Ghosting (8 page)

because she lets out a cry,

one of astonishment and

fear.

What?
asks Felix.

Maxie points

and Felix leans forward, following her gesture.

Holy crap,
Felix says, his voice a whisper.

MAXIE

My heart is pounding.

I

hate

guns.

A kid in Colorado once

showed me his dad’s

shotgun

and I remember staring at it and

breathing in

the metallic,

harsh,

gunpowdery smell.

I felt cold, clammy,

like I might

pass out.

I wouldn’t touch that shotgun,

even when they

made fun

of me.

Anil reaches out

and closes

the glove compartment

with a decisive

smack.

Why would Brendan have a gun in his glove compartment?
I blurt out.

Could be his dad’s,
says Felix.
I think he’s a big pro-NRA kind of guy.

I look down at my shirt,

splotched with MoonBuzz

red.

Like I’ve been shot.

I shiver.

I am having

a really

bad feeling

about this whole evening.

You okay, Max?
Felix asks.

Okay,
I say, my voice sounding thin, even to me.

I gotta take a leak,
Felix says.
And while I’m in there, he adds, rubbing his eyes, I’ll find Brendan and tell him some of us want to get out of here.

Thanks, Felix,
I say.

Anil settles himself back

on the floor of the SUV,

his long legs

sticking out the door again.

It’s too bad about your shirt,
he says.
It’s nice. Looks really good on you.

And even though it’s

pretty dark

in the car,

I can clearly see he’s

blushing.

Wow, that sounded lame, didn’t it,
he says.

Sorta,
I say, trying not to smile.
But thanks.

We laugh, awkwardly,

and then he

suddenly flashes me

his own smile.

Heart-stopping.

Okay.

So now I get why

Chloe Carney is with him.

Which makes me want to go home

even more,

though at the very same time

I don’t want

to go

at all.

To cover my confusion,

I take out

my camera,

pretending like I’m making sure

it didn’t get any

MoonBuzz on it.

You like to take pictures?
Anil asks.

I do,
I say.
I’m on the wait list for Mrs. Pawley’s photography class.

Yeah, she’s good. What about working for the school paper?
he asks.

I nod,

pressing the power button of

the camera

on and then off.

Was thinking I’d try for it, either that or the literary magazine. What’s it called,
Versions
or something?

Yeah, think you’d probably like that better, better than the paper I mean.

Why?

You’d be doing more creative stuff, not so many lacrosse games. Plus I’m the editor of the paper, and people say I’m a pain to work for.

That smile again.

Though we sure could use a good photographer,
he says.

Between that and the shirt comment

I’m wondering if Anil could actually be

flirting with me,

even though he doesn’t seem like the

flirting type.

There you are,
comes Emma’s voice.
Chloe’s been looking all over for you.

Anil stands up,

looking guilty.

Where’s Felix?
Brendan says, hopping into the driver’s seat.
Jesus, my car smells like freaking Lollapalooza.

He powers down

all the windows.

Party’s lame,
Brendan says.
Emma wants to grab a burger or something.

As he puts the key

in the ignition,

Felix appears,

with Chloe close behind him.

When she and Anil slide past me

I get this strange, light-headed feeling

breathing in

his soapy smell.

Between the MoonBuzz

and whatever else they had at the party,

both Emma and Chloe are

pretty drunk.

Not gross drunk,

just giggly on Chloe’s part

and loud on Emma’s.

I find myself trying to

block out

Chloe’s throaty little giggles

coming from

behind me.

CHLOE

“Who You Should Fall in Love with, According to My Mom”

I’m a little messed up.

I think Anil saw Josh coming on to me.

He’s such a jerk,

Josh I mean.

Who wants something?
says Brendan.

He’s pulled into a drive-through

fast-food place.

A milk shake suddenly sounds amazing.

Anil gets one, too,

and he pays,

so maybe he’s not too mad at me.

Toward the end with Josh,

he stopped paying for stuff for me.

Said it was because he lost

his job at the gas station.

But I wondered.

I can’t remember what Josh did exactly,

at the party,

maybe put his hand on my ass.

But I know Anil saw.

When Josh and I first got together,

sophomore year,

he was so devoted.

But middle of junior year

he started slipping away.

I could feel it.

Like he was distracted.

Bored even.

It sucked, and I didn’t know how to

stop the slide.

No matter how cute I looked,

how much I smiled.

Then it came,

Sorry, babe.

This just isn’t working out.

Hope we can stay friends.

Yeah, friends with benefits.

I don’t think so.

So I looked around.

And not that I want to brag

but there always seem to be guys

who want to be with me.

But no one else did anything for me,

not like Josh.

Till I saw Anil on the tennis court.

He was hot.

Plus he’s, what’s the right word,

decent.

Nice.

Nice.

For some reason that word

makes me giggle.

I know I’m giggling too much.

How’s the milk shake?
Anil asks.

Cold. Creamy,
I say.

I giggle again.

Stop it, I tell myself.

How come you never told me your brothers go to my mom?
Anil suddenly asks.

Dunno,
I say back.
It’s not a big deal, is it?

No,
he says.
Except it seems sort of weird I didn’t even know you had brothers.

And it
is
weird,

weird that I’ve never brought Anil home.

But here’s why:

my mom would see this good-looking Indian guy

with a 4.0 and his two doctor parents

and she’d be like,

oh my god,

all drooly over him,

because if she’s said it once

she’s said it a thousand times:

Chloe honey, it’s just as easy to fall in love

with a future doctor

as it is to fall in love

with a future garage mechanic.

And I really don’t
ever
want Anil

to see that look

in my mom’s eyes.

Saturday, August 28, 11:45 p.m.

FAITH

Mom and

Dad are in

the kitchen,

cleaning up.

Polly is

curled

at the

foot of

my bed.

I’m looking

at an old

photo album,

thinking

about Emma.

About Emma

before

Brendan.

Emma

always

had boys

liking her.

Always.

But she

never wanted

a boyfriend.

Not until

Brendan.

Sometimes

I think

she just

thought she

should try

it, the way

she likes

to try

everything,

at least

once.

Right away

I didn’t

like him,

even though

he looked

like a

fairy-tale

prince,

with his

blond curls

and dimples.

At first

I thought

it was

because he

took up

so much of

Emma’s time,

that I was

jealous.

And I guess

that was

part of it.

Truth is,

I’ve barely

seen Emma

this summer.

Not like last

summer.

We actually

hung out

a fair amount

then.

In fact,

my very

favorite

Emma

memory

was that

July.

Mom and Dad

were away,

at a

conference

for lawyers

in New Orleans.

Emma

and I were

watching TV,

reruns of

a silly show

about rich kids

living in

New York.

We hadn’t

even noticed

it was

raining

when suddenly

beeps

and warnings

came on

the TV.

Severe

thunderstorms

heading toward

Cook County.

The little

fluorescent

map in

the corner

of the screen

flashing

urgently.

Suddenly

we heard

the roaring

sound of

high winds

and lashings

of rain

on the

window.

And just

like that,

the lights

flickered

and went

out.

Awesome,
said Emma.

We scouted

around for

flashlights,

found none

that worked.

By the time

we got

candles lit,

the storm

had blown

through.

A quick,

vicious hit

that left

the power

out for

days.

Freezers

full of:

melting Popsicles,

thawed T-bone steaks

and mushy boxes of Lean Cuisine.

While we were

looking

for candles,

Emma found

our old

dress-up

trunk.

C’mere, Faith,
she called down the hall to me.

And in the

candlelight

we opened up

the trunk

and all

kinds of

memories

came

crowding out.

We each picked

a favorite gown.

Mine was

an old

wedding dress

of our

Aunt June’s.

It’s a hippie

wedding dress

with a

high neck

and delicate

ivory lace.

Emma picked

a deep purple

ball gown

of Mom’s,

from her

sorority days,

which shows

a lot of

cleavage.

Then Emma

grabbed

my hand

and we

ran out

into the

backyard,

which was

covered with

wet leaves

and branches,

like nature

had been

having

a big old

crazy party

and left

a serious mess

behind.

But then it was

peaceful

and bright,

the yellow

half-moon

perched on

top of a

puffy bank

of silvery

clouds.

Emma led

me over

to the old

hammock,

soggy with rain,

and we both

lay back

onto it

side by side,

the way

we always

used to

when we

were younger.

We rocked

ourselves,

pushing

the ground

with our feet,

and looking

up at the

yellow moon.

Then Emma

took the

old lace

from my dress

between

her fingers.

You ever think about getting married, Faith?
she asked.

No,
I said.

She rolled

sideways on

the hammock

and looked

at me,

her head

propped on

her hand,

her elbow

sticking through

the mesh

of the

hammock.

Why not?
she asked.

And finally

for the

first time,

I came

right out

and said it.

I don’t like boys.

I held

my breath.

That’s okay,
said Emma.
You’ve got plenty of time for that.

Yeah,
I said.
Thing is, I think I like girls.

She knew what

I meant.

I could tell

by the

flicker in

her eyes.

And I

expected,

Ew, Faith,

really?

But she

surprised me.

Sometimes

Emma

does that.

Well, that’s okay, too,
she said.

Then she

reached over

to take

my hand,

giving it

a good

warm

squeeze.