The Mediator 5 - Haunted by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Cabot, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ePub Bud (www.epubbud.com)
Published: 2011-12-23T05:00:00+00:00

And probably make out some more.

Well, if he thought I was going to forgive him—let alone kiss him again—he had another think coming, let me tell you. Well, actually, maybe the kissing part—

No. No .

I turned around slowly.

"I told you," I said, keeping my voice even with an effort. "I don't ever want to speak to you again. . . ."

My voice trailed off. It wasn't Paul Slater standing behind me. It was Jake's friend from college, Neil Jankow. Neil Jankow, Craig's brother, standing there by the bar with a clipboard, looking thinner than ever . . . and now that I knew what he'd been through, sadder than ever, too.

"Susan?" he said, hesitantly. "Oh, it is you. I wasn't sure." I blinked at him. And his clipboard. And the bartender who was standing near him, holding a similar clipboard. Then I remembered what Neil had said, about his dad owning a lot of restaurants in Carmel. Craig and Neil Jankow's father, I realized, must own the Sea Mist Cafe.

"Neil," I said. "Hi. Yeah, it's me, Suze. How . . . um, how are you doing?"

"I'm fine," Neil said, his gaze going to my extremely dirty feet. "Are you . . . are you all right?" The concern in his voice was, I knew immediately, actually heartfelt. Neil Jankow was worried about me. Me, a girl whom he'd met only the night before. Whose name he hadn't even gotten right. The fact that he could be so concerned about me while other people—namely Paul Slater, and yes, I was willing to admit it now, Jesse—could be so very, very mean, brought tears to my eyes.

I'm okay," I said.

And then, before I could stop it, the whole story came pouring out. Nothing about the ghosts and the whole mediator thing, of course. But the rest of it, anyway. I don't know what came over me. I was just standing there in the middle of Neil's dad's cafe, going, "And then he made a move on me, and I told him to get off and he wouldn't so I had to jab my thumb in his eye, and then I ran away but my shoes really hurt and so I had to take them off and I don't have a cell phone so I couldn't call anyone and this is the first place with a pay phone that I could find—" Before I'd finished, Neil was at my side, steering me toward the closest bar stool and making me sit on it. He said, "Hey. Hey, it's all right now," all nervously. It was clear he didn't have a whole lot of experience dealing with hysterical girls. He kept patting my shoulder and offering me things, like free lemonade and tiramisu.

"Ill... I'll take some lemonade," I said, finally, worn down from my recital of woes.

"Sure," Neil said. "Sure thing. Jorge, get her some lemonade, will you?" The bartender hurried to pour me some lemonade from a pitcher he kept in a little fridge behind the bar.

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