendan,
I hear Anil say through the buzzing in my ears.

His voice is strong,

level.

Brendan swivels his head around

to look back

at Anil.

What’s wrong, Paki? Did I scare you?
he asks, voice mocking.

Suddenly the door next to Felix

opens

and Chloe’s there.

Her face is crumpled,

wet with

tears.

I cut my foot,
she says.