Ghostcoming!

by Orli Zuravicky

  “You either ask and have the possibility of getting what you want, or you don’t, and you’ll never know. Those are your options.”

  “How’d you get to be so wise?” I ask.

  “It’s the red hair,” she jokes. “At least you have someone in mind who you could go with.”

  “I’m sure Jessie or Marcus would love to go with you,” I say.

  “Right, because the—what—three words we’ve exchanged since I’ve been here have really made a lasting impression.”

  “You still have a week. Starting Monday, you’ll get your charm on and one of them will ask you for sure.”

  “Marcus is pretty cute,” she says, kind of dreamy-like.

  “Phew! If you said Jessie, we were about to have an intervention.”

  “Ha-ha, no, I’m good thanks. But, I’m not sure. He doesn’t seem to be interested in getting to know me. Maybe I just won’t go,” she continues. “I mean, I can’t even stand or sit yet. There’s no way I’ll be able to change my outfit by the dance on Saturday. At least you are learning how to do things! I bet by Saturday you’ll be totally changed, while I’ll still be stuck hovering over chairs in this silly costume.”

  “Don’t say that. You’ll get there.”

  “Really doesn’t seem like I will.”

  “Why don’t we head over to the beach now and get started? We can always explore later on.”

  “Whatever you say, Teach.”

  * * *

  “Rise and shine!” Cecily sings in my ear. It’s annoying how chipper she is first thing on a Monday morning.

  “Five more minutes,” I say, groggily.

  After a whole weekend of working, I finally manage to help Cecily with standing—but it isn’t easy. I have no idea why things are coming so much more smoothly for me than they are for her, but we can both feel the tension increasing. The moment her feet touched the ground I literally screamed.

  And she’s clearly excited to show off her new skills at school today.

  “You’re going to be late if you don’t get up now,” she warns. “Come on, don’t you want to look all gorg for Colin? Show him all the tricks you learned over the weekend?”

  “What tricks?” I say, throwing a pillow at her for good measure. “I managed to change the color of my tights exactly once, and I only did it because we were in the room and I had all that extra energy. I can’t walk around like that at school or I’ll get in trouble—you know the rules.”

  “Yeah, but the fact that you can do it in the room means that soon, you’ll be able to do it on your own. Trust me, by Saturday you’ll be wearing a prom dress!”

  “You have too much faith in me,” I say.

  “Ye hath too little,” she replies, Shakespeare style. She’s got a lot of classes with the Doppelgängers. I think they’re rubbing off on her.

  When we get to school, we notice immediately that the vibe is, well, weird.

  Everywhere we turn, people are whispering. Some big, juicy piece of gossip is circling around and everyone is feeding on it like a pack of zombies tearing into fresh meat.

  Yikes.

  “Morning!” Mia calls out to us, heading over to where we’re standing. “Boy, oh, boy, did you miss a great aftershow on Friday.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “What happened?”

  “Georgia versus Colin—big middleweight fight. By the end of the weekend, they called it quits. Hence, the gossip mill.”

  “We were wondering … ” I say, a little in shock. “So what actually happened? What were they fighting about?”

  “Colin was angry that she was being such a poor sport about the game and kept accusing her of lying about something that happened on the beach a few days ago. I don’t know the details, but they are officially ‘on a break.’”

  “Now’s your chance,” Cecily whispers to me.

  “Your chance to what?” Mia asks.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” I say.

  Just then the bell rings, and I’m safe for now. I walk off to first period, Famous Apparitions, without another word, mainly because I’m so stunned I can’t formulate a cohesive sentence. Like I just ate ice cream way too fast and my head is angry at me.

  Total brain freeze.

  Class is, surprisingly, interesting enough to make me forget about the Colin and Georgia news for a hot minute. We’re learning about the different famous apparitions who show themselves to people somewhat regularly in infamously haunted places.

  “Remember,” Ms. Roslyn says, “whatever age you cross over in is the age you will remain, so these apparitions always reappear looking the same—no older, no younger—exactly as they were when they passed on.”

  Hold up. Does this mean what I think it means?

  Middle school FOREVER?

  I can’t fathom being in middle school for the rest of my afterlife. I’ve only been here a week and it’s already stressing me out hardcore. Do I ask Colin to the Ghostcoming dance or don’t I? Do I “accidentally” put gum in Georgia’s hair or do I take the high road? (Kidding, kidding! Jeez … ) But seriously, I can’t be this way forever. I’ll start hyperventilating or I’ll explode or I’ll start sweating profusely and get rushed to the nurse’s office (not that that’s happened before, or anything). And none of that is particularly appealing.

  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

  The rest of the day goes by without much excitement—except both Marcus and Jessie announce at lunch that they have secured dates to the dance. Cecily’s face droops like she’s five years old again and just dropped her freshly sprinkled ice cream cone on the ground. I know she was hoping that she would have the week to get to know Marcus and maybe then he would ask her. I try to give her hand a little squeeze under the lunch table, but without the energy in our room, I can’t grab on to her. I feel awful, but I can’t really get any alone time with her at lunch and I don’t see her for the rest of the school day either. We have some classes together on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays we’re like ghosts passing in the night.

  Before I know it the day is over, and it’s time to meet Colin down by the beach for tutoring. We focus on walking, which sounds like it should be a piece of cake once you’ve mastered the art of standing—but it isn’t. It’s hard to explain, but it’s kind of like being in an accident and needing to learn how to use your legs all over again. Floating comes way more naturally, and sure, that can be fun and all, but it’s nice to feel grounded and in control.

  “Just, uhm, try to remember that feeling you had when you first touched the ground,” he says awkwardly, like he’s distracted. “You know, and then, just extend it.” He’s probably thinking of Georgia, and I know off the bat that this lesson isn’t going to get me anywhere.

  Instead of working on walking, I work overtime to make him crack a smile. Right now, he needs that more than I need to walk.

  “So, I gave myself a Mohawk in my room the other day,” I tell him.

  He chuckles. “You what?”

  “You know, just to see if I could. Wanna know how I looked?”

  “How did you look?” he asks, smiling.

  “Incredible, obviously! So good, I’m gonna get my own doll. Ghostpunk Barbie. I can’t believe you even had to ask.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  It’s quiet again, and I’m anxious to fill the silence.

  “Hey, let’s go swimming!” I suggest. The water looks gorgeous and I’m tired of trying so hard to move my feet across the sand. “Maybe the swimming motions will help me learn how to walk?”

  “You know what? That’s actually a brilliant idea, as long as you can feel the water. It might really help you.”

  We jump in in our clothes, and at first I feel nothing. I think of our family vacation to Santa Cruz a few years ago, when my brother Sammy and I went swimming with the sea lions. Mom and Dad took, like, a million pictures and had one of them printed on iPhone cases for each of us, so we’d always remember it. T
he water brushes up against me and slowly I feel it start to stick and seep into my skin, the way a new sponge soaks up water the first time it gets wet. I feel freer than I’ve felt in a long time, and I start dunking under and swirling around, even doing somersaults under the water.

  “Look at you and your fancy moves,” he jokes.

  “What can I say, I’m very talented.”

  “I knew that the moment I saw your photo pop out of my Tabulator.”

  I don’t say anything, partially because I’m embarrassed, and partially because I don’t know how to respond to that. Joking I can do, but once it turns too serious, I’m at a loss.

  Instead, I nervously change the subject. “So, what are you going to be for Ghostcoming?”

  And then I immediately regret it. Well, done, Lucy. Way to remind him that he just broke up with his girlfriend and now whatever famous couple they were going to be has hit a tiny snag.

  “Well, I did know, but, Georgia and I are kind of on a break now, so … yeah.”

  “Right, I’m sorry. I heard about that. I just forgot.”

  Before it can get even more awkward, I decide to distract him by splashing a huge swirl of water directly in his face.

  “Dude, what was that for?” he says, wiping his eyes. I can see his dimple, so I know he’s not mad.

  “I don’t know, I just wondered, how can I pour even more salt onto this guy’s wound, and then it came to me!”

  “Thoughtful,” he says, and splashes me back.

  A water war erupts, and for about ten minutes, it’s on. Then, without a word, we’re both too exhausted to continue, so we just float there for a bit.

  “I’ll probably go anyway, you know, with the guys. I mean, I’m on the football team, so it will look bad if I don’t.”

  “I didn’t know you were on the team,” I say, but I’m not even remotely surprised. I bet Georgia’s a cheerleader.

  Even in afterlife, some things are so predictable.

  “Yeah, well, I do a lot of different things. Anyway, who knows, maybe it will be fun. Do you know what you’re going to be?”

  “Not a clue. But I can’t enter the dance-a-thon by myself, anyway. Need to be in a couple.”

  “Right.”

  And then, I don’t know what comes over me, but something about the breeze and the water and the marathon splash battle makes me say this:

  “Or, we could go together.”

  It’s dead quiet now. Like, if this were a movie, in about three seconds a shark would jump out of the water and eat me whole. That’s how quiet it is.

  What is WRONG with me?!

  “It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” I say, trying to backpedal my way out of this nightmare.

  “No, it’s just that … ”

  “I get it, it’s fine.”

  “I’m just not sure where things stand right now, that’s all,” he says. And I know he’s being honest. “Can I think about it and get back to you, once I know what’s what?”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem,” I say. I’m suddenly freezing cold and anxious to get out of the water. “I think I’m done.”

  “Okay.”

  We get out, and since we didn’t plan on going swimming, we have no towels or changes of clothes, and creating them would be super exhausting and time consuming—for Colin, of course. Since I can’t do anything even remotely like that yet. Instead, we head back toward the dorms dripping wet. On the one hand, it’s cool that my body can actually feel and absorb the water now that I’m solid. On the other, I’m dripping wet. So, yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m also dripping with shame so thick it’s leaving a slimy sludge behind me with every step I take.

  On the up side, the swimming was a success, and when we start walking toward the bus stop I’m actually walking. At least I can flee the scene of the crime with, like, 10 percent of my dignity.

  The other 90 percent? That’s back in the ocean being eaten by sharks.

  “I still can’t believe you actually asked him,” Cecily says on our way out of a double period of Paranormal Energy class and lab that we have together.

  It’s Tuesday morning and the shame of Monday afternoon’s overconfidence is hanging above my head like an umbrella on a perfectly sunny day. It’s like when you go to the dentist, and they shoot you up with Novocain so you can’t feel your cheeks. And because you can’t feel your cheeks, you go to town chewing on their insides (gross, but true), and it feels so good in the moment, but when the Novocain wears off you’re all, “That was dumb. This hurts.”

  “You basically forced me to ask him!” I tell her.

  “I encouraged it, yes, but I never thought you’d actually do it. I’m impressed!”

  “Wonderful. Well, a lot of good it did me. He probably just didn’t want to be mean, like you said, and is thinking about a nice way to turn me down as we speak. Oh, well, there goes my shot at the dance-a-thon.”

  “Just because he doesn’t say yes—if he doesn’t say yes—doesn’t mean you can’t find another partner and sign up for the dance-a-thon,” Cecily says. “I mean, look at us! We’re ballerinas—since when do we need boys to dance?”

  “Good point,” I reply, because it is one. “It’s just sooooooo humiliating to go to your first school dance solo.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Cecily says. “It’s not like I have a date, either!”

  “I’m sorry, I’m just anxious. I’ve managed to avoid Georgia till now, but there’s no way she doesn’t know I asked Colin to the dance and I’ll bet you ten bucks P.E. is going to be a nightmare.”

  “You’re going to have to face the music sooner or later.”

  “Later, please?”

  Just then the bell rings.

  “And … there’s the music. Time to go,” Cecily calls, walking away from me. “Good luck!”

  I walk into P.E. and the energy in the room is so cold I actually shiver a little. Georgia has her eye on me from the second I enter, and I can feel her gaze following me around like a clingy puppy. No, more like a rabid dog.

  Out for blood.

  “Time to warm up, ladies,” Coach Trellis says. “Ten laps around the gym. Ready? Go!”

  We start running, and since I’m still getting the hang of it, my run is somewhere between a jog and a hop. I look insane, like I don’t know the difference between the two movements. Georgia, who can literally run circles around me, keeps coming up behind me and slowing down to hang out back there, like she’s auditioning to be my shadow. Girlfriend, I already have one. Move it along …

  Every time she approaches I feel a little extra push forward, and I assume this is how ghosts shove one another.

  Very mature. This is so against the rules!

  Finally, I’ve had enough.

  “So you got bored just using your words, huh? Now it’s time for action, is that it?” I say, all revved up.

  “Me? You’re one to talk, Miss I-steal-other-girls’-boyfriends,” she spits back.

  “I haven’t stolen anything,” I reply, but her words cut deeper than I expected. I don’t want to be that girl. I’m not that girl. But then again … am I? Maybe I got my signals crossed and she has every right to hate me?

  “Don’t try to pretend like you didn’t ask Colin to the dance. I know you did.”

  “I’m not pretending. I was told you two had broken up,” I say, honestly. My heart is going a hundred beats per second as I wait for her to say the words I dread most.

  “So what, you can’t even wait a full twenty-four hours before stepping in? How ruthless can one person be, really?”

  Every word-punch she throws is landing, and I’m about ready to forfeit. I don’t like the way she’s painting me. I suddenly feel heartless and cruel, and I’m neither one of those things. She’s the one who’s been acting like a bad dream I can’t wake up from ever since I got here, and yet somehow she’s managed to turn the tables on me and make me feel bad—about what? About asking a friend to a dance after I found out he and his girlfriend broke up?
<
br />   “Are you or are you not broken up with Colin?” I say, trying to sound strong. “Because if you tell me you’re still together, I’ll apologize and back off. I promise.”

  “Okay, that’s ten!” Coach Trellis calls out. “Time to split up into teams.”

  She separates us randomly, and this time Georgia and I are on opposite sides of the net.

  A few times, I manage to stop the ball in midair, but then I don’t have the skills to redirect it anywhere. So it just hangs there like someone pressed the pause button on the best part of the movie, and the play is disqualified. Then we have to start all over again. Georgia, being an expert in my inabilities, keeps throwing the ball straight at me, so the cycle continues.

  Then, when I’m not looking, she serves the ball straight at my head and BOOM! It hits me. Because I’m more powerful and solid now, I can interact with objects—unlike my first day, when the ball just went through my head.

  It’s a hard hit, and I go down fast. Everyone gasps except Georgia and Chloe, who stand there staring with smirks on their faces. Coach Trellis comes running over.

  “Are you okay?” she asks. “What happened here? Did anyone see what happened?”

  The room is silent.

  “Enough is enough,” I say, standing up. “I’m reporting you.”

  “What are you, a journalist?” Georgia replies.

  “Is that, like, a joke?” I ask, confused, rubbing my head. Because if it is, it’s the worst joke ever.

  “Someone tell me what happened, now!” Coach Trellis demands.

  “Georgia here thinks it’s acceptable to throw balls at people’s heads,” I reply.

  “And Lucy thinks it’s acceptable to ask other people’s boyfriends to dances,” she retorts.

  Everyone in the room is now staring at me.

  Why is this happening?!

  “Okay, that’s it. Both of you, to Ms. Tilly’s office—now!” Coach Trellis says, shooing us out of the gym. “I won’t have these kinds of immature outbursts in my class.”

  “Now look what you’ve done,” Georgia scoffs, as we drag our feet to the principal’s office.

  “Me?! You’re unbelievable. You started this whole thing! And you still haven’t even answered my question. Are you together or not?”