Haint Misbehavin'

by Maureen Hardegree

  He smiled, and I wondered why he thought I was so funny, not that I minded any form of attention from him, and then I remembered the funny ones never get the guy, not the hot guy. They get some goofy supergeek, like Xavier. I didn’t want to be the funny girl.

  “Hey, you wouldn’t by any chance be willing to baby-sit Morgan some time, would you?” he asked.

  Pro: I might get to see Drew. Even better, I might be able to see his bedroom. I could worm my way into his life. Con: I didn’t like little kids, babysitting gave me a rash, literally, and I’d never see him because he’d be out with Rachel while I was babysitting. Plus, Morgan most likely thought I wasn’t mature enough to baby-sit her. And the kid knew martial arts. She should come with a sticker warning to any future babysitters, none of which would be me.

  Claire smoothed her bob and chimed in. “Oh, Heather doesn’t baby-sit. She hates kids. I’m the babysitter in the family.”

  Now he looked confused. “So, wait. Why were you helping your mother with that craft class if you hate little kids?”

  The redhead checked her watch. “We’re probably missing the trailers.”

  Sorry, sister, I had Drew’s attention. I wasn’t going to relinquish it. “Punishment,” I said.

  His pale blue eyes sparkled. “For what?”

  “It’s pretty lame.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “I was punished for getting a sunburn. My mom has this thing about skin cancer. And about making bad choices, as Morgan would say.”

  “Morgan told you that you made bad choices? It’s weird, isn’t it? How she talks like she’s an adult.” Drew’s kissable lips twitched. He was going to smile. “She’s right. They both are. Oh, and aloe gel is good for peeling.” He looked straight down at my nose.

  My eyes crossed as I looked to see if my schnoz was peeling. It made me dizzy, so I had to rely on another sense. I ran my index finger from the bridge to the tip. A faint but perceptible raised edge surrounded the ridge of my nose. An island of pink in a sea of tan, most likely. I wouldn’t even get to enjoy any of the brown.

  “Thanks. See ya around.”

  “Right,” he said, still smiling, because of me.

  Rachel took hold of his arm and steered him toward the guy in the red vest checking tickets and directing people on which way to turn in the wide carpeted hallway.

  Once he was out of hearing range, Claire squealed. “Oh, my, God. Drew Blanton talked to you.” She shook her finger at me. “And why didn’t you tell me about seeing him at Mom’s craft class?”

  “Why would I? It was humiliating.” I moved closer to the candy counter and shot a glare up at Amy sprawled on her JuJu Fruit chaise. “And Audrey told him we think he’s hot.”

  “No way.”

  “Way. I was too traumatized to even speak about it until now.”

  The ghost yawned. Translation: I’m plumb bored. Bad things happened when Amy was bored. “Let’s hurry,” I suggested.

  Claire ordered Sprite, Sour Patch Kids, and popcorn minus the sticky butter sauce that really isn’t butter. I don’t want to know what it is. Seriously.

  Okay, the first mission of the summer had been accomplished, but with unforeseen complications. No longer was I the nameless, tall, skinny girl who went to the pool a lot. Drew had noticed me. Yay me! He even knew my name. By the end of the summer, my reputation as a weirdo could become a dim memory in everyone’s mind. If Drew liked me, other people would like me. Maybe even Audrey. The problem was that I wanted him to think of me as alluring, not funny.

  Now I had to change his perception of me, which was fifty million times harder than getting him to notice me. First impressions are lasting ones. Everyone, except ghosts, apparently, knew that.

  Chapter Nine

  Juggling her cardboard tray of junk food, Claire moseyed her way into the one theater in the centroplex that hadn’t yet been converted to the oversized stadium seating everyone, including me, prefers. My eyes itched as soon as I inhaled the room’s lemony freshness. Not more than a second later, my nose clogged. I figured I’d be okay, though, once I got off the carpet.

  My little haint? She was floating in front of the huge screen illuminating her netherworldly pixels.

  The lights dimmed to half-strength as Claire and I scanned the sparsely populated rows. I noticed Audrey sitting in the very back with her friends. So much for her pledge to never set foot in a Tanner Chatham movie.

  I tuned out the loud Coke commercial barraging my eardrums, which thankfully weren’t itching, and focused on the light strips as we trudged up the steps to a row in the upper center portion of the theater, not close enough to draw Audrey and her friends’ fire. Maybe if I showed her that I could be in the theater without anything weird happening, I could get back on track with my toleration campaign.

  “You go first,” Claire whispered.

  Rather than point out that I always have to be first, I made my way down the floor and nearly did a split as the sole of my tennis shoe made contact with some spilled candy, yet again reminding me that I didn’t need a ghost to help me look like an idiot.

  Heart at full-thumping speed, I clutched at one of the seats, managing to stop my slide.

  “Nice job, Grace!” Karen’s snarky voice called out. Giggles erupted.

  I glanced around to estimate how many people witnessed my clumsy glide, and noticed some guy at the end of my row waving. Yup, my luck sucked.

  Of all the nearly empty rows in this particular theater, I found the one Xavier Monroe was sitting in. I raised my hand briefly in salute to him, said “Hi,” then slumped down in the spring-loaded chair closest to me. Movie trivia questions flashed on the screen.

  “Heather, is that you?” A girl’s voice called out. It sounded a whole lot like my best friend Tina. But it couldn’t be, because Tina was still on her cruise. She would have called me first thing when she got home.

  And yet again I was wrong. There was no mistaking the swing of her long ponytail or the killer tan that spoke of days lazing in the Caribbean sun.

  “Hey, long time no see.” She sat next to me, wiggled her eyebrows, then nodded in Xavier’s direction. Translation: Why are you being nice to Xavier?

  “He did me a favor,” I said and slunk down further in my chair. Not to be gross, but snot was flooding my throat. My eyes burned like I’d been swimming open-eyed without goggles.

  “Ooh, how cool is this? On the cruise, the guy I was texting you about, the one with blond curly hair who wore ‘Sean Jean’ clothes?” Her inflection rose and fell as she made her way to the point of her sentence. “Did I tell you he plays tennis, too? Yeah, well, he’s been e-mailing and texting me since I got back.”

  The connection to what was previously mimed? My guess: the fact that Xavier and her cutie were both boys.

  Before I could ask how long she’d been home, Tina dug her bony fingers into my arm, which would, yes, add a few more bruises. “Ooh, something else I almost forgot to tell you. Suzanne got contacts! What do you think?” She whipped her head and looked back at Suzanne, who hadn’t bothered to come say hi or wave. “We went shopping at Phipps yesterday. Her mom got a hotel room for us and we got room service. Of course it wasn’t as good as the room service on the cruise, but still. Her mom even let her buy two hundred dollar jeans.”

  Claire’s eyes widened as she paused her popcorn shoveling and absorbed the magnitude of two hundred dollar jeans.

  My eyes were tearing and itchy, but not because I was perfectly justified in being upset that Tina spent time with Suzanne before she’d even called me. The seat upholstery must have been cleaned, too. I rubbed my irritated eyes, which only inflamed them more. I prayed it wouldn’t get any worse. I did have a layer of fabric between me and the seat cushion, and that should help, right?

  “Is this the movie?” Amy asked, settling next to Tina. “’Cause if it is, it’s not very exciting.”

  Tina shivered; she rubbed her arms. I motioned for Amy to give Tina a little space, and s
he obliged. Thank God. Normally, I’d be happy that Amy was behaving, but it only made me worry that she’d do something really bad later.

  Claire slurped on her gargantuan drink, reminding Tina of something else she had to share.

  “Ooh, I forgot to tell you, I tried my first virgin Pina Colada on the cruise. The cute guy I was texting you about, he . . . ”

  Amy angled her head, one braid swinging lower as she examined Tina. “Don’t she ever stop talking?”

  I shrugged, knowing that Tina would exhaust herself eventually, or the movie would start.

  Tina paused for a breath, then frowned. “I don’t know why you two don’t get along.”

  “Who?” I asked, because I hadn’t been listening and hadn’t realized the cruise channel had changed.

  She tightened the elastic on her ponytail. “You and Suzanne.”

  Right. Like she’d forgotten. “Um, don’t you remember her mimicking me wobbling in the heels I got for Easter?”

  “Oh, that.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “She was just kidding.”

  “Odd how she always seems to be kidding about me and no one else.” I rubbed my eyes again, then scratched my hairline. There wasn’t a spot on me that wasn’t itching from chemical overload. I popped two Benadryl fast melts while Tina rambled on.

  Amy cocked her head to the side. “You all right, Heather?”

  I nodded. So maybe I wasn’t all right now, but I would be in a couple minutes.

  Tina continued her chatter, her voice rising and falling in waves. “Well, I like you. Maybe she needs to get to know you better. She has really sensitive skin, too. Maybe not as sensitive as yours, but you two should be able to bond over that. And I told her that you had a famous artist in your family. She was impressed. Especially when I told her one of your aunt’s sculptures was at the High Museum.”

  “I wouldn’t exactly call Geneva famous.” Notorious. Eccentric. Weird.

  “But she has a loft, and she knows musicians,” Tina argued.

  And a ghost, I thought. Can’t leave him out. You’d think I couldn’t get any itchier, especially if I’d taken my medicine, but if the urge I was now feeling was any indication, I’d say that theory was wrong.

  “All I’m saying is that you should hang out with Suzanne more,” Tina said.

  “That’s kind of difficult when she doesn’t invite me.” I waved in her general direction. “Case in point.”

  “So invite her to do something. You may find you have more in common than you think.”

  Maybe we did. Maybe I hadn’t given Suzanne a fair shake. If she could think Aunt Geneva’s art was cool, she couldn’t be all bad.

  Claire crinkled the cellophane wrapper as she moved on to her Sour Patch Kids candy.

  “Oh, did I tell you?” Tina said, switching back to the cruise. “This other boy on the cruise, who wore Obsession for Men, kissed me in the moonlight. It was too wet and sloppy, but—”

  Thankfully, she couldn’t elaborate further because the previews were starting and the theater darkened. She ran back to her seat with Suzanne.

  Amy moved over to the spot next to me positioning her body as if the chair was down. Her proximity gave me a slight shiver. The screen brightened with trailers for upcoming movies, and she pointed toward the lovey-dovey couple two rows ahead.

  Drew. He had his arm lying across Rachel’s shoulders. I bet she’d said she was cold so he’d cuddle her. I bet she wore her thin spaghetti strap top just so she would get cold. I wanted to hate her for it, but I knew if I were in her situation I would do the exact same thing.

  The surround sound logo flashed on the screen, and the speakers blasted, vibrating my insides. I knew the medicine wasn’t working. No way would I be able to sit through the whole movie, which pretty much shot any chance of the movies becoming Amy’s holy grail of fun.

  “I’ll be back,” I said to Claire and Amy, then left my seat, hunching over so I didn’t block too much of the screen for people behind me. I girded my loins.

  “What do you want?” Audrey snarled before I even reached her row.

  “I don’t feel good.”

  “So?”

  Yeah, Audrey got short-changed when it came to empathy. “So I might have to go home.”

  “Just take your medicine!” she yelled, earning several shushes.

  “I did.”

  “Then give it some time to work,” she said in a pained, put-upon tone.

  “I have. I need to go home.”

  Karen leaned forward, “Then call your mom!” She whipped her big head back toward Audrey. “God, she probably did this on purpose.”

  Yeah, right. And what would my motivation be?

  There’d be no help from Audrey, that was clear. I hurried down the exit aisle, then scooted to where Claire was sitting and squatted next to her. “Look, I’m having a reaction to whatever they used to clean the theater. I’ve gotta get out of here. Go sit with Audrey.”

  Misery furrowed Claire’s brow. She grabbed her purse and headed up to the top of the theater.

  Amy joined me on the lobby bench next to the big cut out of the upcoming James Bond movie. I took another Benadryl, then fished my cell phone out of my purse and called Mom. No answer. I tried the house line, Dad, Grandma. No one was picking up.

  Amy’s company lasted all of one attempted call. The water fountain drew her like a siren song. Not wanting a repeat of the library, I drank the water. I’m not sure how much but it was enough to keep it from spilling onto the carpet and to make my bladder full. Yeah, just what I needed—a bursting bladder to go with the full-fledged allergy attack.

  A risky proposition indeed. If I went in the bathroom, Amy’d create havoc.

  The distinct cackle of Audrey’s friend Karen wafted down the long hallway. She and two other girls were making a beeline for the ladies room. Her eyes trained on me. “You’re still here?!”

  “Obviously.” She wouldn’t get to me this time.

  Her long flat-ironed hair a contrast to her pudgy face, Karen leaned her head toward her toadies. “What amazes me is that they come from the same gene pool. I mean, look at her. She dresses like shit.”

  As she glanced back over her shoulder to see if her arrows hit their mark, I crossed my arms over my chest. So I wasn’t a fashion plate. I wouldn’t cry about it. Not that Karen or her friends could tell. Thanks to my allergic reaction, I probably looked like I was crying.

  “Them’s fighting words,” Amy said. “Are you gonna sit there and take it, Heather?”

  “What choice do I have?” I whispered. Fighting back wouldn’t exactly endear me to my older sister.

  Karen laughed as she pushed through the bathroom’s swinging door, releasing the sound of flushing, which made me have to go more. I crossed my legs determined to hold it until Karen vacated the premises.

  Amy floated in front of me, angry-faced. “You go in there and tell her she don’t got no right to talk ugly to you.”

  “No,” I whispered, miserable from holding my bladder and my hurt.

  “Then I will,” Amy said and smiled broadly, revealing the gap between her front teeth.

  Don’t get me wrong. I appreciated that she wanted to defend my honor; it was more than Audrey had done over the years. But strange as it may sound, I felt responsibility for my ghost even if no one could see her but me. She could make everything a lot worse.

  After several deep breaths, I followed her into the bathroom and found Amy mimicking Karen as she applied and reapplied her lip gloss.

  I took two steps forward, and Karen, mouth puckered for another layer of lacquer, met my worried gaze through the looking glass. “You’re pathetic.”

  That was all the gauntlet Amy needed to leave the joys of mimicry and take control of Karen’s hand holding the lip gloss wand, tracking it across the girl’s full cheeks, then up, then sideways in an abstract manner, pretty much treating her face like a canvas.

  “What in the… My hand. I can’t stop my hand.” She screamed
as frosty tracks gleamed from her forehead to her chin. “Oh, my God, it’s like my hand’s possessed!”

  “You!” she shouted at me. “You’re doing this! Stop!”

  Amy let go, which, yes, made me look guilty. “I swear it’s not . . . ”

  Karen bolted from the ladies room.

  “Me,” I finished as Amy disappeared behind the handicapped stall, leaving nothing but her booted feet visible.

  The slide of a metal bar sounded from behind the stall closest to me. I turned away from the mirror. Similar clicks marched down the row rapidly, followed by all of the stall doors slamming open as Amy pushed them, revealing the remainder of Karen’s friends sitting on their respective pots. Screaming involving foul language and my name ensued.

  I headed back to the bench where I’d been sitting. Yes, I still had to pee like a big dog who’d been cooped up in a house all day. Hives rose on my skin as I tried calling Mom, Dad, and Grandma and got voicemail yet again. What was the deal?

  I took another fastmelt Benadryl. Was that four? I would not scratch, I would not scratch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Amy said.

  “Thanks.”

  She hovered in front of me, twirling a braid and eyeing me, then her face lit with a shimmery glow. “I’ll be back.”

  “No, don’t leave!” I said loudly, her words giving me chills, or maybe it was the Benadryl. She’d do something worse than her trick on Karen and I’d pay for it. Despite my lack of energy due to my drugged state, I wobbled to my feet, fully prepared to corral Amy.

  That’s when Supergeek emerged from behind a large fake potted plant. “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

  My heart sped, flooding my ears with the rushing beat. I played dumb for all it was worth. “When?”

  “Just now.”

  “No entiendo,” I said, recalling one phrase from my lackluster study of Spanish that was always the right answer as far as I was concerned.

  “Right. A remarkably similar answer to the question about how the books fell.”

  I tamped down the twinge of guilt that hit me right between the shoulder blades. Yeah, I’d left him to clean up the mess. But I had to think of an excuse for now, this minute, which wasn’t easy given the amount of antihistamine clouding my brain. “Maybe I was talking to myself.”