“Wow, Georgia is already rubbing off on you, isn’t she?”
“You’re one to talk!” she shouts, angrily. “Isn’t it just like Georgia to make your friends feel bad for having opinions and desires that are different from yours? Isn’t it just like Georgia to make your friends choose between things and people? How about being so wrapped up in your own afterlife and what you want that you don’t even listen to what your friends want? That sounds an awful lot like Georgia to me.”
My jaw drops open. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“Well, I can’t believe you said it first.”
The second bell rings and everyone in the hallway disperses, quickly. Cecily is the first to break our gaze. She turns on her heels and heads off to class.
So much for telling her my big news.
Or for finishing conversations. Apparently.
This cold war? Just froze over.
It’s Saturday morning and I need to get out of this room and far away from the roommate who’s been ignoring me since yesterday.
Like, get out now.
I’ve been trying to thaw out from our nasty post-lunch exchange since it happened, but nothing seems to be working. Usually when we fight it only takes about an hour, sometimes even less, for both of us to come around and see the other person’s point of view. Before we know it, we’re apologizing, hugging it out, and eating chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream (the only acceptable flavor) out of the carton while we binge-watch our favorite show, It’s Not You, It’s Me, which is about two classmates who have a Freaky Friday moment and swap bodies. But this fight feels different. I’m not second-guessing myself or wondering how she’s feeling, or even feeling bad about the things that I said. The only thing I’ve got going on right now is a supersize portion of anger.
I kind of just want to disappear for a bit and get away from all the drama, so I meet up with Mia and she’s taking me somewhere around Limbo that I haven’t been yet. We get on a bus and head up to the mountains where the ski lodge is. One of the coolest things about being able to control energy is that you can control the climate, too. So Limbo isn’t stuck with just one; we can have the beach and the snow, like, almost next to each other.
The only good thing that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours? Word that Ms. Tilly is going to be my faculty advisor made its way around school so quickly yesterday that some girl in my last period Ghost Hunters class actually told me about it—not knowing I’m, well, me.
Insanity.
Apparently everyone here really likes Ms. Tilly—or they think that having her in charge of the Limbos will evoke some special treatment for its members—because before the day ended on Friday I got about ten people to sign up! Now I can officially submit my forms and petition list and all that jazz.
Pun intended! (Get it?)
Finally things are starting to fall into place.
Well, not all things. Okay, not even most things.
Fine! One thing. One thing is in place.
Still, a thing’s a thing, right?
“Sometimes, when I’m feeling meh,” Mia says, snapping me out of my internal dialogue, “I come up here and ride the lifts for hours. It’s peaceful, you know? And seeing how big the world is really helps put things into perspective. For me, anyway.”
“Sounds great. I’ll take any perspective I can get right about now. And any chance to relax and calm down. I’m just so … mad.”
We step up to the loading area, and the lift guy opens the door of the cable car for us to slide in. He shuts it, makes sure it’s locked, and we start moving. The view from up here is spectacular. Frosted white peaks against a backdrop of grayish-lavender sky, and when I look back toward the direction we came from I can still see blue water and white, sandy beach. Even California isn’t this beautiful.
We get about halfway across the long trip to the highest peak in silence, and then Mia says this:
“Did I ever tell you that Georgia and I used to be, like, really good friends?”
“What?” I belt out, shocked.
“Yeah. When I first got to Limbo, she was my tutor. And we actually got along really well. She wasn’t my usual type of friend, you know, but we clicked. Also, she wasn’t quite as popular as she is now, but she did have a lot of friends. Or people who wanted to be her friend. But I think at the time she was kind of, I don’t know, searching for something real—something she wasn’t finding with other people—because she seemed to really open up to me.”
“Okay …”
“She told me stuff about her life, like, before she crossed over. She was adopted so that has a lot to do with why she wants to be so popular and have so many friends. Anyway, I don’t want to air all of her private stuff, but she had a difficult life before Limbo.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask, a little taken aback.
“I guess because everyone comes from somewhere; everyone is more than what we see, you know, on the outside. And because I think you should know.”
“Okay, so is that it?”
“No. We became pretty close—this was before she was friends with Chloe—and after a few months we had even decided that the next year we wanted to live together. Georgia told me I was the first person in her life—or afterlife—who she felt like she could really trust. It was a pretty big deal. It all happened quickly. I mean, I think I was only in Limbo about five months before things started to go sour. That’s when Trey started to like me. And Georgia got jealous.”
“Of course she did! Because all the boys have to like her, don’t they?”
“Actually she wasn’t jealous of me, she was jealous of Trey.”
“What?”
“Here, she had made her first real friend ever, and in comes this guy trying to take my time away from her. She was jealous of Trey because now she had to share me. I know this story makes me sound like a total egomaniac and that’s so not true. It’s just, that’s what happened. One day she picked a really big fight with me and told me that I had to choose between her and him. I told her that was completely unfair, and that I had room for both of them in my afterlife. But I think she expected me to immediately choose her, and she was really hurt when I didn’t. After that fight, she basically broke up with me. She stopped talking to me, wouldn’t answer any of my Holomails or calls. I told her I was sorry and that I wanted to make it up to her, that I still really wanted to be her friend and I would make more of an effort to make time for her, but nothing worked. It was like I had lost her trust, and that was that.”
The cable car pulls up to the top of the mountain, and the door opens automatically. Technically we’re supposed to jump out and ski down the mountain, but neither of us gets up. We didn’t plan on skiing. We let the door close again and the car turns around and heads back the way we came.
“Are you seriously telling me that you miss being friends with Georgia?” I ask, incredulously.
“Yes and no. The Georgia you know, the Georgia that exists today, is not the same Georgia who I was friends with. Or maybe she is, but she’s just got more protective layering. Georgia does the things Georgia does because she’s scared of getting hurt and letting people see that. When we were friends, she trusted me enough to open up and then I really hurt her. And now she’s not taking any chances.”
“So, are you saying that you’re the reason why Georgia is so awful?”
“I don’t know. I mean, yes, I hurt her, but I also apologized and it was her choice not to forgive me. So, that’s on her, you know? I’m not about to take the blame for how she behaves or reacts to things.”
“Okay … that’s fair. But are you saying that you regret choosing Trey over her?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I’m confused.”
“Look, I think what Georgia did to me was wrong. She never should have made me choose between her and Trey. It wasn’t fair. And it just goes to show you how awful ultimatums can be … making someone choose between people never ends well.
But, just because what she did was unfair doesn’t mean I like the way things turned out.”
“Oh … so you think I’m making Cecily choose between me and Georgia? Because I’m not. Georgia is making her choose, just like she did with you.”
“But … you kind of are,” Mia replies. “I mean, yes, Georgia made up that stupid club rule, but you’re making it seem like Cecily choosing Cheerleading over Dance Club is like Cecily choosing Georgia over you. And it’s not.”
“It kind of sounds like you’re on Georgia’s side,” I say, frustrated. I thought this was going to be calming, and it’s turning out to be anything but.
“I’m not! I’m on your side—and I don’t think you’re going to win like this. People aren’t black and white. Georgia isn’t all evil and no good. I’m not saying I, like, approve of the things she does. All I’m saying is there’s always a reason why she does them, you just have to look for it. It’s just easier to act like a Georgia than we all think, because Georgia’s not just some mean girl. She’s real, and she gets hurt, and she gets scared. Just like you’re hurt and scared you’re going to lose Cecily … so you’re trying to force her to do this Dance Club thing when you know she really wants to do Cheerleading instead.”
“I … I’m not … I just … What if … Aw, man.”
UGH.
“There it is!” she says, all smiles.
“Did you just bring me on this thing so you could hold me hostage until I agree with you?” I ask, half joking.
“Basically,” she says. “Works every time.”
* * *
Sunday rolls around and I still haven’t seen Cecily. She’s, like, disappeared, or something. I decide to head to Colin’s to borrow his camera for the day. The art show is only a week away, and I need to decide what photographs I want to display. Some of the ones I took of Miles were pretty interesting, but I don’t want to limit myself to just photos of him. I mean, if I do that I’ll totally look like I’m into him.
No, thank you!
I get to Dickens House and buzz Colin’s room. The door clicks, letting me know he’s opened it, and his hologram appears.
“Hey,” he says. “We’re in the game room on three.”
I’m really hoping “we” means him and Marcus. It took me all night to Zen out about the Georgia/Cecily situation, but if I get upstairs and see them all here together my Zen attitude will last for about two-and-a-half minutes max before going belly-up.
I get there and walk in on what looks to me like yet another double date. Only this time, it’s not mine.
Can I get two minutes and thirty seconds on the clock, please?
02:30
(Thank you.)
Cecily and Marcus are playing virtual chess, and it looks like Colin and Georgia were in the middle of finishing their zombie video game when he paused it to come get me.
02:20.
“Oh, hey,” Cecily says, utterly surprised.
“What’s she doing here?” Georgia whispers to Colin, who sits back down next to her and picks up his controller. He rolls his eyes but says nothing.
02:12.
“She came to see if Colin would lend her his camera,” I answer, loudly.
“What for? It’s such a dumb pastime,” Georgia says, all holier-than-thou.
Just then Colin gets up and leaves, I assume to go get me his camera.
Georgia gets distracted by Colin’s exit for a moment but then decides to keep talking. “I mean, no one ever shows up in them. What’s the point of taking pictures if you can’t, like, capture the beauty of people?”
“Not all people are beautiful,” I reply.
01:42
“Duh,” Marcus says. “Where have you been all week? Lucy’s, like, super gifted. Everyone she takes pictures of shows up. It’s all over the school.”
Georgia’s snooty expression fades, and suddenly she looks like one of the evil stepsisters whose foot doesn’t fit the slipper.
HA.
01:31
“So you can, like, take actual pictures,” Georgia directs at me in a tone that’s half normal. “Like, with people in them?”
“Not that it makes a difference to you, but yes,” I say, trying to be civil.
I keep looking over at Cecily, who’s pretending to study the chessboard every time I look at her. I’m trying to keep in mind what Mia said yesterday, but it’s taking all my energy to not scream at both of them right now.
“Cool,” Georgia says. Her tone seems to be getting friendlier and I’m starting to wonder what she’s got up her sleeve when she hands it to me. “So, you’re coming to my ghostday party on Saturday night, aren’t you?”
Everyone in the room turns to look at her like she just ate glue.
01:01
“Why would I be coming to a party I wasn’t invited to?” I ask, nonchalantly.
“Of course you were invited, silly!” she says, dramatically. “The invite must have just gotten lost or spammed or something. You have to come. And you should bring Colin’s camera and take pictures of everyone! I’ll give you the VIP inside scoop all night long.”
I can’t help but burst out laughing. Is this girl for real?
00:50
Just then Colin comes back with his camera in tow and hands it to me. “Here you go. What’d I miss?”
“Just Georgia being incredibly self-serving, as usual. Georgia, as much as I’d love to come to your party that you didn’t invite me to until you realized you could use me, and I mean that sarcastically, in case that wasn’t clear, I have something very important to do that night. I’ll be showing my photos at the Limbo Central Museum of Contemporary Art Annual Amateur Exhibit that night. It’s going to be very cool, lots of elite, artistic folks. Free food, drinks, the works. You guys should all come! It’s open to the public. Except, not you, obviously, Georgia. You’re having your party, and all.”
00:27
I look over at Cecily, and she has her sad puppy-dog face on. I didn’t mean to tell her like this, I just couldn’t resist stinging Georgia back.
And Georgia does look stung. She’s wondering if any of her friends are going to choose my thing over her thing now. But I don’t care how sad and hurt she is on the inside; she can’t keep treating people like this. There are consequences to her actions. Besides, it’s not like I invited them out of spite. I would have told them about it eventually. It’s up to them where they want to spend the night, I’m just giving them options. They’re my friends, too. I think.
“Very cool,” Marcus says, breaking through the silence and death glares. (Hee-hee.) “You’re definitely going to win.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m excited to be a part of it,” I tell him. “It’s all thanks to Colin. He’s the one who told Ms. Keaner about my photos.”
00:09
“Actually I should probably get going,” I say. Whatever Zen I have left in me is fading fast, and even if it wasn’t? I’m so ready to leave this place. “Got a lot of pictures to take today.”
Then Cecily finally speaks. “Maybe we can stop by before Georgia’s party on Saturday?”
“Sure,” I say, lifting up the camera and zooming in tight on Georgia’s crushed face.
00:03
00:02
00:01
Click.
I’ve officially submitted all of my forms for the Limbos!
At last.
And with Ms. Tilly as my advisor? I’m not sweating getting approval even a little bit. What I am sweating? Is our first meeting today at 4 P.M. in the auditorium.
Also, it’s Tuesday, which means my first two periods are Paranormal Energy, with Cecily, and we’re lab partners. Things between us are still super awkward. After Sunday, when she mentioned coming to my show, I thought things would change. But they haven’t. I mean, we’re not completely ignoring each other anymore and we don’t seem to be quite as angry—at least I’m not. But things haven’t gone back to normal. This morning she left for school before I ev
en woke up!
I hate this. I’m so over fighting. And I can’t lie; my conversation with Mia was actually pretty helpful, after I stopped being so irritated by it. It’s not like I’m suddenly interested in being BFFs with Georgia and forgiving her for all the rotten things she does, but I see Mia’s point. It’s a lot easier to be a Georgia than I thought it was. I was kind of being Georgia myself, earlier.
GASP.
And I think I know why. But so was Cecily!
Ugh. I just wish we could talk about it!!!
BAM! My locker door slams shut on its own, thanks to my uncontrollable angry energy.
Hola, Emotional Girl, welcome back!
“Whoa, be careful! You could kill someone with that,” Cecily jokes.
“Oh, jeez, sorry!” I say, surprised.
“Well, thankfully I’m already dead, so no harm done.”
She’s trying to be funny, which is weird on a regular day let alone Day Four of the worst fight we’ve ever had.
“Right,” I say, nervously. “Well, we should get to class.”
“I’m excited about your show,” she says, as we walk together.
“You are?”
“Yeah! I think it’s great.”
“You do?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know.”
“What time does it start?”
“Seven, and the award ceremony is at nine.”
“Cool. So we’ll plan to come to you first and hang out until the ceremony’s over, then head over to Georgia’s. I just need to make an appearance. You know, for the squad.”
This is the most we’ve spoken in a week, and even though I’m happy about it, I have questions.
“What’s going on?” I ask, matter-of-factly.
“Nothing really. I’m just happy about the show and I want to come see it.”
“That’s great, but I mean, why are you suddenly talking to me and willing to miss Georgia’s party to see my show when we haven’t even spoken in, like, four days? And you’re not even saying anything about the fight—you’re just acting like things have been totally normal?”
“I guess because we’ve never really fought like this before and I don’t know how to behave. Everything feels weird.”
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