We Are the Ghosts

by Vicky Skinner

  My hands grip the edge of the table, and when I stand, I bump the table, tipping it just enough to jar the tarot cards and send them into disarray. “I don’t believe in fortune-telling.” I turn and whisk aside the beaded curtain. I put some cash on the counter because I know that’s what I’m supposed to pay even though it wasn’t my idea to come in here in the first place.

  The three of them haven’t moved from where they were when I went in, and they all watch me as I approach. I grip the back of the chair that I vacated and look at Wes. “Palm reading?” I say simply, and he shakes his head, his eyes wide.

  I hear the displacement of beads behind me and the woman doing something around the front desk, and as I watch, prepared to bolt from the building at any moment, Cade pushes up from his chair and walks around me, heading right for the fortune-teller. I watch them over my shoulder, him approaching her, her nodding at something he’s saying, and then the two of them disappearing behind the beaded curtain.

  “He’s kidding, right?” I say, watching the curtain sway and bump and then go still.

  “Guess not,” Wes says behind me.

  I stand exactly where I am for as long as it takes Cade to get whatever he’s getting out of that woman. I can’t even imagine him in there, having tarot cards turned over in front of him like I did, or having his palm read, or gazing into a crystal ball. It’s all just so preposterous.

  As soon as his figure reappears on the other side of the beads, I’m walking toward the door. I have one foot out the door before Cade is back on this side of the curtain.

  * * *

  We walk Bourbon Street until we find a bar that’s loud and crowded, the sun finally falling below the horizon behind us. There’s a live jazz band playing at the front of the room, people’s faces turned toward it like flowers to the sun, and we slip in, seemingly undetected. We snatch a small cocktail table, with just enough room for the four of us to stand around it.

  “Anyone want something to drink?” Wes asks, leaning into the center of the table and looking around at everyone. My skin is already sticky from the moisture in the air and the close proximity of this particular bar, so I ask Wes to get me a soda, imagining how good it’ll feel to drink something ice cold. I’m still a little irritated about what happened back at the fortune-teller’s, but I try to listen to the music and unclench. I feel like any control I had over this trip is starting to slip out of my hands.

  Some people are dancing in the aisle that cuts the room in half, separating the bar from the booths and cocktail tables. Couples wrap around each other, swaying to the music, even though it’s moving faster than they are. Others sway by themselves. Maybe they’re drunk, or maybe they just really like jazz, but either way, they look happy.

  We listen to the music, none of us saying anything, and I’m glad for the contented silence between us. I’m tired from spending almost all day on the road and ready to crash even though it’s barely evening. Despite the cold soda, my skin gets hotter, and I lean against the table in an attempt to stay upright. The exhaustion is winning out.

  But then it’s not the table that’s holding me up, it’s Cade’s arms, and he’s pulling me into the center aisle, where we’re bracketed by strangers. We sway back and forth, and I feel myself going numb again. I feel everything slipping out of my body, until I can just be, no thoughts, no emotions, nothing. Cade is warm, and I press my cheek to his shoulder.

  When we turn, I see Gwen and Wes at the table, where we left them. They’re standing close to each other, much closer than they were before, having what looks like a serious conversation. I feel like this is something I should process. But I’m so warm and tired, and I can feel Cade’s chin against my hair.

  I pull back and tilt my head to look up at him. I slide my hand up to his neck, and I’m intoxicated by how hot his skin is. He presses his forehead to mine, and then his mouth slides closer to mine, and I want him to kiss me more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  “Ellie, we have a problem.”

  I pull away from Cade. When I turn, it’s not Wes I see but the bright screen of his phone. I flinch away from it and take the phone from his hand, putting it at a more reasonable distance for me to see what’s on the screen.

  “A friend of mine from Tate just sent that to me.”

  I almost drop the phone when I realize what I’m looking at. It’s a missing persons ad, and it has Cade’s face on it. And mine.

  * * *

  “Let’s think about this logically.”

  Gwen, Wes, and Cade look up at me from the hotel bed where they’re all seated.

  “Who knows where we are?”

  The three of them all look at each other and then back up at me, not saying anything.

  “Wes, did you tell anyone where we were going?”

  Wes shakes his head. “Nah. My parents think I went on a road trip with the guy I roomed with last semester. They think I went with him to look at graduate-school programs.”

  “Okay. Gwen?”

  Gwen’s eyes go wide. “No. My parents are in California all month to see my sister’s new baby. There’s no way they even know I’m not home. I’ve been talking to them like I am so they wouldn’t get weird.”

  I sigh. “Okay. Cade. Your face is on this thing. I can almost guarantee that this is my mother’s doing, but your grandmother would have had to play a part in it, or you wouldn’t be on it.” I tamp down my anger. I shouldn’t even be surprised. I knew she would do something like this, but it’s barely been two days. Why can’t she just leave me alone, even for a few days? She knows I’m not missing. She knows I didn’t get kidnapped or anything awful like that. She has to know, so why all the drama?

  Cade plants his hands on his knees. “Well, I didn’t tell them I was leaving.” He shrugs and looks up at me like I might judge him, as if I didn’t do the same thing.

  Wes groans. “You probably gave her a heart attack.”

  Cade grimaces, then shakes his head. “No. There’s no way she would jump to this. It’s not like her. It’s only been a day. She’s not a worrier. If I tell her I’m staying out for the night, she doesn’t ask where I’m going to be. She never asks me where I’m going or who I’m with. I mean, I didn’t exactly think she wasn’t going to notice, but I definitely didn’t think she was going to do something like this.”

  Gwen puts her hands up. “If it’s not typical for her to freak out, then why the missing persons report? Why wouldn’t she try to call Cade first?”

  Cade and I look at each other, and we don’t have to say anything. Gwen’s shoulders slouch. “You turned off your phone, just like Ellie, didn’t you?”

  He bites his lip and then meets my eye again. “I was afraid that if I told her where I was going, it would mess things up for Ellie.” He speaks to me directly then. “You never said, but I figured you were running away.”

  Gwen sends me a strange look. “Is that what you’re doing? Running away?”

  It sounds like an accusation. “You didn’t tell your parents, either.”

  “That’s different. They’re on the other side of the country. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference. But running away? Just like—”

  She stops, but she doesn’t have to keep going. Just like Luke.

  Her words are a punch in the gut. Yes. Just like Luke. My mother didn’t expect him to run, and she certainly didn’t expect me to, and that’s enough to make me want to walk away. I don’t want to be her predictable kid anymore. I want her to be just as shocked as Gwen is right now that I had the guts to run, even if neither of them understand what this is really about.

  “Things with my mother could get ugly,” I say, crossing my arms and letting Gwen’s comment slip by. I don’t want to argue right now. “I won’t blame anyone if they want to go home. But I’m not. I don’t care about some report my mother filed. She does stupid shit like that. She’ll get over it. I’m going to keep going.”

  I’m going to keep going because there’s something I don’t know
at the finish line, and I have to make it there.

  “I have to do this. For me.” Something inside me shifts, making room for this revelation. This trip isn’t about Luke, not really. Luke got what he wanted. He took his trip. This is about me. I want to know what’s in Michigan. I wanted to get out of Eaton and away from my mother. I’m doing this for me.

  “Does anyone still want to come with me?”

  They glance at each other again, and my chest clenches. Fear. Even though I was pretty sure I wanted to go on this trip by myself when Wes first decided he was coming with me, I don’t think I can go the rest alone. I want them with me. And I’m terrified they’re going to turn back now.

  “I’m coming with you,” Cade says, and I almost sigh in relief.

  Wes leans across Gwen, sitting between them, to look at Cade. “Won’t your family just call your grandmother as soon as we get to Indianapolis?”

  Cade’s eyes drop to the carpet. “I doubt it. They don’t really talk anymore.” I watch him, feeling something nudge at me. Cade never made it seem like there was anything wrong, but I can see it when he looks up at me, that there’s more to this trip for him than he’s telling us.

  “I’m still in,” Wes says, changing the subject, shifting my attention.

  Gwen is the only one who hesitates, and I guess that makes sense. She still doesn’t know why we’re really doing this, and probably, to her, it seems like a big risk to take for a road trip, but she has to know by now that it’s not just a road trip. My need to get to Michigan is like a siren, sending off signals that everyone within a mile can hear. Can’t she tell?

  She stays silent for a long time and then says, “Yeah. Okay. Let’s keep going.”

  EIGHT

  I swing my putter at the ball for the fifth time and groan when it rolls close to the hole before careening in the other direction.

  “Dammit.”

  Cade laughs, and I glance nervously at the line of other players that’s forming behind us. Without looking at Cade, I rush for the ball and drop it into the hole.

  “Cheater!” Cade calls, pointing at me. “You can’t do that.”

  I pick up my putter from where I dropped it. “You’re the one who cheated. You totally downplayed your mini-golf skills. That’s deception.”

  Cade smiles and comes to stand beside me. He holds out his hand, and I put the ball in it, rolling my eyes. He sets the ball where it was before I tried to cheat, and then he comes behind me.

  “I’ll teach you my trick,” he says into my ear as he positions himself behind me, reaching around to grasp the putter, his hands wrapped around my own.

  “You are such a cliché,” I say, laughing.

  He doesn’t move for a second, and then I feel a fingertip along my shoulder, right beside the spaghetti strap of my dress. “You have a sunburn.”

  I turn my head, aware and excited by how close he is, his nose almost brushing mine. “I went to a Nova concert yesterday.”

  His eyes are already on my mouth, all the humor gone, and I wait, certain he’ll kiss me.

  “Hey, Johnston!” One of the guys in the line behind us calls out. “If you want to get lucky, that’s what the back seat is for!”

  I blush hard and pull away from Cade, swinging the putter gently and finally sinking the ball.

  * * *

  Halfway to St. Louis, we have to pull over for gas. I offer to fill up the tank, and Wes agrees without asking questions. Maybe he wouldn’t have if he weren’t so groggy, but his eyes are half-lidded, with dark circles beneath them.

  While Gwen and Wes walk to the convenience store, Cade comes to stand beside me. I try not to be overly aware of him as I pick the kind of gas I want. Everything feels different now, like we’re criminals, a whole new kind of weight settling on us all. I don’t know how much more I can withstand before I crumble.

  “Are you hungry?” he asks, leaning against the side of the car, his legs crossed and his hands in his pockets, and for a split second, I can’t help but think he looks a little like James Dean. I have to look away.

  “Sure, I guess. I don’t know. Mostly tired.” It hasn’t been that long since we stopped for lunch. “Maybe some Oreos.”

  Cade smiles, and he crosses his arms. “You do realize that the kind of Oreos you pick will lead to all sorts of judgment, right? This is basically a compatibility test, happening live right before your eyes.”

  My stomach flutters when he says compatibility test. Does he want us to be compatible? Even though I shouldn’t want it, I do. I want us to be a perfect fit. “Well, I mean, it’s a gas station. Not many options.”

  Cade shrugs, and he looks so relaxed for someone who just found out last night that our faces are probably all over Eaton, reported missing, and I can’t tell if he’s just talking to me like this to make me feel better. “Enough options to really figure out what kind of person you are.”

  I snicker because I missed this. I’ve missed Cade for the last year. “Fine. I want the thin ones.”

  Cade’s mouth falls open. “Ellie Johnston, you’ve got to be kidding me. I don’t know how you could have possibly made a worse choice. Those aren’t even real Oreos. Those are Oreos for people who don’t like Oreos.”

  “No,” I argue, “they’re Oreos for people who like the cookie part of the Oreo more than the cream part.”

  He throws up his hands. “The cream is the best part! Next thing, you’re going to tell me that you like Golden Oreos.”

  I don’t say anything, but I hold his gaze long enough to get my point across.

  Cade pretends to choke. “You know what? I can’t talk to you anymore. I’m going to go inside and buy your blasphemous cookies now.”

  I watch him go, my cheeks aching from smiling so big. I wish it could be like this all the time. I wish I could just erase everything between us and everything that’s happened and go back to my normal life, but I don’t even know what normal is anymore.

  My smile falls. I pull my phone out of my back pocket and turn it on. I know it was probably stupid to turn it off in the first place, but I knew she would do this. I knew she would overreact.

  My phone starts to vibrate as soon as it boots up. Text messages. So many of them. And they’re all from my mom.

  Why is your phone turned off?

  Ellie please answer. I’m worried.

  If you don’t answer your phone I’m calling the police.

  ELOISE

  I’ve never considered myself a vindictive person. Luke used to hold grudges. Sometimes I think Luke was holding a grudge against my mom, but I could never decide if it was one big grudge or a million little ones. Like, he would get over one just to be handed new ammunition the next day. Or if maybe she did something when he was a kid, and he just never got over it. He was the king of grudges, and I don’t think I would be even a little surprised to find out that his entire life was one long grudge against the woman who bore him.

  But sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I think back to that argument they had in the living room, the one neither of them ever knew I heard, and I wonder if it was the grudge to end all other grudges, if it was worse than I could have imagined, whatever he felt toward her after that. Sometimes I felt bad for not hating her right alongside him. But it was never bad enough, not really. She never crossed that line where I couldn’t forgive her anymore. Looking down at my texts right now, I wonder if she’s finally crossed the line. I wonder if I even understand her or Luke or anyone else. I always thought I did, always thought all of our secrets were right on the surface, but that can’t be true because there’s always that thing, whatever they fought about, that no one ever told me the truth about.

  I put my phone in my pocket and stare down at the concrete, feeling empty. A part of me wants to be home again, but only home like it used to be, with Luke on the other side of the wall, listening to his music too loud and Mom downstairs grading papers at the dining room table, and Dad making chicken legs on the grill. I’ll never have that again.

/>   When Gwen comes back out to the car and stops beside me, I turn to her. “Do you remember two years ago, when I had a crush on Jake Douglas, and Ava Jennings kissed him even though we were friends and she knew I liked him? Luke said he would never speak to her again, even after I got over it?”

  Gwen puts her hand against the passenger-side window, and it’s the first time I notice that her fingernails are hot pink and that she has a slim silver band around her middle finger. “Yeah, I remember. He was always talking about how much he hated her after that. Said she was a bad influence on you.”

  I think about our mother. I think about the things Luke said about Cade. I think about all the people Luke held grudges against over the years. I think about the night I came home, and he was gone.

  “All gassed up?” Wes asks, walking right past us and tossing a handful of junk-food packages through the open driver’s side window just before the gas pump pops. I replace the nozzle where it belongs as Cade steps around the car and holds something out to me: a package of Oreo Thins.

  “I feel like I just betrayed everything I believe in,” he says, and I watch as he rips open his own package of Oreos. Double Stuf. I know he’s still joking with me, but whatever humor found me before has vanished, falling flat inside me. I have to look away from his expectant expression.

  “Want me to drive?” I know Wes is just going to decline. He hasn’t let anyone else drive in two days, even though I know he’s just as exhausted as the rest of us.

  “No,” Wes says, ripping open a bag of Cheetos and shoving a few in his mouth. “My parents got me this car because they felt guilty for making me go to Tate, and there’s no way I’m going to let anyone else drive her.”

  I get into the back seat with Cade. I shrug, and Cade smiles. He leans forward between the seats. “You didn’t want to go to Tate?”

  Wes is quiet for a minute and then he shrugs. “I don’t know. It wasn’t Tate exactly. Just seemed like an opportunity, you know?” He glances over at Gwen, and she reaches across the console to hold his hand. “I guess things worked out.”