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I did a double take. Was she really accusing me of tripping her? “Did not!”

She stared at me as she rubbed her elbow, cringing like it really hurt. “I know you tripped me. I didn't just fall.”

I tried not to cry, even though I knew I hadn't done it. “I'm way over here, I couldn't have tripped you even if I wanted to!” And I really kind of wanted to. She was SO mean!

She opened her mouth to say something else, but instead just huffed, turned away, and finally left the bathroom.

“What a horrible girl!” the voice from before said.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Priscilla Lafontaine.”

“Who?”

“Oh! Lilah,” my grandmother showed up out of the blue. “Ms. Lafontaine is the epitome of fashion! She was a wonderful designer and you should consider it an honor that she gave you fashion advice. I just loved your fashions, Ms. Lafontaine!”

“Oh, thank you, Dora, I so miss working in fashion since I crossed over. But please, call me Prissy.”

Oh, maybe
that
explains it
, I thought while the dead old women struck up a conversation like they were having high tea or something. Maybe this Prissy person used to make old lady clothes.

I looked back down at my capris. I liked them. I liked them a lot. And really, that's all that matters, right? I mean, isn't it?

Although I was beginning to feel a bit self-conscious.

Great. My self-esteem was getting a beating from ghosts.

Like being twelve and having no boobs wasn't bad enough.

“Don't do it.”

“Don't do wha…?” I turned to say, but there was no one there.

I returned to what I was doing, which was ordering lunch in the cafeteria.

“I'll have the meat loaf, please.”

“Ugh. I said don't!”

As I waited for the lunch lady to dish out my portion, I discreetly looked around.

“I told you all to leave me alone today,” I said, trying to keep my lips from moving.

“This is important. Do you really want to eat something disgusting? I'm doing you a favor!”

I took the plate of food and put it down on my tray.

“Who are you?”

“Someone who knows disgusting meat loaf when she sees it.”

I looked down at the square of bumpy meat, which had been smothered in gray sludge.

“Stick with the salad, honey,” the ghost said.

Maybe it wasn't a bad idea, after all. I slid the tray to the end of the line and then abandoned it there, grabbing a salad from the fridge instead.

“Good choice; you won't regret it.”

I turned toward the big milk dispenser and pulled the lever on the spout while I asked, “Who are you really?”

“My name's Marion, and I was the lunch lady here at this school for forty-nine years before I passed four years ago.”

“Wow, that's some job commitment,” I said.

“Oh, honey, I just loved working here so much, I couldn't bear to leave! Not retirement or even death could keep me from coming and seeing you kids every day.”

I was thinking maybe Miss Marion needed a life, but uh… well, I guess she didn't have a choice anymore.

“Well, thanks for the warning.”

“You're welcome, honey, the new cook ain't what old Phil was before he retired.”

I took my salad and my milk to the counter and handed the cashier my lunch card.

“Have a wonderful day, honey!” the dead lunch lady said.

“You, too,” I said back, scanning the crowd for Alex.

She was not gonna believe this.

The rest of the afternoon was quiet, spirit-wise, so by the end of fourth period, I'd almost forgotten about my new powers.

And it had turned into a very long day.

I ended up eating my lunch by myself, forgetting that Alex had badminton club at lunch on Wednesdays.

So that was horrible; if I'd remembered I was
going to be on my own, I would have just grabbed a sandwich and then eaten by my locker instead of sitting in the cafeteria waiting for my best friend who was never going to come.

And I definitely wouldn't have sat there if I'd known that I would be subjected to question after question about being hit by lightning from like every kid in school.

It seemed I was quite the novelty.

The most popular question was, “Did you buy a lottery ticket?” since I seemed to be so very lucky to have survived a lightning strike. After the seventh time I was asked, I stopped answering with, “Uh, hello, you have to be eighteen to buy lottery tickets,” and started answering with, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I did, and no, I will not be sharing my millions with you, moron.” Okay, well, I kept the moron part to myself, but really.
Duh.

So when Alex caught up with me at my locker and asked if I'd heard any other voices, I stared at her for a superlong time before I realized what she meant.

“Oh, sorry, I'm so tired I actually forgot.” I reached into my locker for my math book and shoved it into my backpack.

“How could you possibly forget that you hear—”

I slammed my locker door closed, stopping her from finishing her sentence.

“
Shhh.
Not here, Alex.”

Her mouth formed an O as she finally picked up on my apprehension. But knowing Alex, she could erupt with an inappropriate comment at any time.

Grabbing her arm, I led her out of the school before anyone heard her talking about my new ability.

“Ow, Lilah, let go,” Alex whined as we got to the door.

“Sorry,” I said, dropping her arm. “I just needed to get out of there.”

“Everything okay?”

I looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Yeah, I'm just really tired.”

“Yeah?” Alex was looking at me intently, waiting for me to spill.

“Okay. The biggest thing was an incident in music class.”

Her eyes went wide. “The
biggest
thing? What happened?”

“So I was practicing in the drum room, and Mr. Robertson comes in, and his dead bandmate shows up and tells me I have to make him get his old band back together.”

“No kidding!”

I nodded. “For real.”

“So what did you do?”

“I told him she wanted them to get the band back together.”

“Wow,” Alex said.

Sometimes Alex could be a little thick.

“It's so cool that you are psychic now. And now we know it's not just people you know who speak to you.” Her face suddenly got serious. “Hey, do you think…”

“Do I think what?”

“You could probably even get
paid
for it.”

I looked at her sideways. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, you've seen psychics on TV. I know you have. Remember that one who solved crimes and told some lady in the audience to get her thyroid checked?”

I didn't like where this was going. “Yeah, I remember.”

“You can get
paid
for being a medium and giving people messages from their dead friends and family. People will pay tons of money for that stuff.” She grabbed my arm. “Lilah, just think about it! We could make so much money! We could get you your drum set and me a guitar, and we can really start our band!”

I still didn't think it was a good idea, hiring myself out as a medium, especially since I had no idea if I even
could
talk to dead people at will. So far they
had come to me. But Alex was so excited, and the prospect of finally getting my own drum set was kind of awesome.

And then there was the whole helping people bit. Since I was really little, I always thought I'd want to be a nurse or a social worker because the thought of helping people really appealed to me.

Of course, “medium” is not an option they explore on Career Day, but after what happened with Mr. Robertson and even getting dad to start dating, I was beginning to think maybe I'd found my calling. It felt really good to relay messages and give people peace and closure they wouldn't get any other way. That part of it was totally cool.

Alex stared at me, waiting for my answer, hoping I was in on her new plan.

I took a deep breath. “Okay, let's do it.”

The next day a whole bunch of kids and even a couple of teachers were absent from school. No one knew why, but when I got home from school and was making dinner, Dad put on the news and we heard a story about a terrible case of food poisoning at our school.

Apparently it was the meat loaf.

“Thank you, lunch lady,” I said.

Dad was nervous, and of course I wasn't helping, but there was no way I could let him go on a date wearing what he had on. I was just thankful he'd stopped at the barber on his way home to fix his uncooperative hair, or we'd have had to do a total makeover on him.

“What's wrong with this?” he asked, holding out his arms to give me the full view. As if I needed to see the whole package to know he was a fashion
DON'T
.

“Oy,” my grandmother said, her first word in days. Even though she scared me half out of my skin, I felt suddenly warm knowing she was there.

“There is so much wrong with this, Dad. I don't even know where to start.”

He swallowed, looking like maybe he was going to throw up.

Clearly, I needed to be gentler. He was obviously very fragile. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be heartless. Let's start with where you're going.”

“Dinner.”

“Where?”

“Frangelico's.”

“A steak house?”

He nodded.

“Her choice or yours?”

“Mine. I thought the man was supposed to decide.”

“Sure. In 1950,” Bubbly said.

I bit back the sigh; no use making it worse. “Did you at least ask her if it was okay?”

Dad was looking positively green. “No.”

“I hope she's not one of those vegetarians,” Bubby said, echoing my own thoughts. But I wasn't going to say it out loud to make him even more nervous. I mean, you would hope that if Dad's date was, in fact, a vegetarian, she would have told him. How cruel would it be to tell a man you'll go out to dinner with him just to have him take you to a steak house if you're a vegetarian?

“What should I have done?” Dad asked, so clueless it was almost cute.

Almost.

“Never mind that now. We need to fix what you're wearing.”

“Oy, thank goodness, Lilah,” my grandmother said. “At least you have sense enough not to let him go out
like that
.”

I wanted to talk to her, but the current crisis would not allow for a tête-à-tête with a ghost. And, anyway, there would be plenty of time to chat once Dad left for his date.

I reached up and undid his tie while he stood there like an anxious, sweating mannequin, suffering through being dressed. “First, we need to get rid of this.” I pulled off the tie and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt, leaving a little neck showing but no chest hair.

“Not too casual?” Dad asked.

“No, it's perfect because you're still wearing the jacket. But, um…” I cocked my head, mentally going through Dad's wardrobe, trying to pick a more suitable sport coat.

“The camel one would look better,” Bubby said.

“Yeah, you're right.” I nodded.

“Who's right?” Dad said, looking down at me.

Whoops!

“Oh, sorry, Dad. I was just thinking your camel jacket would look better than this one. I guess I was just thinking out loud.”

“The camel one, huh?”

Whew!

“Yeah.”

Dad disappeared up the stairs to change his jacket, giving me a moment alone with my grandmother.

“I'm glad you're back, Bubby.”

“I never totally left.”

“How come I couldn't hear you?”

She sighed. “As much as I love being around you, I have things to do elsewhere. I can't be around all the time. I've noticed you're not sleeping so well, though.”

Okay, my dead grandmother was watching me sleep (or more accurately, not sleep)? That's just creepy.

“I guess all of this is a lot to take in.”

“I understand. I heard about your music teacher.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I guess I'm learning all about what it means to… well, I don't know. Do what I do.”

“Just be careful, Lilah. You can't be all things to all people.”

“So what do you mean you have things you have to do elsewhere?” I asked, suddenly quite curious about how my grandmother spent her days.

“I have obligations.”

“You're not going to tell me, are you?”

“Nope.” I could even hear the smile in her voice. “Now be quiet, Lilah. Your father is coming down the stairs.”

I turned and sure enough, there was Dad, looking great in his camel jacket. Good thing he had us as his stylists.

“So?”

I nodded approvingly. “Definitely much better.”

He exhaled.

“You'll do great, Dad. Remember, Alex and I will be here watching a movie, so just duck into the bathroom and call if you need any tips or pointers.”

“I hardly think I need help from my twelve-year-old daughter on how to date.”

But his face said otherwise.

“Ya, right. Whatever you say.”

He grabbed his car keys off the table by the front door and took one last look in the mirror on the back of the closet door.

“You look great. Now get going.” I gave him a gentle push toward the front door, ignoring the pounding in my own chest. It was hard not to catch his nervousness. This was a monumental event.

He leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek. “See you later. I shouldn't be too late.”

“Lilah,” my grandmother hollered. “The ring!”

“Dad!” I grabbed his arm.

“What?”

I held up his hand. “Take off your wedding band!”

He blushed as he slid the ring off his finger and handed it to me. “What would I do without you?”