Deception (15 page)

I collapsed on a bench, sweaty and aching.
Why am I doing this?

To stay alive.

God save me from overdramatic ghosts.
You taught her, too. The first Emma?

His dark eyes turned darker.
Yes.

To help her stay alive?
I asked, setting the sword beside me.

No
, he said.
To betray her.

When I raised my head, he was gone.

17

I was quiet through dinner, letting Martha carry most of the conversation about cataloging items Celeste had found in the attic. Then she pushed a Game Boy across the table toward me.

“Don’t think I’ll be adding this to my list,” she said.

It must have belonged to Bennett. I hadn’t seen one in ages and couldn’t resist flipping it on. It came to life with a distinctly digital noise that clashed with the elegance of the dining room.

“Emma, not at the table.”

“Sorry.” I slipped it under my napkin, after confirming Tetris had loaded.

Martha kept the evening light, telling funny stories of the crazy kids she’d known
—
and their crazier parents. I wondered how life would’ve been different if I’d grown up with her.

I didn’t say much, but headed upstairs refreshed. I finished my homework, checked my messages, then fell into bed, exhausted despite the early hour.

Just as I was dozing off, I heard a
tack, tack, tack.

I mumbled, “Celeste?”

Tack. Tack.

“G’way, I’m sleeping.”

Pock!

What the hell? I sat up and looked for the ghost responsible. Nobody around. Then a shower of pebbles
—
or marbles
—
bounced off my window.

Nicholas!
I summoned him.

Evenin’, mum,
he said, hovering just inside the doorway.

Would you not call me “mum”?

Sorry, mum,
he said.
Need them boots of yours polished?

No, I need sleep. Stop knocking your marbles against the window or—

And another shower of gravel hit the windowpane.

Not me, mum.

Nicholas, I’m not old enough to be a mum or ma’am or whatever it is you’re saying. Call me Emma.
I crossed to the window.
And sorry for blaming you.

I pushed aside the curtains, and saw the old maple trees stretching toward the sky. The manicured lawn rolled gently toward the stone fence and streaks of silver clouds glowed in the moonlight.

Then I saw him, and my heart almost stopped: Coby standing under my window, glowing faintly.

Dead. The ghost of Coby. I heard an anguished sound, and realized it came from my own throat. I threw open the window as Coby stepped from the moonlight and stopped glowing.

“You’re alive!” I called to him.

He laughed two stories below me, in the gravel of the drive. “You’re not like other girls, are you?” he called up. “I never know what you’re gonna say.”

“Me either,” I told him. “What are you
doing
down there?”

“Trouble with my Trig homework. What’s the answer to five?”

“You lost your phone?”

“Your cell’s never on.”

“One second.”

I ducked back inside, and found Nicholas offering me my backpack.
You’ve got a suitor, mum.

He’s not a suitor!
I said, grabbing my pack.

I poked my head outside and called out the answer.

“Maybe I didn’t come about the homework.” He glanced up shyly.

Nicholas hopped onto the windowsill beside me.
Celeste says they won’t buy the cow if they get the cream for free
.

I silenced him with a glare, and said to Coby, “So why did you come?”

“Halloween’s next weekend,” Coby said. “You want to go to Harry’s party with me?”

With all the ghosts in my life, I didn’t really feel up to a Halloween party, so I’d ignored Harry’s Evite. Yet I did want to be a normal girl who went out with her friends on the weekend. And the one who said yes to the cute guy who’d come all the way across town to flirt with her by moonlight.

So I did. Say yes, I mean, and we made plans for Saturday night.

I watched Coby slink across the lawn, back toward the gate, telling myself I didn’t really wish he’d been Bennett. When I closed the window, Nicholas shot me an arch look.

I decided to distract him from romantic advice.

Have you ever played Tetris?
I asked.

He shook his head, his eyes big.

I pulled out the Game Boy Martha had given me.
You are gonna love this.

We played past midnight, snuggling
—
though at a slight distance, to prevent frostbite
—
on my bed. Nicholas glowed with excitement. Literally. He glowed. And you’d expect ghostly laughter to sound hollow and chilly, but his burbles of childish delight radiated warmth.

When finally I fell asleep, the last thing I heard was,
Nobody ever done nothing like that for me before, mum. Not ever.

“What are you going to wear?” Sara asked the next day as we headed for fencing class.

“Um, you know
—
jacket, mask, glove. The regular.”

“Emma, focus!” She shook her head in disgust, and her chestnut hair fell in lustrous waves around her shoulders. I found it hard to like her sometimes. “For the Halloween party,” she said.

“Oh. Well, not my uniform.” I’d dressed in full-on frumpy regalia again. Yeah, I looked awful, but it was more comfortable than the minuscule outfit. And the Thatcher ghosts made me jumpy enough without fidgeting with my clothing all day. “Back in San Francisco, I could get away with the slutty uniform. Public school kids find uniforms hilarious. Plus guys have those Catholic schoolgirl fantasies … except Coby
—
he’s only into nurses, right?”

Her face closed. “Were you surprised he asked you to Harry’s party?”

I shrugged. I’d been so distracted by all the craziness, I hadn’t really thought it through.

“You know this is a
date
, right?” Sara said. “A guy doesn’t visit a
friend
by moonlight to ask her to a party.”

“I guess.” Yeah. Obviously it was a date.

“So you like him?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Of course I liked him. He was cool, smart, cute, and reliable. The only problem was, I liked him for all those perfectly good reasons, but I liked
Bennett
for no reason at all. I was torn between them. Coby was probably a better match for me and, unlike Bennett, he actually expressed some interest. But somehow that didn’t stamp out all my feelings for Bennett and it was
big
that I could talk to Bennett about ghosts. If Coby and I got together for real, I didn’t know how I would keep my ghostkeeping skills from him.

“Promise you won’t hurt him,” Sara said.

I almost laughed. The idea that I wouldn’t be the dumpee in this relationship was ridiculous. I mean I was literally a freak. “I promise,” I said, mock solemnly. “Now what should I wear?”

“Well, since we’re in costume all week, I like to wear normal clothes on the weekend. I’m just going to dress up and wear a mask. I suggest you do the same.”

“Oh, thank God,” I said, as we descended the winding staircase to the gym. “I hate Halloween parties. You choose between a bulbous pumpkin, hideous witch, or slutty police girl in a garter belt. Embarrassing whichever direction you go.”

“Actually, last year I was a slutty witch.”

“Really?” I said. “I was a hideous police girl.”

She laughed as we entered the locker room. “Do you want to borrow something? I’ve got extra masks.”

We removed our uniforms, and even Sara’s underwear was lacy and chic.

“Yes, please,” I said.

Inside the gym, I saluted Kylee, the nearsighted ninety-pounder, and we dropped into en garde position. This time, however, I used the grip the Rake had taught me, and managed to swat her foil across the room.

I glanced toward the two jock ghosts in the stands.

No witty repartee today?
I said.
No insults?

Your uniform’s on backward,
the skinny one said.

I glanced down.
No, it’s not.

Made you look!

Grrrr!

Kylee returned with her foil, and we engaged again
—
and I disarmed her immediately.

Then Coach called, “Halt!” We stopped, and she checked my grip and asked, “What is this?”

Dizzy with triumph, I said, “I know, right?”

“I’ve never seen anyone hold a blade that way.”

I shrugged modestly. “Just felt more comfortable.”

“And you believe we’re learning
comfort
here?”

Uh-oh.

“Fencing is a martial art
—
emphasis on
art
. We’re learning balance, poise, proportion, discipline. And honor. Think about that, Miss Vaile.”

She went on and on, until in the end I held the foil the proper way. And Kylee beat me like a rug.

The dark-haired ghost jock must have somehow seen an episode of
The Simpsons
, because he made a perfect Nelson impression as I slunk back to the locker room.

Ha-ha.

At lunch, my date with Coby was the elephant in the cafeteria. The news had spread like wildfire and everyone seemed to be treating us like we were a couple. Especially Harry, which was really annoying. Thankfully, Coby didn’t act like we were dating. I don’t know what I would’ve done if he’d put his arm around me.

Then in Western Civ, the teacher said, “In lieu of a midterm, you’ll be writing a paper on a family heirloom. You can choose
—
”

Brittle Britta raised her hand. “What if you, like, don’t have any heirlooms?”

“Perhaps if you let me finish my sentence, Britta?”

“I mean,
I
have heirlooms, the whole
estate
is an heirloom
—
but I’m thinking of those less fortunate students who can’t, like, even afford tuition.”

She glanced archly at a few kids in the back of the classroom. The autumn light streamed in through the long-paned windows and fell across the oaken tables. The two ghost jocks from Fencing materialized in back, leaning against one of the walnut bookcases.

What are you two doing out of your cage?
I asked.

We like pretty girl,
the dark-haired one said with a Neanderthal impression.

They meant Britta.
Too bad her personality doesn’t match her looks,
I said.

Personalities are overrated,
the other one said.

What is she on about anyway?
I asked.

Financial aid students,
the dark one said, disdainfully.
A few students a year are accepted on scholarship.

A thought struck me. Who was paying my tuition? My parents probably didn’t even know I was here. Were Bennett’s parents footing the bill?

The teacher cleared his throat. “As I was saying, you can choose any item. An old photo, a used car
—
if the oldest thing in your family is your mother’s wedding ring, do a history of wedding bands.”