Ghosting Read online

  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

&
nbsp; 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.

  And in that

  moment,

  in that

  one lit
tle

  squeeze,

  I felt a

  big weight

  slide off

  my heart.

  Thanks, Emma, I whispered.

  Hey, Faith, Emma said abruptly, turning to look at me again.

  Yeah? I said.

  You’re beautiful, you know. And smart. Really smart.

  Me? I was taken aback.