“Oh, that. Um . . .” I couldn’t tell anyone about the Thing, obviously. That would require explaining that I’d spent my whole life imagining this ridiculous other version of myself. And then I heard myself say:
“I got an invitation to Mom’s bridal shower.”
“Ah.” Dad nodded sympathetically. “Kat, whether or not you go is totally up to—”
“I want to go.”
The words spilled out before I’d fully grasped the thought. But once I said it, I knew it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to go—I didn’t. Not because my mom wanted me to go—she’d be fine without me, just like always.
The Thing was my mother’s ideal version of me. If I wanted it to stop haunting me, then I couldn’t keep running away from either of them.
“It’s March first,” I told Dad. “I know it depends on the show’s schedule, but I’ll have to go back to Chelsea at some point. Mom said I need to get fitted for my bridesmaid dress.”
Dad was smiling in a mostly proud, kind of sad way that made my chest ache a little. “We’ll work it out with the schedule,” he assured me. “If you want to be there, I’ll make sure it happens.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
One of the flight attendants called for first-class passengers, and I waved at Jamie and Hailey as they followed their father to the line. I mulled over my plan as I waited to board. The thought of being in my mom’s wedding still made me queasy. But if I could get through it, maybe the Thing—real or imaginary—would finally disappear.
After Roland helped me shove my backpack into the overhead bin, I sat down next to Oscar with a heavy sigh.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I glanced at him. “You?”
“Fine.” He went back to staring at the open comic in his lap, and I pulled out my phone. “Any more comments?”
“No,” I said, lowering my voice, since Roland and Sam were sitting behind us. “Not since Maytrix kicked him off the forums. Hopefully he just gave up.”
“Cool.”
I didn’t mention the other, anonymous comment.
After clicking Will Attend on the shower invitation from Grandma, I turned my phone off and half listened to the flight attendant go over safety stuff while Oscar read his comic. Ten minutes later, our plane was in the air, and he still hadn’t turned the page.
“Okay, I have to ask,” I said quietly. “Did you talk to Thiago about . . . you know . . .”
Oscar didn’t look up. “Kind of.”
I sat up straighter. “Kind of?”
“He sort of, um . . . brought it up first.”
“I knew it!” I exclaimed, and Oscar pressed his lips together like he was trying not to smile. “I so knew it. What did he say? Did he tell you he likes you?”
“Not exactly. Um . . .” I watched as his face grew steadily redder. Then it hit me, and I gasped.
“Did he kiss you?” I shout-whispered.
Oscar’s eyes widened. “Shh!”
“But did he?”
“Stop yelling!”
“I’m not yelling! Did he?”
“Yes, okay? Be quiet!”
“I am being quiet!”
“You’re really not,” Roland said mildly from the seat behind us. Oscar and I looked at each other for a second, then dissolved into silent, hysterical laughter. It was several minutes before I’d collected myself enough to speak again.
“That is awesome.” I started to say more, then hesitated. In seventh grade, Trish had kissed this guy, Damien, at the winter dance, and she’d told me all about it. Every day. For weeks. In a lot of detail. I’d listened to it all, because I wanted to be a good friend. But Trish was a lot more into sharing that kind of stuff than I was.
Oscar was more like me, though. He kept most feelings to himself. On the other hand, he didn’t have friends back home to e-mail like I did. And everyone deserved at least the option of having someone to get all share-y with.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked finally. He gave me a look, like he was considering it.
“Not yet. Maybe later?”
“Okay.”
Oscar gave me a quick smile, and I smiled back. It dawned on me that despite the fact that we bickered almost constantly, Oscar really did trust me. And I really trusted him, too. After a minute of mental debate, I came to a decision.
“I have another theory about that girl,” I said softly. “The ghost.”
He looked up. “Really? What is it?”
“It’s . . .” I paused to stifle a yawn. “Really, really complicated, and I didn’t sleep at all last night. If I try to explain it right now, you’ll think I’m crazy. Actually, you’ll probably think I’m crazy no matter what.”
“I mean, I already do a little bit,” Oscar said dryly, and I tried to smile.
“Ha-ha. Either way, when we get to New York, can I tell you about it?”
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
While I dug a tiny pillow and blanket out of my seat compartment and bunched them up behind my head, Oscar went back to pretending to read his comic. Within a few minutes, I fell asleep, and I didn’t dream at all.
EDIE MILLS
WIKI PAGE
Edie Mills (born November 22, 1956) is an American actress known for her leading roles in many notable horror movies. She made her debut in 1972 in the low-budget Mutant Cheerleaders Attack, and while reviews of the film itself were almost universally negative, Mills’s performance was widely praised. She was quickly cast in The Monster in Her Closet, which is considered to be her breakout film, solidifying her place among horror’s greatest Scream Queens. Mills was named Best Actress at the Dark Cheese B-Movie Awards in 1979 for her performance as Debra St. James in Den of the Undead.
MUTANT CHEERLEADERS ATTACK
JUNE
1972
When Kimmy Kickwell makes the cheerleading squad, she thinks high school’s going to be nothing but football games and fun. But this squad’s idea of fun isn’t so much about cheer as it is fear, and their pep is contagious . . .
THE MONSTER IN HER CLOSET
FEBRUARY
1973
Carrie Butler forgot about her imaginary friend, Edgar, when she started middle school. But he never
