sometimes
do a pretty good job.
But I start talking about a double black diamond
ski run I made once in Colorado.
It was awesome.
Closest I came to dying.
Where was it?
asks Emma’s friend Maxie.
Mary Jane Mountain,
I start saying,
up in Winter—
That’s where I learned to ski, in Winter Park!
she interrupts, her face all lit up.
I loved it there.
I loved it there, too,
I say, remembering.
Felt like I was on the top of the fucking world. Never felt so free . . .
And I did, too. Haven’t felt
that way since.
It was the next day, on the
same run, that I broke my leg.
Dad was pissed as hell.
But it was so worth it.
Bren?
asks Emma.
Sorry, just remembering that wipeout. Epic. Anyway, it’s you we want to scare, right?
Right.
She grins back at me.
What about a little game of chicken on the railroad tracks?
I say.
Not funny,
she says, losing the grin.
She’s still pissed about what happened
earlier this summer.
I guess I did push it
a little far.
Okay, okay. I’m sure I can come up with something better,
I say.
MAXIE
For just a second there,
I found myself actually
liking Brendan.
When he was talking about skiing
Mary Jane.
But now I keep my eyes
straight ahead,
while he jokes about ways to
scare Emma.
Trying not to think about
that gun
and why he would have it in his
glove compartment.
I know. Let’s go ghosting,
Chloe suddenly pipes up from the backseat.
There’s a brief silence.
Then Brendan turns around
to look at her.
That’s so hyphy of you, Chloe,
he says, with a smirk.
What’s hyphy?
asks Anil.
Nothing,
says Emma.
Just Brendan showing how gangsta he is.
Yeah, let’s go ghostridin’ the whip,
Brendan says.
His smirk has turned into a laugh,
but now I can tell
that at least this time
he’s laughing at himself,
a white-bread lacrosse player
pretending to be
California hip-hop.
And what’s that?
asks Anil.
Don’t encourage him,
says Emma.
Think we need a little demonstration,
says Brendan.
Brendan, don’t you dare . . . ,
says Emma.
Ignoring her,
he slows the car down.
So you put the car in drive,
Brendan says,
and then you do this . . .
And he opens his door,
and suddenly jumps out of
the moving car,
doing these
herky-jerky dance moves
next to the car as it
rolls forward.
Get the hell back in the car,
shouts Emma.
She leans over, grabbing
the steering wheel.
He ignores her
and then
jumps up
on the hood.
Shit,
says Emma, moving sideways into the driver’s seat.
She steps on the brake slowly
so Brendan won’t be
thrown off,
but he slides backward anyway,
almost to the end of the hood.
But then he wriggles back up,
smooshing his face up
against the windshield
with a maniacal
grin.
Stop it, Bren,
Emma yells, opening the car door wide.
And he slides off the hood
and jumps back
in the car,
shoving Emma into the
passenger seat.
You’re such a dick,
she says, pushing back.
Brendan just laughs.
You guys, I meant ghosting, as in looking for ghosts,
calls Chloe from the backseat.
So she wasn’t talking about the
ghosting I remember
from when I was a little girl.
the one with
Tootsie Rolls
and running away,
giggling.
Like in a cemetery or something,
Chloe adds, putting on some fresh lip gloss.
Emma twists around
with a big
smile.
Great idea! That’s the kind of scary shit I love.
I know you do,
says Chloe.
Emma glances at me
and even though I’m trying
to keep my face
blank,
I’m sure she can read me.
Like everybody
always
can.
Unless it’s too scary for you, Maxie,
Emma says.
It’s cool,
I say,
long as there aren’t any flying body parts.
Anil laughs again.
Either he’s an easy laugh,
or he’s nervous,
like I’m nervous.
Where could we go?
Emma says.
The cemetery on Elm, maybe.
Has anyone here ever seen a ghost?
asks Chloe.
Wait, I know!
says Emma.
What about that house way up on the north side, near the big cemetery, the one on McKinley Road?
No one says
anything.
Come on,
do a pretty good job.
But I start talking about a double black diamond
ski run I made once in Colorado.
It was awesome.
Closest I came to dying.
Where was it?
asks Emma’s friend Maxie.
Mary Jane Mountain,
I start saying,
up in Winter—
That’s where I learned to ski, in Winter Park!
she interrupts, her face all lit up.
I loved it there.
I loved it there, too,
I say, remembering.
Felt like I was on the top of the fucking world. Never felt so free . . .
And I did, too. Haven’t felt
that way since.
It was the next day, on the
same run, that I broke my leg.
Dad was pissed as hell.
But it was so worth it.
Bren?
asks Emma.
Sorry, just remembering that wipeout. Epic. Anyway, it’s you we want to scare, right?
Right.
She grins back at me.
What about a little game of chicken on the railroad tracks?
I say.
Not funny,
she says, losing the grin.
She’s still pissed about what happened
earlier this summer.
I guess I did push it
a little far.
Okay, okay. I’m sure I can come up with something better,
I say.
MAXIE
For just a second there,
I found myself actually
liking Brendan.
When he was talking about skiing
Mary Jane.
But now I keep my eyes
straight ahead,
while he jokes about ways to
scare Emma.
Trying not to think about
that gun
and why he would have it in his
glove compartment.
I know. Let’s go ghosting,
Chloe suddenly pipes up from the backseat.
There’s a brief silence.
Then Brendan turns around
to look at her.
That’s so hyphy of you, Chloe,
he says, with a smirk.
What’s hyphy?
asks Anil.
Nothing,
says Emma.
Just Brendan showing how gangsta he is.
Yeah, let’s go ghostridin’ the whip,
Brendan says.
His smirk has turned into a laugh,
but now I can tell
that at least this time
he’s laughing at himself,
a white-bread lacrosse player
pretending to be
California hip-hop.
And what’s that?
asks Anil.
Don’t encourage him,
says Emma.
Think we need a little demonstration,
says Brendan.
Brendan, don’t you dare . . . ,
says Emma.
Ignoring her,
he slows the car down.
So you put the car in drive,
Brendan says,
and then you do this . . .
And he opens his door,
and suddenly jumps out of
the moving car,
doing these
herky-jerky dance moves
next to the car as it
rolls forward.
Get the hell back in the car,
shouts Emma.
She leans over, grabbing
the steering wheel.
He ignores her
and then
jumps up
on the hood.
Shit,
says Emma, moving sideways into the driver’s seat.
She steps on the brake slowly
so Brendan won’t be
thrown off,
but he slides backward anyway,
almost to the end of the hood.
But then he wriggles back up,
smooshing his face up
against the windshield
with a maniacal
grin.
Stop it, Bren,
Emma yells, opening the car door wide.
And he slides off the hood
and jumps back
in the car,
shoving Emma into the
passenger seat.
You’re such a dick,
she says, pushing back.
Brendan just laughs.
You guys, I meant ghosting, as in looking for ghosts,
calls Chloe from the backseat.
So she wasn’t talking about the
ghosting I remember
from when I was a little girl.
the one with
Tootsie Rolls
and running away,
giggling.
Like in a cemetery or something,
Chloe adds, putting on some fresh lip gloss.
Emma twists around
with a big
smile.
Great idea! That’s the kind of scary shit I love.
I know you do,
says Chloe.
Emma glances at me
and even though I’m trying
to keep my face
blank,
I’m sure she can read me.
Like everybody
always
can.
Unless it’s too scary for you, Maxie,
Emma says.
It’s cool,
I say,
long as there aren’t any flying body parts.
Anil laughs again.
Either he’s an easy laugh,
or he’s nervous,
like I’m nervous.
Where could we go?
Emma says.
The cemetery on Elm, maybe.
Has anyone here ever seen a ghost?
asks Chloe.
Wait, I know!
says Emma.
What about that house way up on the north side, near the big cemetery, the one on McKinley Road?
No one says
anything.
Come on,
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