Ghosted Read online

  “Whatever,” I say.

  “Hah. And you’re supposed to be so smart.”

  “What’s your point?” I ask.

  “Maybe you should stop acting like a mean girl from some dumb movie and start acting like a real human being with emotions and empathy and a heart and a conscience.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and give her my best withering glare. “I thought you said it was a book first.”

  “It was, but I’m trying to dumb this down so you can understand it,” the Girl in Black says with a shrug. Before I can remind her that I am a straight-A student, the double doors open up and future me strides on in.

  Wow! I am amazed, truly awestruck. Future me is even more fabulous than I imagined possible. She’s wearing five-inch heels and the most beautiful prom dress I have ever seen in my whole entire life. It’s white and silver and strapless, equal parts clingy and free-flowing. It’s got crystal beads sewn into the bodice, reminiscent of the pink Clara costume I never got to wear onstage for The Nutcracker. When she walks, she seems to glide on air, like a princess from another galaxy.

  Then things get even better. A cute boy walks in next. He’s got dark hair and blue eyes and he’s dressed in a really nice black tuxedo with a silver cummerbund that matches future me’s gown. He must be my date.

  “The gym looks amazing, Ellie. People are going to flip,” he says.

  He’s right. And I must be in charge because I love the whole look of the room. It’s totally my style: French-garden themed, with beds of lavender and trellises covered in sweet-smelling wisteria. White gauzy tablecloths cover the tables. And there are ornate silver platters—empty for now, but I’m sure whatever food I ordered is going to be delicious.

  Future me walks right up to him and wraps her arms around his neck and says, “I sure hope so, considering how hard it was, managing everyone and pulling this thing together.”

  “You do make it look so easy, though,” he replies.

  “And you look scrumptious, boyfriend,” she says, tilting her head up, ever so gently, so she can gaze into his big, beautiful eyes.

  “Thanks,” he replies.

  “And me?” she asks.

  He looks her up and down, grinning. “There are no words,” he says.

  Meanwhile, I swoon. We are a picture-perfect couple. I reach for my phone so I can take a picture, but of course I don’t have it on me. I guess I only get my phone when I’m not invisible, like in Hawaii. Interesting. I’m getting used to this universe, this state of being, this, whatever one would call it. I now know to expect the unexpected. And future me is such an awesome surprise. I can now sit back and bask in the glory of it all, my future, my success.

  “I told you everything would work out,” I say to the Girl in Black. “Sometimes you have to be ruthless, to harden your heart to go after what you want, what’s really important.”

  “Just wait,” the Girl in Black tells me. “This isn’t over yet.”

  I laugh in her face. “Oh, you’re only bluffing. You probably don’t even know what’s happening next. Looks to me like I had a goal and worked really hard and succeeded. Sure I had to step on some toes to get there, hurt some feelings, but so what? I get exactly what I want out of life, so why are you trying to bring down my mood? I don’t need that.”

  “Do you actually think your life is so perfect?” she asks.

  “Okay, so Hawaii was a little rough. That’s okay. And maybe my friends do talk about me behind my back, but isn’t that normal?”

  “Is it? Would all your friends do that?”

  I think of Marley, of how true and sincere she was. How honest and pure her heart is. How even after I betrayed her, she would’ve forgiven me.

  The Girl in Black and I lock eyes. Something about her seems so familiar. It gives me the chills.

  I’m about to ask her who she is, when she gives me this strange little smile and then disappears. Well, who needs her? Not me. I turn around and watch future me laugh with her boyfriend.

  She throws back her head and shakes out her hair and grins. “You are too sweet, my love,” she says to him.

  He smiles down at her and gently cups her face in his hands and then kisses her on the tip of her nose.

  Wait, what?

  A nose kiss?

  Suddenly the romance of this entire scene comes to a screeching halt. What kind of high school boyfriend kisses you on the nose? Not the kind I thought I would have.

  I am confused, and so is my future self. I can tell by the way her shoulders tense up and her head tilts to the side, ever so slightly.

  Future me looks at her boyfriend with narrowed eyes. “What’s up, Jeremy?”

  Wait a second. Did she just say Jeremy? I take a step closer and blink a few times. Looking at the guy more carefully, I realize I know him. This is insane!

  Future me is going out with Jeremy Hinkey. As in Jeremy Fartburger. The same Jeremy I kicked out of my Winter Holiday Semiformal planning committee meeting in the eighth grade is now my prom date when I’m a senior? And it seems that he’s my boyfriend, too?

  More surprisingly—Jeremy is hot. What is up with that? How and when did it happen?

  “Kind of crazy, huh?”

  This time I jump at the sound of the Girl in Black’s voice.

  I spin around and she’s standing next to me again. Except she’s changed outfits. For the first time on this whole journey or whatever it is, she’s not dressed in black jeans and boots. No, instead she’s in a ball gown. The thing is stunning—black, of course, and silky with sequins and feathers sewn into the bodice. She looks even more beautiful than before, not that I’m about to say so.

  “Decided to dress up for the dance?” I ask, eyebrows raised.

  She grins at me like she knows something I don’t. “You could say that, I suppose.”

  “Right. That’s why I just said it,” I snap. And I turn back to future me and Jeremy. Something is about to happen. I can feel it in my bones.

  “Turned out pretty cute, huh? Do you regret being so nasty to him before?” asks the Girl in Black.

  “Hey, should I still call you the Girl in Black? Or are you now the Girl in the Black Prom Dress?” I wonder.

  “You never answered my question,” she replies.

  “Oh, you’re being serious about regrets?” I ask. “Okay, let me think about it for half a second. My answer is no. Not at all. I had a job to do and I did it well. Anyway, I couldn’t have been so bad, so damaging. Look at how he’s forgiven me. We are a great couple. We look amazing together.”

  I gesture toward the two teenagers, wondering why I feel the need to convince her when the proof is standing right there, walking and talking right in front of our eyes.

  “I hope you’ve been practicing the dip for the victory dance,” future me warns. “Because if you drop me I’m seriously going to kill you.”

  Jeremy laughs as if she is kidding, but I know she’s not.

  “We don’t know for a fact that we are going to win,” he says.

  “Does that mean you haven’t practiced, Jeremy? Big mistake. I don’t know what you’re thinking. Who else would win? No one is better than me. And I did choose you as my boyfriend, so you’ll win by proxy. We look amazing. And this dress? It was designed in Paris. I should win for that alone.”

  Wait, have I been to Paris? Have I been to Paris to shop for a dress? My whole future keeps looking better and better.

  Suddenly a phone rings. Future me slips it out from somewhere within the folds of her dress—a secret pocket. How cool! And even better, the phone actually matches the dress—all silver and iridescent.

  “Yes, please deliver the ice sculpture at ten p.m., exactly,” future me says before hanging up.

  “Who was that?” Jeremy asks.

  “The caterers for the after-party. We are doing an ice sculpture in the shape of the two of us. It’s a surprise.”

  “Not anymore,” says Jeremy.

  Future me rolls her eyes. “I mean
it’s a surprise for everyone else. You know what I mean. She hits him on the chest—lightly, playfully. He frowns. I recognize that frown. It travels up to his eyes, which look troubled. Pained, even. His whole expression tells me things aren’t so perfect. Jeremy seems annoyed.

  Oh well. I’m sure that happens a lot in relationships. After all, I’m only thirteen. I don’t know what it’s like to be in high school, or to have a high school boyfriend. I’m sure there are all kinds of nuances. Maybe tip-of-the-nose kissing is totally trending here in the future. It’s probably a good way to keep germs from spreading.

  I look around the gym. That’s when I notice the posters onstage. It’s the nominees for prom queen and king: four gorgeous girls and four hunky guys.

  The gym is still empty, so I hop onstage and take a closer look.

  The first nominee is me, of course. And I must be honest. I am completely, 100 percent blown away. My future self is stunning in person, but in pictures she is perfection. It’s a casual shot. I’m in designer jeans, expensive-looking brown boots, and a red V-neck sweater. My hair is smooth and silky, like I’ve gotten a really great blowout. I look smart and sharp. I’m impressed with myself. I wonder where I’m going to college. Stanford or Princeton or Berkeley or Yale? I wonder what kind of car I have—an SUV or something in the race car variety? Hopefully I’ll get to find out.

  I wander over to check out the other nominees. They surprise me. Harper is up there, for example. She looks good. Her hair is full-on black now, and super dramatic. Her smile is slightly uneven, higher on one side. And her eyelashes are long and thick. I wonder if they’re fake. She’s wearing a white minidress and strappy sandals. For a moment I’m annoyed that she made the cut. But then I realize that there have to be other nominees. They can’t simply hand me the crown without holding elections, even though it’s obvious I am the only one who deserves it. That must be why Maddie is pictured here, as well. At first glance I don’t realize it’s her, because her hair, once red and curly, is now brown and stick-straight. But I’d recognize her green eyes anywhere. She looks nice but a little too close to average. I’m sure she was very low-ranked. I hope she got a few votes, at least.

  As soon as this thought pops into my brain I laugh it off. It’s not true. I actually hope she got zero votes. Being selected as prom queen isn’t good enough. I really need to win that crown in a landslide.

  The next and final nominee for prom queen is shocking. It’s Reese, the theater geek who made the murals back in the eighth grade. She really has changed. Her style is quirky and cute. Art-geek chic, I’d call it. She’s wearing black, chunky glasses and she has a dirty-blond bob. She’s in jeans and hiking boots and a navy-blue, oversized sweater. Squinting at her photo more closely, I see that she isn’t even wearing makeup. I can’t believe that’s the picture she submitted. I wonder if she was nominated as a joke. Probably. How sad.

  The four prom king nominees are dressed basically the same, all of them wear jeans, and button-down shirts, and bright smiles. Jeremy and three other guys I don’t recognize. The one named Nadir has dark skin and soulful brown eyes. Aidan is blond and preppy-looking. He’s holding a football tucked under his arm. Theo is tall and thin with a bright smile and locs that almost reach his shoulders.

  I wander back over to my future self, who is still in conversation with Jeremy.

  “Hey, where is my corsage? You didn’t forget it, did you? Because we can probably still get one last minute. If the flower shop is closed, one of my friends will give me theirs. Be honest. Okay?”

  Jeremy looks uncomfortable suddenly. I smell trouble and future me does, too.

  “Um, actually, Ellie. I need to talk to you about something,” Jeremy says, shifting nervously from one foot to the other.

  He gives her a tortured sort of look, then glances down at his feet, like suddenly he’s afraid to make eye contact. “Look, I hate to do this tonight, but, well … I think we need to break up.”

  She laughs. “Very funny.”

  “I’m not kidding,” he says. And I can tell from his serious expression that he’s not. “And when I say I think we should break up, well, what I actually mean is, we need to break up. We are breaking up. Technically, I suppose, we are broken up. Things are over. Done. I simply can’t handle the pressure anymore.”

  “No. There’s no way you can do this.”

  Both thirteen-year-old me and future me are speaking at the exact same time.

  And suddenly the Girl in Black appears next to me again. I didn’t even notice she’d left, but I’m grateful she’s back.

  I turn to her. “What is going on?” I ask. “This can’t be happening. This isn’t real. This is totally bogus. My boyfriend is not breaking up with me hours before my senior prom.”

  The Girl in Black snaps her fingers. Future me and future Jeremy freeze. Time has stopped.

  Then she glares at me. “Let me ask you something,” she says. “You’ve been so obsessed with yourself you haven’t even stopped to wonder who I am?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “I’ve wondered plenty. It’s a fact and you know it’s true because you’ve been reading my mind.”

  “Right,” she says with a nod. “Good point. Let me clarify. You’re supposed to be so smart, I’m surprised you haven’t figured out my true identity. I mean, don’t you recognize me, Ellie?”

  “No,” I say. “Why, are you famous or something?”

  She laughs. “No, I’m not famous but I did play a major role in your childhood. And you do know me. At least you used to. Think about it.”

  I don’t know what she’s talking about. Not at first. It simply doesn’t register. But the longer I look at her, the more I mull it over in my mind. I’m getting the strangest sensation.

  Her dark hair, the freckles, and the mischievous blue eyes. The way she seems to know me so well. Is it because, could she be from my past?

  No.

  “There’s no way.” I shake my head. I back up. But I have to ask. “Are you Marley Winters?”

  “Yup,” she says. “It’s me.”

  Once I say her name, I know it’s true. In fact, it seems painfully obvious. The Girl in Black is Marley, my former best friend. Somehow Marley, who was the sweetest person in the whole world, has become a ruthless chick who has been leading me on this journey and making snide and sarcastic comments along the way.

  In other words, the girl I ghosted way back when is now actually a ghost? Marley’s ghost? And she’s come back to haunt me?

  She’s haunting me.

  It’s so obvious, I can’t believe I didn’t catch on sooner.

  When we were younger Marley’s face was round and soft, but it’s changed shape over the years. It’s now more narrow. She’s got the same eyes, though, and the same smattering of freckles. She’s different in other ways, as well. She seems so cool, so confident. I am kind of tempted to give her a high five. Way to go, shedding your goody-two-shoes ways. If you had this attitude back when we were eleven, maybe things could’ve been different.

  “Wow, Marley. You really grew up. This is amazing,” I tell her. “Um, we should totally hang out now.”

  “Ellie, you are unbelievable. Sure, you finished at the top of your class, but you can still be so dense sometimes. So clueless.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Well, you actually don’t exist here in the future yet. But me? I’m going to the dance.”

  I look around, shaking my head. “I am so confused right now.”

  She nods. “Yeah, I’ll bet. It’s hard to explain, so I’m going to have to show you,” she tells me.

  I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

  She snaps her fingers again. Everyone in the room unfreezes.

  Then she walks up to future me and future Jeremy and says hello.

  “What are you doing here, Marley?” future me asks.

  I cringe at her bossy tone, but it’s not like I can do a
nything about it.

  “You’re supposed to be picking up dessert from the caterer,” future me continues. “There’s no way you could be back already, and if you are, where’s all the food? Those bonbons will melt in the sun, so I hope you didn’t leave them in the car.”

  “Oh, Ellie, I called the caterer and asked them to deliver.” Marley links her arm in Jeremy’s. “I’m here because we need to tell you something.”

  “Why are you touching my boyfriend?” future me asks angrily.

  “I’m not your boyfriend anymore, remember?” Jeremy replies sadly. “I’m sorry, El. I wanted to wait until prom was over. I know it’s so important to you. You seem to have a lot wrapped up in this whole crazy high school popularity thing. But I couldn’t take it for any longer. Marley and I … Well, we didn’t mean for this to happen, but we fell in love.”

  Wait, what? This is crazy. This cannot be happening.

  “No,” says future me.

  “It’s true,” says Jeremy. “She’s amazing. Well, you know, you used to be best friends. And I never knew her when we were younger. But ever since she transferred here at the beginning of the year—”

  “Whatever,” future me snaps, holding up her hand to silence him. “I don’t need all the gory details and I refuse to accept it. This cannot be happening!”

  Except it is. And worse than that—future me and invisible me have merged. We are the same person, and I am crying—tears of rage. I’m not going to stand for it!

  I hurry over to the double doors of the gym and try to throw them open. They are locked. I press the handle and push hard, throwing my weight into them, but they don’t budge. I bang on the door in frustration and yell, but nothing happens. So I turn around.

  And find myself in another change of scene. Now prom is in full swing. I am still future me: high school senior, seventeen years old, freshly dumped and solo at my prom.

  A band is onstage playing a slow song I don’t even recognize. It must be new! As annoyed as I am over Jeremy, not to mention flabbergasted by this whole Marley/Girl in Black situation, I am also so curious about how everyone has grown up.

  People look so different in high school. Over in the corner, I notice my best friends: Harper, Sofia, Maddie, and Lily. Finally some friendly faces! I go right over to them.