This Is Not a Ghost Story by Andrea Portes

Author:Andrea Portes [Portes, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780062422460
Google: PPXQDwAAQBAJ
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2020-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

The rest of the day is uneventful.

I take this day easy, I’m light on myself. I go for a walk in the sun. I read my latest book, about the loss of a yellow house in Katrina. I contemplate all the different things I may or may not do in a hurricane. I take a bath, I get into bed, Normal von Borington.

Everything is just light now.

The calm after the storm.

And I’m actually chipper.

(I think part of this is the relief, the enormous relief, of knowing that I didn’t kill anyone. Boy, that’ll take a load off your shoulders.)

Drifting off to sleep, I remember the absolute best thing ever to happen to anyone and that someone happened to be me.

And, yes, it involves Zander Haaf.

The heart of my everything.

Last time we were pondering him he had just emptied the seat next to him in Biology 101 and was writing notes to me in a heated manner. Just for me. Strange, unpopular me!

As we know, this is not exactly how things were supposed to be at my high school. I’m too eccentric, and by that I mean odd, and by that I mean weird.

So, Zander Haaf is not supposed to be making a special effort, or any effort, whatsoever, my way.

I mean, if I were a cheerleader . . . maybe.

But I’m not really cheerleader material.

If there was like a depressionleader . . . that I could qualify for. I could probably fill the whole depressionleader squad.

Instead of wearing those little skirts and jumping around everywhere, we would wear all black and slink all over ourselves. We wouldn’t have cheers so much as moans. And our patented move would be . . . the eye roll.

But I digress . . . back to Zander Haaf.

Sometime, as I’m peering into my biology book as a way to hide, another little note appears by my elbow.

I look at it.

Zander gestures to me, looking around suspiciously.

I decide to pick up the note.

I now look back at Zander, who gives me an encouraging nod. For some reason, this time, I decide to actually open the note.

It says:

Do you like circles or squares?

I look up at him. Ah, he’s making fun of me. But he gestures at me to write back.

Um . . . okay.

Maybe I will.

I fold over the paper and write on the other side.

Neither of them appeal to me. I like triangles.

And then, he takes the note. Reads it. Thinks. And writes again.

If you could have a warthog, a pig, or a guinea pig . . . which would you choose?

I pick up the note. Think. And write back.

Is there going to be a test?

He reads it, smiles, and shrugs.

I take the note back and write:

Definitely a guinea pig. But I already have two bunnies and a dog.

He looks at me, tilting his head, then writes again:

What are their names?

And I write back:

The bunnies are named Star Performer and Hammy. The dog is named Sandwich.

He looks at the paper and stifles a laugh, not wanting to attract the attention of Mr.

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