Tamsyn Murray-My So-Called Haunting (9 page)

Dontay’s expression darkened. ‘Who’s this? You never said you had a boyfriend.’

He sounded like he was accusing me of something, but I couldn’t work out what. Every one of my brain cells was screaming at me to reply. No one else even knew he was there, but for me he
was as real as the living, and ignoring him went against everything I valued. I could see the anger building inside him and squeezed my eyes closed, relying on Nico to lead me the last few metres.
Surely Dontay knew I couldn’t answer?

‘Can I ask you something?’ Nico said.

Dontay stepped in front of me. ‘Don’t ignore me.’

That was it. My resolve snapped. ‘Not now, OK?’

Dontay shrugged and backed off. ‘Whatever.’

He turned and slouched through the double doors. I knew he was hurt, but I couldn’t do anything to make it better.

Beside me, Nico was staring at me in confusion. ‘Right. Sorry.’

Crap. I’d forgotten Nico had asked me a question. He’d obviously thought I was answering him. I gave myself a mental slap – of course he had, who else was there? ‘No,
I’m sorry. My ankle is making me a bit crabby.’

‘Does it really hurt?’ he asked.

Actually it was starting to ease off, but I couldn’t very well tell him that now. ‘Yeah.’ I glanced up to see that we’d made it to the door of the nurse’s office.
‘Thanks for the, er, lift.’

‘No problem.’ He hesitated and studied me for a few seconds. ‘Listen, I’ve got a spare ticket for The Droids gig at the Roundhouse in Camden next Saturday. I was going to
ask if you wanted to come. If your ankle is better, that is.’

I swallowed hard and resisted the temptation to pinch myself. Had I heard him right? In spite of the fact that I was as graceful as an elephant on roller skates, and in spite of hearing me
talking to myself on two separate occasions, Nico was asking me out. I couldn’t believe it; Nico was asking
me
out! And we were going to see one of my favourite bands ever, on a date,
like normal people. My heart tapped out a happy little dance. And then I caught a glimpse of Dontay through the glass door and reality came crashing in. My life was about as far away from normal as
it was possible to get. Could I risk getting close to Nico? How would he react if he learned how deep the weirdness went?

I reached down and massaged my leg to buy myself time. ‘Saturday?’

He nodded. To anyone watching, Nico looked relaxed, but his stillness told me he was anything but as he waited for me to answer. Every part of me wanted to say yes – every part except my
brain. ‘I can’t,’ I said. ‘Sorry.’

A flash of disappointment crossed his face and he glanced away. ‘No problem. I’ve got a mate who’ll take the ticket.’

My throat closed in misery. I couldn’t believe I’d just turned down a date with the hottest boy in school. I swallowed. ‘Have a good time.’

He looked at me and I wondered if he was going to ask me why I’d said no. But he must have seen something in my face, or maybe he had too much pride. Whatever the reason, he glanced
instead at the nurse’s office door. ‘Will you be all right on your own?’

Somehow, I managed to tilt my head yes. I didn’t dare try to speak; tears were too close.

He smiled briefly. ‘See you around, then.’

Watching him cross the hall, I willed him to glance back. If he did, it meant he was still interested. When the double doors swung shut after him, I knew I’d lost my chance, and the fact
that I’d done the right thing was no consolation. Dontay fired an ungrateful scowl in my direction, then turned away. I raised my hand to rap on the wooden door and choked down a silent sob.
It was the first time I’d had to choose the dead over the living. I hoped it would be the last.

‘Whose idea was this again?’

I rubbed my icy fingers together and glared first at Jeremy and then at Dontay. It was the next day, Saturday, and for reasons which had seemed perfectly sane in the comfort of Celestine’s
living room the night before, we were freezing our noses off on the touchline of one of the football pitches at Hackney Marshes, watching Dontay’s brother play. Although Dontay had got over
his tantrum at the school and understood why I’d ignored him, I still felt like I needed to make it up to him. After my initial misery had faded, I found I couldn’t blame him for what
had happened with Nico. I’d always known being psychic meant I’d have to be careful who I got close to. Besides, Dontay wasn’t exactly overwhelmed with things to do during the
day; I’d be crawling the walls with boredom if I was him, so I’d agreed to hang out with him more and going along to the football was part of the deal. There were teams playing as far
as the eye could see and it felt like half the teenage boys in London were there with us. Girls were in short supply; I reckoned I was outnumbered by about fifty to one. And I was grateful Jeremy
had decided to come along. To the casual observer it looked like I was talking to him. And he’d brought a flask of hot Ribena.

‘Shut up moaning, yeah?’ Dontay said absently as he watched Nelson weave past a defender and head towards the goal. ‘It’s not even cold.’

I clasped my arms around myself and jiggled up and down on the spot, wincing every now and then from the twinges in my strapped-up ankle. ‘That’s easy for you to say. Ghosts
don’t feel temperature. It could be sub-zero and you wouldn’t know it.’

‘I told you to wear a hat and gloves,’ Jeremy pointed out in a mildly self-satisfied voice. ‘I did say it would be chilly.’

I didn’t even dignify that with an answer and turned to Dontay instead. ‘So this is where you used to play?’

He nodded. ‘Until I got picked up by the Hammers. Then I played at their training ground in Essex with the other Academy kids.’ He trailed off as the goalkeeper saved a shot aimed at
the back of the net. ‘I’d give anything to kick the ball about again.’

The longing in his voice was almost tangible. A wave of sympathy crashed over me and we watched in silence as the game went on in front of us. In spite of what I’d learned watching the
England game with Dontay, I still felt like I knew nothing about football, but even I could see Nelson was a talented player. The ball seemed tied to his feet with invisible string as he danced
around the opposing team. If Dontay had been anything like as good as his brother then he’d been robbed of a shining future. No wonder he was bitter and angry.

I still hadn’t spoken to him about his death. If I was honest, I still wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without upsetting him. He was starting to open up, but he was often still
moody and I didn’t feel we were at the stage where I could force him to relive painful memories. I couldn’t help feeling it was somehow linked to Nelson, though, which was why I’d
agreed to give up my precious Saturday morning lie-in for gloomy Hackney.

There was nothing useful I could say to Dontay, so I clamped my mouth closed and we watched the game. He sank into a brooding silence and I could practically feel his barely contained resentment
seething beside me. It wasn’t until his brother threaded the ball past the keeper and we were watching the players jog back to the halfway line that Dontay seemed to shake himself out of his
mood and I decided to take a risk.

‘Can I ask you something?’

He shrugged, throwing me a curious look. ‘I suppose so, yeah.’

‘What do you miss most about being alive?’ Jeremy threw me a warning glance, but I ignored him and waved a hand towards the pitch. ‘Apart from this, obviously.’

Dontay thrust his hands into his pockets, staring down at the patchy white touchline peeping through the muddy grass at our feet. ‘Loads of stuff,’ he said, his voice subdued.
‘My mates, my family. Krispy Kreme doughnuts.’ His eyes met mine and behind the resentment, I saw misery etched there. ‘Everything, really.’

I swallowed my sympathy and forced myself to push on. ‘Why do you think you’re still here?’

His gaze flickered briefly towards the pitch. ‘Dunno. Maybe you can figure that out.’

I opened my mouth to reply, but a crunching tackle right in front of us had me leaping backwards to avoid a jumble of legs. By the time the referee had waved the yellow card at one of the
players, Dontay had moved away from me and it was clear he wasn’t in a talking mood.

‘How’s things?’ Jeremy handed me a steaming cup of blackcurrant juiciness and eyed me meaningfully. ‘Everything OK?’

I guessed he meant how were things going with Dontay. I cast an uneasy glance towards him, not sure he was far enough away for me to give Jeremy an honest answer. But his attention was fixed on
the game. Now that I came to think of it, it had to be a bit weird for Jeremy, knowing that there were ghosts nearby but not being able to see or hear them. No wonder he got the wrong end of the
stick so often when he heard Celestine or me bickering with Mary.

‘Not great,’ I replied. ‘All things being equal, I’d rather be in bed. And it was a bit weird having him turn up at school yesterday. He didn’t seem to get why I
couldn’t talk to him.’

‘Believe me, I know that feeling,’ Jeremy said in a heartfelt voice. ‘Lucy got me into all kinds of sticky situations when other people were around. I’m amazed I
wasn’t locked up, actually.’

Something else was bothering me. ‘The way he spoke, it sounded like he almost resented me.’

‘He probably does, a bit. Think about it, you have everything he doesn’t.’

Not everything, I thought, as an image of Nico flashed into my mind. I could see what Jeremy was getting at, and Dontay’s attitude kind of made sense, but my life was a long way from
perfect. ‘What, like double maths first thing on a Monday morning, you mean?’

‘Cut him some slack,’ Jeremy advised. ‘From what you and Celestine have said, he seems like a good kid.’

Annoyingly, he was right. ‘That’s why I can’t feel my toes right now.’

Jeremy nodded in sympathy. ‘Look on the bright side. You might be watching a future Premiership footballer among this lot.’

I pulled a face and watched in thoughtful silence as Nelson made another dart forwards. Maybe Jeremy wasn’t talking complete rubbish; Dontay might not know for sure why he hadn’t
passed across, but I was willing to bet my glittery eyeliner it had something to do with his younger brother. Who was to say that Dontay wasn’t destined to help Nelson make something of his
life? One thing I did know: if I had any hope at all of helping Dontay, I had to find a way to fully earn his trust and that wouldn’t happen if he still resented me. As the referee blew his
whistle and Nelson’s team gave each other congratulatory thumps on the arm, an idea popped into my head. Should I run it past Dontay first? I decided not to; he’d only try to stop
me.

‘Wait here,’ I told Jeremy, passing him my half-drunk cup of Ribena and hobbling on to the pitch.

Dontay’s narrowed gaze drilled into my back as I approached Nelson. I squared my shoulders and ignored him.

‘Hi,’ I called as soon as I was near enough. ‘Great goal.’

Nelson stopped mid calf stretch to look up. ‘Thanks.’

Taking a deep breath, I ploughed on. ‘You’re Nelson Ambrose, right?’

Frowning, he straightened slowly. ‘Yeah. Do I know you?’

OK, this was it, I told myself. Don’t freak him out. ‘Not exactly, but I know your brother.’

He stared at me and I realised what I’d said.

‘Knew,’ I amended hastily, aware that Dontay had followed me on to the pitch and was listening to every word. ‘I meant I knew him. Before, you know . . .’

Nelson watched me, his forehead creased into a suspicious frown. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Skye Thackery,’ I replied, my palms starting to sweat as I realised I hadn’t thought this through.

His frown deepened. ‘He never mentioned you. Where d’you know him from?’

I froze. I had approximately three seconds to come up with a likely location where I might have met Dontay, and my brain had gone completely blank. I could hardly say the Church of the Dearly
Departed, could I?

‘Tell him we met at the snooker hall down Homerton High Street.’ Dontay sounded like he was trying not to laugh as he took pity on me. ‘It’s over-sixteens only so Mum
never let him go there.’

I jumped on the words gratefully. ‘We played snooker.’

Nelson looked me up and down in disbelief. ‘No offence, but you don’t look old enough. Or tall enough to reach the table.’

‘I’m sixteen,’ I lied. ‘And if you must know, I stood on a box.’

Dontay and Nelson snorted at exactly the same moment, their laughter ringing across the chilly field in stereo.

‘He would have told me about something like that,’ Nelson said, his amusement subsiding. ‘Who sent you? Are you one of the Marsh Street Massive? Cos if you are
—’

‘No!’ I cut in, stung. ‘I don’t even know who they are. I just knew Dontay, that’s all.’ My gaze flickered over my shoulder. ‘We were mates.’

Nelson’s expression was still distrustful. ‘Yeah, well can’t be too careful. Shank said they’d be trying to get to me and it’d be just like the Marsh Street
arseholes to send a girl to stitch me up.’

I didn’t have the faintest idea what he was going on about or who Shank was, but it wasn’t the right time to ask. Clenching my hands into fists by my side, I pushed on. ‘You
must miss him. Dontay, I mean.’

Instantly, his expression became shuttered and he stared at his feet. ‘Of course I do. He was my brother.’

‘Nelson!’ A middle-aged man in a crimson tracksuit bellowed and waved an arm. ‘Stop chatting up the birds and get over here for cool-down.’

Nelson glanced around and I thought I caught a hint of relief on his dark face. ‘I have to go. See ya.’

He jogged towards the rest of the team and didn’t look back. Seeing him go, Jeremy headed my way.

‘See you around,’ I called after Nelson, not sure if I’d actually achieved anything. It wasn’t until I turned to look at Dontay that I got my answer. His eyes glittered
with something indefinable as he watched his brother.

‘He seems like a good kid,’ I offered. ‘Who are the Marsh Street Massive? And who’s Skank?’

Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Skank? Isn’t that an illegal substance?’

My jaw dropped. Who’d have thought Jeremy was so well up on his drug-related slang?