Ghost Time
Page 1
For all the artists who have made this possible.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2013 by Courtney Eldridge
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. Request for permission should be addressed to:
Amazon Publishing
Attn: Amazon Children’s Publishing
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Las Vegas, NV 89140
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ISBN-13: 9781477816578 (hardcover)
ISBN-10: 1477816577 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781477866573 (eBook)
ISBN-10: 1477866574 (eBook)
Book design by Katrina Damkoehler and Susan Gerber
Editor: Ed Park
First edition
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 5:27 PM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 (TWO HOURS LATER) 7:28 PM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 (TWO HOURS EARLIER) 3:32 PM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 (FOUR HOURS LATER) 9:26 PM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 (FOUR HOURS EARLIER) 1:37 PM
TUESDAY, APRIL 5, 2011 (TWELVE HOURS LATER) 5:54 AM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011 (TEN HOURS EARLIER) 7:35 AM
TUESDAY, APRIL 5, 2011 (TWENTY HOURS LATER) 1:43 PM
SUNDAY, APRIL 3, 2011 (TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER) 5:04 PM
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 6, 2011 (TWO DAYS LATER) 12:03 PM
SATURDAY, APRIL 2, 2011 (TWO DAYS EARLIER) 10:37 PM
THURSDAY, APRIL 7, 2011 (THREE DAYS LATER) 8:22 AM
SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 2011 (EIGHT DAYS EARLIER) 2:37 PM
FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011 (FOUR DAYS LATER) 2:59 PM
SUNDAY, MARCH 20, 2011 (FIFTEEN DAYS EARLIER) 9:47 PM
FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 2011 (FOUR DAYS LATER) 3:10 PM
SUNDAY, MARCH 13, 2011 (THREE WEEKS EARLIER) 5:12 PM
SATURDAY, APRIL 16, 2011 (TWELVE DAYS LATER) 3:46 PM
THURSDAY, MARCH 10, 2011 (TWENTY-FIVE DAYS EARLIER) 5:32 PM
TUESDAY, APRIL 19, 2011 (FIFTEEN DAYS LATER) 7:46 AM
SATURDAY, MARCH 5, 2011 (FIVE WEEKS EARLIER) 3:43 PM
THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011 (SEVENTEEN DAYS LATER) 12:13 PM
THURSDAY, MARCH 3, 2011 (FIVE WEEKS EARLIER) 7:16 PM
THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2011 (SEVENTEEN DAYS LATER) 12:58 PM
THURSDAY, MARCH 3, 2011 (FIVE WEEKS EARLIER) 4:11 PM
FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2011 (EIGHTEEN DAYS LATER) 2:51 PM
SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 26, 2011 (SIX WEEKS EARLIER) 4:26 PM
FRIDAY, APRIL 29, 2011 (TWENTY-FIVE DAYS LATER) 2:57 PM
WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2011 (SIX WEEKS EARLIER) 6:34 PM
MONDAY, MAY 2, 2011 (FOUR WEEKS LATER) 6:47 AM
SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2011 (SIX WEEKS EARLIER) 2:34 PM
WEDNESDAY, MAY 4, 2011 (FOUR WEEKS LATER) 5:32 PM
MONDAY, FEBRUARY 14, 2011 (SEVEN WEEKS EARLIER) 1:47 PM
FRIDAY, MAY 6, 2011 (THIRTY-TWO DAYS LATER) 7:42 AM
TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 8, 2011 (EIGHT WEEKS EARLIER) 4:14 PM
MONDAY, MAY 9, 2011 (FIVE WEEKS LATER) 10:47 AM
SUNDAY, JANUARY 30, 2011 (NINE WEEKS EARLIER) 8:11 PM
THURSDAY, MAY 12, 2011 (SIX WEEKS LATER) 3:30 PM
SATURDAY, JANUARY 22, 2011 (TEN WEEKS EARLIER) 4:56 PM
FRIDAY, MAY 13, 2011 (SIX WEEKS LATER) 4:36 PM
SUNDAY, JANUARY 9, 2011 (TWELVE WEEKS EARLIER) 7:34 PM
TUESDAY, MAY 17, 2011 (SIX WEEKS LATER) 5:42 PM
WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 5, 2011 (THIRTEEN WEEKS EARLIER) 9:34 PM
TUESDAY, MAY 17, 2011 (SIX WEEKS LATER) 6:15 PM
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2010 (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER) 9:54 PM
SUNDAY, MAY 22, 2011 (SEVEN WEEKS LATER) 10:37 AM
MONDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2010 (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER) 2:47 PM
TUESDAY, MAY 24, 2011 (SEVEN WEEKS LATER) 1:35 PM
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2010 (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER) 5:13 PM
FRIDAY, MAY 27, 2011 (EIGHT WEEKS LATER) 7:12 PM
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2010 (FOUR MONTHS EARLIER) 8:53 PM
SATURDAY, MAY 28, 2011 (EIGHT WEEKS LATER) 4:32 PM
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2010 (FIVE MONTHS EARLIER) 6:13 PM
MONDAY, MAY 30, 2011 (EIGHT WEEKS LATER) 8:23 AM
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 29, 2010 (SIX MONTHS EARLIER) 6:14 PM
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 1, 2011 (EIGHT WEEKS LATER) 10:19 AM
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2010 (SIX MONTHS EARLIER) 6:00 PM
MONDAY, JUNE 6, 2011 (NINE WEEKS LATER) 7:14 AM
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 19, 2010 (SIX MONTHS EARLIER) 4:34 PM
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 8, 2011 (NINE WEEKS LATER) 9:21 PM
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2010 (SIX MONTHS EARLIER) 3:57 PM
THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2011 (TEN WEEKS LATER) 11:47 AM
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2010 (SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER) 8:14 PM
THURSDAY, JUNE 9, 2011 (TEN WEEKS LATER) 7:02 PM
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2010 (SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER) 4:03 PM
THURSDAY, JUNE 16, 2011 (ELEVEN WEEKS LATER) 4:45 PM
THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 23, 2010 (SEVEN MONTHS EARLIER) 3:00 PM
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011
5:27 PM
What’s funny is I used to think I made him up. Seriously, it’s been six months, but even now, like this afternoon, looking at him, the light was so amazing, I almost ran back in to get my camera, but I didn’t, because I didn’t want to miss it. I mean, it was the goldest golden-hour light, shining all around him, and looking at his face, I was just like, You are so beautiful, what if I did make you up in my head? And you know what he said? Right when I was thinking that, Cam looks up at me, grinning, and he was about to say something else, but he goes, Hey, Thee, maybe you should put some clothes on? Then I looked down, and my jaw just totally dropped, because it didn’t even occur to me.
Honestly, we’d already said good-bye, but after I closed the door, I was just like, No, wait, I’ve got to watch him leave, because I always watch him leave, so I went back outside. And I should’ve put some clothes on, I know, but I was right outside our door, and I only thought I’d be out there for a second, and none of our upstairs neighbors were home yet. We live in this L-shaped two-story building that doesn’t really look like an apartment building, probably because it used to be a Super 8 Motel, but anyhow. The highway’s right on the other side of the parking lot, and there I am, in a T-shirt, sticking my ass out, leaning over the rail, showing the whole world my crack. Just what the world needs, another teenage exhibitionist, right? So Cam was looking at me, like, You gonna stand there half-naked all night? I go, All right, all right, but tell me what you were going to say before that, and Cam goes, Oh, yeah.
He looked over at this old beater truck that belongs to Al, the building’s super. I don’t know if it even runs anymore, but it has stickers all over the back window, like, Think Globally, Act Locally, whatever. Cam goes, What I was going to say is, you know what your name means, Thee? I smiled and I go, Of course, I do, and he goes, Bzzt! Wrong answer! Like I was supposed to play dumb, right? So I put both hands on the side of my face, and I go, Why, no, Cam, what does my name mean? He smiled, wagging his finger at me, and he goes, Believe it or not, Theadora is Greek for God’s gift. And I go, Hey, Cam, you know what Socrates said? He ignored me, even though he was grinning, and he goes, And that got me to thinking. You know those bumper stickers that say: God is coming back and is she pissed? I go, Please tell me you aren’t getting your mom one of t
hose? Cam goes, No, but what I was thinking is, what if God wasn’t a man or woman? What if God was a teenage girl? And when he said that, I was just like, Whoa! because I’d never heard anyone say that before, so I had to think about it for a second.
But then I was just like, I go, Well, no wonder the world’s so fucked up, huh? And Cam laughed, shaking his head at me, before getting in his car. It was cold, and I was just like, Brrrr! totally nipping out, completely covered in goose bumps. But I still waited until he honked and turned around before I went back inside and closed the door. Except then all I could do was lean against our front door, rattling it with my fists and screeching Eeee!
Seriously, I just stood there, leaning my back against the door, before I slid down to the ground, laughing, because I could still hear Cam’s voice. I could still hear him and feel him next to me from when we were in my room, before he left. We were in bed, and he was there, but he wasn’t there—I don’t know where he was. Cam was so spaced out all afternoon, and I could even feel it in his body, you know, so finally I had looked up and I said, Where are you?
He was staring at my ceiling, and he nodded, smiling, and he said, I was just thinking how, when I was a kid, we used to have this telescope, and every night before bed, my dad would show me the stars, explain about planets and gravity and light—those were my bedtime stories, he said. And I’ll never forget the time Dad told me that given the incredible distance light must travel, any star I saw shining in the sky might actually be dead. So right away, I said, But then how do you know we’re alive, Dad? Doesn’t it work both ways? What if there are stars looking at us, thinking the same thing right now? I didn’t understand why, but my dad was so proud of me, he told my mom what I said at dinner. That night he got this idea, because I always hated going to bed. I used to kick and scream every night at bedtime. So the next day, my dad put those glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling. Remember that star wallpaper, Thee? he said, and I nodded my head yes. I never had it, but I remember it, and Cam said, After he hung up the Milky Way, the first night, tucking me in, my dad said not to tell anyone, not even my mom, because I had the secret of the whole universe right on my ceiling, where no one would ever think to look—except me.
It made me smile, listening to him, because Cam never really talked about his family. So I kept quiet, hoping he’d keep talking, and he did. He said, From then on, my mom never had to force me to go to bed again, because I could look at my stars all night. I did, too—they used to keep me up at night, he said, kissing the top of my head. Because stars made me think about time, and time made me want to learn about physics and math, and once I found math, he said, his muscles tensing beneath me. I had to bite my tongue, because he was on such a roll, I didn’t want him to stop talking, when he said, Who’s to say that time is any one thing? Who’s to say that time moves in any one direction, and that the only direction is forward? What if time isn’t one thing, but many, Thee? What if time is plural, and time can move forward and backward? What if there are two times, moving forward and backward, simultaneously, like two men in a duel? Think about it: what if time can play tricks on itself, sneak up on itself—Ghost Time, he said. What’s that? I said, and he said, That’s what I call it, the equation I’m working on: Ghost Time.
I had my head on his chest, looking at his skin, so white, such perfect skin, and then I looked up and said, Cam? I felt him snap back like a rubber band, and he looked down at me. I said, Tell me this isn’t what you think about when we’re having sex. Ghost Time? He started laughing, making my head shake, and he said, Would that offend you? And I cocked my head like, tell me that’s not what you think about, and he grinned. Well, the forward and backward part, maybe, he said, and I was just like, You are such a perv! You are such a pervy nerd! I was about to grab a pillow and hit him when his phone chimed again, and I was like, Ohmygod, who is having an algebra meltdown? I didn’t mean to snap, but he kept getting texts all afternoon, and he suddenly looked so stressed out about it, reading the message. Which is weird, because Cam never gets stressed out about anything, but I know he takes his tutoring really seriously, so I rolled over to let him get up.
He kissed my shoulder, and then he goes, Listen, Thee. I know you can’t keep your hand off my pervy nerd bod, throwing the covers off of us. But I’m late, he said, standing up and putting on his jeans in one jump, while I propped my head on my hand, and then I said, Then again, who knows. If you’re late in one time, maybe you’re early in another, right, boy genius? Hearing that, he immediately stopped buttoning his jeans, looked up at me, surprised, and then he goes, Aren’t you clever! See what a good influence I am on you? Then, of course, I had to laugh. You? You’re the good influence? Cam ignored me, cocking his head behind him, all business. Walk me out? he said. So I threw on a shirt, while he zipped up his jacket, and he took my hand, leading me to the front door… then I snapped back, too. Returning from some other time, the one moving us backward, while I moved forward, alone.
Happy—that’s when I realized what was going on—I was happy. Talk about will wonders never cease, because I was so happy, I fell on my side, giggling, and then there was this voice in my head that was just like, Would you stop? Stop it, you’re disgusting! We are, too—ohmygod, Cam and I, we’re so sickening, we make my teeth hurt. But then I was just like, So? I mean, seriously, how many times in your life do you get to feel like that, much less for the first time? Once, right? You get that maybe once in your whole life, so why would you ever take that away from yourself?
I mean, unless you’re afraid, and I’m not—not anymore. I used to be, I used to be so scared, if anyone had told me six months ago that I’d meet this boy and my whole life would change, that I would change, I never would’ve believed it, no way. But I did—it’s all true—I met a boy, and I have changed. Just to prove how fearless I am, I opened the door again, and Cam was just about to pull out, on the highway, so I screamed it, loud as I could. Top of my lungs, I go, I love you, Cam Conlon! I waited, watching his car drive past our building, and I don’t know if he heard me or not, but it didn’t matter, because I know he knows, and I know he feels the same about me. And for the first time in my life, standing there, I thought, I am the happiest girl in the whole wide world. Then I saw my mom pulling in, and I groaned, Ugh. Mom’s home, and I ran inside to get dressed.
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011
(TWO HOURS LATER)
7:28 PM
I don’t know what’s going on, but my mom’s been really stressed out lately. Like every day when she gets home from work, she’s so bitchy, and I know she hates her job, but it’s like, get off my case, you know? Seriously, it’s not my fault money’s so tight and we have to live in this shitty little apartment. That’s mean, I know, because my mom’s done what she can, but it’s still a dump—I’m sorry, but this place is a dump, at least compared to our old house. I mean, we used to have a nice house, with a garage and a garden and a front yard and a big backyard and two guest bedrooms. We even had a separate dining room we never even used, and now, sometimes I walk in the door, and I know how it happened, but I look around, and I’m just like, How did we fall so far?
I wish she’d take money from my dad, but she won’t take alimony. Child support, but not alimony. We’ve gotten into it a couple times because I’m like, Mom, why won’t you take the man’s money? It’s the least he can do, you know? And she goes, Thea. You don’t even speak to the man, and you want me to take his money? I go, Mom, taking his money and not speaking to him is a much better deal, trust me. But she won’t do it, she won’t take his money, and it’s so dumb. Then again, I really admire her for not taking a nickel from the guy—I just wish pride didn’t require we live in a dive, you know?
So I know the money thing stresses her out, and I feel bad, I really do, but still. She kept yelling at me from the kitchen about turning off the TV and doing my homework, and I didn’t say anything, but I was just like, Mom, please, you know this is my show, I only watch it every night. But I was in such
a good mood, I didn’t want to get into it, so I said, Soon as The Simpsons is over, okay? Please, Mom? Because this is the best Simpsons ever, I said, whimpering—totally laying it on, right—and she actually bought it. I heard her close the oven, then she poked her head in and she goes, Which Simpsons is the best Simpsons ever? And I go, Me back is frontward; the one with the Buzzcocks, I said, knowing that would get her, and it did. She goes, Which one is that? I go, Mom, the Sid and Nancy one, where Lisa’s Nancy and Nelson’s Sid? Come see.
She walked in, drying her hands with a dish towel, right at the point where Lisa’s realizing maybe she’s not cut out for the life and death of a punk-rock junkie girlfriend, and I go, Poor Lisa, I wonder if she ever meets the man of her dreams. And walking past me, my mom goes, Poor Lisa? What about poor Mom and the man of her dreams? she said, sitting down on the couch, beside me. And I go, What, you mean Rain Man’s not the man of your dreams? She looked at me, like, don’t start, and I tried not to, but I couldn’t help laughing, thinking about Raymond being the man of any woman’s dreams, and then Mom looked at me and goes, Come here—get over here, you, and she pulled me over by my arm, resting my head in her lap during the commercials. She started playing with my hair, and I let her, that’s how happy I was.
MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011
(TWO HOURS EARLIER)
3:32 PM
I took pictures this afternoon. I threw on this old shirt of Cam’s that used to belong to his dad. It’s Hang Ten, this brand from the seventies, and it has these big blue and yellow horizontal stripes with a floppy white collar, I love it. We went to the kitchen to get something to eat, and I didn’t feel like getting dressed, but my feet are always cold, so I threw on a pair of white knee-high tube socks, and then Cam snapped his fingers at me, doing this little shimmy with his shoulders, acting all groovy, and he goes, Rockin’ the seventies. And then I shook my hips, pulling out my imaginary guns, shooting him down: bang! bang! And I go, That’s right, baby. I’m too foxy for your love, and then he said something totally rude, but anyhow.