Give Up The Ghost by Megan Crewe

Author:Megan Crewe [Crewe, Megan]
Format: mobi
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)
Published: 2010-04-01T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER

11

Night had crept over the city while we were inside. The street got even darker as we walked away from the glow of the house. Paul’s Mustang was gone, leaving an empty rectangle on the cobblestone driveway. Danielle must have decided they’d put on a big enough show already. Tim’s Oldsmobile stood under a streetlamp, shimmering its brilliant baby blue. I let Tim hold open the door for me.

The cool air followed me in, and the leather seat welcomed me. How many times had I sat there in the last week? I was too wiped to count. Right now it was nice just to feel something familiar. Resting the side of my head against the back of the seat, I gazed out the window. Beyond the circle of lamplight, the world was solid black. Like it was just me and Tim and the clunky old car.

Tim started the ignition. The engine hiccuped a few times and settled into a steady hum. He rested his hand on the gearshift, still in park.

“Someone said you and Danielle were friends?” he asked. In the shadows of the car, his eyes were only gray. “She never mentioned it.”

“It’s not something she likes people to know.”

“I take it that it ended badly.”

I shrugged. In the house, they’d be able to look out the living room windows and see us sitting there.

“Can we just go?”

“Okay, no problem.”

He sounded offended. How could he not care what they were saying? It should have bothered him more than it did me. Maybe he didn’t realize just what they were saying now.

As he pulled onto the road, I wiggled down farther in the seat and propped my knees against the dashboard. To anyone outside, it’d look like I wasn’t even there. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t be.

“So you’re just not going to tell me,” Tim said, abruptly. “I’ll have to ask Danielle.”

My eyes flicked open, and I glanced at him. His expression was blank.

“Whatever you want,” I said.

“Fine. I’ll believe whatever she says, then.”

What was this, second grade? “If you think that’s a good way to get me to spill my guts,” I said mildly, “you must think I’m an idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot.” Tim exhaled sharply. “Don’t you realize that you’re a really hard person to talk to? I’m just trying to find a way that works, okay?”

“Well, baiting me isn’t the way to go.”

“What if I said I want to understand, you know, why this is important to you?”

“Because it’s a fascinating story?” I snorted.

“Okay, so look at it this way, then. If someone I hang out with, like Danielle, has done something so bad you’d want to get revenge on her . . . well, I’d like to know about it. I mean, should I be watching my back?” His lips crooked. “Maybe she’s a murderer or a perpetual liar or a kleptomaniac. How’m I supposed to know, if you won’t talk about it?”

“There,” I said. “At least that’s a reason that makes sense.

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