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“Okay, I see your point,” Mr. Finkel said. “Tell him you know he had peanut butter on toast for breakfast.”

“That's better.”

“Who are you talking to?” Andrew asked, frowning.

“Your dad.”

He pushed back in his chair and reached for his drink, looking like he was going to get up and leave.

“Wait,” I said. “I can prove it. He says you had peanut butter on toast for breakfast.”

“So? That's hardly proof.”

“Tell him you know he just got new skates for his birthday.”

“Oh,” I said. “I didn't know it was your birthday. Your dad says you got new skates.”

Andrew frowned. “That's still not proof. Everyone on my hockey team knows I got new skates.”

He pushed back his chair again and really got up this time.

“Wait,” I said, my voice squeaky.

His face scrunched up and his lip quivered a bit. “I don't know what kind of joke this is, Lilah, but it's not funny. My dad's dead. Okay? Not. Funny.”

My heart was racing, and it was like my brain was melting. I couldn't think of what to say to make him believe me. “I know, but…”

“Tell him about the Spider-Man boxers,” his dad said.

“I can't do that,” I hissed at his father.

Andrew shook his head and turned to leave.

“Andrew! Wait!” I yelled as a last chance. “I know about your underwear!”

Funny, that just made him leave faster. And all I could do was watch in horror.

After he was out the door, I glanced at Dolly, who seemed to be having a seizure of some sort and I was about to jump up and help her until I realized she was laughing.

At me.

Like, killing herself over my humiliation.

“Uh, Lilah, what on earth was that?” Alex asked from beside me.

I looked up at my friend, who was slurping on her iced cap.

I fought the tears of anger and frustration that wanted desperately to leave my eyes. I couldn't cry and let Dolly see. After a deep breath, I said, “That,
my friend Alex, was both the beginning and the bitter end of my career as a medium.”

“Harsh,” she said, the straw skidding along the bottom of her empty cup as she sucked up the last little bit of her drink.

“Shut it,” I said. “This was your idea.”

“
That
, whatever it was, was not my idea. And what was that about his underwear?”

I hid my face in my hands. “How am I supposed to go back to school? How am I supposed to face him in class now? Oh, Alex, what have I done? I never dreamed for a second that he wouldn't believe me.”

“There, there,” my grandmother said.

I lifted my head up and wiped at my eyes. “Oh
now
you show up, Bubby. Couldn't you have helped me?!”

“
Tsk
, Lilah, don't be mad at me. I can't do everything for you.”

“Maybe the underwear thing was my fault,” Mr. Finkel said. At least he sounded guilty.

“Ya think?” I said, and then sighed because it was too late to do anything about it now. “I ruined it, Bubby. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Don't worry, Lilah. It's not ruined. You'll just have to try again to convince him.”

“And I promise, I won't bring up his underwear again,” his father said.

I looked up at Alex.

“What?” she said, and I remembered that she couldn't hear the conversation going on around me.

“Never mind, let's get out of here.” I got up and tossed the rest of my drink into the trash. I walked past Dolly, avoiding looking at her.

“That was smooth,” she said.

I started to turn around, but Alex pushed me from behind toward the door.

“Not worth it,” she said to me and then she hollered, “No one cares what Ding Dongs think, anyway! Oh wait, wrong snack cake, Ms. Dolly Madison!”

We both snickered as we bolted out of the café.

It didn't make up for the horror of everything, but at least I didn't die of embarrassment on the threshold of the café.

Thank you, Alex.

Thursday. Math class. Makeup test.
Blech.

And if that wasn't bad enough, I had to walk right past Andrew to get to my seat. I didn't look anywhere near him and managed to get to my chair without incident, although I felt my cheeks heat up terribly.

Because I yelled about his underwear in a public place.

Ugh, could anything be more humiliating?

The one good thing about having to make up the math test was that while everyone else got to work ahead in the module, I had to sit at the very back of the class by myself, which meant no chance of any communication between me and Andrew. I totally did not want to talk to him. Mostly. You know, unless
it was for him to tell me he'd had a sudden bout of amnesia and had no idea what we even talked about at the café and then ask me to the upcoming seventh-grade dance. Although who was I trying to kid? That was never going to happen.

One crisis at a time—back to the dire situation at hand. I'd kind of hoped Mr. Burrows would have just assumed I'd already taken the test and had, of course, gotten it perfect, but no, he had a great memory and remembered quite clearly that I had not taken the test.

And I guess he probably knew there was no way I would ace it, because I'd never aced anything in math.

Especially when it had word problems, which just made my brain ache.

Take this one, for example:

Cindy has $45.00. She goes to the mall and buys lipstick and then she buys shampoo, which is half the price of the lipstick. She then spends half of what she has left on a purse, leaving her with $15.00.

How much did the shampoo cost?

How much did the lipstick cost?

I mean, come on. The
real
problem here is what shade is the lipstick? And what season is it, because
that will determine whether she is to wear a lipstick or a lip
gloss
. And is the purse leather? Because I'm not really sure how I feel about leather, you know, PETA-wise, but I do know that leather is way more expensive than the fake stuff, so I'm not even sure if Cindy really has enough to buy all these items.

“Please, like I will ever need to twist my brain like this,” I mumbled as I doodled a purse in the margin of the test paper.

“Want the answer?” someone asked.

I looked around. No one was looking at me.

“Want the answer?” the voice asked again.

Did I want the answer? Suddenly, I was faced with an ethical dilemma. Of course I wanted the answer. But was it right to use my powers to cheat?

No, it absolutely was not. And even though it would be nice to get a hundred on a math test (for once), I would feel guilty and hate myself for having cheated.

“No, thank you,” I said quietly. “I'll figure it out on my own.”

“Fine, fail your test then. I was just trying to help.”

“Who are you?” I asked. “You're very rude.”

“Rufus. And I may be rude, but I'm rude with all the answers. I'm just trying to help you. Just like I wanted to help you haunt people, and I also helped you get back at Dolly in the bathroom.”

“What do you mean?”

“You didn't think she fell all by herself, did you?”

I gasped, not liking this particular spirit at all. “That's not helping me! That's horrible! Please go away.”

“Oh, come on, she wasn't really hurt. I was just having a little fun with her so she would leave you alone.”

Even though he was trying to defend me, I didn't like this ghost's methods, and I didn't see how tripping someone was just “having a little fun.” “I don't care. Please leave me alone.”

“Good girl, Lilah,” my grandmother said out of the blue.

“Who was that?”

“Just some mischievous young boy who doesn't seem to know right from wrong.”

I shook my head.

“Now, Lilah, I think you need to get moving on that test. The period is almost over.”

I groaned and returned to the problem at hand, wishing I was at the mall shopping instead of sitting in class just figuring out a problem about shopping.

Ironic, huh?

After math class (Mr. Burrows marked my test on the spot—I got a pass, although barely, but I was still kind of proud of myself for not cheating even though
I had the chance), I walked down the hall toward English when a sign on the wall grabbed my attention.

EIGHTH GRADE FASHION SHOW

P
ROCEEDS TO THE
C
ANCER
S
OCIETY

$4—N
EXT
T
HURSDAY

7
PM IN THE
A
UDITORIUM

Hmmm.
That sounded like it would be fun. I kind of wished I was already in eighth grade so I could be involved.

Then I remembered that Andrew's father had passed away from cancer. Maybe if I helped out or sold a lot of tickets, he'd see that I really did care about him. And I'd be helping out a great cause so that maybe someday a kid like him wouldn't lose his dad. Or a great guy like Mr. Robertson wouldn't lose his girlfriend and bandmate.

Yes, that's a great idea
, I thought,
I really want to help!

“What are you looking at?” a voice said from behind me. I knew it wasn't a ghost. I turned to face Dolly Madison.

“I'm looking at a sign, it's not illegal.”

“Don't bother coming to the fashion show,” she said.

“Why? You can't stop me.”

“It's only for the cool kids. Not kids who wear stupid cargo pants. Or yell out random things about guys' underwear.”

I got really mad and wanted to punch her in the nose, but she was a lot taller than me, and I wasn't sure if I could reach. And it's not right to hit people. Oh, and I'm pretty sure she'd kick my butt.

So instead of punching her in the nose, I said. “You think you own the fashion show?”

“Uh, I'm running it, dork. So yeah, I do think I own the fashion show.”

Okay, so that kind of backfired on me, but still, I said, “Well, I hope it's a total bomb and that you fall on your face. Although, of course, you'll have your humongous boobs to break your fall.”

I heard sudden laughter and it sounded like a boy's, but I didn't have time to even think about it, because Dolly looked like she was getting ready to kill me. I turned and ran away from her as fast as I could—around the corner and into the bathroom—so she wouldn't catch me. When I was in a stall, I quickly realized I wasn't alone.

“I can help you,” a boy's familiar voice said.

“Rufus?”

“The one and only.”

“You shouldn't be in the girls' bathroom!”

“I'm dead, it doesn't matter. Do you want my help or not?”

“Help with what?”

“To get back at Dolly.”

My stomach flip-flopped, but he definitely had my attention. “What do you mean? How? I don't want to hurt her.”

“No, nothing like that. Why don't we give her a taste of her own medicine? She's not the only one who can be mean!”

I knew it probably wasn't a good idea, but I couldn't help myself when I asked, “What can we do?”

“You just wait and see!”

“Do you promise you won't hurt her?”

But then he was gone, and no amount of coaxing would get him to come back and tell me his plan. He did say he wouldn't trip her, right? He knew I wasn't into really hurting people. I hoped.

I couldn't wait to talk to Alex; I needed to tell her that we were SO going to that fashion show and we were going to make sure we sold a ton of tickets—that Dolly with her attitude and boobs was not going to stop me from doing
anything
. Especially now that I had the spirit world on my side.

“What do you think he's going to do?” Alex asked after class when we were at our lockers.

I shrugged. “He wouldn't say. What can a ghost do to a mean girl?”

Alex got a wicked look on her face. “I'm sure just about anything. I can't wait.”

My stomach fluttered a little. “I hope he doesn't hurt her. You know, really hurt her. I told him not to, but he tripped her that time.”

“Please,” Alex said. “I thought you wanted revenge. Maybe he'll unhook her bra in class or spill some mashed potatoes on her in the cafeteria, or maybe… Oh,
shhhh
. Here comes Andrew!”

I wanted to jump into my locker and close the door. But I didn't and just turned away as Andrew walked up and started working on his lock.

“Hi, Andrew,” Alex said. I could have killed her.

“Oh, uh, hi, Alex.”

“Say hi to Andrew, Lilah.” Now I
really
was going to kill her.

“Andrew's not talking to me, Alex,” I hissed.

“Oh?” she said loudly. “Why is that, I wonder?”

Andrew slammed his locker closed. “Because she's a liar, that's why.”

Right then, my heart broke open in two pieces. I would have run away if I thought my legs would have carried me.

Alex gasped and I knew it wasn't part of her act. “What?”

“She tried to tell me she's talked to my dad, my
dead
dad. As if. It's a stupid, mean trick she's trying to play on me.”

Tears escaped my eyes.

“It's no trick,” Alex said. “She's for real.”

“Whatever.”

Alex turned to me. “Tell him; tell him something that will convince him.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

“Oh, Lilah,” my grandmother said. “His father's not around. I'm so sorry.”

“Just leave me alone,” Andrew said.

“Wait!” Alex said, grabbing his arm. She turned to me, “Lilah, say something.”

I had nothing.

Andrew walked away.

During lunch period on Friday, I was sitting alone in the cafeteria, eating my salad and wishing Alex didn't have an orthodontist appointment. The rest of our friends had gymnastics club and I hated eating alone, but Alex had said she'd probably be back by lunch and to wait for her, so there I sat.