Ghostcoming!

by Orli Zuravicky

  “You shouldn’t have used my concealer. It was just a little too dark for your complexion, that’s all,” I reply. “Common rookie mistake.”

  “Yes, but notice how we were both rookies and yet I was the only one who looked like she was wearing safari camouflage.”

  “That is amazing,” Mia says, laughing. “I wish I could see pictures!”

  “Luckily, those didn’t follow me here,” Cecily says. “Unless they’re somewhere hidden in my room and I haven’t found them yet!”

  “Oh, we are so looking for them when we get back,” I add.

  We turn the corner onto Death Row, and the view is exhilarating. Tons of kids are out on the boardwalk, and the beach is just to the right of all the action. The street is peppered with shops and restaurants, the bowling alley, Ghostbusters Theater, Cold Reads bookstore, Clairvoyance Café, Casper’s Arcade, the Witch’s Closet clothing store, and a bunch of other places with signs too far away for me to see clearly. We didn’t have anything like this near where Cecily and I grew up in California. I mean, the beach was pretty close, but who had the time to go there, with ballet taking up every moment of my life! We had a movie theater, too, but that was it. This? IS AMAZING. We actually have a place to have fun and chill with friends. To go shopping. To get a coffee and read a great book. To go out on dates …

  Assuming I ever actually get asked out on a date, which is still totally questionable. I’ve never been asked out before, so I have exactly ZERO knowledge about how it works. Cecily had a boyfriend this year. It only lasted for a few months, but still. She knows about all those firsts.

  I’ve never even gotten a present from someone I liked. In fact, I’ve never even gotten so much as a note passed to me in class from someone I like. I mean, Felix always gave me something for my birthday, but that doesn’t count. It was Felix, so … no warm, romantic fuzzies there.

  Friendship fuzzies aren’t the same.

  “This place is awesome,” I tell Mia. “You are so lucky! You and Trey must spend every waking moment of your afterlife here together.”

  “It’s cool, for sure, but I’m all about diversity,” she says, as we make our way through the crowded street in the direction of Banchee’s. “There are a ton of great hidden spots in Limbo. I’ll have to give you a tour of all my secret gems. As long as you don’t surrender them to the enemy?”

  “It’s a deal,” I say. Cecily nods her head in agreement.

  “While we’re on the subject of enemies, before we step into the lioness’s den,” I begin, “maybe you can enlighten us about why Georgia’s mission in death is to ruin my afterlife?”

  “Okay, so here’s what I know,” Mia says. “Trey told me that a couple of hours before you crossed over, Ms. Keaner sent Colin a Holomail saying that he would be tutoring you. A Holomail is basically a hologram email with your details and a 3D image of you so he’d know who you were. He opened it in front of Georgia, so you just popped right out of the Tabulator while doing some superhuman ballet move where you basically jumped up to the sky, and his reaction was, what’s the word … uncensored? I’m pretty sure his exact words were, ‘Wow, she’s amazing!’ Trey said he had to physically pick Colin’s jaw up off the ground.”

  “Oh my god, really? It, like, actually fell off?”

  “What? No, it didn’t, he didn’t mean … he was just being dramatic.”

  “Oh, well, I don’t know. Ghosts can do weird things,” I say. “I saw some guy’s head literally explode in the hallway the other day!”

  “But that’s, like, a trick. A jaw falling off is just bad engineering. Anyway, that’s what happened. And obviously, Georgia didn’t like that too much, so basically that’s why she wants you dead. Again.”

  “He said, ‘She’s amazing’?” Cecily repeats. “Ouch. Sorry, it’s just, well … I mean, ouch, right?”

  “Yup,” I agree. “If I were his girlfriend, total ouch. I would be just as annoyed as she is.”

  Because it’s true. As horrible as she’s been to me, I have to admit that’s a 100 percent un-fun thing to hear your boyfriend say about another girl.

  Boys are dumb. Even dead ones.

  “Yeah, so she wasn’t your biggest fan even before she met you,” Mia continues.

  “Well, that explains my frosty welcome in the admissions office, and everything since then, pretty much.”

  “She should be killing you with kindness,” Cecily pipes in. “That’s what I would be doing.”

  “Ha-ha, killing me. With kindness. Get it?”

  “Oh my god, I’m a genius!” Cecily cries out.

  “So wise, and yet, such crazy hair!”

  “Very funny, Lou.”

  “Lou?” Mia asks, and I nod. “I like it,” she says.

  “Maybe if I really were a Lou, I wouldn’t be dealing with such ghostly girl drama!”

  “Well, brace yourself for more of it, ’cause we’re going in,” Mia announces. “Ready?”

  We pull open the doors and go inside.

  In my head, it’s pitch-black and there’s smoke everywhere and wind billowing around us, blowing our hair up like we’re in a music video, and when we step out of the darkness and into the spotlight everyone stops what they’re doing and stares. And Beyoncé’s “Standing on the Sun” is playing in the background.

  But what really happens is we just go inside and no one notices. Like, no one.

  I see the gang in a lane to the right and we head over. I spy Georgia and Colin kind of off to the side, talking privately. As we get closer, it looks less like a romantic cuddle and more like an argument, and I immediately tense up and pray that it’s not about me.

  “Well, if it isn’t the famous ghost who named our band,” Jessie says, spotting us. “Glad you could join us. We’re short one person for even teams.”

  “Happy to be of service,” Mia says. “What team am I on?”

  “Team Not-Gonna-Win,” Jessie replies, smiling.

  “Okay, so not yours, then?”

  “You, Trey, Marcus, and Colin are the Beliebers, and Georgia, Chloe, Jonah, and I are the Minaj.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  While the players get situated, Cecily and I head over to the benches behind the lanes, where we can watch and gossip without being heard.

  “Do you think they’re fighting about what happened on the beach yesterday?” Cecily asks me.

  “Why would they be fighting about that?”

  “Because … I kind of said something to her today and I completely spaced on telling you. I’m sorry—it just slipped my mind!”

  “What did you say?” I ask, excited and nervous.

  “Well, I asked her what happened at the beach, if she saw anyone, but when I said it, I stared deeply into her eyes to let her know that I knew there wasn’t really anyone else there.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She said she didn’t see anyone and that you probably just lost control of your powers and didn’t know you were doing it, that she sees that happen all the time with new ghosts.”

  “Oh, please!” I cry out.

  “I know! So then I said, if it was someone trying to mess with you, we’d figure out who did it. And then Colin showed up and said, ‘Figure out who did what?’ so I told him—”

  “What do you mean, you told him?! You told him what?”

  “I told him we were talking about who could have done that to you and nonchalantly mentioned that Georgia happened to be there all by herself for, like, a pretty long time, while I was floating all over the beach. And I said that whoever did it was someone who obviously has a lot of issues with you, then I asked him if he could think of anyone off the top of his head who might not like you so much, and Georgia’s face went white. Like, she might have even lost some solidity, no joke. And then Colin looked at her like, ‘Is there something you’re not telling me?’ I think he’s onto her, I really do.”

  “Cece, you’re the best, do you know that?” I say, sporting the biggest s
mile. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

  “Of course I did, you’re my best friend. And you’re the one who said this is our shot at a do-over, right? So I’m taking full advantage!”

  Suddenly, I realize: I may have lost Felix in all this afterlife stuff, but I gained Cecily. Now I have all these questions I never asked her because of the whole recital thing, like what actually happened with her boyfriend, Parker, was she really sad, and did she have a friend to talk to when it was all happening. I want to tell her I’m sorry I didn’t make it to her birthday party a few months ago, and that I’ll never miss another birthday—or should I say deathday—again.

  But all of a sudden, my body starts to feel tingly, and I lose my train of thought. It’s like a current of electricity is rushing through it. I feel heavier, but in a good way, and the smooth, hard surface of the wooden bench we’ve been pretending to sit on reveals itself beneath me as the space between the wood and my legs vanishes.

  I’m actually sitting!!! I’m not pretending to sit—I’m sitting!!

  Like a boss.

  “Whoa, look at you!” Cecily says.

  “I know, right? I never thought I’d be this happy to sit again in my life!”

  “Oh, yeah, that, too,” she says, “but I mean, look at your body!”

  I look.

  “Oh my god, I’m solid again! I’m like a real live person, only dead. But alive. You know what I mean, I’m whole again!! I can’t believe it!”

  “That’s amazing. You’re advancing so quickly,” Cecily says, and I can tell she’s getting anxious about her own progress, or lack thereof.

  “You will, too, I promise. Tomorrow it’s you and me, on the beach. I’ll teach you everything I know. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  “Strike!” Marcus calls out loudly, and we pause our conversation to watch him do a victory lap that’s a cross between the chicken dance and a baby breakdancing. It looks ridiculous, and we can’t help but crack up.

  Then Georgia’s up, and I feel my face get hot. She’s all flirty walking down the lane with her ponytail swaying back and forth, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Part of me wants to have a really honest conversation with her and try to peel back the layers of mean so we don’t have to keep going on like this for the rest of our afterlives, but the other part of me wants to roll her into a ball and aim her down the lane at a set of pins as fast and as hard as I can.

  I’m staring intently at her ball, which is rolling straight down the center of the lane, when it suddenly veers off to the left abruptly.

  “Oooh, gutterball!” Marcus calls out. “Sorry, Georgia, better luck next time.”

  “Using powers is against the rules of the game,” Georgia pouts.

  “Come on, Georgie,” Colin says, “are you really going to go there? No one is using powers to ruin your game.”

  “It was headed straight for the pins. Someone clearly interfered.”

  “Yeah, it was headed for the pins until it wasn’t anymore,” Colin continues. “That’s bowling. It happens to all of us.”

  Georgia continues to sulk, but doesn’t say anything else.

  It’s Colin’s turn next. He looks over to where Cecily and I are sitting and gives me a little wave, and I’m pretty sure I start blushing like it’s my job. But then he does a kind of double take, like something he saw made him flinch. I realize that he’s probably shocked to see me in solid form—and sitting down—which is probably why he trips on his way down the lane and rolls his ball diagonally, straight toward the gutter. I keep my eye on the ball, and as I do, it starts slowly veering away from the gutter, back to the center of the lane, and at the last second rolls its way right through all twelve pins. BAM!

  “Come on, tell me Marcus isn’t using his powers to redirect the balls now!” Georgia calls out angrily.

  “You can be a really sore loser, you know that?” Colin says, and goes back to the bench. “I don’t feel like playing anymore.”

  “Looks like trouble in paradise,” Cecily whispers to me. “We should invite Colin out with us to go get ice cream or something. It’s kind of boring just sitting here, anyway.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” I say, but I’m not really focusing on what she’s saying because I think I just discovered who’s actually throwing this game.

  Yours truly.

  On Saturday morning, Cecily and I head out of the dorm to explore the rest of Limbo—or begin exploring it, anyway. First stop is the Clairvoyance Café for breakfast. We’re still not eating completely normally yet, but at this point I can down way more than a smoothie and I can’t wait to get my hands on a—

  “Blueberry muffin and a small hot chocolate with skim milk, right?” the girl behind the counter says, as she starts ringing me up.

  “Uhm, yeah, how did you know that?” I ask, amazed.

  She nonchalantly points to the sign hanging above the counter that reads: WELCOME TO THE CLAIRVOYANCE CAFÉ: IF WE CAN’T PREDICT YOUR ORDER, IT’S ON US!

  Underneath the sign there’s a little counter thingy that says: 103,624,512 CORRECT ORDERS AND COUNTING!

  Mind. Blown.

  “I guess this is where all the A-plus Telepathy students end up working,” I say to Cecily, who has just been told she’ll have a sesame bagel with cream cheese and a small soy latte.

  She chuckles. “All I can say is, they really earn their tips here.”

  We get our orders and walk outside to sit out front so we can ghost watch.

  “This is delish!” I say, biting into the side of my sweet, buttery breakfast treat. “I literally can’t remember the last time I had a blueberry muffin. They’re my fave.”

  “I had one a few weeks ago,” Cecily says. “But it was fat free and gluten free and sugar free, and something else free … I can’t remember.”

  “Taste free?” I suggest.

  “Oh, it was definitely that. So, what are you going to show me today, Teach?”

  “Well, I thought we’d just hang for a bit first, walk around, see the sights. Then we can head down to the beach and I’ll work with you on how to stand. Sound like a plan?”

  “Works for me. Hey, do you think Colin and Georgia are going to break up after what happened last night?”

  “Who knows,” I say, though I can’t help but feel secretly giddy that she’s wondering this, too.

  After I realized I was the one who was fixing the bowling game—accidentally—Cecily and I gracefully took our leave. We grabbed some ice cream on the way home and made it an early night. When we left the Bowl-o-Rama, Georgia and Colin were arguing in the corner. Again.

  “I know she’s horrible and all,” I tell Cecily, “but I don’t think I want to wish the pain of a breakup on anyone. Even her. It feels like that’s the kind of thing karma would pay forward, only in a bad way. Is paying it backward a thing? Anyway, you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, breakups are the worst.”

  “Did you have anyone to help you get through yours with Parker?”

  “Kind of,” Cecily says, but I can tell what she really means to say is no, she’s just too nice to make me feel guilty.

  I feel bad anyway, but I deserve to, so it’s okay.

  “You don’t really feel like talking much when that kind of thing happens, anyway,” she adds.

  “What did happen with you two? Why did you break up?”

  “Because ballet took up too much of my time and he didn’t like being second best.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. Kind of makes you wish he did something really dumb, though, so you could at least be mad at him, doesn’t it?” I know I’ve never had a boyfriend before, but it seems like that would make it easier. Doesn’t it?

  “Totally.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure he would’ve done something dumb eventually. Boys always do.”

  “Good point!” she says, with a smile, and her face brightens.

  I look at her with utter seriousness, and then I say, “I want
you to know that the next time a boy breaks your heart, I will one hundred percent absolutely, positively be there so you can cry pathetically on my shoulder and wipe your snot all over my shirt.”

  “I appreciate that,” she replies, then licks the last bits of cream cheese off her fingers.

  “Lou, if Colin and Georgia do break up, I think you should ask him to Ghostcoming.”

  “Have you lost your mind?!” I cry out.

  “What?” she says innocently, like asking a boy out is no big deal. “I’m just saying, don’t miss your opportunity. If it happens, his head will be all over the place, so you can’t expect him to make the first move, and I think at least one of us should go to the dance with a boy.”

  “Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?”

  “You need to loosen up a little,” she says, thoughtfully. “If you can’t talk to your best friend about this kind of thing, then you can’t talk to anyone. Which means you’re keeping all of your feelings bottled up like a balloon, and one day, you’re just gonna pop.”

  “Is that your professional opinion, Doc?” I joke.

  “Uhm, yes, yes it is. And if you don’t listen to me, I’m going to be writing you a prescription for a whole bottle of I-told-you-so’s soon.”

  “Funny. It’s just … I would love to go with Colin, but what if I ask and he says no? What if he looks at me like I have twelve heads and laughs in my face?”

  “Well, that depends. Do you actually plan on having twelve heads when you ask him? Because that will affect my answer.”

  “You’re a regular comedian today, you know that?” I say. “What did they put in that latte of yours, funny pills?”

  “Look, he’s not going to laugh in your face. The worst that can happen is that he’ll say no, but I’m sure he’ll be nice about it.”

  “Like that makes it any less humiliating?”