“Okay, the first thing we’re going to do is some floor poses,” she says. “Watch me and repeat what I do.”
Then Georgia gets down on her right knee, pulls her right foot toward the back of her hip, twisting her body all the way to the right.
Easy breezy.
Then she slowly lifts herself off the floor in the same exact position. For a few seconds, she just hovers there over the mat. Then she slowly drifts back down.
Ghost powers be darned.
“Okay, we’ll try the position only first before we try to lift off the ground,” she says. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
The class gets down on the floor and tries to mimic her, but most of them can’t even get close.
“Ouch, this hurts!” cries one girl.
“Why is this necessary?” asks another.
“Is it supposed to look all twisted like this?”
Georgia makes her way around the room, helping to pose the rest of the class. Coach Trellis makes her way around, too, but she’s a lot less helpful. In fact, I’m pretty sure she can’t tell a split leap from a split pea.
After a few minutes, Georgia comes up behind me. My pose is perfect, and I’m not just saying that. I do this stretch about twenty times a week before ballet class because it hits your quad muscles and your back at the same time.
Bring it, girl.
“Ladies,” she calls out, “look at Lucy’s positioning. She’s doing this move perfectly. Try to copy her.”
I’m in shock. There’s no way Georgia’s saying something nice just because. There has to be some kind of ulterior motive. With this girl? There’s always something. Unless … by some crazy chance, everything that happened at the dance finally made her rethink how she treats people?
Then she crouches down low behind me and whispers in my ear, “This thing between you and me? It isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”
Yeah.
So … like I said, she’s always got some ulterior motive. And if Cecily joins the Cheerleading Squad, I can tell you exactly what Georgia is going to do:
Shower Cecily with fake attention
Weasel her way into becoming Cecily’s BFF
Enact some other kind of revenge that I can’t think of right now, but I know will be THE WORST
Despite being the best at tackling the pose on the ground, when it’s time to lift up off it, I have a teensy bit of trouble.
And by teensy, I mean tons.
Georgia’s words keep echoing in my head, and the more I think about her, the more frustrated I get. What should be a gentle hover a few inches above the ground turns into me shooting myself up in the air like a cannonball and hitting my head on the ceiling.
Ouch.
“Lucy, please be careful,” Georgia reprimands, as if I did it on purpose. “As you can see, integrating your ghost skills with your former life skills isn’t quite as easy as some might think.”
I can’t believe I’m actually about to say this, but … Georgia is (GASP!) right.
For the next half an hour, Georgia stands up in front of us acting all better than everyone and correcting people left and right. I’m so annoyed I could scream! But I don’t. Instead, I decide that the sweetest revenge is to beat her at her own game, or should I say, club. I need to seriously up my skills. If Cecily joins Cheerleading, she’ll never quit. Georgia is out for blood, and Cecily cheerleading is her meal ticket.
Vampire-style.
By the time class ends, I’m so amped up about our Dance Club idea—not to mention bruised—that I can barely think straight.
“Oh, ladies!” Georgia calls out as class ends. “I have one small announcement, please, before you go. I just wanted to remind you that tryouts for the Limbo Central Cheerleading Squad are taking place outside on the football field on Wednesday evening at five o’clock! In addition to cheering for our awesome football and basketball teams, we also compete in Limbo-wide cheerleading competitions, and every year we put on a huge show at the end-of-year Spring Fling Carnival. It’s going to be a great year, and we’re looking to fill a few spots on the squad. I noticed a lot of promise today—so please come and try out!”
I don’t know what hits me, but suddenly I open my mouth and this comes out: “And, if you’re looking to be a part of something even cooler than cheerleading—to be part of a creative group that listens to one another and works together as a team—come join our brand-new Limbo Central Dance Club! Oh, and you don’t need to try out for our club, because we’re inclusive, not exclusive. If you sign up, you’re in!”
If we were playing volleyball right now? That serve would have gone straight to her head!
Guess I need to figure out this whole starting-your-own-supernatural-club thing.
Like, now.
Lunch could not come fast enough. After my spontaneous outburst in P.E., I stopped by the administration office to find out what hoops I’ll have to jump through to get this Dance Club approved. The answer? About a hundred and fifty, all of which are wrapped up neatly in the Limbo Central Club Manual.
Piece o’cake.
I’m so busy thinking about how to answer these club questions that I’ve forgotten to worry about what’s going to happen at lunch. Now that Georgia is on the outs with, well, basically everyone in the group, is she going to sit somewhere else? Or is she going to stay at the regular table and make everyone feel super uncomfortable? Waiting in line for food, I realize just how awkward things could get. Seriously, who knew that being dead would be so full of real-life DRAMA?!
“What’s for lunch?” a beautiful voice from behind me whispers in my ear.
Heart stops.
Butterflies flutter.
A cartoon bluebird lands on my finger. Oh, Colin, where have you been all my afterlife? (Or, I mean, for the last day and a half.)
“Mystery meat with a side of questionable white mush?” I answer, jokingly.
“Yum,” he replies, and my knees buckle a little. “So … how’s Limbo’s new Ghostcoming Queen feeling today?”
Like she needs her King to set a date for their date.
STAT.
“Pretty good,” I say. “It’s lovely being royal.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Hey, you don’t happen to be a freakishly good dancer, do you?”
“Uhm, not last time I checked. Why?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just, I’m starting this new Dance Club with Cecily and we need members.”
“Oh. Nope. Sorry,” he says, putting a chocolate pudding on his tray and another one on mine without even asking.
Could he be any sweeter?!
“That’s okay,” I say, as we exit the kitchen and head over to our regular table.
“So, you do photography for the paper and yearbook, don’t you?” I ask him.
“Yup.”
“I was thinking about joining. I’m kind of into photography,” I tell him, which is technically true, but it’s also the most perfect way to get some alone time with Colin.
Bonus!
“Cool. If there were just a straight-up Photo Club I’d join that instead, but there isn’t,” he says. “I see why not, but still.”
“Wait, why isn’t there a Photo Club?”
“Well, ghost photography is tricky. We don’t photograph normally.”
“And that means what, exactly?”
“It’s all about energy and light,” he explains. “We’re not physical in the same way that living people are, so the light messes with our solidity and ruins our ability to be photographed.”
“So … you take pictures with no one in them?”
“Oh, people are in them, they just don’t always show up when the photos develop. The strongest ones show up as holograms—basically like how you looked when you first got here. It’s like a film of a person.”
“Fascinating.”
As we sit down, I do a quick scan of the room and see that Georgia is nowhere to be found. Phew! Cecily is already seated across from us. Ma
rcus is there, too, but he’s with his bandmates, Jessie Rodriguez, James Seaver, Trevor Diggs, and Miles Rennert, at the other side of the table. My only real interactions with Jessie involve his constant desire to change their band name to horrible things like Apples to Oranges or Soup Fried Rice. Every day he has another ridiculous idea. Hopefully Figure of Speech will stick! James and Trevor run the Limbo Central radio station and they DJ’d the Ghostcoming dance. Their taste in music is killer.
No pun intended.
Miles is the oldest member of the group—I think he’s in his third year here. Apparently he’s the one who got them the gig. I’ve never actually talked to him. He’s kind of like one of my older brother’s friends, you know? If I had an older brother. He’s basically way too cool to be hanging out with us, and when he does it’s like he’s doing charity work for some cause he really believes in but knows is helpless. He’s always staring into space and then quickly jotting things down on any surface he can find—a napkin, his arm, a backpack.
“Did you hear that Figure of Speech is playing at the Clairvoyance Café on Wednesday night?” Colin asks.
“Yeah, Mia told me in first period,” I reply.
Cecily stays quiet.
“I’m excited to hear them,” I continue. “What kind of music do they play anyway?”
“Kind of hard to say,” Colin says, with a chuckle. “Guess you’ll have to come and hear for yourself.”
“We’ll be there, right, Cece?”
“Right, Lou,” she says, nonchalantly looking over in Marcus’s direction. (Lou is her nickname for me.) I’m not sure if this means she’s decided not to try out for cheerleading, or if she’s just saying that to keep the conversation moving.
“So, what did you do on Sunday?” I ask Colin.
Please have a good excuse for not calling me! Tell me you were feeding puppies at the animal shelter or working at a soup kitchen or—
“Played, like, five hours of Xbox and napped. It was pretty stressful.”
“I’ll bet,” I reply.
Strike One.
Cecily gives me a look that says, “I really wish he was feeding puppies!” and I want to hug her.
Just then, the March of the Cheerleaders comes into view as a group of uniform-clad girls make their way through the cafeteria single file, heading toward the table to the left of ours. I feel like I’m watching a documentary on National Geographic about how this strange species socializes in the wild. As you can see, the female cheerleader dresses in uniform so as not to blend into her surroundings. They travel in herds so they are always on the offensive and ready to attack.
“What’s that all about?” I ask, curious. I know I’ve only been here two weeks, but I’ve never seen the cheerleaders wear their uniforms during the school day before, let alone do any kind of synchronized strutting or eating.
“It’s one of Georgia’s new ideas as captain,” Colin explains. “For tryout week. She says dressing up and displaying school spirit and solidarity during lunch and school hours will help recruit new members.”
Even I have to admit that’s clever.
“I like our school colors,” Cecily says, staring over at the cheerleaders dreamily.
“White and gray? They are sort of signature ghost colors,” Colin chimes in.
“Well, they go with everything!” Cecily says, animatedly. “Even my red hair. I mean, imagine if the colors were pink and brown or something? Yuck.”
So I guess she plans on wearing the uniform after all.
Just then Georgia comes over to our table and walks right up to Cecily.
“I hope you saw the message blast about cheerleading tryouts this morning,” she says, putting her fake sweet on. “I think you’d be a really great addition to the team.”
“Uh, thanks?” Cecily replies, but like she’s asking a question.
“Hi, Colin,” Georgia says, softly.
I get a twitchy feeling in my gut that makes me uncomfortable. On the one hand, if her saying a simple hello to Colin bothers me, that means I’m just as jealous and petty as she is. On the other hand, being on high alert is one hundred percent necessary, because I know this is just the beginning of her weaseling her way back into the afterlives of the people I care about. Still … on the other, other hand, I hate the idea of behaving even remotely similar to the way she would behave. But back to the other hand, I’m having a lot of trouble curbing myself right now.
Wait, how many hands is that?
Grrr. Emotional Girl rears her head again.
And her hands, apparently.
“Georgia,” Colin says simply, acknowledging her existence. I think he’s going to leave it at that and am about to feel all smug and superior when he continues. “How was the rest of your weekend? Are you doing okay?”
Strike Two.
Cecily gives me another look that says, “Just say the word and I’ll make him regret knowing English!”
Obviously, not really. But, don’t ya just love girlfriends?!
Georgia takes Colin’s question as an invitation to sit down and chitchat. I think there might actually be smoke coming out of my ears and nose right now, but if I don’t calm down, I’ll do something weird with my ghost powers like make the mystery meat explode or turn my hair blue, so I take a few deep breaths and try to clear my mind. I need to act as if I couldn’t care less that she’s sitting here talking to Colin even though she’s:
a) Not part of our group of friends anymore
b) Not Colin’s girlfriend anymore
c) Super cruel and evil
“You and your Xbox,” I hear her say, as my head reenters the conversation. She has her hand on his forearm. I stare at her hand hoping that for once my emotional ghost powers will do something useful like magically pry her ironclad grip from his arm.
Instead? Nothing happens.
“I can’t help myself,” Colin says. “I just love video games, man.”
Man? That sounds promising …
“You know, we never finished that Zombie Hunters game we were playing last week,” she says to him.
That? Does not.
Great, now she’s touching his arm and playing zombie video games with him! I’m doing some Zen-type breathing, trying hard not to hang on her every word when she makes EVERYTHING so much worse.
“Maybe I can come over tonight and we can finish it? I’m so close to beating you!”
THIS? I’m gonna hang on.
Like a monkey, swinging.
How could she?! How can she possibly have the nerve to … and now he’s just looking at her like …
WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!
I’m eagerly awaiting Colin’s response when—
“You can’t!” Cecily scream-answers, overly enthusiastic.
We all turn to face her. My eyes must look like they are popping out of their sockets right now.
Because they are.
Cecily stammers, “Colin and Lucy were just about to agree to help me out with something top secret tonight, so, I’m afraid he’s busy.”
I literally have no clue what she’s talking about. My brain is so confused and disjointed I can barely hear myself think, but I’m simultaneously loving her and hating her for this outburst. That’s normal with best friends, right?
When no one says anything else, Georgia takes it as a sign to leave. “Well, maybe another time, then. Hope to see you at tryouts, Cecily.” Then she walks back to her table.
“So, what is this top-secret thing you need our help with tonight?” Colin asks Cecily.
Now her eyeballs are popping out of their sockets.
“Well,” she begins, “I was thinking that maybe you could get Marcus to hang out with us tonight? We could watch Star Wars, since you’re always talking to Lucy about it—and we could have, like, a double date. What do you think?”
I can’t decide if I want to hug her or shove her into a locker. What is she thinking?! I mean, she knows I’m upset that he hasn’t set a date yet, and I know s
he’s doing this to get Georgia out of the picture, but this feels super awkward and forced. What if he thinks I put her up to it? I have to say something.
“Don’t you think it’ll be a little weird?” I ask her. “I mean, Colin, have you ever even hung out with Marcus alone?”
“Actually he’s my roommate—”
Duh.
“And the guy I played video games with yesterday for five hours—”
Duh. Duh.
“So, yeah, I have,” Colin finishes.
“Oh.”
How do I not know this? I guess now that I think about it, I’ve never actually asked him …
“I didn’t know you two were roommates,” I continue. “Cece, did you know?”
“Marcus told me at the dance,” she says.
“It’s cool,” Colin says, then calls out to the other side of the table. “Hey, Marcus!”
I look over at Cecily. Her cheeks are bright red with embarrassment, but the rest of her face looks like the life’s been sucked out of it.
No pun intended. Again.
“Star Wars in the movie room later?” Colin continues, totally unconcerned. No mention of me or Cecily, or double-date movie watching of any kind. Hmm.
“Cool,” Marcus says.
Boys!
“So,” Colin says, turning back to face us, “that’s solved. And just in time, too,” he adds as the bell dings, signaling the end of lunch. “See you later!” he sings, and heads off to class.
I still have no idea what just happened or whether I should be happy about it. Yes, I suppose this means that tonight I kind of have a date with Colin. But is it really a date if two other people are going to be there? And does it count as him asking me out if he didn’t even do the asking? Wait, correction. He did actually do some asking—only, the person he asked out was Marcus.
So much for being Queen to his King. Right about now? I might as well be his servant.
Hmph.
* * *
At six thirty, Cecily and I arrive at Colin and Marcus’s dorm, the Dickens House, just like Colin told us, and buzz his room number. Colin’s hologram pops out of the security screen.
“Be right down,” he says.
“I’m nervous!” Cecily tells me. “Are you nervous?”
Crushed Page 2
