Ghosted

by Leslie Margolis

  “Hey, gals. Looking good,” I say.

  “You too,” Harper says. “What’s up with your eye makeup, though? Have you been crying?”

  “Of course not,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Didn’t you see the latest runway shows from Paris? The runny mascara look is totally in right now.”

  “I saw it,” says Lily.

  “Me too,” Sofia agrees.

  “The room looks amazing,” Maddie tells me. “Great work.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “Where’s Jeremy?” Maddie asks.

  “Dancing with Marley, his new girlfriend,” I say bluntly.

  “Wait, what?” asks Lily, wide eyed. “When did that happen?”

  “He broke up with me this afternoon,” I admit. “It was the weirdest thing.”

  This is a major understatement, obviously.

  “Are you okay?” Harper asks stupidly.

  “No, of course I’m not okay. It’s prom and my boyfriend has left me for Marley Winters. Can you believe that?” I snap.

  Harper looks down at the ground.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Honestly?” she replies. “I can believe it. You’ve been so awful to Jeremy, and to everyone. Can you blame him? We are sick of it. We’re graduating soon and everyone is so excited to be free of you. It’s too much.”

  This is nuts. I look to my friends. Lily is sneaking M&M’s from her purse, avoiding all eye contact.

  Maddie is nodding and Sofia stares at me coldly.

  I’m about to tell these girls off, when suddenly the music cuts out and the bandleader makes an announcement. “It’s time to crown the king and queen,” she calls. “Please give a hand to Principal Hatcher.”

  Everyone turns toward the stage, where the school principal is standing. “Welcome to your prom. Everyone looks gorgeous and you are all winners.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  “Be quiet, Ellie,” says Lily, elbowing me. “Don’t ruin this.”

  “Really?” I ask. “You just elbowed me?”

  “Both of you cut it out,” Harper snaps.

  I don’t even know what to say. Since when do my friends talk back to me like this? I turn toward the stage and listen.

  “Of course, we can only have one prom king,” Principal Hatcher says. “And his name is, let’s see…” She fumbles as she opens up the envelope, squints at the page through her reading glasses and reads, “It’s Jeremy Hinkey. Congratulations, Jeremy.”

  Everybody around me claps. People seem genuinely happy. I totally don’t get it. They all must have seen Jeremy dancing with Marley. So how come people aren’t outraged over how he treated me? My friends hardly blinked when I told them the news. Where is the anger? What happened to loyalty? Things are seriously amiss. I start to boo, but my friends hush me. It is so rude! “Cut it out,” I say.

  “Shut up, Ellie. You’re embarrassing us,” Sofia whispers.

  “I’m embarrassing you?” I ask, outraged.

  “Yes!” Harper agrees.

  The rest of my crew looks on with hostility. I shake my head and sigh. This is so not even worth getting upset about. Who cares about Jeremy? No one even remembers their prom king. It’s only the queen who matters.

  When I win, I’m going to refuse to dance with him. That’ll show him. He doesn’t deserve me. I wonder what’ll happen. Sure, he’ll be mortified. But what else? Maybe he’ll have to surrender his crown and then I can choose a different winner.

  I scan the crowd in search of some contenders. But my eyes are drawn to Jeremy up onstage, and beaming. It is seriously annoying. How can he be happy about this when we just broke up? “Thanks, everyone,” he says, waving to the cheering crowd. He puts the crown on his head. “It fits!”

  People laugh. They love him.

  I roll my eyes.

  Principal Hatcher steps up to the microphone once more. “And now for prom queen. It was a close race, and the winner is: Reese Jeffries.”

  I plaster a smile on my face and start to move forward, but then stop myself. Did I hear that wrong? Did she say … Why didn’t she say Ellie Charles? This has got to be a mistake. And a big one. Reese can’t win.

  I’m supposed to be the prom queen. I need it. When Reese shows up onstage I can hardly believe my eyes. That theater geek chick, who doesn’t even bother with makeup? She is the winner? Sure, she has an interesting look. Her haircut is asymmetrical and her dress is made up of bold blocks of color. It’s retro and outrageous in a good way. Also, she looks so … happy and confident and herself.

  But this can’t be how my story ends. I worked so hard to be the best. I deserve to be prom queen. Don’t I?

  It is so ironic and makes no sense at all: In trying so hard to win at life, to be the best, I’ve alienated everyone who matters. I am left with no one.

  I have no friends.

  I have no boyfriend.

  From the way people avert their eyes when I try to make eye contact, it seems as if I am despised by everyone.

  This is garbage! It can’t be the real future. This cannot be the end of my story.

  chapter thirteen

  I bolt out of the gym and end up back in the bread. The tunnel is supposed to lead me somewhere, I’m sure, but there’s nowhere I want to go right now. I’m too confused to move, so I lay down on my back and close my eyes and try to figure it all out. There’s probably a reason I keep coming back here, to this bread tunnel. But what could it be?

  I think about my life: past, present, future. Everything laid out in front of me. What Marley’s ghost showed me and what she left out.

  I think about the bread, when my mom and I used to make it. It’s one of my happiest early memories. Baking bread with my mom, and sometimes with Marley, too. It always made me feel safe and warm and loved. It was a big part of my life. At one point. A long time ago. Why did I ever stop? Those nights were magical.

  The three of us would listen to old music from when my mom was a teenager; all this classic eighties stuff that’s fun to dance to: Prince, Cyndi Lauper, the Bangles, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. We had so much fun dancing around the kitchen, using wooden spoons as microphones. We didn’t care about looking goofy, being embarrassing. That was kind of the point.

  Every bread-baking session was a little different, but we always used the same starter. The one my mom made when I was a baby. We’d take a hunk off to make a new loaf. But the old starter stayed alive, kept growing. So in a sense, we were always starting from the same place.

  What grew from there was up to us.

  I think that I am kind of like that starter. I used to be sweet, and then life happened. As I grew up bad things happened to me. My dad left. Some girls were mean and felt sorry for me. I didn’t get a bike on Christmas. (Sure, it arrived two weeks later, but at the time it wasn’t good enough.) I was jealous of my sweet and smart and kind best friend, the girl with the smart and kind parents. I only focused on what I didn’t have. I let those feelings of hurt and sadness fester into something ugly. And that ugliness grew and grew and it reproduced itself, and became something bigger and more fierce. A gigantic sourdough bread ball of horribleness.

  I decided that being shy and sweet made me weak and I wanted to be strong. But when it came to standing up for my very best friend, the one who loved me for who I was, I did nothing. Which makes me the biggest coward imaginable.

  Is that my only story, though? Is it who I am? Was this my only choice, or could I have grown up differently? I wonder if maybe I can do better. If I can be better.

  And suddenly, after I have these thoughts, I open my eyes to find that the tunnel has disappeared. I am back in the kitchen—the original version with the yellow plaid wallpaper. The ingredients for bread are on the counter: flour, water, and a new mason jar. I look for the starter in the fridge but it’s not there. The shelf is empty. The whole fridge is empty. I guess I’m starting from scratch.

  As I take the ingredients, I realize it is all up to me. I need to bake thi
s bread, to make this life by myself. As I mix, my fingers get wet and sticky and it feels good. And suddenly something occurs to me—the words seem to enter my head spontaneously: Be nice. Be a different person. Be better, nicer. I can’t rewrite the past. I can change the future, though. Otherwise, well, what? I don’t know. I’ll be forced to relive my worst moments? Is that what I want to focus on? Is that what I want my story to be? Why do I even need to ask the question? I mean, duh! The answer is so obvious. Of course I don’t.

  This whole rant sounds corny. A week ago, I would’ve scoffed at such thoughts, but a week ago I didn’t see what I’ve now seen.

  The past is done. It was awful. I was awful. Yes, I’m ashamed. Of course I am. I’m not a monster.

  But that’s just it. I have been behaving like a monster. Is that what I’m supposed to regret? Is that the whole point of this?

  I look up at the sky. I don’t know if the Girl in Black, if Marley’s ghost, or whatever she is can hear me, but I need to speak.

  “I have been hideous and there are no excuses. I totally get that. I’m going to change, if I have a chance. Please give me a chance. I thought I was being brave but I was the biggest coward of all. I should’ve stood up for you. And failing that, I should’ve apologized. You were my true friend and I turned my back on you. It was wrong and it’s no way to live. I don’t blame you for haunting me. I ghosted you and that was terrible. I want to go back, to do things differently. I need to change my whole entire life.”

  Is this true? I think this is true.

  I am crying now.

  Tears stream down my face. I finish mixing the bread and I put the mound on a baking sheet and open up the oven.

  Next thing I know, I’m back in the school gym, flat on my back.

  chapter fourteen

  When I open my eyes, I see concerned faces looking down at me. Harper and Sofia, Jack and Charlie.

  I blink a few times and rub my eyes and realize I am back, finally.

  I am thirteen years old, and we are hours away from the Winter Holiday Semiformal.

  I try to stand up but I can’t. Not by myself. Jack gives me a hand. I grab on to it and he pulls me up. I feel dizzy and my head is killing me. I have never been in this much pain.

  Chloe and Jenna both reach out to steady me because I’m swaying, like I’m in danger of falling.

  “Oh, thank you so much,” I tell them, sincerely grateful.

  They seem taken aback.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You’re not mad?” asks Chloe, wide-eyed.

  Jenna bites her bottom lip nervously. They expect me to scream and shout, I can tell. They are used to this atrocious behavior.

  I smile at them. “No, I’m grateful to all of you. And I owe everyone a huge apology. I am so thankful to everyone who has worked so hard on this committee. The gym looks amazing. I don’t know where I would be without you.”

  Jack looks at the committee. The theater geeks. Wait—I can’t call them that anymore. I mean the theater kids look especially wary, and I don’t blame them. I walk over to Reese.

  She takes a step back, as if she’s afraid of me. I guess she is afraid of me. And she has good reason to be.

  “It’s okay,” I say, holding up my hands as if to surrender. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m not going to destroy anything. Really. I just need to tell you something. That scene you created? It’s gorgeous. I feel like I could step into it, truly. Looking at the mural, I can almost smell the fresh snow. Can you imagine zipping down a hill in one of those sleds? How exhilarating that would be? It’s so lifelike. And what I said before? About the snowmen being too chubby? That was kind of crazy. And even the winter birds—they were stunning, better than anything I could’ve created. I wouldn’t have even thought of it. I realize that now. I mean, I realized it at the time, too, but, well, sometimes I say things to get a reaction. It’s like I’m a parody of a mean girl. It became kind of a game. How cruel could I be? What could I get away with? And the answer? Way too much. There was no limit, actually.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Reese asks Jack, who shrugs.

  I continue. “What I mean to say is, well, I’m sorry I ripped up your poster. That was horrible of me. I truly regret my actions. I know you think I’m this certain type of girl. The way I act? It’s been awful. And I’ve been watching myself in the past. I mean, um, thinking about my behavior…”

  Reese looks like she doesn’t believe me.

  I can’t blame her. I reach out to touch her arm and she flinches.

  Does she actually think I would physically hurt her?

  She really does.

  I have a lot of work to do.

  I look at the other kids. “You guys, I know I’ve been awful. And not just today. I mean for years.”

  Some of them stare at me. Some look at each other nervously. No one says a word. What is there to say? Are they too shocked? Do they think it’s a trick?

  No one denies what I’m saying. No one goes, “That’s okay, Ellie. We know you didn’t mean it.”

  Instead they stare at me, dumbfounded.

  And there are sirens in the distance. I turn my head toward the noise.

  “Oh, the ambulance must be close,” says Jack.

  “The ambulance,” I repeat.

  “We called it after you fell,” Jack explains. “You were out for so long, like, more than five minutes.”

  “I was terrified,” says Harper.

  “Me too. I lost my appetite over it,” Lily tells me.

  “Should we call it off?” Jack asks.

  “Yes,” I say. “Definitely. I don’t need it.”

  He whips his phone out of his pocket and starts to dial, but Reese puts her hand on his arm, stopping him.

  “Wait,” she says, her voice a mere whisper. “I think we should wait for medical professionals.”

  “But I’m fine,” I say, grinning wildly.

  She looks at me worriedly. “Are you sure, Ellie?”

  “Of course,” I say. And it’s true. I’m feeling great. “I couldn’t be better. Why do you ask?”

  “Um, it’s just that, well, you’re acting a little weird.”

  She seems afraid to say this, like I’m going to jump down her throat. And I can’t blame her hesitation. The old me would’ve been on the attack for her merely second-guessing me. But now, well, obviously I’m a changed girl. I’ve been scared straight. “You guys. I’m completely fine, but thank you for the concern.”

  “I think something happened to her when she fell. She should be examined,” Chloe says.

  The sirens are getting louder. The ambulance must be right around the corner. Before it gets any closer, I run out of the gym.

  chapter fifteen

  I don’t stop running until I’m two blocks from school. Then, out of breath and with aching legs, I sit down on the sidewalk behind a moving van that blocks me from view. Then I pull out my phone and call my father. He’s expecting me in Hawaii tomorrow, but there’s no way I am stepping onto that plane. It’s not simply because I know what a disastrous time I’d have. There’s a lot more to it than that. I can’t abandon my mom on Christmas. I won’t. It’s wrong. And she deserves so much more. I’ve been rotten to her and that’s got to stop.

  And as for my dad, well, it’s more complicated. I need to try to change how things are going, try to make him understand who I am and how hurt I’ve been by how he treats me.

  I dial my dad’s cell and luckily, he actually takes my call. A good sign!

  “Ellie, everything okay?” he asks me. “I thought you were busy getting ready for that dance.”

  “Yes, I am,” I tell him. “Thanks for remembering.” This is no time for small talk. I’ve got a lot of work to do, so I cut to the chase. “Dad, I really appreciate your invitation, but I’m not going to meet you in Hawaii tomorrow. I can’t leave Mom on Christmas. It wouldn’t be fair. She’s stuck by me all these years.”

  “But we have to talk
about something important,” my dad says.

  “I know,” I say. “Believe me, I know. And you are absolutely right. We do need to talk about a lot of things. Except can we do it another time? Like next week? I’m totally free. I can meet you in Hawaii. Actually, no, that’s not right. Why don’t you come here? You haven’t been to Lincoln Heights in ages.”

  “Ellie, you know how busy I am…”

  “And you know that I am your only daughter,” I reply. “And you should be around more. It’s not fair to me. I know you have big news. Life-altering stuff. And I need to tell you, Dad. You’re making a gigantic mistake. Nikka is not who you think she is.”

  “What are you talking about? This is nonsense. How do you even know about Nikka?”

  “Oh, um, I guess you must’ve mentioned her before at some point.”

  “No, I haven’t. And you’ve never even met her. I only met her a month ago.”

  “Wow, that’s even crazier, Dad.”

  “Not for you to say, Ellie. And it’s not the point. Please tell me how you know about this. It’s all very confusing.”

  “I’ll explain later,” I tell him. “Maybe.”

  “Well, what am I supposed to do with your suite?” he asks. “It’s got ocean views, Ellie. Do you realize what a big deal that is?”

  This fancy vacation seemed so great the first time around. Now the whole thing sounds pathetic, desperate. How can an expensive hotel suite make up for years of neglect? It cannot. I’m not going to pretend like it will. I won’t fall for it. I cannot be bribed like this.

  “I’m sure it’s beautiful, but I am also sure that you’re going to be in Denmark for some emergency, anyway, so what’s the point?”

  My dad doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighs. “Ellie honey, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. Where are you getting this information? How do you even know that I’m working on a project in Denmark? And Nikka? Who have you been speaking with? What is going on here?”

  “There’s no time to explain now, so let me just say this: You only live a few hours away, and I never get to see you. I don’t need to fly across an ocean to not see you. And even if you were going to be there? It’s not good enough. I try so hard to be perfect, to be everything, and none of it matters. I can’t change who you are or how you treat me. And I shouldn’t have to work so hard to try to change myself into the girl you want me to be.”