Tommie was waiting when I got home. My food, untouched, filled the plastic Dixie plate.
“What do you mean?” she said before I had a chance to step all the way into the house. “What do you mean, I’m dead?”
I drew in breath.
I was wore out.
Too wore out for this.
But.
But if I paid attention to my Gift, it might go away. Aunt Odie had said as much. I just needed to be nice about it. Show some tact.
“I mean,” I said. “You. Are. Dead.” There.
I walked into the kitchen. In the family room I could hear the TV going. The news. Was Momma home? JimDaddy?
“That is so rude!” Tommie was hot on my heels. I could feel her close to my back. Her breath on my neck.
“Let me tell everyone I’m here,” I said to Tommie, slapping at her. She seemed ruffled, though nothing was out of place.
“That smells good,” she said.
I set the plate on the counter.
“Have some.” I walked out of the kitchen, past the formal dining room and down to the family room.
JimDaddy was propped up in a giant La-Z-Boy. Across the room, Momma and Baby Lucy were tucked into their own chair—not sharing with him like usual. My sister was sound asleep, her little mouth a perfect O.
“Hey, girl,” JimDaddy said. “You still mad with me for not telling you everything?” He muted the TV.
“No, JimDaddy,” I said. “Not mad at you, either, Momma.”
The real word was “disappointed.” But no need to say that. Kids can’t let parents know when they don’t act the way they should.
Momma reached her free hand up, and I leaned over so she could pet my face the way she always did before JimDaddy and Baby Lucy came along. “Love you.” Her words were soft as her touch. I felt a bit of healing leave her fingertips. Sink into my skin and cool the frustration away some.
“You want I should put her down?” I asked.
Momma nodded.
I scooped Baby Lucy up. “I got homework and”—I paused and thought of Tommie waiting in the room down the hall—“stuff to do. Then I’m off to bed.”
“Okay then,” they said. Together.
“We’ll be in a little later to say good night.” Momma.
I walked out of the family room to my sister’s room, where I lay Baby Lucy on her back. She let out a sigh. Then I was in the hall again, running my hand along the chair rail. My tennis shoes made squishy sounds on the marble. Wavering up ahead, outside my bedroom, I saw Tommie. She didn’t look too happy.
I wasn’t neither. So there.
I eased into my room, squeezing past her.
“I like your baby,” she said.
I flopped on my bed.
“She sleeps in my momma’s craft room.”
Gulp.
Tommie sat down. The bed didn’t even move under her weight. I scooted over.
“Why are you here?” I said.
“I live here.”
I sat up. “Not anymore.”
Tommie blinked. “Tell me about her.”
“Who?”
“The baby.”
“Baby Lucy,” I said, “is Momma’s dream. She never thought she could have another after I was born. Then a miracle.” I remembered how excited Momma was when she found out. How she had Aunt Odie make a cake with the words WHAT ARE YOU EXPECTING? in pink and blue icing. It took JimDaddy only a moment to know what Momma was trying to say.
I flopped onto my back again and stared at the ceiling.
“A baby with my daddy,” Tommie whispered. She lay down next to me. Thank goodness I had a double bed or, well, this would be freaky. Lying in bed with a ghost. With a dead girl.
I nodded, all slow. Hadn’t thought of that. Her dad and my mom. Me and Tommie, we were related by Baby Lucy. And our parents. We were an odd-shaped star fruit.
Tommie clasped her hands over her belly. I turned on my side to look at her. Her eyes were filled with tears. Outside of that barely-there smell, she seemed like anyone else.
Come to think of it, so did all those other dead people.
How did I know the difference between those who were alive and those who had passed on?
It was . . . a feeling. I mean, now that I knew what I was looking for, it was easy to see this was about the way I felt. Not about what I saw. Even though it was what I saw.
Too confusing.
“I was sure you were lying,” she said. Her voice was a whisper.
“About what?” I tucked my pillow under my head better.
“About me. Being gone. Passed away. Up till now, I’ve just been . . . nowhere. In a dead space. . . .”
“What?”
“You know. Like that place before sleeping and dreaming.”
The glow about her, pale pink, almost white, widened as she spoke.
“I remember the accident. I knew it was bad. Momma and me, we talked a moment or two after we crashed, and then there was a tap at Momma’s window and some guy came to get us.”
“Who?” I whispered the word.
“Some guy. He had this great smile. He told us to follow him. And I didn’t go. I stayed behind. Watched my momma leave. I had Justin to stay back for. So I did. Then I was talking to you at your party.”
Outside a bit of wind kicked up. Something tapped at my window. Another ghost? Probably. That was my luck.
“The dead spaces come when I’m all alone.”
My heart was in my throat, like that old cliché says.
“At first I thought I was in the wrong place. But there was my daddy. He refused to see me. Only you would talk to me. And when you told me I was gone and I thought about not being able to turn on the water or the hand dryer . . .”
I didn’t say anything. Because what do you say to a ghost who’s just realizing she’s dead? Dead but not quite gone.
When Tommie spoke next, her voice was almost not there. “Can you tell me what happened?”
And so I did. I told her about how JimDaddy still missed her and how he wished he had taken her to the picture show that day. I told her about the rain and that Buddy wasn’t hurt, not physically anyway. I even told Tommie how Momma and JimDaddy had been seeing each other before she died. I told her everything, from start to finish, the best I knew how.
When I was done, it seemed Tommie had pretty much accepted my words as fact.
She was a ghost.
That light around her glowed so bright I wanted to ask her to leave the room and go sleep elsewhere.
But Tommie was crying.
So I let her stay with me.