The Ghostly Grammar Boy

by Sandra Thompson

CHAPTER FIVE

  I crammed another piece of garlic bread into my mouth and tried to ignore the painful fullness of my stomach.

  'Thanks, Dad. This garlic bread is delicious.' I forced out a smile oozing with half-chewed bread.

  And I wonder why I don't have a boyfriend.

  To my horror, Dad had decided to go all out for dinner tonight. He'd specially cooked my favourite meal—spaghetti bolognaise with garlic bread—in what he called a 'back to school meal of doom'. Okay, so I know spag bol doesn't sound that fancy, but cooking isn't exactly my parents' favourite pastime. When Dad's not working at the Department of Commerce as an economist, he's modifying his kayak in the garage; and Mum, well, she's a workaholic lawyer. So neither of them has much time for cooking. Which could explain why I'm addicted to sugary junk foods. At least, that's what I tell myself.

  Don't get me wrong, though. The reason I was horrified at Dad's efforts was not because I didn't appreciate his lame (but touching) theme of doom or because I didn't enjoy the pasta that was so overcooked and mushy I could squish it together and make sculptures out of it. The problem was that when I got home from stalking Alan, I'd been so hungry—and, I'll admit, a little depressed that this school year wasn't working out according to my plans—that I'd enjoyed a fondue party for one. In other words, I'd secretly snacked on a block of old cooking chocolate that I'd melted in the microwave. Needless to say, I was not hungry when Dad called me down for dinner.

  I was doing a valiant job of being an appreciative daughter, though, and was wolfing my food down despite my fullness. I should get a medal for such personal sacrifice. Or at least a guaranteed position on the Biggest Loser.

  I'd just managed to swallow my previous mouthful and was about to shove another piece of garlic bread into my mouth when Mum turned her probing eyes towards me. I froze, mid-shove. The inquisition was about to start. Mum always seemed to think she was still in court at the dinner table. Unlike other mothers, my mum gets separation anxiety when she's away from her job, rather than away from her children. Sometimes when she's arguing with Dad she even accidentally says, 'Objection, your honour!' Poor Mum, I feel embarrassed for her. So far this meal, I'd been lucky enough to escape her grilling, thanks to the fact that my brother brought a friend over, so her attention had been diverted.

  And for good reason. Brett's friend was H-O-T. He was tall, but not lanky-skinny-gross tall. He was tanned golden brown, but not in a prematurely-wrinkly-in-a-few-years kind of way. His skin glowed as if there was no other way in the world it could have been any other colour. He had classical good looks—like a statue from ancient Greece. His blond, curly hair sprang out from his head without drawing attention away from his bright blue eyes. His nose was slightly large, but it complimented his square, manly jaw. But definitely the best thing about him was his toned, muscular body.

  The problem was, Brett's friend definitely knew that he was good-looking. Unfortunately, he was so hot that even the arrogance that oozed out of him was not turning me off, and I couldn't help staring at him as I ripped at the piece of garlic bread with my teeth. Brett had introduced him as Shane, 'a mate from rugby'. I'd never met him before, but I was pretty sure I recognised his name from somewhere.

  'Fiona, how was school today?' Mum interrupted my thoughts.

  Mum looked like an older version of Ella and me. Her expertly dyed hair was a lustrous chocolate colour, showing no hint of the grey that underlay it. Like us, Mum's eyes crinkled and flattened when she smiled, and the edges of her eyes were lined with happy crow’s feet. The only thing we hadn't inherited from mum was her small button nose. It was a shame because I infinitely preferred it to my pointy upturned version. Right now, her brown eyes were wide with interest.

  'Hot,' I replied in what I promise you was not a Freudian slip betraying my attraction to Shane. Come on, my teenage hormones aren't that bad.

  I may have imagined it, but I swear Shane raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at me. His pretentious look reminded me of Carly at the ice cream shop. In a flash, I remembered where I'd heard the name before. Shane was the guy Carly had asked Brett about! Now that I saw how handsome he was, I wasn't surprised that Carly had been so interested in him. He was just the sort of accessory that she liked to hang off her arm.

  'What's happening with your swimming lessons?' Mum continued her interrogation.

  'Business at the pool is slow. My only regular classes are on Mondays.'

  'Well you need to focus on your school work anyway,' Mum began. I could tell she was gearing up for another one of her classic lectures on my potential that shouldn't go to waste. Easy for her to say. I mean, I'm sure I could be a highly successful businesswoman and supermum too. Oh, yeah, apart from the fact that I'm a freak who can speak to the dead.

  I decided to cut her off early before she got started. Once she begins, it's difficult to get her to stop. Believe me, I've tried.

  'Hey, did you guys hear about that guy Chris who died this summer?' I asked.

  Brett answered quickly. 'You mean the one from the grammar school, same year as me?' He directed an imperceptible wink at me as he replied. He was well aware of where Mum was headed, and he wanted to distract her before she directed the lecture at him too.

  Before I could answer, Shane's superior drawl cut in.

  'You'd be thinking of Chris Reynolds, forward for the Under 18s rep union team. The guy was a rubbish player. Constantly wanting me to pass him the ball; and when I did, against my better judgement, he'd always stuff it up. I reckon he finally realised what a useless player he was and topped himself.'

  I felt my face going red. I mean, I know better than anyone else that being dead doesn't make you a better person than you were, but still, Shane had really pushed a button. It was disgusting the way he so casually speculated about Chris' death. He had no qualms about backstabbing him, and Chris had no chance to defend himself.

  'Hang on man, that's a bit rough,' Brett cut in, thankfully, before I said something I would have regretted. 'I always thought he was an awesome player.'

  'Maybe you hogged the ball for too long and then Chris was in the wrong position when you passed it to him.' I defended Chris, perhaps a little too assertively, considering I'd supposedly never met the guy.

  Shane looked at me. His eyes flashed with anger momentarily before his face transformed. He gave an easy laugh that somehow didn't quite have me convinced.

  'Maybe you're right.'

  'So did you know him from rugby as well, Brett?' I asked. It's hard to keep up with Brett's sporting level. He's always in one top league or another but, as far as I could remember, Brett was in the Under 18s rep rugby union team.

  'Yeah, he was in my team last year but I didn't know him that well. He was a nice enough bloke. I always felt sorry for him, though. He seemed kind of sad.'

  I sat up straighter in my chair. Chris had told me he'd been really happy before he died. It didn't fit with what Brett had observed.

  'Why did he seem sad?' I asked.

  'I dunno,' Brett answered vaguely. He thought silently for a moment. 'I guess he was a bit lonely. His parents never showed up to watch his games. Then this one time his mum finally came to watch him play. You could tell Chris was really happy about it, but she didn't even look at him the whole time. She was watching—'

  'Me,' Shane interrupted smugly. 'She was watching me instead.'

  'It's true,' Brett agreed. 'She couldn't keep her eyes off Shane. Everyone was talking about it. When Shane scored a try, she went hysterical.'

  'Cried her eyes out,' Shane added with a smirk. 'I guess she recognises true talent when sees it. Chris was livid of course.'

  'He stormed off and refused to play for the rest of the game, the poor guy,' Brett said.

  'He didn't want to be shown up in front of his mum.'

  I smothered the urge to roll my eyes at Shane's conceited explanation. I could understand why Chris had been mad. My parents have always been really supportive of my activities, even to the
point of being stifling; but I could imagine that if they'd been like Chris' parents—neglectful and disinterested—I'd be pretty excited the first time they'd ever shown an interest in me. Then if Shane had swooped in and stolen my limelight, I'd probably have stormed off as well. Still, it was pretty strange behaviour from Chris' mum—to cry hysterically just because Shane scored a try.

  'Do you know how Chris died?' I asked Brett.

  'Yeah. I heard that he got really drunk one night and crashed his car,' Brett replied as he reached over for another piece of garlic bread. That was consistent with Chris' story at least.

  Dad picked up the bread plate after Brett had helped himself and offered Shane another piece. Shane dismissed the bread with a slight shake of his head.

  'That's such a sad waste of a young life,' Dad said. Despite his white hair and slightly sun-wearied skin, Dad looked good for his age. He had the body of a thirty-five-year-old, his hair was thick, and his green eyes were always dancing with energy. I suspected his obsession with kayaking might have something to do with it.

  Proving yet again that he could twist any topic into a conversation about kayaking, Dad continued, 'He had so much life ahead of him. I don't know what's with young people these days, frittering away their lives binge drinking when they could be out on the water.'

  I jumped up suddenly. 'I'll clear the plates, shall I?' I frantically started grabbing plates. Don't get the wrong idea. I'm not usually so helpful as to volunteer myself for housework. It's just that once Dad gets onto his favourite topic, we're all in for it. If I didn't start clearing the plates now, we'd be stuck here all night while he described every detail of his latest Eskimo roll or reshaped kayak sail.

  'Thanks, Fiona,' Mum smiled at me as she handed me her plate. Sometimes I suspect that she encourages Dad to get onto the topic of kayaking because she knows it makes me spring into action to clear the dishes.

  I walked into the kitchen and…

  Crash! I suddenly dropped the plates into the sink when I was jabbed in my sides by a pair of playful hands.

  'He's hot,' Ella growled in my ear. She leant against the kitchen bench and twirled her hair around her finger. 'You should get his number,' she suggested.

  'I'm okay … just dropped a few things!' I called out to my family in the dining room. I suddenly turned on the tap and directed the spray at Ella.

  'That's not funny, Ella!' I hissed. In a superhumanly fast defensive move, Ella transformed from opaque to transparent. The water from the tap passed right through her and landed on the kitchen floor. Now I would have to clean it up, but it was worth it. I'd managed to surprise her, and that's one thing I rarely achieve.

  'I'm surprised you still find him hot after what he said about your dearly departed boyfriend,' I whispered to Ella as I wiped the floor with a paper towel. Ella was standing in the puddle, the water running through her translucent form. Instead of wiping around her I wiped the wet towel up her leg. Since I can touch ghosts, and the towel was in my hand, Ella was able to feel the slimy surprise, despite her current translucent form.

  'Fiona!' she squealed and disappeared. Success!

  I looked up. Shane was carrying plates into the kitchen.

  'Need some help?' he drawled sarcastically. Actually, I probably did need help, but I didn't need his superior attitude.

  'Nah, I'm okay,' I replied, 'Just clumsy, that's all.'

  Shane stood close to me as he placed his plates in the sink. I could smell a faint whiff of his cologne. My stomach jolted slightly. He smelt really good. Shane reached his golden, muscular arm out across in front of me to turn on the tap. I was transfixed. He was standing so close to me that I could feel the radiation of his body heat. I stopped breathing to make sure he couldn't smell my garlic breath.

  I needed to pull myself together. This was shameful. But believe me, he was really handsome. And when you've never had a boy even touch you in a non-friend way before, well, you've got to appreciate these moments.

  Shane took the dish cloth from my hand. As he grabbed it, his hand touched mine in a way that was not an accident. I breathed in sharply and hoped he hadn't noticed. Shane was looking at me squarely in the eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing and, embarrassingly, he could see precisely the effect it was having on me.

  Suddenly, thankfully, I came to my senses. This guy was a real player. He was so presumptuous —swaggering in here and touching my hand, self-assured about the effect it would have on me. I whipped my hand away and turned around, pretending to be busy cleaning, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in my stomach.

  Unfortunately, all the dishes were already in the sink, and Shane had the cloth. There was nothing to clean! I started furiously arranging the bottles in Mum's herb and spice collection to cover my embarrassment.

  Shane raised his eyebrows in amusement, then walked slowly and deliberately over to where I was standing. I glared at him warningly. Unfortunately, Shane must have misread my look. Instead of backing off, he stepped even closer towards me. I had to reverse right into the bench to avoid pressing up against him. He then placed his hands on either side of me, and began to wipe the benchtop. I was effectively trapped in his cleaning embrace. He looked at me deliberately then, slowly and purposefully, leant his whole body into mine so that his chest was pressing against my chest.

  I had no idea what to do. Unfortunately, his warm, solid chest felt amazing against me, and my heart was beating faster than when I'm on one of Lara's torture runs.

  While I was still frozen in shock, pathetically holding my garlicky breath, Shane leaned in and whispered in my ear.

  'Sorry, I need to clean the bench behind you and you're in my way. I hope you don't mind.'

  Aargh! That was it. Whispering in my ear like he was the god of romance! It was too much, even for me in my weakened, confused state. Annoyance spurring me into action, I pushed aggressively on his chest and moved him away from me. Unfortunately, not before I realised how hard and toned his chest felt under my hands.

  'I'm happy to move out of your way. Warn me next time so I can stay clear.' I glared at him.

  'Sure,' he replied casually. 'You know, Fiona, you'd be a lot less uptight if you just admitted that you like it when I get in your personal space.'

  I felt my face heating up in humiliation and anger. For once, I was at a loss for words. No matter how good-looking this guy was, he was still smug and manipulative. And he was making me look like a drooling, dithering fool.

  Before I had a chance to stutter a comeback, Shane stepped towards me again. He reached out, grabbed my upper arm, pulled me in. He put his mouth near my ear and whispered in his deep voice again.

  'Let me take you out. Then you can have me in your personal space whenever you want.'

  And there you have it. The very first time I'd been asked out by a guy (if you don't count Rodney Hoffman's play date in year one). Not exactly how I'd imagined it. I mean, sure, in my imagination the guy was hot, but he was also a half-decent human being, which Shane clearly was not.

  Unexpectedly, Shane released me and jumped away guiltily. Brett had entered the kitchen.

  'What's going on in here?' He looked from Shane to me, and he did not look impressed. I wondered how much he'd seen. Typical. The last thing I needed was for my brother to see how his arrogant friend had managed to take my breath away. I blushed even more. Brett probably already thought I was weird for not having a boyfriend without him seeing me salivating over the first guy to walk through the door.

  'Not much, man. Your sister and I were just chatting.' Shane replied casually.

  'Yeah, we'd just finished our conversation.' I added forcefully, giving Shane my best death stare.

  Shane shrugged his shoulders.

  'Okay, I guess that's my cue to leave.' He slapped Brett on the back as he walked out of the kitchen. 'Thanks for dinner man. See you at training. And thank your olds for me. I'll see myself out.'

  Brett fixed me with a piercing gaze, his arms crossed in front of his
chest. I avoided his eyes, noncommittally. Surely there was no way he could hear my heart hammering in my chest from the mixture of both excitement and anger that I was feeling right now.

  Brett's gazed softened. 'Don't take this the wrong way, Fiona, but you should stay away from Shane. He's a good mate, but he doesn't treat girls well.'

  Spare me. This was more embarrassing than Mum's birds and bees talk. I had to stop Brett before this got any more humiliating. I didn't understand how he could even think that I was in danger of falling for his womanising, conceited friend.

  'Don't worry. I am NOT interested in Shane. I don't even know why you're friends with such an idiot,' I interrupted Brett.

  Brett looked relieved.

  'Good. Don't get me wrong. He's a good mate. He's always been nice to me, and he's really generous with his money. He's a great rugby player, and he works hard at school. But you wouldn't want to get on his bad side. He was a real jerk to Chris when he was alive. Had it in for him for no apparent reason. So just stay away from him.'

  It was sweet that Brett was being protective, but I didn't need dating advice from my brother. In fact, I didn't need dating advice from anyone, since my love life was non-existent anyway. Shane whispering sleazily in my ear was the most momentous thing that had ever happened—and that didn't count because I wasn't even interested in him.

  Something struck me, though. For Brett to even mention it at all, Shane must have been pretty nasty to Chris. Brett was so easy going and positive by nature that he rarely spoke ill of people, even if they deserved it. If Chris was being bullied by Shane, Chris' life was hardly the rosy picture of popularity he'd painted last night. His home life while his mother was alive also didn't seem to be as happy as he'd suggested. Maybe Chris hadn't been drugged at all. Maybe he'd driven into the tree on purpose. Or maybe it was Shane, not the step-monster who'd had it in for Chris.

  Either way, I hoped I could find out before Canberra's pesky ghost population recruited any new members. It might increase Ella's dating options, but more ghosts certainly made my life more difficult. I had to figure out what was going on before Alan ended up dead like Chris.

  'I get it,' I sighed. 'I already told you, I have no interest in Shane.'

  And with that, I hurried out of the kitchen before I could humiliate myself any further.