How Not to Spend Your Senior Year (16 page)

“Totally off the record,” I said. “I won't use anything you tell me in an article unless you give me permission. What was really going on between you and Jo O'Connor?”

Just tell me the truth. Whatever it is.

Alex gave a sigh. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” he asked.

“Maybe,” I answered.

His eyes flickered to my face, understanding in them. “Before I met Jo, that's exactly what I would have said. But there was something about her that struck me right off. She was . . . ”

“Different,” I filled in, using the word he'd used just a few moments ago.

“That's right,” Alex said. “The first time I saw her, she was standing at that burger joint across the street. You know the one?”

I nodded.

“Staring at something that wasn't there.”

“That
is
different, I have to admit.”

At this, he actually gave a rueful laugh.

He feels better talking about it,
I thought. I wondered how I'd feel by the interview's end.

“I think that made more sense inside my head. What I mean to say is that she looked interested. As if she was trying to figure out a puzzle and was willing to stand there until she did. Most people would have walked right on by and never noticed anything was unusual. Or they would have pretended not to notice even if they had. Jo wasn't like that. She didn't seem to be afraid of what other people thought.”

“Surely everybody's afraid of that, to a certain degree,” I countered.

“Okay,” Alex nodded. “I'll give you that. But Jo never came across that way. If anything, it was just the opposite. It was almost as if it didn't occur to her to worry about what other people thought because she knew what they were thinking before they did.”

Boy, did you give Jo the benefit of the doubt,
I thought.

“So you're saying she was psychic,” I couldn't resist saying, deadpan.

Alex gave a quick, surprised laugh. Then, slowly, his smile faded as he considered. “I think what I'm saying is that she understood how people fit together,” he said. “She had a perspective nobody else had. Totally without realizing it, she made
me
see how much of my life was same old, same old.”

“But you thought you made a mistake,” I said.

“About being in love with her. Not about her being great,” Alex said. “I just suddenly realized she wasn't the one I wanted.”

“Who do you want, Alex?” I asked.

Alex shook his head swiftly, and I felt a sharp emotion shoot through my chest. Relief. Disappointment. What I was doing really wasn't fair.

“Even off the record, I can't tell you that. It wouldn't make a difference anyway. She doesn't know. I didn't want to say anything until I'd talked to Jo, and then . . . ”

“Then Jo was kind of hard to talk to,” I filled in. “Is that what you were trying to do today? Tell her the truth at last?”

“Sort of,” Alex said. “You probably think I'm nuts for thinking I see her ghost at all, don't you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” I said. “It's better not to rule out too many possibilities, in my experience.”

“Now you sound just like her,” he said.

I swallowed past a lump in my throat that was easily the size of the state of Texas.

“Does this mean you'll let me give some advice?” I asked.

“Just so long as it's not take two aspirin and call me in the morning.”

“Do you think Jo would want you to be unhappy?”

“That's your advice?”

“It's a question and I think you should answer it,” I said. “Is—was—Jo the sort of person who'd want you to move on, or would she want you to be all obsessed by guilt over what happened in the past?”

“People always do that, you know,” Alex said.

“Do what?”

“Ask themselves what the person who's dead would have wanted. Personally, I think it's an excuse to go ahead and do what they want.”

“Answer the question, Alex.”

“I didn't want to hurt her,” he burst out. “Everybody'd seen the way I felt. It's not like I tried to hide it. How was I going to explain I'd gotten it wrong? I just didn't know what to do.”

On impulse, I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

“I get that,” I said. “Maybe Jo does too. Maybe that's why she came back. To tell you that she understands. That she wants you to move on, to be happy. Maybe
she
can't move on until
you
do. Did you ever think of that?”

“No, I didn't,” Alex admitted.

“Try thinking about it now,” I said. “After what you've told me about her, it's hard for me to believe Jo would want you to walk around being miserable, though I bet she wouldn't mind if Khandi Kayne did.”

Alex gave me a slow smile. “Okay, I'll think about it,” he said.

“Good.” I took my hand from his. My fingers tingled, just like they had when we'd clasped hands the very first day we'd met. Only now I had a feeling I knew the cause: Whatever had happened between Alex and me was over. We'd never hold hands again.

“It's getting kind of late. I'd better go,” I said.

I stuffed my notebook into my bag and rose to my feet.

“Before you do, can I ask you a question?” Alex asked.

“Of course you can,” I said.

“Will you go to the Beacon prom with me, Claire?”

“What did you just say?” I asked, stupified.

Before Alex could respond, I held up a hand.

“Please excuse me. That sounded very rude, and I didn't mean for it to. It's just . . . you've kind of surprised me, I have to admit.”

“That's my fault. I'm sorry,” Alex said, his face beginning to turn red. “I just thought you might like someone to go with when you cover the event for the paper,” he plowed on. “I think that's supposed to be part of the exchange, isn't it?”

“I honestly don't know, but I suppose it would make sense,” I said. “Wouldn't that
be kind of boring for you? I mean, it's not like it would be a real date. Right?”

“Right,” Alex said. “But you would be doing me a favor. I'm pretty much expected to go. . . . ”

“Why don't you ask what's her name?” I asked.

“What's her name?”

“I don't know. You wouldn't tell me,” I said.

Alex expelled air as he got the lame joke I'd made.

“Look,” I said. “I appreciate the gesture. I honestly do. But it's your one and only senior prom, Alex. Don't you think you should go with someone who means something to you instead of someone you barely know? If you won't ask the mystery girl of your dreams, why not ask Elaine Golden?”

“Elaine?” Alex echoed, his face stunned. “What made you suggest her?”

“Wasn't she Jo's closest friend? She'd be likely to understand if you wanted a date that wasn't really a date, wouldn't she?”

“I guess so. Maybe,” Alex said.

“I'll tell you what. You ask Elaine, and the three of us can meet up ahead of time,”
I suggested. “It
would
be nice for me to have someone to walk in the door with. Then you and Elaine can party while I cover the event. How does that sound?”

“Okay. Actually, it sounds good,” Alex said. All of a sudden he smiled, his blue eyes dancing. It was the first time all day I'd seen him look truly happy.

“You know, I put off coming to see you today. I was kind of dreading talking to you, as a matter of fact. I shouldn't have. You've made me feel a lot better.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Though I warn you, I will have to do an official interview for the paper one of these days.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “I'll let you know when I'm ready. Thanks, Claire.”

“You're welcome, Alex,” I said.

“Okay, so, I guess I'll see you around.”

“I guess so,” I said.

Alex moved to open the door of the study carrel. Before he could even get his hand on the knob, the door swung open to reveal Mark London.

“There you are,” Mark said. “I've been looking all over for you. You're never going to believe what happened.”

“There's been another ghost sighting. I know,” I said. “Why do you think I've been here all day?”

Before I'd even finished speaking, Mark was shaking his head from side to side. “No, not that.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“I think I know the answer,” Alex said. “I would have mentioned it before, but I thought you knew.”

I pulled in a give-me-patience breath.

“Knew what?” I asked.

“Jo O'Connor's been nominated for Prom Queen.”

Mark made a derisive sound. “You mean her ghost has.”

“Second Ghost Sighting Prompts
Dead Student's Nomination”

Ticket sales shoot through the roof as Beacon students ask themselves the question: Will Jo O'Connor's ghost attend the prom?

B
Y
M
ARK
L
ONDON
,

S
PECIAL TO THE
R
OYER
R
EGISTER

Prom.

It needs no introduction. Its mystique requires no explanation. Though it's unlikely students today attend the same prom their parents did, the way they think
about it may be more similar than the people involved might care to acknowledge.

Prom.

It's important. A necessary part of the end-of-high-school ritual. A night when magic happens. When anything is possible. And nowhere is this more apparent than at Beacon High School, where a student has been posthumously nominated for Prom Queen.

Of course, the fact that students all over campus claim to have seen her ghost doesn't hurt.

I refer, of course, to recently deceased Beacon student Jo O'Connor.

In the weeks following her tragic accidental death, multiple memorials have been both planned and implemented in O'Connor's honor. But none is more touching, and unusual, than the Prom Queen nomination, which came just hours after the most recent claims of a ghost sighting.

The fact that the nomination has spurred brisk ticket sales isn't surprising to prom organizers.

“People are excited and curious,” acknowledged prom committee chair Theresa Aragon. “Who wouldn't be? Those are normal human emotions. Personally I hope Jo wins and her ghost shows up to wear the crown.”

Strong words, particularly from someone who's been nominated for Prom Queen herself.

Will Jo O'Connor be elected Prom Queen? Will her ghost appear to claim the crown? Only time will tell. Regardless of the final outcome, Beacon students can already say one thing for sure: Their prom experience will most definitely be one of a kind.

“Will you look at that?” I said as I tossed the latest edition of the Royer school paper down on the coffee shop table with a slap. It was the day following my interview with Alex, the day following my most
recent ghost sighting. Though I was supposed to be covering events at Beacon for the Royer paper, Mark London had scooped me and dashed off a quick article about the Beacon prom.

“Is that disgusting or what? Publicity. Exactly what I do
not
want. Thank goodness Detective Mortensen doesn't have time to read the school paper. At least, I don't think he does. He's too busy getting dad ready to testify. They're saying the trial could start any time now. I hope it does, for both our sakes. I'm getting a little tired of
Law and Order
reruns.”

Elaine made a consoling sound as she took a sip of her favorite treat drink, a double tall white chocolate mocha. She allows herself this treat under only two conditions: extreme stress or extreme delight. I hadn't yet figured out what today's reason was, but I had my hopes.

Unlike our other meetings lately, Elaine had called this one. At her suggestion we'd met after school in the Starbucks at the Convention Center downtown, a thing which dovetailed nicely with an errand Dad wanted me to run.

“You've got whipped cream on your nose,” I said.

“Alex asked me to the prom.”

I felt a bubble of relief well up and burst inside my chest.

“Great,” I responded with genuine enthusiasm. “At least one thing is going right.”

“You're not mad?” Elaine asked as she dabbed her face with a napkin.

“Mad?” I echoed. “Of course not. Why should I be? It was my idea in the first place.”

Elaine's hand paused in midair.

“What?”

“He asked me first,” I said, so relieved I was totally oblivious to her reaction. “I mean, he asked Claire Calloway. It was right after the interview we did about the most recent sighting of Jo's ghost. He asked if I wanted to go to the prom, but I knew he really didn't mean it. He just wanted me to not feel funny about showing up to cover the event without an escort.”

“And you suggested he take me instead,” Elaine said softly. Slowly and carefully, she set the damp napkin back down on the table, then smoothed it out. I think
it was the way she moved that finally got through to me. Precise and controlled. But I could see the way her fingers quivered, as if she was longing to bend them into fists.

“What's the matter?” she asked, her tone still quiet. “Didn't you think I could get a date on my own?”

“Of course I didn't think that,” I protested. “I'll tell you the same thing I told Alex. That he ought to go to his senior prom with someone who meant something to him, not a complete stranger. Someone who'd understand . . . ”

Appalled at what I'd been about to say, my voice petered out.

“Someone who'd understand that the invitation itself didn't really mean anything,” Elaine filled in for me. “Someone who wouldn't even have to be told the evening didn't constitute a real date. A person who wouldn't mind that she was just a stand-in for Jo O'Connor.”