Girl Meets Ghost

by Lauren Barnholdt

  I may be clueless when it comes to boys, but I know enough to realize that Daniella must have liked this Trevor Santini person. Although, I can’t see why. He’s eating a big steak-and-cheese sandwich, and cheese is dripping all over his mouth, and a string of it even gets onto his shirt and makes a big grease stain. How disgusting.

  But before I can worry about Trevor and Daniella, the second horrible thing happens—a voice comes booming across the food court. “Kendall Nicole Williams!”

  I look up. Oh. My. God. My dad is here! My dad is at the mall, in the food court, and he’s marching over to where I’m sitting. He looks so mad that he might explode.

  I pretend I don’t see him, then quickly pull my phone out and type him a quick text. Going to study at the mall—getting a ride home w Brandon. c u soon! Then I press send.

  “Um, is that your dad?” Brandon asks as my dad comes weaving through the tables.

  I wonder if I can say no, but since my dad has already spotted me and is making a beeline for our table, I decide to take another tack.

  “Oh, hi, Dad!” I say brightly. “Did you get my text? Did you come to visit me?”

  My dad ignores me and peers down at Brandon. “Who are you?” he demands.

  “I’m Brandon Dunham, sir,” Brandon says, standing up and holding his hand out. “I’m a friend of Kendall’s from school. It’s nice to meet you.”

  My dad looks at Brandon’s hand suspiciously, but then finally reaches out and shakes it. “Ellie’s here too,” I say, so that my dad doesn’t think Brandon and I are on some kind of date. (Even though we are.)

  Next to me Daniella snorts, and I shoot her a dirty look.

  “See!” I say, pointing over to the side of the food court, where Ellie’s walking over to us, Kyle trailing a little way behind her. “There she is! Ellie! Ellie, we’re over here!” It’s only when she gets a little closer that I realize she’s holding hands with Kyle. What? Why? I thought she was over him once he used that tape measure as a lasso.

  “Wow,” Daniella says. “Your friend is a fast mover.” But the drama I’m having must not really excite her that much, because before I can throw her another dirty look, she’s wandered over to where Travis Santini is sitting. He’s holding hands with the red-haired girl and looking into her eyes like he’s totally lovesick. Something tells me that’s really going to make Daniella mad.

  Ellie waves at me with her free hand, but when she sees my dad, she frowns, then gets a panic-stricken look on her face.

  “Well!” my dad says, his gaze falling on Ellie’s and Kyle’s intertwined hands. “I see you’re on a double date!”

  “No!” I say. “No, we’re not on a double date!”

  “Hi, Mr. Williams,” Ellie says, walking up to the table. She’s not holding Kyle’s hand anymore, which is good, but also kind of too late since my dad already saw her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Yeah, Dad,” I say. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “I should be, yes,” he says. “But then I got a call from Cindy Pollack, and she told me that she saw my daughter at the mall, hanging out in the hat store with boys. She thought it was just adorable that my daughter was on a date.” He looks at Brandon suspiciously. “And I said, ‘That’s impossible. Kendall stayed after school to study in the library.’ And then she said—”

  “I get it, Dad,” I say, interrupting him. “But you didn’t have to leave work. You could have just called me.”

  “Luckily, I was working nearby,” he says. “And I did try to call you.” I reach down and look at my phone. Seven missed calls, all from my dad. I guess I couldn’t hear my phone with all that loud music in the hat shop, not to mention Daniella freaking out. I look over to where Travis Santini is sitting. Daniella’s in one of the empty chairs at their table, gesturing wildly and yelling at the red-haired girl.

  “Well, I texted you,” I tell my dad. “But I guess you didn’t get it! Anyway, now that you’re here, maybe you could do some shopping, and then we can get dinner or something later.” I figure this will definitely get him to calm down, because my dad loves the kung pao chicken they have in the food court. He’s not really supposed to have it because of his cholesterol, but I think today we can make an exception.

  “Kendall,” my dad says, his tone icy. “I think it’s best if we leave now.”

  Ellie looks down at the ground. Brandon looks super-scared, which is understandable, since my dad is really scary. He’s six foot two and has a beard, and he works construction, so he’s always wearing Carhartt jackets and work boots. Even Kyle knows enough to keep his mouth shut.

  So what else can I do? I gather up my books and follow my dad out the door. The only good thing is that Daniella doesn’t follow.

  Chapter

  4

  Okay, so that was really embarrassing. To have my dad walk in and pull me out of the mall like that? I’ll never live it down. Not to mention the fact that I have to hear it all the way home in my dad’s truck. (“I trusted you, Kendall. I can’t believe you would go behind my back like that, Kendall.” Blah, blah, blah, blah.)

  Cindy Pollack is such a tattletale. Cindy Pollack, btw, is this very annoying blond woman who’s friends with my dad. They went to high school together, and now she lives down the street from us. I keep trying to tell my dad that she wants to be more than friends with him, but he’s totally in denial.

  Anyway, by the time we get home, my dad has calmed down a little bit. In fact, I think he feels kind of bad that he embarrassed me in front of my friends, because he doesn’t say anything about me being grounded or anything. He just makes me promise that next time I’ll let him know where I’m going to be.

  Promise made, I run up to my room, pull on a comfy sweatshirt, and then grab my red notebook out of my bag and head over to the cemetery across the street.

  The cemetery is where I go to think, to write, to hang out. I know spending time in a cemetery probably seems weird, and I guess it is, a little. But the cemetery is quiet and calm, and it’s where my grandma is buried. She was the closest person to me until she died a couple of years ago, and there’s a wooden bench right near her grave. I swear, when I’m there, it’s like her spirit is calming me or something. Weird, right?

  I settle in on my favorite bench, and then, all of a sudden, there’s Daniella.

  “I come here because it’s peaceful,” I say to her. “And since you’re here, that’s ruining it. So go away.”

  She sighs. “Travis Santini has moved on,” she says, all dramatic. She flings herself onto the bench in despair.

  I roll my eyes. I mean, I get it that it sucks that she’s dead and the guy she likes has moved on. But let’s face it, Travis Santini is no prize.

  My phone beeps with a text. Ellie. OMG, R U GROUNDED?

  I quickly text back, No—what happened? What did B say? And why were u holding hands w/K????

  “Did you hear me?” Daniella yells.

  “Yes,” I say. “Travis Santini has moved on.”

  “Don’t you even care?”

  “Travis Santini was your boyfriend?”

  “Well, no,” she says. “Not exactly. But he was about to be.”

  “About to be doesn’t count,” I say, then turn back to my phone.

  “Yeah, well . . .” She trails off and looks into the distance. “All I know is that I have to find Jen. And tell her it’s not her fault. And then I can move on.” I don’t say anything. “And you have to help me, right?”

  I want to say no, because she’s kind of a brat. But the problem is, if I don’t help her, she’s just going to hang around and become more and more agitated, like, every single second. I tried to ignore a ghost once last year, even going so far as to pretend I couldn’t see or hear her, but it didn’t work. I never got even a moment’s peace, and the whole thing culminated with her screaming at me in the middle of the school-wide chorus concert, which totally distracted me and made me sing the wrong lyrics.

  “
Yes,” I say, sighing. “I’ll help you.” And then I add, “Not like I have a choice.” Just in case she thinks it’s her sparkling personality or something that’s making me change my mind.

  I pull out my red notebook, placing my phone on the bench just in case Ellie texts me back. “So,” I say. “Can you please tell me who this Jen person is?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, and shrugs her delicate little shoulders. “I just know that she’s very important.”

  “Okay,” I say. “And do you know who you are?”

  “I’m Daniella,” she says, and then rolls her eyes. “I already told you that.” She’s giving me a look now like she can’t believe I’m the one that’s supposed to help her move on. I want to tell her beggars can’t be choosers, but if I annoy her too much, she might not remember what I need her to tell me.

  “I know,” I say, smiling tightly. “And you obviously remember Travis Santini, but do you remember anything else about your life? Where you lived, when you died, your last name, that kind of thing?”

  “Well.” She chews on her lip. “It must have been recently, because Travis and I are about the same age.”

  “Right,” I say. “And since you remember him, he must have something to do with your unfinished business.”

  “Travis Santini does?” She frowns. “But what about Jen?”

  “Jen does too.”

  “What, though? And who is Jen?”

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” she shrieks. “Aren’t you supposed to know all this stuff?”

  “No,” I say. “Unfortunately, I have to figure it out.” I look down at my notebook. One Travis Santini, a maybe boyfriend. One mysterious girl named Jen. And one ghost with an attitude. I sigh. So not how I wanted to be spending my October.

  • • •

  The next morning at school I’m really, really dreading seeing Brandon. What if he thinks I’m completely lame now that he saw my dad hauling me out of the mall? What if he realizes that no matter what, he could never get involved with me since my dad is obviously way too overprotective and might freak out on him? What if he thinks I’m a total immature baby who’s not allowed to date? (Note to self: Ask my dad if I can date.) What if—

  “I like Kyle again,” Ellie says in homeroom.

  “I didn’t know you stopped liking him,” I say. “I mean, I figured you had, because you always stop liking people. But then you guys were holding hands.”

  “I went off him for a second,” she says. “In the hat store. I mean, did you see what he was doing with that tape measure?” She wrinkles up her nose like she can’t believe someone would act that way. “But then, after you and Brandon left, he was being really funny and sweet. He kept sharing his licorice with me, and when he was checking out, he asked me if I wanted anything from Lids. And then, when the cashier gave him two dollars extra in change, he returned it.”

  Hmmm. Asking her if she wanted anything is kind of cute. But still. “Are you sure you like him again?”

  “Positive,” she says. “And I think he likes me, too.”

  “Well, obvi,” I say. “You’re fabulous.” I look down and play with the edge of my notebook. “Um, so what did Brandon say?” Ellie never texted me back yesterday, leading me to believe that she doesn’t want to tell me what Brandon said.

  “Brandon?” She looks uncomfortable.

  “Yes,” I say, “and you better tell me the truth.”

  “Weeeell, to be honest, your dad made him kind of nervous.”

  Great. I knew I was going to have to do some damage control. Thank God I did my hair in two French braids this morning, with glitter threads all through them, and that I’m wearing a super-cute black skirt that I made sparkly with my glitter gun. “So what should I do?” I ask Ellie.

  “Honestly?” she says. “I think you should act like nothing’s wrong, just pretend like—”

  But the rest of what she’s saying gets all swallowed up by Daniella. She pops right up next to me, still in her gymnastics uniform, and looking as fresh as a daisy. “Did you figure it out yet?” she demands. “Because I’m not getting any younger.”

  I sigh. Seriously? Like I don’t have enough to worry about. Especially since I haven’t figured it out yet. Not Daniella, and apparently not my love life.

  • • •

  Brandon’s not in math (which drives me crazy, because hello, I look really cute today and need to make him realize how mature and independent I am, the kind of girl who’s totally capable of making decisions without her dad being involved—not to mention I spent all morning psyching myself up to see him), and that kind of makes the rest of the day drag by.

  When eighth-period study hall finally rolls around, I skip my usual trip to the English office and decide to go to the computer lab to do a little research on Daniella. I figure it will keep my mind off Brandon and the reason he wasn’t in math. And besides, I do need to get started. Daniella’s driving me crazy, following me all around. She’s incapable of talking at a normal volume too. She’s been screaming and screeching at me all day.

  I sit down in the back of the library, making sure my computer screen is facing the wall. No way I want people to see what I’m doing. One time at the beginning of the year someone caught me googling “dead people Boston,” and I had to pretend that Dead People was the name of a new band and that I was checking their tour dates.

  “Daniella teenager dead Boston area,” I type now. A bunch of results pop up, mostly about a girl named Daniella who died in 1990. Not what I’m looking for.

  Think, Kendall, I tell myself. What else do you know about her? Well, I know she’s wearing a gymnastics outfit. And that might be a clue.

  So this time I google “high school gymnast dead,” and that’s when it pops up. An article about the Milford High gymnastics team, who all died in a bus accident earlier this year. They were on their way to a meet in Connecticut when the bus driver lost control of the bus and it went sliding off the road. I really should have remembered that. I know it sounds morbid, but usually I keep up with all the dead people around town. I have to. It’s, like, job training.

  I quickly find the Milford High online yearbook and Google “Jen.” Of course there are, like, three million of them. I look for a picture of the gymnastics team, but when I find one, it’s too small and I can’t read the names or see the faces very well. Sigh. It looks like I’m going to have to make a trip to the high school after school.

  • • •

  I have to lie to my dad again about where I’m going, but I can’t really be blamed for that. I mean, what choice do I have? It’s not like I can just say, “Oh, hi, Dad. I have to go to the high school because I have to find some girl named Jen, and by the way did I ever mention I can still see ghosts? No? Oh, well, I can. Later!”

  Luckily, the high school’s within walking distance, so I don’t have to take the bus again. I play with the end of one of my braids as I walk over there and think about Brandon. His smile. The way his hair glints in the sunlight. Well. Not that I’ve ever really seen his hair glint in the sunlight. But it does look like the kind of hair that totally would.

  When I get to the high school, there are groups of kids milling around on the sidewalk and the lawn, dressed in cheerleader uniforms and soccer shorts. Great. So basically now I have to find a girl named Jen while knowing nothing about her, including her last name or what she looks like.

  “Hey!” Daniella yells, popping up next to me. I scream and drop the notebook I’m holding. A couple of girls sitting on a bench near me turn to stare. “Oh my God,” Daniella says. “This is my school! I remember it!” She looks at me in awe. “God, this is so weird.”

  “Yeah,” I say grumpily, brushing my notebook off. “Any chance you also remember Jen’s last name?”

  She shrugs. Yeah. I didn’t think so.

  “So what are we doing here?” she asks. I fill her in on what I found out earlier, about her team and the accident
. “Wow,” she says, her eyes wild. “That’s, like, so dramatic.”

  She stays quiet as I plow through the crowd and into the school. Once I’m inside, I follow the sound of sneakers squeaking, figuring that since Daniella was a gymnast, it’s a safe bet that I can learn something if I go to the gym. There’s a boys’ basketball team in there practicing, but I barge right in.

  “What are you doing?” Daniella asks. “You can’t just go—”

  “Yoo-hoo!” I yell. “Excuse me!”

  Daniella starts flipping out. “Stop!” she shrieks. She tries to bat my hands, but she just goes floating right through me. It’s kind of funny, actually. “Stop! You can’t just go around and yell at boys’ basketball practice!”

  Actually, she’s wrong. Completely wrong. I’ve been on enough of these spy missions to realize that you have to go in and start yelling and getting your hands dirty, otherwise you’ll never get anything done. Also, it’s always better to talk to boys when you need information. Girls get way too suspicious and start asking all kinds of questions.

  True to form, a guy wanders off the court toward me. He’s all sweaty and wearing a basketball uniform. Gross.

  “Oh my God,” Daniella says. “I remember him! That’s Mitch Huntsman. Do not talk to him, Kendall! He’s a total jerk.”

  “Hello!” I say to him. “You’re Mitch, right?”

  “Yeah.” He looks at me. “How did you know that?”

  “My sister goes here,” I say. “And she has a crush on you.” I lower my eyes to the ground, like it’s some big secret I shouldn’t be talking about.

  “Who’s your sister?”

  “I’ll tell you,” I say. “But first I need some help.”

  He looks back over his shoulder to the basketball practice in progress, but the thought of my older sister liking him must be too much to resist, because he turns back to me. “What do you need help with?”