Ghostly

  Ghostly

  by Samantha Combs

  Published by Astraea Press

  www.astraeapress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  GHOSTLY

  Copyright © 2011 Samantha Combs

  ISBN 978-1-936852-52-9

  Cover Art Designed By FOR THE MUSE DESIGNS

  Edited by Audrey Jamison

  This book is dedicated to the two women who are always there for me, my mum Paulina, and Charlene. Your love and support give me a strength I didn't know I had.

  Thank you.

  Chapter One

  The weirdest week of my life didn’t start out as the weirdest week of my life. In fact, it started out as pretty normal. I woke up at the regular time, dressed in my self-prescribed uniform of baggy jeans rolled to my calves, dark hoodie, and black Chuck Taylor Converse high-tops. I pulled my short blonde hair into two little ponytails, and as an afterthought, defiantly swiped pink lipstick across my lips.

  When I got to school, my friends were already there. I caught up with Jett, Sixx, and Creepshow hanging around at our usual spot, sitting on the wall. I nodded when they saw me.

  “Hey Juice!” Sixx called out.

  Sixx is my best friend. Her real name is Nicole. But she has always loved Mötley Crüe, and so, while we made fun of her, we also renamed her Nicky Sixx and after awhile only the Sixx part stuck. I suppose it had been in retaliation that she nicknamed me Juice. My real name is Lucy. Juicy Lucy. Get it? Our friend Jett has black hair and always wears Ray-Bans. And Creepshow is obsessed with horror flicks. I guess we’re not all that original.

  “Hey, Sixx.” I unslung my backpack and let it drop to my feet. Claiming a spot on the wall, I joined my friends on our morning perch. We sat there watching everyone stream into the school and successfully ignored them all.

  “What’s going on, girl?” Jett leaned over and gave me a hug. As always, he enveloped me with the smell of salt air and board wax.

  “Not much. How were the waves?” Jett and Creepshow surfed every morning before class. If I woke up early enough, I rode my bike down to the beach and watched them. Afterwards, they’d put my bike in their beat up old van and give me a ride to school.

  “Sweet. Better than yesterday. Not as good as they’ll be tomorrow.”

  “You know Jett’s never satisfied with his ride, Juice. He always thinks there’s a better one coming.” Sixx fished around in her giant bag for something. “I’ve got something for you. Aha! Here it is.” She pulled out a dark wad of material and handed it to me. “Found this over the weekend at a thrift shop. Screamed your name at me.” I unfurled the wad and almost stopped breathing.

  “Sixx! Where did you find this? It’s awesome!” I flapped the vintage t-shirt open so Jett and Creepshow could see it. I read the words printed on it out loud. “Led Zeppelin, Houses of the Holy. Tour dates and everything.” I twisted back to Sixx and hugged her hard. “You are unbelievable, Sixx. Thank you!” Sixx knew my all-time favorite song had always been “Ten Years Gone” by the mighty Led Zep, and I didn’t care who knew it. She was the only one who knew that I had been known to say I needed to “get the Led out” whenever I felt in dire need of a Zeppelin fix. I was unapologetic in my dorkdom.

  Sixx shrugged. “Whatever. The tool at the shop didn’t even know what he had. Plus,” she looked at me with a glint in her eye, and I knew she would say it, even though she promised me she wouldn’t. “I had to get you something for your birthday, didn’t I?”

  Creepshow nearly fell off the wall and Jett actually lowered his shades.

  “Seriously, Juice, is it really your birthday?” Jett looked at me as if Sixx had just told him I might be a secret agent or something.

  “Jett, I wasn’t trying to keep anything from you.” I glowered at Sixx, who always enjoyed being the whistleblower. “I just didn’t want anyone to make a big deal of it.”

  “Yeah, well, now Sixx is the only one who got you anything for your birthday.” Creepshow almost pouted. “We look like cheap tools.”

  “No, you don’t.” I punched him in the arm.

  “Well, I still want to get you something. What do you want?”

  “How about a good-looking boyfriend and an A in chem?”

  Sixx made a face. “Ugh. Have you seen the boys at this school? Present company excepted, of course.”

  “Right,” muttered Creepshow.

  “Sweet,” said Jett.

  “Most of them are Neanderthals.” Sixx rolled her eyes. “Jocks and geeks and dorks and freaks. This school is a breeding ground for idiots on parade.”

  “I know.” I nodded, then held up one finger. “So, maybe instead I’ll just have an ice cream cake?” Sixx and Creepshow and Jett all looked at me and cracked up.

  “That’s what I love about you, Juice,” said Sixx, throwing her arms around my shoulders. “You’ve always been willing to set your sights low.”

  ****

  When the morning bell sounded, I went to homeroom. My last name is Zander, the end of the alphabet, so I didn’t get to be in the same class as any of my friends. Nicole “Sixx” Montgomery and Jason “Creepshow” Monroe were in the same class, and Jett Abbott’s first one happened to be on the other side of the building. We always got together again at lunch. So, of course, in the mornings, I got left alone again with the assorted freakage.

  I walked into the classroom and assumed my place in back, then pulled my hoodie up and slumped down low in my seat. This had worked for halfway through the semester as long as I got to class early. Everyone left me alone. But today I noticed something different in class. Or rather, someone different. A new guy now sat two desks to the right of me. He had floppy blond hair and wore a hoodie, same as me. I looked at him and our eyes kind of locked. His were a beautiful blue color and he stared right back at me. Stunned, I realized the new guy was smiling at me. Boys of any kind smiling at me, or even looking in my direction, constituted such a foreign occurrence, my mind almost couldn’t process the correct response.

  Oh, right. Smile back. I tried it, forcing my mouth into the alien formation. It worked. The new guy’s smile broadened and unbelievably, he got up and moved to the desk next to mine. I tried not to faint.

  “Hi. I’m Shane. Shane Elliott.”

  “Hey. I’m Jui—Lucy. Lucy Zander.” I choked out the words. “Are you in the right homeroom? This is supposed to be for tenth grade, end-of-the-alphabet.” That would explain my good luck. It wasn’t good luck at all. This wasn’t even his class.

  “Oh, that. Classroom overflow or something.”

  “Hmm. Are you new?”

  “Sort of.”

  “That’s a weird answer.”

  He laughed. “I know. But it’s the best one I’ve got.” He leaned forward. “Hey, what did you call yourself first? Before you said ‘Lucy’, you started to say something else.”

  “Oh, that.” Busted. “It’s sort of a nickname. Juice.”

  “Like for steroids?”

  “No! Like for Lucy. Juicy Lucy?” Gee, I never realized how embarrassing my stupid nickname sounded until I had to explain it to a total stranger. Make that a totally cute stranger.

  “It sounds like chewing gum.”

  “Whatever.” Now, I was getting annoyed. “Just call me Lucy then. Or better yet, you don’t have to call
me anything.” I made an exaggerated gesture of turning my body to the left, away from him. All of a sudden I’d become some kind of flirt-goddess. Where did this come from? Watching Sixx, no doubt. She was way to the left of shy.

  “No. I kind of like Juice. It’s unique. Juice. Juice.” He kept saying my name, as if he was tasting it. Man, was I a magnet to that. I twisted back toward him.

  “Well then, Shane. What’s your schedule? If you show me your room numbers, I can help you find them.” I took a notebook out of my backpack and opened it up to a blank page, intending to write down his classes.

  He squirmed a little. “I’m not sure what my schedule is going to be just yet.”

  “And you already have your homeroom assigned? That’s weird.”

  He started to answer when the bell rang. The classroom flooded with kids. Soon, the desks filled up and I thought Shane might be sitting in someone’s assigned seat. Sure enough, a beefy jock from the football team came charging down the aisle, headed for the seat Shane occupied. I wanted to say something when he sat right down on top of Shane. Or, what would have been Shane if he had still been sitting there. I know I never even blinked, but one minute Shane was there, and the next minute I found myself staring into the craggy face of Brian Yates, one of MacGregor High School’s Warrior football players. It sounds crazy, but Shane seemed to fade into Brian, until he disappeared and only Brian remained.

  I sat there gaping at Brian until he got mad.

  “What the heck are you staring at?”

  I snapped my mouth closed and rotated all the way around in my seat. Where in the world had Shane gone? I looked around the classroom but I didn’t see him. When Mr. Blake came in and starting calling the roll, I listened carefully, but I never heard Shane’s name. It wasn’t until homeroom ended that I looked down at my notebook and saw the neatly printed words in an unfamiliar script.

  I’ll explain everything later. Shane.

  This is when the weirdest week of my life totally began to rev up.

  Chapter Two

  What happened in homeroom had so freaked me out, I found myself completely on my guard for my next class, tenth grade English. I didn’t care too much for this class. Personally, the teacher bored me half to death. Most of the time she got her allegories wrong and her ideas regarding Renaissance literature were archaic and out of touch. But that happened to be my personal opinion, which I had learned to keep to myself. So, slinking to the back of her classroom wasn’t hard at all.

  I sat there while she droned on, trying to collect myself and figure out just what went down in homeroom. I replayed the whole thing about a dozen times when it hit me. Maybe he’d communicate again if I gave him a way. Thinking it might be stupid, but before I changed my mind, I fished out my notebook and opened it to the same page Shane had written on before. I folded it back and slapped it on the top of my desk and waited. And waited. Nothing happened. I almost fell asleep waiting.

  Ms. Hutchins spent the better part of an hour dissecting Romeo and Juliet and mispronouncing Montague for, like, the millionth time, when the bell sounded and put us all out of our misery. I was so anxious to get out of there, I practically ran out.

  “Hey, you almost forgot this.” The girl who sits next to me tapped me with her pencil.

  I glanced over my shoulder and she handed me my notebook. It must have fallen as I bolted from the desk. I grabbed it and looked at it.

  Written in the same handwriting as before, right under where he wrote the last line, Shane Elliott had written something new: Meet me after school in the gym and I’ll explain everything. I chose you, Juice. Please come. Shane.

  My hand shook and the page blurred. OMG!

  I ran down the hall. I knew if I moved quickly enough I could catch Sixx as she passed the lockers on her way to her next class. I had to talk to someone. I careened through a sea of kids until I spotted her.

  “Sixx!” I hollered and jumped up, waving my arms. I could tell she heard her name. She looked around wildly but without focusing. Finally, she spotted me and started to head my way, weaving through kids, batting them aside. When she got to me, she sounded royally ticked off.

  “Seriously, Juice. This better be good. You’ve got me swimming upstream with the haters here.” She glowered.

  “I know, Sixx. And it is good. In fact, it’s so good you’re not gonna believe this.” I grabbed her and steered her into the nearest girl’s bathroom. We were totally going to be late for class, but I didn’t care. This qualified as an emergency. I could tell from the look on her face she wouldn’t be questioning it.

  She let me drag her by the shirtsleeve into the bathroom and all the way to the back. She waited by the sinks while I checked under all the stalls and confirmed we were alone. We heard the second bell–the late bell–ring, and when the sounds of kids outside died, I dropped my backpack and slumped down the wall into a sitting position. Wordlessly, I handed the notebook to Sixx. She read it and looked down at me.

  “So, who is Shane and why do I care?”

  “The question may not be so much who is Shane as what is Shane.”

  Sixx glanced at me with an impatient look on her face. I told her what happened, starting from my conversation with Shane in homeroom and ending with the last contact I had just received in my notebook. It pleased me when she stared at me open-mouthed in disbelief.

  “I know, right? You know me as a person who doesn’t make this kind of thing up, Sixx. Horror and the supernatural, that’s Creepshow’s thing, not mine. I didn’t ask for this.” I reached into my backpack for ChapStick and started applying it over and over just for something to do with my trembling hands.

  “Okay, he chose you, Juice. He said so in his note. Do you know why?”

  “No, I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m not a screamer. Maybe because I sat where I did. Maybe because he has a sick sense of humor. How in the world would I know?” I waved my ChapStick in Sixx’s face.

  “Don’t go postal on me, Juice. I’m only asking.”

  “Sorry. This is way out of hand for me.” I went back to rummaging in my backpack as a way to calm my nerves. I knew I was out of control. Sixx’s next question threw me totally off-balance.

  “I get that. But let’s get to the important part. Is he cute?”

  “As a matter of fact, he is.” I straightened up and gave Sixx my full attention.

  “Do you think he’s some kind of demon or ghost or something?”

  “I think he’s more like a ghost than anything. You should have seen the way he just, like, vaporized in front of my eyes.”

  “Sounds scary,” she said with an affected shudder.

  “But it wasn’t. That’s the funny thing. When we were talking, before he faded away, he wasn’t scary at all. He acts funny and cute and maybe even kind of charming.”

  “Perfect, Juice. I always knew you were the strangest one out of all of us. Now, you prove it by falling for a ghost.”

  “What? Who said anything about falling for him?” How could she jump to such a radical conclusion? “It’s just nice to talk to someone who isn’t brain-dead.” I regretted it almost as soon as I said it.

  “Nice choice of words, Juice.”

  “What-ev.” I rolled my eyes at her, knowing she hated it. Lucky for me, she missed it.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Not sure yet. I think I’ll just let the day play out.”

  “Well, speaking of that, I think we better try and get to class or else they’ll think we cut for sure.” Sixx started gathering her things.

  “You’re probably right.” I bent down and grabbed my bag, too.

  Sixx handed me back the notebook, which I tucked in my backpack. I had one more class before lunch. We agreed not to mention this to the guys. Not being sure what Jett or Creepshow would think, I didn’t want to share Shane anymore than I already had. For now, my cute new ghost belonged only to me.

  ****

  Before lunch, I had biology. I usually
didn’t mind it, but right now I questioned registering to take it before eating. Especially now, when we were dissecting frogs. Sliced-open amphibians seriously made me gag. Thank heaven that at the beginning of the semester one of the Glasses Geeks had taken a shine to me and we had partnered up. I had coasted through the first half of the year on his very impressive coattails with very little input. But now that the real frogs were out and pinned into their little trays, I’m sure he expected me to contribute something.

  I walked into the classroom and did a double take. Quentin, my geekazoid science partner was nowhere to be found. Instead, Shane stood lounging at my work station, poking around at my frog. I walked over to the station and slid onto my stool.

  “Hey.” Casual, breezy. Not like I know I’m talking to a ghost or anything.

  “Hey, yourself.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought we weren’t meeting till after school.” I dropped my backpack near my feet and pulled out the notebook and pen.

  Shane spun to look at me and I found myself looking into those denim blue eyes. Steady, girl. Remember, you’re not falling for him, right?

  “Wasn’t sure you’d show up, if I’m being honest.”

  “Honest. Hmm. That’s an interesting choice of words.”

  “You are referring, I guess, to the fact that I didn’t tell you who I am?” He pressed closer to me, folding both arms on the science station table and kind of leaning over them. He was dangerously close to both me and the frog.

  “You mean what you are.”

  “Okay, good point. I mean what I am.”

  “And what does this mean, exactly?” I ignored him and opened my notebook over the frog to the last message he wrote, about choosing me, and stood it up so he could see it. “I don’t know whether to be flattered by this or terrified.”

  “Funny. You don’t look ‘terrified’.” He tossed my own word back at me, narrowing his eyes as he spoke. “And I wasn’t trying to do either. I told you the truth. I did choose you. I’ve been checking people out here for a little while and I chose you. On purpose.” He stunned me with another of those heart-melting smiles.