The Ghost in Me (5 page)

Okay. I don't think that's a good idea, because my energy is getting heavy.

Or, maybe my arms are just getting tired.

My eyes blast open at the touch of a familiar chill on my arm.

Wren.

Not only is she standing next me, she's moving her hands in the space between mine.

"It's pink, Myr! A pinkish reddish pink!"

I have no idea what she's talking about, nor a clue as to why she's acting like what she's doing--dropping in on class--is no big deal.

"And hers is blue," she says, tipping her head at Cass. "A really light blue."

I let out a quiet huff. "Go away," I hiss.

"But I wanted to see you, Myr. Make sure nothing got worse, before it got better. Looks like you're off to a jolly bit of fun. I might be wanting to give this a try."

Give it a try? My eyes goggle at her. What is she even doing here?

She holds her hands up like mine.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cass shift and give me a look.

Great. I'm not even half-way through my first day in drama and I'm already looking like an idiot. I need to get of here, or at least get away from Wren.

I stand slowly, as if to copy the kids who are moving out of their seats to share their energies. Wren smiles wide. "Give it a throw, Myri!" She holds her arms out, as if ready for a game of catch.

But I'm not playing. Instead, I step toward the back of the room, giving her a look that could kill--which doesn't mean much, since she's already dead.

"I'll catch it for you! Just like he said!"

No, he didn't say that.

"Stay away," I mouth, which I know doesn't look good to anyone who may be watching. I roll my shoulders and twist them from side to side to make it look like I'm stretching.

"But I can feel it. And I can see it, too?" Wren's face is filled with awe, as she looks from my hands to hers. I wish she'd stop--pinch herself into her own side of the world--but she keeps coming closer, with her eyes spilled over like empty, black saucers, like she's in a trance, and no matter what I say, I'm not going to be heard--at least, not by her.

I back up until I bump the supply cabinets, shake my head--barely--because we, or rather,
I
, definitely have an audience now. No one can see her, when she moves her hands between mine. No one can feel the chill that comes with them.

Without thinking, I turn to give the energy ball a toss; but as I do, I trip and lunge forward. It almost feels like I'm bowling.

Cass breaks into laughter. "Look who says they're not ready for drama."

Chapter 7

I can see them now.

The words on my gravestone.

Died from embarrassment.

And honestly, I'd be happy with that sort of accomplishment.

Really, I would. Not only would it land me in the
Guinness Book of World Records
for being the first person on the planet to be done in by such a thing, my mother might hold Diggs responsible. Causing the death of one's daughter would probably be enough to drive two people apart. Not that it would matter if I wasn't around to enjoy it. But then again, I wouldn't be left listening to Diggs's calls of, "Bravo! Bravo!" either.

It's all I can do to keep myself from crawling back to my seat.

Diggs continues to clap, even though he's the only one. "Well done, Myri!
Well done
. I'd say you
commanded
that performance. Did everyone see that?"

I hope not.

"Well, if you didn't, you missed brilliance in action, people. Brilliance in action." Diggs quickly rubs his hands together. "Because I must say, Myri made excellent use of the space around her, while tapping into her creative abilities to show quite effectively, and
quite uniquely
, another thing that might be done with an energy ball." He looks at me with wonder, addresses me directly. "Bowling? What made you think of it?"

Rather than reply, I slip deeper into my seat, rub my eyes, take a quick glance around to make sure Wren is really gone.

"Although..."

He's still talking?

Diggs splays his hand at the side his mouth. "As a general rule, we probably don't want to let go of our energy like that. It's kind of a good thing to hold on to." He spins to stand at the back of his desk, raps his fingers on top of it. "Nevertheless, that demonstration has given us a wonderful introduction to our next discussion."

Brittley raises her hand. Diggs give her a nod.

"Is that,
How To Make a Fool of Yourself 101
?"

The class erupts again, and Diggs pats his hands in the air. It takes a while until everyone settles down.

"In the future, Miss Weatherfield, let's refrain from such comments. Unless, of course, you're being so gracious as to act the fool yourself?"

Brittley's lips clamp into a firm line.

"I didn't think so. Now, as I was saying, we're ready to move on to the next segment of this class--
or club
, rather. One you've all been waiting for. One we've talked about." He takes in a breath, waves his arms as if encouraging everyone else to do the same, then lets it all out with a bow. "
Auditions.
"

Chapter 8

My heart has continued to pound through second hour, making my mind a blur, making me miss what the entire lesson has been about.

Well, I did catch a little--something about China's Great Wall. But as far as
Why
it was built, and
Who
they were trying to keep out, and exactly
Who
was in charge of the whole deal to begin with?... I have no idea.

To make matters worse, Mr. Scanlin has just announced a quiz for tomorrow, which means Sarah Turner won't be lending me her notes. Not even for a free item from the snack bar at lunch. Which means, if I don't calm down, I'll be carrying fifty pounds of books home by the end of the day--with the first ten being the
Our World
book from under my desk--for all the good it'll do me. Mr. Scanlin is known for quizzing us on material that's not in the text.

"I am so dead," I say to Roz, after pulling her aside in the hall. "There's just no way--"

I shake my hands through my hair, trying to push out the words that are jumbled in my mouth. But it's no use. They're not going to budge. Giving up, I thrust the script at her.

Roz frumps her face at the title. "Beauty and the Yeast?"

I nod, then keeping nodding, knowing she'll connect the dots.

"Is this a typo?"

No. Not those dots.

I shake my head. "No, that's the real name of the play. It's a spin-off, set in a bakery."

Roz gives me a look, as she fans through the script.

Okay, so she's not picking up on the fear streaming through me.

"Everyone has to try out," I blurt to give her a clue. "
Everyone
. Starting tonight. At the town theater, because that's where the play will be done."

"Ardenport Theater? Like Duey said?"

I nod. Duey, apparently, is well-connected.

Roz lets out a breath. "That's fast."

I half-shrug. "Not if you're everyone else. Everyone else has known about it for a couple weeks, but not me, thanks to this morning, thanks to this wonderful thing I call my life."

"Can't you skip out?"

"No. Auditions are mandatory. If I don't go, I fail.
Drama
is actually a
pass/fail course
. Just a
minor detail
Slayer forgot to mention."

"Well, they all are. That's the way ECSAs work. You know that. That's why they're mandatory."

"Study hall is pass/fail?"

It's Roz's turn to nod.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised I didn't know this. Study hall doesn't become a choice for Wolford students until they're in eighth grade. And I'm only in eighth grade.

"But it's no big deal," Roz says, finally reading my dread of the situation. "It's not like Diggs expects everyone will give an amazing audition. You'll pass, even if it stinks. Just mumble through it like you would anything else you're not ready for."

I ignore the twinge I feel at the comment, let out a short huff. "But I don't think I'll be able to mumble. I'm totally freaked out. I'm going to be shaking, and stuttering, and looking like an idiot."

"Well, you look like an idiot in English, too," Roz says, bopping me on the arm. "But that doesn't keep you from getting up there and reading your essays, does it?"

I step back, give her an I-don't-believe-you-just-said-that look. Because even though I know I have a problem talking in front of a class, I still have limits on how many ways I can stand to look bad.

"I'm just joking," she says, waving me off. "You do fine in English. I don't know why you don't think so. It's going to be okay. Just take a deep breath and chill. Do what you need to do to relax."

"Relax? This isn't English class, Roz. There won't be a podium for me to hide behind, or lean on when I think I'm going to pass out. I have to be up high. By myself. On a stage. In front of people who were actually born to do this sort of thing."

I wrap my arms around the top of my head, then let them fall to my sides. "What am I going to do?"

Roz shrugs, hands back the script, as she makes a move to get to her next class. "Well, if you think it's going to be that big a deal, then get Wren to do it."

I do a double-take.

That statement was rather matter-of-fact. I'm not sure I've heard her right.

"Wren?" For a moment I feel dizzy.

"Yeah. Kind of like the way I let her take my history test."

"Sh-- She took your test?" Now my head is shaking back and forth uncontrollably. I can't believe it. "How? When?"

Roz nods, gives another shrug, as if what she just said is the most normal thing to say on the planet. "Last week. I just kind of let her fill in for me for a day--or, step into me. For an hour. It's amazing how much she remembered. And the details she put in my essay quest--"

"She took your test? As in, possession?
Bodily possession
?" I try keeping my voice down, but it's hard to do, when my insides are erupting like a geyser.

I pull her over to the lockers--not that it gives us any privacy. Although, actually, after a quick look around I see it's not something I need to worry about. We're the only students left in the hall. "People call in priests to stop that sort of thing," I hiss. "Haven't you seen the
The Exorcist
? Just the clips are enough to freak anyone out!"

"That's if you have a
mean
ghost, not one that's nice. Wren is nice. She was helping me."

"Where--" I shake my hands by my ears. "Where were you while this was happening?"

"I told you. I was in history class."

"No, I mean, where were
you
, Roz, the person inside you that makes you,
you
. It's not like you could step out for a cup of tea."

"Oh." Roz frowns. "I wasn't anywhere, I guess. I mean, I was still there--still inside me. I just kind of felt pushed off to the side a bit. But not really. I mean, I could feel myself holding the pencil, and I could still read the questions, but I could hear Wren reading and answering the questions, too. It was sort of weird, but after a few minutes, I got used to it, and then I sort of let go. Soon, she was doing all the work for me."

"And when you were done?"

"When she was done, it was easy. We snapped back to normal."

"Snapped back to normal." I repeat the words, my voice full of disbelief.

The bell rings.

We stay where we are, staring at each other, me in shock, her trying to look like what she just said is all perfectly fine.

"Look," Roz says, letting out a breath. "We'll talk later, okay?" She backs down the hall. "You're getting stressed over nothing, Myr. You can either do the auditions, and not get a part. Or, do the auditions with Wren, and still not get the part. Either way, you still pass. You'll be fine, okay?

"Myr?"

When I don't answer, she shrugs, and takes off down the hall.

Yeah. Okay. Sure. I'll just go to class. Act like
everything's fine
. Like my best friend didn't just tell me that the ghost I've been living with my entire life has found a way to live a double-life, literally, inside my best friend, whenever she feels like it.

Okay, so maybe it was just for a one hour class.

And maybe it wasn't really living, because she was only taking a test. On history. About a subject through which she already lived.

But still. Please. Somebody pinch me. Because I swear, I just woke up to a total nightmare.

Or, maybe I've always been living one.

Chapter 9

Elise drops her sack lunch on the table, stands back a moment to eye up the three of us--me, Cass and Roz--in a way that makes me nervous. I've seen that look before, like when she suggested we turn the school parking lot into a skating rink last year in an effort to create a no-school-day, on account of the fact that teachers would find themselves trapped in their cars upon arriving, unable to get to the doors without a pair of ice skates. Fortunately, or unfortunately--whatever the case may be--we never made it past the planning stage.