Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend Page 3

  “Right. Of course,” I laughed.

  “So it’s a date?”

  I blushed at the word date. “I really shouldn’t. Besides, I have to tutor Wayne until he’s well enough to come back to school.”

  Eddie probably didn’t mean anything by it, but I had never been on a real date. I had always hoped Wayne would be the one to ask, but that hope had been squashed after the Hun came into the picture.

  “Oh, that’s right.” Eddie frowned. “I forgot you two were neighbors.” He was quiet for a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity when it came to Eddie. When he finally opened his mouth again, the bell cut him off.

  “Thanks for the hair,” he shouted over the last minute chattering. We waved goodbye. I picked up my backpack and slipped out of the cafeteria before everyone else so I could squeeze in a visit with Chloe.

  The main hall filled with the leftover smells of school pizza and tacos. It mingled with the sweaty sock odor that crept out of the gym across from the cafeteria and dispersed down the hall with the herd of students heading back to class. I hurried up to the second floor and to the painting room.

  Chloe was alone, which was a relief, since she had the voice of an anchorwoman. She had her back to me and was bouncing on her toes in time to a Lady Gaga song crooning softly from a paint-splattered radio on the windowsill that spanned the entire back wall.

  “I swiped an extra tardy slip from Nader’s office this morning, and Sharon doesn’t have a fifth period class in here, so you can stay as long as you like,” Chloe said, still focused on her canvas. She had to be the only student who could get away with addressing the art teachers by first name.

  “You went to see Ms. Nader?” I whispered, pushing the classroom door closed to shut out the swarm of students passing by outside.

  “Yup.” She didn’t even blink.

  “Well, what did you say to her?”

  “Ah ah ahhh. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

  “Whatever.” I crossed my arms.

  Chloe finally dropped her brush back in the bucket of mineral spirits on her easel and turned to me, wiping her hands on the ragged flannel shirt she wore over her regular clothes. “What do you think I said? I told her I felt guilty because I prayed to Buddha every night that she would die, and she finally did.”

  “People don’t pray to Buddha.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Well? What did she say?”

  “She said that she doubted Buddha was the reason Matilda Hunt decided to drink and drive. Then she gave me some book written by the Dalai Lama and said that if I was going to be a Buddhist, I should do my homework.” Chloe dug the book out of her messenger bag and tossed it to me. “Merry Christmas. Oh, wait! Do Buddhists celebrate Christmas?”

  “I think they call it Bodhi Day.”

  “Happy Bodhi Day then. The tardy pass is between pages two and three. That’s how far I made it before I fell asleep in biology.” She turned back to her painting. “What do you think of my latest masterpiece?”

  Chloe’s work always made me uncomfortable. She said that was the mark of a true artist. If it didn’t make people feel something primal, then it wouldn’t sell for millions after they died. Her current piece was of a nearly naked model sitting in an oversized teacup. Her feet were crammed in tiny glass slippers that looked like they might pop off any second. She had a tiny scepter in one hand and a plate of sandwiches in her other. A hennin, one of those cone-shaped hats medieval ladies wore, sat on her head with dirty, torn up ribbons flowing out of the tip. Behind her stretched a dingy cityscape.

  “It’s... nice.” That’s all I ever had to say about Chloe’s work. It was my safe word.

  Chloe sighed. “You don’t get it. Do you?”

  “What’s to get?”

  “It’s supposed to signify the ridiculousness of feminine expectation in the modern world. Men want a woman with the purity of a princess, but with less clothing. They also want her to be experienced in the workforce.” She pointed to the dirty ribbons. “But they still want her to be a homemaker.” Her finger moved to the sandwiches. “Though it’s hard to fit into all these roles, especially since the added responsibility has made us grow and evolve beyond any one particular persona.” She ended her summary on the too tight slippers.

  “Nice,” I said again, more genuinely now that I “got it.”

  Chloe picked up a Dr. Pepper off her easel and cracked it open. “So, are you going to see Wayne again after school?” She took a drink and passed the can to me.

  “Yeah. I’m bringing him his makeup homework.”

  “Is that all you’re bringing him?”

  “Come on, Chloe. His girlfriend just died.”

  “His evil girlfriend who hated you and stole him away from you.”

  “He was never mine.” I sighed and sat down on the windowsill.

  “He was your friend, and after she came along, he wasn’t. So, in a way, he was yours.”

  “I better get to class.”

  “You don’t want to use the tardy slip?”

  “I shouldn’t.” I flipped through Ms. Nader’s book and handed the slip back to Chloe.

  “Such a good girl,” she smirked.

  “I’m going to be in enough hot water once my parents find out that I was at that party.”

  “You worry too much.” Chloe turned back to her painting and added bits of lettuce to the sandwiches.

  “What I’m most worried about is the Ds. I have algebra with Danielle, and Denise will be waiting for her after class. That’s probably when they’re planning to ambush me.”

  “You want the tardy slip back? You could tell the teacher you need to see Nader, and then bring her the slip after the sixth period bell rings.”

  “I’ll be okay. Maybe I can just wait after class and talk to Ms. Powell. Wayne has her for algebra too, so I can go ahead and pick up his homework from her.”

  The noise in the hall was fading fast. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and said goodbye to Chloe.

  “Call me after you get home from the hospital,” she shouted as I hurried out of the painting room.

  Setbacks

  Chapter 5

  By some miracle, I made it through the rest of the day, collected Wayne’s makeup work, and arrived at the hospital just in time to overhear one of Officer Russell’s infamous lectures.

  One of the nurses stopped me in the hallway, but I could still see Wayne through the partially open blinds that covered the observation window of his room. He looked like he was praying for another coma. Officer Russell’s booming voice seeped through the closed door. A normal voice would have been muffled, but he was loud enough that I was pretty sure everyone at the nurses’ station could hear him as well as I could.

  “Your blood tests came back. There was alcohol in your system, Wayne. Your scholarship has been revoked, but I imagine your grades would have eventually killed that opportunity if this incident hadn’t. Do you have any idea how humiliating this has been for your mother and me? Do you?”

  Wayne’s voice was too soft to be heard, but I saw him mouth, “Yes, sir.”

  Officer Russell paced the room. He was in full uniform, amplifying his intimidation level to its max. “In addition to blowing your scholarship and getting suspended from school for a week, you just might have cost me a promotion. I can’t even keep my own son in line, how am I supposed to be an authority figure for the entire town?”

  Wayne’s bottom lip trembled, and he dropped his chin to his chest in defeat.

  Officer Russell sighed. “I think it goes without saying that you’re grounded, maybe until graduation. And if you don’t bring your grades back up by the end of the semester, we might be looking into military school. I hate that things have come to this, son. I really do. But you’ve left us no other options.” He rested a firm hand on Wayne’s shoulder. “Your mother will be by later with a change of clothes. They should be releasing you in the morning, right before the funeral.”

  Wayne shudd
ered, but he didn’t protest.

  Officer Russell turned to leave. I backed away from the window and tried not to look too guilty as he noticed me in the hall.

  “Janie,” he said, bringing his drill sergeant tone down to a more civil frequency. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “I brought Wayne’s makeup work,” I said, holding up the folder I had stuffed everything in.

  “Good. Maybe that will keep him out of trouble for a while.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I’m on duty in five, so I better head out. Tell your parents hello.” He tipped his hat at me and hurried off towards the elevators.

  I blew out the breath I’d been holding and let myself into Wayne’s room, closing the door behind me. It was quieter now. There were fewer machines hooked up to him, and it looked like he had at least been given a sponge bath at some point. His hair was still a disaster, and the stitches across his forehead were crusty and purple. The swelling around his left eye had gone down, I noticed as he looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.

  “Hey,” I whispered.

  “Hey.” He glanced at the folder under my arm and groaned. “Why couldn’t I have just died?”

  “Don’t say that.” I glared at him and sat down in the recliner by the bed.

  “Why not? My entire life is ruined now anyway.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Yes, Janie. It is. I lost my scholarship. I’m suspended. I’m grounded for a very long, unspecified time. I look like Frankenstein’s monster. Matilda’s dead, and I have to go to her funeral tomorrow.”

  “You’ll get through this, and I’ll help you,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as pathetic as I felt.

  “You’re going to that funeral with me,” he said.

  My heart ached. I was terrified of funerals and facing the Ds, but I was also all tingly because Wayne wanted me to be there for him. He needed me.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?” He closed his eyes and relaxed.

  “But first, you have algebra homework. Read the notes. We covered a lot of new stuff today.” The threat of military school had motivated me as much as I hoped it had motivated Wayne. If he was off at boot camp somewhere, it was unlikely that he’d be able to make it to prom.

  Wayne’s brows knitted together as he looked over the pages in the folder I’d brought.

  “I’ll come over after the funeral so we can go over everything before I turn it in for you on Wednesday. I’ll have to pick up your Tuesday makeup work on Wednesday too, if I’m going to the funeral with you.”

  Wayne frowned, but he didn’t try to argue his way out of it. “Okay. I’ll get all of this done tonight. I really can’t afford to flunk out.”

  “I heard your dad,” I confessed.

  Wayne grimaced. “Yeah. I really don’t think I’d look good in fatigues.”

  The military themed prom came to mind, and I bit my tongue as I blushed. It only got worse once Wayne laid his hand over mine. “Thanks, Janie. I really owe you one. You really are the best friend I’ve ever had. I’m sorry we’ve drifted so far apart this year.”

  “Don’t mention it.” What I really wanted to say was that we wouldn’t have drifted so far apart if he hadn’t decided to date some skank who hated my guts. No matter how true it was, I just couldn’t bring myself to be that mean. Besides, it was really hard to be mad at Wayne. He oozed charm, even battered and bruised and with hobo hair.

  “I better get home. I have homework to do, too.” I sighed and gave him a small smile. “Take it easy, Batman.”

  Wayne chuckled. “I haven’t heard that nickname since eighth grade.” It was cheesy, but it had been worth the smile.

  I left the hospital and walked home. The December cold was dry, so my jean jacket was plenty warm. I took the long way around Sagewood Subdivision, where Wayne and I lived, so I could walk past Lovers Playground, the abandoned park where the fateful party had been held.

  A good sized creek ran along a ravine behind a rusted swing set and slide. Several years back, a heavy rain had flooded out the creek and washed away a chunk of land. A small boy had gotten too close to the ledge when his mother wasn’t looking and fell in, drowning in the unusually high waters. It had been pretty upsetting for the Jasper community, and while the park wasn’t officially condemned, no one had used it for so long that the place had nearly been forgotten.

  There was a small rock ledge that jutted out over the creek, halfway down the ravine. Several Jasper High students had built a rock path down to it so they could hide out and drink under the radar. It had been a popular hangout for almost a decade now, from what I’d heard. I was relieved to see that it was empty and not marked off with crime scene tape. I still didn’t linger long.

  When I got home, I called Chloe.

  “How’s lover boy?” she answered on the first ring.

  “Don’t call him that, and he’s fine. Mostly. I have to get his grades up before Christmas break or his dad’s going to ship him off to boot camp.”

  “Hmmm. Maybe I should be calling him your bad boy then.”

  “And he’s going to Matilda’s funeral tomorrow and asked me to go with him.”

  Chloe barked out a laugh. “How’s that for irony? Your first date will be his ex’s funeral.”

  “It’s not a date. Good grief, Chloe.”

  “Okay, okay. Sorry.”

  “The Ds will probably be there.” I groaned.

  “Of course they will, but I doubt they’ll make a scene. Officer Russell will be taking notes.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, and it made me feel a little less nauseous. “I need to ask a favor.”

  “Name it.”

  “If I don’t survive the funeral, you have to burn my sketchbook.” I pulled it out from under my pillow and fingered through the pages.

  “Whatever. I’m going to sell it to the highest bidder. It belongs in a museum.”

  “My psycho doodlings are hardly museum worthy.”

  Chloe sighed. “When are you going to get it? Art is only as good as it makes you feel. It doesn’t have to be finely detailed and realistic. Look at some of Picasso’s later work. As long as it makes you feel something, it’s worth something. And honey, your psycho doodlings will definitely make people feel something.”

  “Chloe, I’d just die if anyone saw these.”

  “If you’re dead already, what’s it matter?”

  I gritted my teeth. “Just promise me.”

  “You’re going to be fine. It’s just a funeral.”

  “Chloeeeeeee.”

  “Okay, I promise.” She laughed again. I heard her mom call for her in the background. “Gotta go. Pizza’s here. Call me after the funeral tomorrow.”

  “Can’t. I’ll be at Wayne’s, helping him with his homework.”

  “Hmmm. Well, I’ll see you Wednesday then. Adios!” It was probably the only word she had retained from her Spanish class. It was a wonder I wasn’t tutoring her along with Wayne.

  Distractions

  Chapter 6

  Matilda’s funeral was far more foreboding than I remembered my great-grandma’s being. The panic set in the second my eyes opened Tuesday morning.

  I spent half an hour destroying my closet, looking for something suitably depressing that didn’t make me look like Wednesday Addams. I finally settled on a black skirt and a light gray sweater. My hair darkened to a deep chestnut during the winter months, and I liked it. I probably should have worn it up in a bun to offset the cheerfully light color of my sweater, but it looked nice over my black wool coat, so I left it down and just curled the ends.

  My dad surprised me with a hug when I came downstairs. “I know you hate funerals, but I’m really proud of you for going today. I know Wayne will appreciate it.”

  I swallowed and nodded, still not sure if I was going to make it out of the car once we arrived at the cemetery. I began fantasizing about all the ways the funeral could be canceled. Maybe a storm would roll over Jasper. The rain would pour and lightning wo
uld strike and knock out all the power. Maybe an earthquake would hit. Maybe the preacher would catch the flu. Maybe we’d drive through a wormhole that would shoot us out a day into the future. Hey, it could happen.

  The drive across town was impossibly longer than it should have been. It took us right past Jasper High, where the marquee board out front flashed, “The Dangers of Teen Drinking, Assembly Wednesday, guest speakers Ned and Susan Hunt of Hubbard Lake Oasis.” Chloe had been onto something. As much as I despised Matilda, it seemed sick and wrong of her parents to be using her death as a marketing tool. I began to wonder if they were the reason she turned out to be such a narcissistic twit, but I put it out of my mind once I started to sympathize with her parental plight. I would not cry for Matilda Hunt.

  I felt a little better once we arrived at the cemetery and the Russells pulled up behind us, though I almost cried when Wayne stepped out of the SUV. All of his golden curls were gone. His new, militant buzz cut didn’t do much to conceal the shaved and stitched portion of his head, but it definitely looked less ridiculous than having half a head of curls. His eye was still bruised and puffy, and in his plain black suit he looked more like a defendant than a high school jock. The cast on his arm was giving him a hard time, so I helped him slip his good arm through his coat and draped it over his opposite shoulder. He gave me the faintest smile before we made our way to the open grave at the edge of the cemetery.

  Chloe had also been right about the Ds. They were dressed in full black, mostly blending in with the crowd. Denise was the shorter of the two, so she had still made a point to wear heels that were almost inappropriate. Her lack of visible cleavage surprised me, as did her silence. Danielle was a little more subtle in black slacks and a turtleneck. Her blond hair had been pulled back into a sophisticated French twist that made her look much older than she was. They each took a turn to glare at me over Matilda’s closed casket. I dropped my eyes and tried to distract myself away from them by focusing on the shadows beneath the casket rigging. Did they really measure down six feet? Or was that just a rough estimate?