by Kate Brian
"How awful," Teagan said, covering her mouth now. Her stomach convulsed and she tasted bile in the back of her mouth. She swallowed and her throat burned, bringing tears to her eyes.
She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. Mrs. Zeller buried her face in her husband's chest and the guests all shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do. Teagan had to turn her back to the room.
"This is all because I got her fired?" she asked finally. "Is that why you're showing me this?"
The ghost sighed. "She was supposed to be promoted to banquet manager the night of your party," she said, clasping her hands behind her back. "She would have had a raise and benefits. Instead she ended up taking a series of crappy jobs, working twenty-four/seven to make ends meet and pay off her debts. She fell into a deep depression and started using again. Since she never had insurance, she couldn't afford any decent detox programs. Unfortunately there's very little recourse for people like Catherine. From the moment of her firing, she was a lost cause."
Teagan struggled for breath as she watched her former best friend dissolve in a fresh wave of guilt-ridden tears. Emily thought this was all her fault, but really it was Teagan's. The
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girl was going to walk around with that weight on her shoulders for the rest of her life and she had Teagan to thank for it. And poor Ricky. Teagan knew what it felt like to lose a mother. It didn't matter how it happened. It didn't matter when. His life was never going to be the same.
"I had no idea," Teagan said, her words choppy. "I... I didn't know. I. .. did ... didn't think--was
"Well, that's the problem," the ghost said, taking Teagan's hand gently. "You never did."
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Upcoming Sweet Sixteen Party
Transcript 4, cont'd.
Reporter: Melissa Bradshaw, Senior Editor, Rosewood Prep Sentinel
MB: So what time does the party of the century start?
TP: Eight o'clock. And we have the ballroom until one, but I'm sure we'll go longer than that.
MB: I'm sure. What's the extra two thousand dollars an hour you have to throw at them to keep the place open?
TP: Exactly! Well, Missy, you've done your research.
MB: I do like to know my beat.
TP: Anyway, you can bet I'll be the last one there. Well, me and Max and Lindsee and the rest of my crew. We know how to party.
MB: I don't doubt it.
TP: After the country club we'll probably even take the action back to my house. Believe me, this is going to be one night that no one will want to see end.
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Suddenly Teagan felt hardwood floor beneath her feet. She glanced dully around the country club ballroom. Things had calmed down quite a bit. Shay was nowhere to be seen and had left some unobtrusive RandB tune on low volume. Guests were taking their seats at the tables, tucking chiffon trains beneath their backsides and unfolding linen napkins. The waiters moved about silently, placing plates heaped with filet mignon or salmon in front of the delighted diners. Teagan found herself wondering which table Emily's aunt Catherine would have been assigned to. If Teagan hadn't lost control, would Catherine be smiling and chatting with her fellow waiters like that brunette chick across the room right now? Would she be looking forward to a bright future instead of one where she died young and left her son parentless? Just thinking about it exhausted Teagan. It was difficult, thinking about other people. "Do we really have to be here now?" she asked the ghost.
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Her shoulders slumped. "I don't really care if people are impressed anymore."
"Actually, right now, we do need to be here," the ghost replied.
Teagan managed to lift her eyes and check the table where she was supposed to be sitting with Max, Lindsee, Maya, Ashley, and the guys. No one was there but Marco and Christian, who were tearing into the garlic ciabatta rolls like starving street dogs and spewing crumbs everywhere. No one seemed even to notice that the guest of honor was MIA.
"You know what? Screw you," Teagan said finally. "I'm sick of this."
She started across the room, gripping her purse with both hands. As she wove her way around the tables, she carefully avoided any and all human contact.
"Where do you think you're going?" the ghost called after her.
"I don't know! Somewhere away from you!" she shouted back defiantly.
She was almost free when she caught a glimpse of her father, slumped back in a chair near the wall. He and Karen were conversing over a small table filled with half-empty used glasses. Karen had pulled her chair around to Teagan's father's side so that she could hold his hand. Teagan had never seen her father look this distraught. At least not outside one of these freaky flashbacks she'd been dragged through tonight.
"It's all my fault," he said, staring down at his fiancee's hands. "I spoiled her too much."
Teagan's heart thumped extra hard and she took a tentative step toward the couple. She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to hear this, but it was next to impossible to resist.
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"Michael, don't be so hard on yourself," Karen said, reaching up to touch his cheek. Her thumb caressed his skin, and Teagan was shocked to find that she wasn't completely skeeved by the parental PDA.
"Who else is there to blame?" Teagan's father asked, his eyes wide. "She's my daughter. I'm responsible for her. What have I been doing all this time?"
Karen leaned in a bit farther and their knees touched. "You've done what any loving father would do," Karen said firmly, looking him in the eye. "You've given your daughter the best of everything."
"Except me," Teagan's father said sorrowfully. "I haven't given her the best of me."
Holy crap. He did not just say that, Teagan thought.
Her heart ached and a single tear spilled over down her cheek. She couldn't believe it. He got it. He actually got that he had never been there. All this time she had thought that he was so clueless--that he had no idea--that he had forgotten she existed. Now all she wanted to do was shout in relief. Every ounce of longing and resentment she had ever felt had just been validated. But at the same time, she was struck with an incredible urge to hug him and tell him that it was okay. That it was fine. That he wasn't an awful father. Just looking at him so upset, so broken made her feel like maybe she had overreacted to everything that had ever happened between her and him. Was this all she had ever needed? A little acknowledgment? A few stupid words?
At that moment she loved him like she had never loved anyone before. All because he had shown a chink in the armor.
Teagan's father took a deep breath and sat up straight, shaking his head. He leaned forward as well and blew out a
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sigh. "After Lauren died, I just didn't know how to be close to her," he said. "She reminded me so much of her mother. It was so hard."
"Of course it was," Karen said without missing a beat. It clearly didn't bother her to be talking about her man's former wife. Teagan could tell from the look on Karen's face that all the woman cared about right then was being there for her fiance.
"I pulled away. I can see that now," her father said, on a roll. "I gave her things instead of hugs. I apologized with gifts. I was never there. I j... I wish I could go back."
There was no controlling anything now. Teagan burst into sobs, crying openly, letting the tears spill freely over her face. It was liberating, really, not trying to hold it in. Not choking it back. She had spent so many years forcing herself not to cry that she never realized how incredible it actually felt to let it go.
Her father did love her. He really did.
The ghost came up behind Teagan and handed her a napkin. Teagan wiped her entire face with it, coming away with huge smudges of mascara and eyeliner, base and blush. All Sophia Killen's hard work, washed away like that. Teagan laughed through her tears, imagining how horrifying she must look right then. Being invisible really did have its perks.
you're a wreck," the ghost said.
"Who
cares? Did you hear that?" Teagan replied, smiling.
"Sure did," the ghost replied, looking satisfied.
Teagan watched her father as he took a deep breath, his head bowed to the ground. What she wouldn't give just then to have her body back. She had no idea what she would say to him, but whatever it was, it would be perfect.
Then her father lifted his eyes and said, "I feel like I failed Lauren."
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Teagan's breath caught in her throat and her tears were brought up short. "What? No!" She walked over to stand next to the table, panic welling up inside her. "Dad, no."
"Of course you haven't," Karen said.
"See! Listen to Karen!" Teagan said.
"I have," her father replied. "Our daughter is so beautiful on the outside, but I have no idea who she is on the inside. Who is that girl who screamed at that waitress? Who screamed at me? Who walked out on her own party and went God knows where without even letting us know? What goes on inside her head? What kind of person is she?"
"Omigod, he thinks I'm awful," Teagan said, her skin prickling with heat. "I'm not a horrible person, Dad. I'm not. Come on! It's a ... a high-stress night! I'm not evil! I mean, I didn't know! I didn't know that she needed the job so much. I -- his
"They can't hear you, Teagan," the ghost said.
Teagan whirled around, her vision blurry. "But I have to tell him! I don't want him to think he raised some monster. I don't want him to think Mom hates him. It's not his fault. It's. . .was
Teagan heard what she was saying and snapped her mouth shut. The ghost eyed her expectantly, but the condescension in her expression just made Teagan's toes curl. She wasn't going to say what the ghost wanted her to say. She wasn't going to say this was all on her.
Taking a deep breath, Teagan wiped under her eyes and composed herself. She couldn't believe she had cried like that in front of this stupid ghost. She couldn't believe she had let herself go that far. Enough was enough.
"I can't take this anymore," she said stoically. 'You and me? We're done."
Then she turned on her heel and stalked back through the
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room. She had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she had to put as much distance as possible between herself and her father. There was no way she could listen to him anymore --hear his disappointment--and know that there was absolutely nothing she could do to make it up to him. She was dead. She was dead and her father was going to find out soon and he was always going to think that she was some tremendously heartless spoiled brat. And he was always going to think it was his fault.
But I'm not horrible. I'm not, Teagan told herself, trying to keep from losing it completely.
She was a straight-A student. She was one of the most popular girls in her class. Her future would have been bright and full of possibilities. Just look at the incredible party she had pulled together. Look at her designs! With her exquisite taste, her talent, and her organizational abilities, she could have been a world-famous designer. She could have been a party planner to the stars! Editor in chief of a major fashion magazine! She could have done anything she wanted. If, of course, she were still alive.
The ghost could kiss it.
Teagan headed for the first door she saw and shoved her way through it, chin lifted in defiance. She stopped the second she realized she had stalked purposefully into the kitchen. Steam from the stove tops assaulted her and the clanging of the pots and pans jangled her already-raw nerves. Haifa dozen chefs and kitchen workers raced about, cooking and cleaning, shouting to one another, and creating an ever-moving obstacle between Teagan and the back door.
The last thing she wanted to do was mistakenly walk through one of these guys.
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Then Shay stepped out from behind a tall shelf, carrying a few empty aluminum trays. What the hell was he doing back here?
"Yo! Pack up some of those eggplant mozzarella rolls!" Shay called out to one of the busboys. "And you got any extra bread?"
"Absolutely, man," a guy in a stained white apron replied. "You know, I was listening to your stuff out there. You're not bad."
"Thanks," Shay said.
"I do a little spinning myself," the busboy told him.
"Where? His grandmother's basement?" Teagan grumbled.
"Yeah? You any good?" Shay asked.
"Could show you a thing or two," the kid said, pulling his shirt away from his skin like he was too cool, then laughing.
Shay slapped his shoulder. "You should come out later. Show me what you got for a coupla tracks."
"Seriously?" the kid asked.
"Seriously."
"Oh, perfect! Let's have the busboy DJ my half-a-million- dollar party," Teagan cried. "Sounds like a plan!"
Together the two guys laid out the trays and loaded them up with leftover hors d'oeuvres from the cocktail hour.
"It's cool of you to do this," the kitchen worker told Shay, brushing his hands together as he reached for a platter full of raw veggies. "The people down at that shelter must love you."
Shay grinned and shrugged. "Everyone deserves a gourmet meal once in a while."
The ghost pushed through the door behind Teagan, who was standing there in indignant shock. "He's going to let that busboy over there DJ the party," Teagan told the ghost. "And
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they're taking the hors d'oeuvres I paid for," she added, throwing out her hands. "Shay Beckford is stealing from me!"
"Everyone except the birthday girl," the busboy said with a laugh. "Did you see that chica's bony butt? Does she even eat?"
Shay laughed and Teagan turned ten shades of purple. "Okay, I draw the line at the help picking on me."
"He did say you have a bony butt, though," the ghost said. "I'd think you'd be pleased."
Inside, Teagan was pleased, a little. But still, where did these guys get off? They were taking food that rightfully belonged to Teagan and her guests. Not that anyone here would have ever gone home with doggie bags. That was way too gauche. But still, it was the principle of the thing.
"Did you check out the size of the haul she took in?" the busboy asked. "They actually hired a coupla security guys to watch over it all. Hey! Maybe you can get her to donate some of her presents."
"Yeah, right," Shay said with a scoff, adding a cardboard lid to his tray and sealing it up. "That girl would sooner part with her toenails than give up her swag."
"Ugh!" Teagan blurted, staring Shay down. She would have given anything to be able to smack him across his smug little face just then. 'You don't know me!" she shouted. "You can't judge me, you little thief!"
Shay went about stacking the trays and bagging up a couple dozen rolls. Teagan was practically trembling with frustration. He was so self-righteous, the little Robin Hood. Taking from the rich to give to the poor. Showing off about it to his little friend. Like he wasn't going home to some fab loft stocked with every brand-new state-of-the-art electronic gadget and a giant Sony flat screen with Bose surround sound. Please.
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"What is with everybody?" Teagan asked the ghost. "Why do they all think they know me so freakin' well? I can be a good person! I can be surprising!"
"All evidence to the contrary," the ghost said wryly.
"Hey! I gave that woman a fifty this morning, little miss I Know Everything!" Teagan said, whirling on the ghost. "Did ya know that?"
"But why did you do it?" the ghost asked. "Did you do it because you wanted to help, or did you do it because you felt guilty?"
Teagan blinked but quickly recovered. "Come on! Doesn't half the charitable giving in the world happen because of guilt?" she wailed in frustration. "At least I gave it to her! That has to count for something!"
"I better put these in the van," Shay said, picking up his trays. "I gotta get back out there and do my job."
"Damn straight you do," Teagan said.
"Yo, man. You should come back here after for the cake," the busboy said. "Not like any a' these Atkins-obsesse
d prisses are gonna eat it."
Shay laughed as he backed out the door to the parking lot, his arms full. "Will do. Thanks, man."
"Maybe I'll pay off those dudes and grab a couple of those presents for myself," the busboy added to himself as he dried his hands, laughing. "How many tiaras does one babe need?"
"Stay away from my gifts, you freak!" Teagan squealed.
The ghost laughed. "He's funny."
"You!" Teagan shouted, advancing on the ghost with one finger raised to the woman's bandaged chin. "This is all your fault! I should be ... I don't know . . . hanging out with some angels on a cloud somewhere by now, and instead I'm trapped
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in this LSAID trip from hell with you! Why are you doing this to me? Why couldn't you pick on someone else?"
The ghost looked steadily into Teagan's eyes. "Well, you've finally gotten one thing right," she said matter-of-factly. "This is all my fault."
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Upcoming Sweet Sixteen Party
Transcript 4, cont'd.
Reporter: Melissa Bradshaw, Senior Editor, Rosewood Prep Sentinel
MB: Let's dial it back a notch and talk a bit about sweet sixteens in general.
TP: Okay.
MB: Why do you think having a sweet sixteen is so important to girls today?
TP: Well, because it's like the one huge thing you have to look forward to. I mean, you can have a huge party every year, but a sweet sixteen is like an excuse to go all out. Not everyone gets to have a bat mitzvah, you know. And, like, what are the rest of us going to do-wait for our weddings? That could be ages from now.
MB: So you assume you'll have a wedding someday?
TP: Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?
MB: Well, some women choose not to get married. You know, the whole independent thing.
TP: Oh, well, that's not me. I mean, I want a
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career, but when it comes to love, I'm more the traditional type.
(laughter)
TP: What?
MB: Oh! Just a (coughing) tickle in my throat!
TP: So I plan on finding true love and living the rest of my life with a guy who will pamper me and take me on lavish vacations and worship me forever.