Free Ghost of a Chance by Lauren Barnholdt Page B

then—”
    â€œKendall,” he says. “I don’t— I’m not—” He takes in a deep breath, and then I see some of his anger fade away.“Why did you go to see your mom? I understand that you would want to, but why now? And why didn’t you talk to me about it?”
    I look down at my hands. “I don’t know. I just . . .” I think of telling him about the ghosts. Maybe he could help me. Maybe he already knows. But I can’t say the words out loud. “It’s complicated,” I finally say.
    He nods. “I know you’re at an age when you might be starting to have questions about your mother. I guess I just thought . . .” He sighs.
    We sit there in silence for a moment, the only sound the hum of the engine. “Do you and Mom . . . Do you guys talk all the time?” I ask finally.
    He shakes his head. “Not all the time. She calls me once in a while, yes.”
    â€œHow often?”
    â€œNot very. Maybe once a year.”
    â€œSince when?”
    â€œSince she left.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you tell me?”
    â€œBecause I didn’t want you to think . . .” He trails off, but I know what he was about to say. He was going to say that he didn’t want me to think it meant that my mom wanted to be a part of my life. “Should we go inside and talk about this?” he asks.
    â€œNot right now.” I shake my head. I’ve changed mymind. It’s too raw. “Can we . . . Can we do it later?”
    â€œOkay.” I can see the pain on my dad’s face, and I can tell how hard this is for him. Neither one of us moves, and then my dad finally says, “I’m going to go for a drive and clear my head.”
    â€œOh. Okay.” I swallow, then reach out and open the car door. “Well, um, drive safe.”
    I get out and close the car door behind me. I hear my dad pulling out as I head inside.
    *  *  *
    The house feels empty without my dad. I know most of it is in my mind, because it’s not like I’ve never been home alone before.
    I wander around for a little while, not sure what to do with myself.
    I fix myself some cookies and milk.
    I make myself a ham and cheese sandwich. I nibble on the inside and then throw the crusts away.
    I bring my cookies into the living room and flip through the channels on the TV, but there’s nothing good on.
    â€œHey,” a voice says softly, and I scream.
    It’s Lily.
    Great.
    Why is it that even though I’m feeling lonely, the one person I don’t want to see shows up?
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asks, sitting down next to me.
    â€œOh, nothing,” I say sarcastically. “Just maybe everyone I ever cared about in my life hates me or is disappointed in me or thinks I might be crazy.” I pick up an Oreo and dunk it into my milk angrily. I wait until the chocolate part gets good and mushy before popping it into my mouth.
    â€œI’m sure that’s not true,” Lily says, like I’m being dramatic.
    â€œYes, it is.”
    â€œYou want to talk about it?”
    â€œNo.” I really don’t. And it’s not just because she’s Madison’s sister. It wouldn’t matter who she was. I don’t want to talk about what’s going on, because I’m sick of thinking about Ellie and Brandon and now my dad. I need a distraction. I need to focus on something other than myself. I need to get out of here.
    â€œCome on,” I say to Lily. “We’re going to the cemetery.”
    *  *  *
    â€œI love cemeteries,” Lily says as we walk across the street. She’s surprisingly upbeat for a ghost. I mean, most ghosts are all freaked out about the fact that they’re dead, and they get even more freaked out when you bring them to the cemetery. They think they’re going to get buried alive or something. Which is pretty