Tonya Hurley_Ghostgirl_03 (5 page)

“Neither did I,” Charlotte added, noting something else they had in common.
Charlotte loved being with him. Not in a showy, PDA, look-at-me-I-have-a-boyfriend kind of way, but rather in a way that made her feel completely herself. Not at ease entirely, but comfortable. She felt she could tell him anything and he would understand. But she hadn’t actually tried to until now.
“Do you think this new assignment is their way of keeping us apart?” Charlotte asked, hoping his reaction would provide the status of his feelings for her. It was the early days and she was still feeling pretty insecure.
“What’s with all the conspiracy theories, Juliet?” Eric asked flatly. “That’s not rock.”
She still wasn’t sure what actually constituted “rock” and what didn’t, but she had come to understand that it was of the utmost importance to Eric. Not in a Metal Mike thickheaded way, she assured herself, but in the simple, cool, and charming Eric way.
Charlotte gulped, “I just mean, why now?” She pivoted, still looking for support, but a bit less obviously. “Aren’t you suspicious at all?”
“Man, I thought it was rock stars that were supposed to have big egos,” Eric responded, only half kidding.
Charlotte was hurt, and even Eric, who was not that great at reading her moods, took her expression as a clear sign that he was being insensitive.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” Eric said, brushing her arm with his, and almost, but not quite, grabbing for her hand. “But I don’t see any conspiracy in this. It’s just another thing we have to do to get where we need to go.”
He was sounding a whole lot like her father, which was both comforting and irritating. Right about now, it was mostly irritating. Didn’t he realize a break like this could spell death to a new relationship? To their relationship?
The Wendys were sharing a mini-rice cake outside the lunchroom and obsessing, as usual, about their waistlines and Petula.
“Did you see that Asian fusion brownie throwdown on the Food Network last night?” Wendy Anderson began. “Yum, yum.”
“No, I was switching between the National Geographic Channel and Animal Planet last night,” Wendy Thomas said. “I couldn’t believe how fat all those natives are. Their stomachs are absolutely huge.”
“It’s all those carbs we send over!” Wendy Anderson concurred. “Somebody should airlift a few crates of Ab Rollers along with the rice and powdered milk.”
“Simple substitutions like protein powder and brown rice,” Wendy Thomas offered, “would do wonders.”
“A little lean protein wouldn’t hurt, and it’s easy to get,” Wendy Anderson said, “with all those animals running around.”
They both needed a short break to savor and swallow the dried cracker.
“You know,” Wendy Thomas mentioned, “it just occurred to me that, for most of the world, Animal Planet is the Food Network.”
Just as Wendy Anderson was about to applaud her on that keen observation, Darcy sashayed up to them, interrupting their secret snackrifice to the Goal Weight Goddess. She was dressed expensively, but without a single logo blaring from her ass pocket or sleeve to blow her nouveau riche cover.
Both Wendys recoiled, pulling their heads back like threatened turtles. Darcy, The Wendys observed, had done her homework.
“You guys are The Wendys, right?” Darcy greeted. “Or is that just your circus name?”
“We don’t have an act,” Wendy Thomas shot back, clueless to the intended freak-show dis.
Darcy smirked, laughing to herself that the only thing these girls probably knew about Big Tops came from a plastic surgeon’s office.
For their part, The Wendys were less offended than intrigued by the new girl’s audacity.
“That’s us,” Wendy Anderson replied curiously, shushing Wendy Thomas. “And you are…?” Of course The Wendys knew but would never give Darcy the satisfaction of acknowledging it.
“Darcy,” the girl answered, tilting her chin up slightly and sucking in her cheeks. “Your pleasure, I’m sure.”
“What can we do for you?” Wendy Thomas asked regally.
“Sorry to disturb your lunch,” Darcy quipped, noticing the rice cake, “but I had some information about Petula that I thought you might find interesting.”
A total stranger gossiping about Petula? And using her name, no less? This was just not done. Much as the ancient Israelites were forbidden to speak the name of Yahweh, the students of Hawthorne refrained from talking about Petula in a familiar way.
The Wendys sheathed their claws momentarily because Darcy seemed to know something about Petula that they didn’t know, a rare occurrence in WendyWorld.
“Go on,” Wendy Thomas instructed tersely.
“I know someone who knows someone,” Darcy said, speaking vaguely to protect her source, The Wendys assumed. “Who heard Petula got busted in an alley downtown last night.”
“Doing?” Wendy Anderson asked, not wanting to seem out of the inner loop, but secretly dying to know.
“He didn’t say,” Darcy answered, “but I thought I should tell you first before it… you know, gets around the school.”
Darcy knew that if such information ever leaked, The Wendys would be more than a little humiliated by association. With the end of senior year approaching, their legacies were at stake.
“How considerate of you,” Wendy Thomas said flatly, her eyes squinting Darcy into even tighter focus.
“What do you want?” Wendy Anderson quizzed.
“Nothing,” Darcy answered. “I just figured you guys have been embarrassed enough for two lifetimes.”
“What do you mean?” Wendy Thomas asked.
“The whole coma thing, getting left back a year, and getting dumped by her boyfriend for her little sister,” Darcy added snidely. “Now this.”
She was making a blatant move against the Queen, a naked power play, and The Wendys were impressed. This was getting very political, and they were always up for a little intrigue. They still hadn’t quite made up their minds, however, about what to make of this news or the messenger who delivered it.
“Let’s just keep this confidential for now,” Wendy Anderson urged, as she and Wendy Thomas flanked Darcy and walked her down the hall, out of the earshot of any curious bystanders.
Darcy was unfazed by their attempt to intimidate her.
“Consider it a gift,” she said, strutting toward the exit and smiling as the third-period bell rang.
The drama of the day continued when Charlotte arrived home, or rather she continued with the drama.
“What do you mean, you’re going back?” Charlotte’s mom asked, fighting back tears that would never come. “Bill?”
Her mom’s outburst only served to feed the flame already burning in Charlotte’s head. It felt good to be cared about so deeply. From her father’s earnest countenance, she braced herself for the other side of the equation. He was a listener, rash neither in his words nor in his actions.
“It’s not right,” Charlotte complained out loud. “I have what I always wanted and now it’s being taken away from me.”
Charlotte was upset but also kind of excited. This was the first chance she’d ever had to vent to her parents. To be a child.
“Charlotte, we know how you’re feeling. All we ever wanted was to be with you again, and now to find that you’re leaving,” Bill Usher began sympathetically. “But, you just may be needed for bigger things.”
Charlotte was hoping for more than a feel-good speech. She wanted to be rescued from this predicament. She wanted to stay and he was being a… dad.
“Bill, this isn’t right and you know it,” Eileen said, the exasperation in her voice familiar to him.
“Eileen, look, what if your mother stopped you from moving to Hawthorne?” Bill offered rationally. “You never would have met me.”
“No, but I’d be alive,” Eileen said tersely.
Charlotte couldn’t believe what had just slipped out of her mother’s mouth, and neither could Eileen, from the expression on her face. It occurred to Charlotte that she wasn’t the only one in her family who had carried unresolved issues over.
“This is so unfair,” Charlotte said, echoing the sentiments of the zillions of whining teens before her, but more importantly, breaking the tension between her parents.
“It isn’t very fair, but you need to see the big picture,” Bill said, the backlog of fatherly advice now just pouring from him. “You have a responsibility to yourself and your classmates, and you can’t let them down.”
Right now, Charlotte couldn’t see the forest—only the trees. Especially the big giant one that looked like a totem pole with Markov’s face carved into it and was blocking her path to ultimate happiness.
“Your father has a point. Even if we can’t change the situation, we can change the way we look at it,” Eileen said, embracing Charlotte with all her might, and heart.
Charlotte noted the reversal in her mother’s tone and felt that Eileen had drawn some strength from her father’s steadfastness. They were being a parental team, getting on the same page, and even though she disagreed, there was comfort and strength in their togetherness.
Eileen and Bill smiled, signaling to Charlotte that they were okay with it and that she would be okay, too. They hugged her tightly, squeezing the life out of her, so to speak.
Satisfied that the situation was under control, Bill gave her a peck on the cheek as he left the room. Eileen, however, was not as quick to call it quits.
“Charlotte, I know that you’re upset about leaving us, even for a short while,” her mom said, “but I get the feeling there is something else going on too.”
Eileen saw right through Charlotte, and for once Charlotte was glad somebody could. Here it was, at last, and they both sensed it as only mothers and daughters can. It was what they’d waited for their whole lives and longer: for Eileen, a chance to test-drive her “mother’s intuition,” and for Charlotte, a chance to have The Talk.
“Mom?” Charlotte stumbled as she searched for the right words to say.
“Yes, sweetie?” Eileen asked expectantly.
“There’s this guy…,” Charlotte began.
Chapter 6 You Can Do Better than Me
Love is a grave mental disease.
—Plato
Critical condition.
Just as love blinds us to imperfections in others, it magnifies those we see in ourselves. But if this is true, then the opposite must also be the case. We can take comfort in the fact that our faults will be invisible to those who love us. The success or failure of any relationship depends not just on how we feel about each other, but on how we make each other feel about ourselves.
Charlotte, look at it this way: it’s your first fight. That’s the mark of a real relationship,” Pam said, trying to lift Charlotte’s spirits as they headed to the office for what was, for better or worse, the last time.
This was not the time for “I told you so,” though it took every ounce of spectral strength from Pam and Prue not to blurt it out.
“It just hurts me that he doesn’t get that he’s the main reason I want to stay,” Charlotte said. “He’s so casual about us.”
“What ‘us’?” CoCo butted in as she joined them on the way. “Have you ever even talked about the both of you as a couple?”
“No, not yet,” Charlotte said.
“Maybe you’re too afraid to find out what he really thinks,” Prue added.
“I’d rather just vomit than be nauseated all day,” CoCo said. “Know what I mean?”
They looked at CoCo, knowing there was a point, but unable to figure out what it was.
CoCo let out a sigh of exasperation and explained: “Just because you’re afraid of what he might say, afraid of rejection, doesn’t mean you just ignore it altogether. I would want to know.”
“Let’s not get too dramatic,” Pam wisely advised.
“Maybe he thinks I’m not cool enough for him,” Charlotte moped, her insecurities creeping back.
“He’s a guy, Charlotte,” Prue tossed off. “He’s probably not thinking anything.”
“And you are totally overthinking,” Pam said. “This is the old you talking, Charlotte. Don’t let yourself fall back into that trap.”
Charlotte smiled a bit anxiously and realized they were probably right.
“At least he’s getting sent back with us so you can keep your eye on him,” Pam pointed out rationally.
“Yeah,” CoCo tweaked. “Leaving him behind could be dangerous now that Polly is here.”
“Thanks a lot,” Charlotte grumbled. “I feel much better now.”
Pam and Prue laughed good-naturedly and nudged Charlotte as they approached the phone bank. Charlotte didn’t see the humor in any of it just then. Just the injustice.
“Why so glum, man?” Mike prodded Eric, who seemed uncharacteristically stuck in a funk. “I thought you were looking forward to getting back.”
“I am,” Eric said weakly. “It’s just, you know, Charlotte’s kind of bumming me.”
“Don’t fret,” DJ chided, proud of his guitar pun. “This is not like you.”
“I don’t know,” Eric said. “This trip is really bad timing for us.”
“It’s perfect timing!” Mike shouted, punching out an air-drum roll in front of him. “You don’t want to be tied down with all that living tail that’s gonna be around.”
“Brodown!” DJ shouted, anticipating his first boys’ night out in quite some time.
Subtlety was definitely not a priority for this crew, but judging from the look on Eric’s face, they could tell they might have gone a little too far.
“Aw, she’ll be cool,” DJ assured him, reeling the conversation back. “She’s got plenty to keep her busy.”
“What do you mean?” Eric asked, taken aback.
“Damen,” Mike explained indelicately. “He’s the whole reason she’s here.”
“She died trying to hook up with him,” DJ continued. “Good thing too, or we’d all still be there.”
“Yeah, good thing,” Eric mumbled.
The entire office staff arrived on time for a change. All were anxious to hear from Markov. All except for Charlotte, that is.
She snuck a nervous peek at Eric, as she usually did, and he nodded back and smiled, which she hoped was a good sign.
A not-so-good sign was that her Dead Ed teacher Mr. Brain wasn’t there. His presence was always comforting, especially for Charlotte, but his absence was not exactly surprising. After all, his most recent graduates had just arrived on campus, and he really only showed up for super-special occasions now.
Charlotte figured this return engagement that Markov had booked for them probably didn’t qualify. They’d been told they were going back, but not much else. It was all very mysterious, and the tension in the room was palpable.
“Today,” Markov began, “is the first day of the rest of your afterlives.”
The audible groan from the Eric-Mike-DJ section in the back was contagious and, not surprisingly, Markov quickly began to lose the room. He sounded like a personality-challenged straight-A student giving a hackneyed valedictory address. Bor-ing.
“That’s original,” Eric, who had set himself up as a bit of a nemesis to Markov, opined sarcastically.
“Yeah,” Charlotte continued. “Should we remember to always reach for the stars and follow our dreams too?”