“I bet you anything she’s back there talking about me,” I whispered to Jac, who was bouncing Osbert the penguin toy on her lap like he was a baby.
“Brooklyn?” Jac asked.
I nodded.
“She was practically drooling to get the story of me and Ben on the bus out to the world.”
“Let her tell it,” Jac said. She poked me in the arm and I looked at her. Her small, delicate features were arranged in a serious expression. “Do you care?”
“I don’t know. Nobody likes to be talked about. She’s probably spinning the bus thing into some ridiculous drama.”
“So let her,” Jac declared.
“I just wish I could see what was going on.”
Jac fumbled around in her purse, pulled out a Mars Bar, a tube of something called Smarties, and a white and blue rectangle that said CADBURY on the side, then found what she was looking for.
“Here. Open this, angle it back, and spy away.”
I took the little mirror and held it slightly over the aisle. With a few adjustments, I could see the back row perfectly. Brooklyn was indeed standing over Shoshanna talking rapidly and waving her hands around in the air. Once or twice she pointed toward where I was sitting. Then she laughed so hard I thought she might rupture something and capped off the performance by putting her hands on her hips and shaking her head.
Then my view was suddenly blocked completely. It was as if a person had materialized right behind me out of thin air.
Which they had.
“I do hope you are not applying cosmetics.”
I turned gingerly toward the voice.
Standing at my elbow was a tiny, bird-thin woman with white hair pulled back neatly but far too tightly into a bun. She wore a navy blue suit and sensible shoes. On her right lapel was a pin that said TOUR GUIDE, and below that a name: VELMA.
“Cosmetics violate the rules, and are inappropriate for someone of your youth. When you become a lady and the time arrives when it is acceptable to wear a touch of rouge and a little lipstick, you will do well to remember that less is more.”
I was pretty much speechless. Though it occurred to me that if she were going to make personal statements about others, Velma might do well to consult with a hair care professional.
“Very well then. I will resume the tour. Do you have any questions about the site of the future Biodome?”
She waited with her lips pursed. Looking at her bun made my head hurt. Something told me I’d better produce a response.
“The future Bio…” My voice trailed off into a mumble. “What?”
Velma sighed.
“The site of the future Biodome, my dear, which we have just visited. I do wish young people were better listeners. Do you have any questions about it?”
I shook my head.
“It is impolite to shake your head. Yes, ma’am or no, ma’am is the proper response.”
“No, ma’am. Actually, yes, ma’am,” I whispered.
Velma looked a little pleased.
“What is your question?”
“How long until the Biodome is finished?” I whispered.
“That will not be determined until after our Olympic Games are over, dear,” Velma said.
“Thank you,” I whispered back.
“Now put your compact away. It is not ladylike to check your reflection in public.”
I snapped the mirror shut and handed it to Jac.
I held a finger up in the just-a-second symbol. I counted to three, then took a quick peek behind me.
Lady Velma was taking a seat.
Next to Ben Greenblott.
“I can’t believe this,” I said.
“What did she do?”
“There’s another one.”
Jac waited, leaning slightly toward me. When I didn’t continue right away she made a “get on with it” circular motion with her hand.
“There are now three ghosts on this bus,” I whispered.
Jac’s eyes shone.
“Who? Where?” she whispered. She was clutching the tube of Smarties in one hand. As she waited for me to answer, she removed the top of the tube, and shook a few of the M&M-like candies into her mouth.
“She’s a tour guide. She’s obsessed with manners. Jac, when were the Olympic Games in Montreal?”
“That’s easy—1976,” Jac said.
So Lady Velma was from the seventies. My mother called it the Misunderstood Decade. Lady Velma was quite possibly the Miss Understood in question.
“She kept telling me I had to be more ladylike.”
“Well, it wouldn’t kill you,” Jac said.
I gasped and she bent over double laughing.
“Joke. Joking!” she wheezed. She had really cracked herself up. She only reined it in when a few of her Smarties tumbled out of the tube and onto the ground.
“Rats,” she said. “I knew I should have bought more of these when I had the chance.”
Jac’s little red eyebrows shot up.
“Are you kidding?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I feel like half the ghosts in Montreal are trying to come between us.”
“That actually sounds romantic,” Jac said.
“Not to me.”
“Okay, guys,” I heard. I straightened up and gave Sid my attention. He was standing at the front of the bus. Before he could continue, Lady Velma came up the aisle and stood in front of him.
“All right, young ladies and young gentlemen,” she said.
It was the weirdest thing. Sid was a good head taller then Velma, and I could see the rest of him—his leather jacket, his black and white fringed scarf—right through her navy blue suit.
“We’re about to get back to the hotel,” he said.
“In approximately two minutes we will be arriving at our lodgings,” said Lady Velma.
“You guys have some time to hang out in the hall or in your rooms and chill out, or whatever.”
“Please use this time to freshen up. A clean tourist is a happy tourist,” Velma said.
“You know the rules. Stay where you’re supposed to be, and keep it under control. Do your school proud,” Sid finished. He plopped back down into his seat.
“Comport yourselves like proper young ladies and gentleman at all times. You are little ambassadors of your nation.”
Lady Velma surveyed the seats solemnly. Her gaze rested on me for a moment. Then she walked regally toward the back of the bus and sat down next to Ben again. I had been watching her go, and when she sat down, Ben caught my eye. He waved. I waved back, and Lady Velma instantly stood up, like a gopher popping suddenly out of its hole.
“Young lady, please refrain from waving,” she called to me. She gave Ben a disapproving look. “Particularly to a young gentleman. It does not behoove you.”
Behoove me?
Ben looked perplexed and completely unaware that a spirit from the Disco Decade was sharing his seat.
“I’ll explain later,” I mouthed.
I saw Lady Velma’s head snap toward Ben, and I dived down in my seat.
“Man, she is one uptight old broad,” I whispered.
Jac was too busy pouring Smarties into her mouth to ask what I meant, and anyway, we were pulling up to the front entrance of our hotel.
The hotel containing the hall containing the vending machines contained in the alcove where I had agreed to meet Ben Greenblott in mere minutes.