Monday night, just as my parents and I are getting ready to eat supper, my phone starts vibrating. I dive my fork right into the serving plate of steaming macaroni and cheese and shovel in one quick delicious mouthful. Mom puts her hands on her hips and glares at me. I chew, swallow, grin at her and then whip out my phone.
Dad warns me, “Make it quick. The food will get cold.”
“Don’t worry. I’m starving. I’ll be right back.” I duck into the pantry off the kitchen and close the door. “Hi.”
Wyatt gets right to the point. “Annabelle, I know you’re freaked out by what happened Sunday. Promise me we’re still in this together, no matter how crazy it gets.”
“It’s okay. I need your help. I know that. Just warn me next time. If there is a next time.”
“I promise I’ll ask you first before I channel the ghost. No matter what. We’ll talk about it.”
“Okay. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Sorry, I was trying to help.”
“I know. Part of this is my fault, anyway. I found this crazy ghost to begin with.”
“I feel like I’ve made things worse instead of better.”
“It was pretty scary.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No worries. It’s all gonna turn out fine.” I’m not so sure about this, but I say it anyway. Wyatt sounds completely miserable and genuinely sorry.
“Nathaniel’s going to help us, too. He’s been through stuff like this before. He knows what he’s doing.”
“He explained all that to me. Now I gotta go. My mom made supper. And I’m starving. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow.”
I click my phone off and join my parents at the table. My mother’s mac n’ cheese is the best and I eat about three platefuls. Afterwards I watch a little TV while I’m pretending to do homework and then stumble off to bed at eight-thirty.
As the week passes, my only face-time with Wyatt is in school. We find it impossible to be alone together. Then Friday finally arrives and Wyatt has a night game: soccer under the lights. Because of my own busy schedule, I haven’t seen a game yet and the soccer team’s undefeated. The whole school’s going, so when we finally get together in person Wyatt and I will be at the soccer game with a huge crowd of other people. Once again, we won’t be able to talk about the drama that’s been taking over our lives. For most of the night I’ll be in the stands and he’ll be on the field. I’m actually relieved we’ll be able to act like a couple of normal teenagers at a high school sports event.
Before the big game Jen, Meg and I meet at Meg’s house and decorate t-shirts. Meg bought three plain, bright orange t-shirts and some fabric paint. We’re going to make super fan t-shirts for ourselves. Meg writes Ryan’s name on the front of hers, in huge letters. I write his name on the back of my t-shirt, in small letters, along with a couple of other players’ names. But then, in huge capital letters across my chest, I paint the word “SILVER.” I outline the letters with black and fill them in with shiny silver paint. Underneath I write his number, “7.” Then I carefully print out “Go Tigers!” It looks awesome.
The three of us get into Meg’s car and drive over to Connor’s to pick him up. When we get there, Meg blasts the horn and Connor runs out wearing a fake fur tiger blanket and a hideous pair of day-glo orange golf pants. His face and bare chest are painted with orange and black stripes. He’s got the full tiger goin’ on.
When we get to the game, I wave to Oliver and Nathaniel and Oliver’s friend Jackson Andrews who are sitting with a lot of teachers, parents and other adults. The Eastfield fans fill the bleachers on our side of the field, right behind the players’ bench. It looks like a sea of orange. Everyone’s wearing orange sweatshirts and t-shirts with black stripes and letters. Cheerleaders don’t cheer at soccer games, so we super fans have to sit together and make a ton of noise.
Over six hundred students are sitting on the Eastfield side, all yelling their asses off, all dressed in orange and black. I forget about my problems and scream and jump up and down with everyone else. The stands shake and the air’s filled with roaring and cheering.
The game begins and right away, the opposing team moves the ball down toward our goal. Someone takes a shot and Ryan jumps three feet into the air to make an incredible save. With one arm, he hurls the ball back into the game. No one scores during the first half. I find it hard to breathe because I’m so nervous.
The second half begins and the whistle keeps blowing over and over again. Players from both sides get yellow cards, but no red cards yet. Wyatt’s an incredible player and I feel so proud to know him. What he lacks in coordination and sophisticated foot work he makes up for with size, speed, fearlessness and incredible force. During the tensest moment of the game, Ryan blocks a shot and rolls it over to the left defender, who passes it to Wyatt. As soon as the ball touches his foot, he charges all the way down the field. No one can touch him. When he gets within range to shoot, he fires the ball into the goal, his body jackknifed into a V shape, four feet off the ground.
Toward the end of the last quarter, he bounces a shot off the keeper’s ear and the poor guy goes down, as the ball whacks against the center of the net, over five feet off the ground. When I can breathe again, I scream his name and hug Meg and Jen on either side of me. All three of us jump up and down like crazy.
Defense does their jobs, too. In the goal, Ryan shuts the opposing team out and Eastfield wins a 3-0 victory, remaining undefeated. When the ref blows the whistle to end the game, I spot Wyatt on the field and run as fast as I can, never taking my eyes off him so I won’t lose him in the crowd. As soon as I get close enough, I launch myself and throw my arms around his neck. He hugs me and lifts both my feet off the ground. We stay that way for a few seconds, hugging each other in the middle of a screaming mob of fans.
Then Meg and Jen run over to us with a bunch of other people and we form a massive group hug.
“Are you going to Carolyn Allen’s party?” Wyatt shouts into my ear.
“I don’t know. I have practice early tomorrow,” I yell back.
“C’mon. You have to go, Annabelle. Don’t take your own car. Meet me there and I’ll drive you home. We’ll leave early. I promise.”
I hesitate and he makes a puppy-dog face which looks absurd on someone his size. A few minutes ago, he almost amputated someone’s ear with a soccer ball, but right now he’s melting me with an adorable puppy face.
“Okay, I’ll meet you there. But I think I should go home and get my own car. You might want to stay late and celebrate with the team.”
“No, no, no,” he starts to beg. “I need you to meet me there, Annabelle, and leave with me and wear that t-shirt, pleeeez.”
I look down at my chest. There’s the word “Silver” spelled out in big, capital silver letters. I crack up laughing. “Okay, if it means that much to you. You’re the hero tonight. I guess I can’t say no.”
He leans down, close to my ear. “I was afraid that if you knew my choices this summer were Eastfield High School or the locked floor of a psychiatric hospital, you wouldn’t want anything to do with me.”
“Wyatt, you dumbass. It’s not that. Only one thing keeps pissing me off. I don’t like all the secrets. No more surprises, promise?”
He smiles. “I can’t promise that, but I promise only good surprises—only surprises you’ll like.”
I nod in agreement. It’ll have to be enough of a promise for now. Then he hugs me up into a giant bear hug again. I notice, at this point, a lot of people are heading for their cars and the noise has died down. For the past few seconds, we’ve been able to speak without shouting at each other. I glance around and spot Meg, Jen and Connor glaring at me. Connor rolls his eyes.
“I have to go now. Meg drove me to the game and she’s waiting over there.”
“See you at the party. I need to head home for a quick shower.” Then he runs off to join the rest of the team. They’re jumping around pouring Gatorade
and water all over each other. Wyatt’s kicking his heels up behind him, both fists raised in the air. When he reaches the team someone takes a giant orange jug and tips it upside down, over his head. Gallons of water drench him. Sputtering and laughing, he shakes his head; drops fly all over his team mates. I stare at him and smile, sending Oliver a telepathic “thank you,” because Wyatt’s here with us and not locked up in a hospital somewhere in New Hampshire, pumped full of powerful antipsychotic drugs.
“C’mon, Annabelle.” Connor yanks me back into the moment by pulling on the sleeve of my t-shirt. “Let’s go. You’ll see Wyatt at Carolyn’s. Are you riding with us or not?”
“Yeah, I’m riding with you guys. Race you to the car.” I win easily. As I cruise toward the car, my gait smooth, not even out of breath, I think about Wyatt, running for the goal like an unstoppable missile. Against him, I wouldn’t have a chance, but running toward the car with my friends behind me is a breeze, a walk in the park. Just as I reach for the passenger side door handle, I feel my phone vibrate. It’s a text. From Matt Riley.
R you going to Carolyn’s? it reads.
“Yes.” I reply.
See you there.
Just then Jen and Meg walk over. I’m in such a good mood that even Matt Riley can’t ruin it.
Meg yells, “Let’s party! Get in the car!”
Chapter 15
The Party
In addition to me, Jen and Connor, Meg picks up two other kids and we all crowd into the car. The second she switches on the ignition, the music blasts on, super loud. We all start singing along even though no one knows the words. Meg opens the moon roof and Jen sticks her head through and screams at everyone standing around in the parking lot, “See you at Carolyn’s!” Then she sits down and we pull out onto the road, singing and dancing as maniacally as we can from sitting positions in a crowded car.
When we arrive at Carolyn’s I can see that things are already crazy. At the speed of about a dozen people per minute, kids are heading across her backyard, down into her basement through the open bulkhead doors in back of her house.
Word’s gotten out. Her parents aren’t home. Connor, Meg, Jen and I use the front door and I end up hanging out in the kitchen for a while, talking to my friend Nicole, who’s on the cross country team. There’s some pretty good dip getting passed around with potato chips and nachos. So I grab a couple of sodas for Nicole and me. We sit down at the table together and start eating and gossiping about who’s dating who on the team and whose race times have been really good so far this season.
After about a half hour, I head for the basement to see if Wyatt’s here yet. Maybe he came in through the bulkhead and I missed him.
The chaos in the Allen’s basement is generating some serious heat. At the foot of the stairs, a sweaty mosh pit of bodies jumps and jangles and twists to wicked loud rock and roll. Carolyn and her boyfriend are off in one corner stooping over an Ipod dock. I can feel the bass line of the music throbbing in my stomach. Carolyn loves to party and knows what kind of music’s best for dancing. I squish my way over to her and say hello. She smiles and nods back at me, her head bobbing to the beat. Trying to talk in this noise would be futile unless you’re a good lip reader so I just smile and look around until I spot Jen and Meg.
They’re a few feet away, dancing with Connor and Ryan, in the middle of a bunch of people. Wiggling past a few dancing couples; I duck and dodge the waving arms and kicking feet. I’m almost there when someone grabs my arm from behind and yanks on it. I tumble into Wyatt’s rock solid chest as he hugs me, kisses my cheek and yells into my ear.
“C’mon, let’s dance!”
Wyatt turns out to be a fun person to dance with. One second both his hands are up in the air; the next they’re around my waist, turning me so my back’s to him, then twirling me so we’re dancing face-to-face again. He dips me and spins me until I’m laughing so hard I almost pee.
After about a half hour of dancing madness I scream into Wyatt’s ear. “I have to go to the bathroom. Wait for me. I’ll only be a minute.”
Shoving my way through the crowd, I run upstairs. There’s a bathroom in the basement but I figure that’s where everyone will go. I don’t want to wait in line, so I head for Carolyn’s parents’ bathroom on the second floor. Sure enough, after hustling up two flights of stairs and running down a short hallway, I find their bathroom and it’s unoccupied. They have really good soap in there too, the kind that comes out all foamy when you pump it and it smells like melons.
I can’t lollygag though; Wyatt’s waiting for me on the dance floor. Flinging open the bathroom door, I come face-to-face with Colleen Foley, the queen of the Juicies. And she doesn’t have to use the bathroom. She’s looking for me. If I had a nickel for every time Colleen Foley went looking for me, I’d have a nickel. Only tonight. Only now.
Why does she want to talk to me?
After Meg and I showed our movie last year for the big project, Colleen and her friends called me “Ghost Girl.” They pretended they were joking with me, but they said it kind of mean. Like they were saying “weirdo” or “outcast” or “girl who’ll never be as popular as we are.” I don’t even care. Who’d want to be friends with them anyway? Not me.
She doesn’t call me “Ghost Girl” tonight, though. She calls me Annabelle.
“So, Annabelle, are you and Wyatt Silver together?”
“No, we’re just friends.” We’re not really even friends. We’re paranormal business associates, but I’m not going to explain that to Colleen Foley.
“Oh, good. I thought you two might be together because I saw you dancing and stuff and you’re always with Wyatt in the hallways at school.”
“Nope. Just friends. He sits next to me in history class. And his uncle is friends with my mother. So I have to be nice to him. You know how that is.”
“Yeah, the parental connection, totally awkward. Thanks for the info. Have fun!” And she’s off.
I head downstairs. In the kitchen, I run into Ryan and Meg who’re getting ready to leave.
“Let’s get out of here. I’m exhausted. Plus, the booze has appeared,” Ryan says.
Looking around, I notice that lots of the kids near us are holding bright red and blue plastic party cups.
“Hurry up and find Wyatt, Annabelle. It’s wicked noisy and tons more cars have arrived, just within the last ten minutes.” Ryan sounds worried.
“Carolyn must’ve posted an invitation on Facebook.” I actually think I saw it last week.
“Cars are parked all over the place out there.”
Every room on the first floor of the house is swarming with kids. Peeking down the stairs, I notice the basement’s packed, too.
“What if one of Carolyn’s neighbors calls the police? If the cops show up we could all get kicked off the team,” Ryan warns.
It occurs to me that it’s not just the soccer players who’ll get in trouble if the cops arrive. Tons of people from the cross-country team are here, too; if we all got arrested that would be the end of the season. Plus, my uncle’s a cop and he’d be pissed if I get arrested. I’d have to deal with his wrath in addition to my parents’.
“We’ll get Jen and Connor. Annabelle, you go find Wyatt and tell him we need to leave, ASAP,” Meg says.
Ryan adds, “Hurry. Let’s get the hell outta here.”
I rush down the steps, telling any cross-country kids I pass along the way, “The cops could show up any second.”
People start leaving in herds.
When I reach the bottom of the basement steps, I look around for Wyatt.
Finally, I spot him, over in a corner, talking to Colleen Foley.
Her hand’s on his bicep and she keeps rubbing it and smiling up at him. My mouth drops open and I close it quickly. Just then Wyatt looks over at me and even from across the crowded room, I can see the thunderheads rolling into his eyes.
He turns back and smiles at Colleen, bends down and says something into her ear. She kisses him
on the cheek and they hug. When they finally let go of each other, he starts shoving his way through the crowd, toward me. I run up the stairs, hoping to catch Meg and hop into her car so we can speed away from here and I never have to see him again.
Colleen Foley! How could he? What’s wrong with him? I confided in him. I told him everything about my ghost! I trusted him! I painted his name on my t-shirt! He’s just like Matt Riley, only worse!
I spot Ryan and Meg standing at the kitchen door and head toward them as fast as I can. But before I reach them someone grabs my arm and yanks me to a full stop.
Matt Riley. In one hand he’s gripping a red plastic party cup and in the other, he’s gripping my arm. Fumes of vodka and Axe are wafting off of him and up my nose, so I try not to breathe in too deep.
“Hey, Annabelle, you look really pissed-off.”
“Cuz I am.”
“About what?”
“Guys like you.”
“Hey, lighten up. Let’s party. C’mon I’ll get you a drink.”
“Matt, I really have to go. My friends are waiting for me. Maybe I’ll see you around.” I try to pull my arm away, but he holds on tight. He’s so drunk, he’s wobbly but his grip’s still strong, almost as strong as his breath.
“Stay, have a drink with me.”
“Can’t. Gotta get home. I don’t wanna get caught and kicked off the team. I’m having a good season.”
“Partying’s way more fun than running, c’mon. It seems like forever since we hung out.”
“Thanks, but I really have to go.”
Maintaining his death grip on my arm, he pulls me closer so he can say something into my ear, but he never gets to speak the first word. Out of the darkness behind him a massive hand appears. As it comes down forcefully on Matt’s shoulder, he lets go of my arm and spins around. His plastic cup tips and liquid sloshes over the side. Wyatt’s face looms above Matt’s.
“Read the shirt.”
“What?”
“Can you read? Read her shirt.”
Matt looks at my shirt and weakly pronounces the word printed across my chest. “Silver.”
Enter If You Dare Page 12
