Ghost No More (Ghost No More Series Book 1) Read online

  Chapter 3

  ~Grandma’s House~

  A few days passed, maybe a week, before Mama called her old high school friend, her voice sounding higher-pitched than usual. They laughed and chatted over the phone. The call ended with an invite for us to stay with her until Mama was able to get back on her feet.

  When we pulled up outside the friend’s house, Mama told me to stay out of sight while we were there. “She isn’t used to kids. Don’t talk to her and keep in your room.”

  I never saw either of them. I sat by the window in the bare white room and looked out, wishing I could play outside.

  Mama soon got a job at an auto parts store. She woke me early each morning to drop me off at my paternal grandparents’ house on her way to work. It was always silent in the car, Mama even kept the radio off.

  I ate breakfast at my grandparent’s house, picking a miniature box of cereal from a cellophane pack Grandma kept on the counter. Afterwards, I helped Grandma do the laundry in the basement. The basement was a maze of replaced kitchen counters, weight benches, painting supplies, and a corner filled with old dolls with little holes on their hairless heads and Hasbro games. She dragged a laundry basket across the cement basement floor to the washing machine. I hauled the warm clothes out of the dryer. The static snapped, and I laughed at the socks clinging to the shirts and dresses.

  When the chores were done, Grandma gave me a powdered sugar cookie out of the yellow plastic container on the kitchen counter. We went into the living room and Grandma scooped me up to sit on her lap in the rocking chair. She wrapped her arms around me so that she could knit, her blue needles saying, “Clack. Clack. Clack.”

  Grandma’s lips moved too, in little whispers.

  “What Grandma?” I asked.

  She smiled, “Let me count, CeeCee. This sweater is for your fourth birthday.”

  I heard a car pull up into the driveway and honk the horn. Mama sat out there, her car idling, so I scooted down off Grandma’s lap. Quickly, I kissed Grandma goodbye and ran outside.

  ***

  One weekend, Mama and I went to an outdoor music concert with her older brother. It was hot and crowded as we drove around a dusty parking lot while Mama searched for an empty parking spot. Mama was tense when she caught my eye in the rear view mirror. “What did you say?” Her eyes narrowed into slits. I looked up at her in surprise. I hadn’t said anything and started shaking my head in denial, but she still reached back and smacked me across the face. I held my swollen lip and hung my head, tasting blood. My uncle saw Mama’s slap. He thought I was a bad girl too.

  Mama finally found an empty space and parked the car. We got out of the car and walked through the grass among the crowds of people. When Mama found a spot she liked, she handed my uncle a towel, and shook out her own to sit.

  The music started, and a wave of cheers began. Hands cupped around screaming mouths all about me. I put my hands to my mouth and hooted through them too, squinting at the stage that was far away. That’s the big deal? I could barely see the people. Still the music was loud, blasting through the air from giant black boxes. People scrambled to their feet and began to jump and sway, pressing into me. My face smashed against someone’s hip. I shoved back, my skinny arms pushing against the big adult bodies.

  “Get away from me, you’re squashing me,” I yelled. Nobody listened.

  Their moving bodies began to pinch me away from Mama. But, the further I got from the stage, the more space there was. I wandered through the maze of people lying on blankets. The smell of the hot dogs and cookies reminded me that I was hungry. I rubbed my belly near one kind-looking lady, hoping she would offer me some of the food that was scattered around her. A package of cookies had fallen to the side of a blanket and was half on the grass. My mouth watered, and I wiped it with the back of my hand. I’m a fast runner!

  I started to reach out, but stopped. What if Mama sees me? I skipped in a circle looking for her, and a flash of fear zipped through me. I didn’t know where Mama was.

  I spun in all directions and felt dizzy. Everyone looked the same--- tan faces, and long hair, groups of screaming kids chasing each other in zig zags. A man, chugging a brown beer bottle pointed up to the sky, bumped into me. He hurt my foot. I cried, and limped away.

  I searched all afternoon before I found Mama. She was just standing up from the grass, brushing off her bottom. I ran up and whispered in her ear. She frowned at me, upset, because I had to go to the bathroom. She shook her head.

  “I don’t know where to find one,” she said.

  Mama tried to coax me to pee behind a tree but I was embarrassed with all the people crowding nearby. One freckle-faced boy cried “Boo!” from behind the tree that she wanted me to use.

  “I can wait,” I said. We left the parking lot, and my stomach growled.

  ***

  That summer, the county fair was in town too. A few weeks had passed since the concert, and Mama had saved up enough money to take me and my uncle to the fair rides. They walked ahead of me, laughing, while I trailed behind them, careful to keep an eye on Mama’s brown sandals---I didn’t want to lose her again. We stood together in the hot sun in front of a little booth while they bought tickets.

  After they bought them, Mama spoke out of the corner of her mouth to me. “You’re not big enough, so only uncle and I are going. Sit here, and wait for us.”

  She pointed to a tuft of dead, yellow grass. My heart was heavy when she walked away. She’s going to leave me again? The grass was stiff, and I scuffed my sneaker toe against it. I kicked the same clump over and over, breaking the grass off until only a stiff brush poked out of the ground.

  I looked over at the bright colored carousel. There was a long line of children waiting their turn, holding sweaty tickets in their hands. The music rang like little bells. I wanted to be on one of the pretty horses going up and down. I tapped my feet, dancing to the ringing bells. The excitement caught me. I tapped harder and faster, spinning in my dance, my arms waving like snakes. I wanted one of the moms or dads standing in line to see me and think I was cute. Maybe they will offer me a ticket, I thought as I spun around. No one was looking at me, so I danced harder- tap, tap, tap- the scrubbed grass smashing into nothing under my feet. I did my big finish, TaDAAA!, my hands stretched wide, and then dipped into a curtsey. I panted, waiting for the reaction. The mothers and fathers were taking pictures of their kids going up and down on the horse, doing nothing special. The music went on, and the blinking lights went around. I sat down on the scrubbed-out grass and waited for Mama.

  Several hours passed. The light was turning gray over the setting sun, when Mama and Uncle came back. They were laughing together, and he was talking about how there must be a lot of money on the ground from the people being spun upside down. Immediately, I studied the ground, hoping to see the flash of silver money sparkling up at me. I’m going to strike it rich! Maybe I can buy her a new home! Mama will give me a big hug! She told me to hurry to the car. I didn’t want to get spanked, so I ran after her, leaving my riches behind for another girl to find.

  Chapter 4

  ~The Apartment~

  By the end of the summer Mama and I had moved into an apartment. The apartment building was tall, with huge, fat-leafed maple trees that lined the street. I knew we secretly lived on Sesame Street, and watched for Oscar to pop out of the trash can near the alley every time I walked up the steps to the apartment door. When I didn’t see him, I thought, Wow! He really is grumpy. Mama parked the Pontiac out in front, right next to a permanent giant mud puddle that I jumped over to get to the sidewalk. Every day I studied the side of the building and tried to find my window. They all gave the same blank reflection of the gray sky.

  The first time we had walked into the apartment Mama laid the keys on the counter with a clatter and said, “Kids stay in their rooms. This is my side. Stay there, unless I call you.”

  My room was my whole world. I stacked my blocks in the window sill and watched the street
. There was a man who walked by every day, but he never looked up. One day, I tapped the window softly to see if he’d notice-- I didn’t want Mama to hear-- still he hurried by. I saw my head bobbing in the window, and pulled my lips and stretched my cheeks into funny faces with my fingers. I accidentally touched the white of my eye and studied my reflection while I did it again. It doesn’t hurt! I thought to myself, amazed. I must have special eyes.

  When I was around Mama, she didn’t talk. I also noticed she wouldn’t look at me anymore. I even tipped my head down once to get her to see me, but she only turned her head to the left, and stared into the kitchen. “CeeCee, go in your room.”

  Days went by without her saying more than a couple words to me. I started to tip-toe when I left my room. Our house was very quiet, and I felt ghost-like as I tried to stay out of her sight.

  One morning, Mama rushed past while I was at the table and told me to hurry and eat breakfast. I had just put a scoop of sugar on my Toastie O’s and frowned when the sugar disappeared to the bottom of the cereal bowl. I ate as fast as I could, scraping the sugar up with my spoon, and feeling it crunch in my mouth.

  “CeeCee, we have to leave now!”

  Tipping the bowl back, I gulped down the milk, and then put the bowl in the sink.

  Mama drove me to a long red building.

  “This is preschool,” she said, while filling out a piece of paper. She handed it to the lady and turned to look out the glass door at her car.

  “Be good. I’ll be back soon.”

  I watched her walk out the door, and ran after her.

  “Don’t go Mama!” I cried, but she didn’t look back. The door shut, and I watched through the window as she climbed into her car.

  A woman with curly brown hair walked up to me. Her shoes were loud on the linoleum. I stopped crying to stare at them; funny, square-toed shoes that matched the brown color of her hair. She bent down.

  “Hello there, CeeCee. I’m the principal. Why don’t we go into the gym where there are lots of fun games to play.”

  I liked that she bent down so that I could see her at eye-level. She stood up and started to walk, pausing to see if I was following. I wanted to be good, so I was right behind her. The gym was dark, with only half of the lights on. There were bouncy balls with handles, and I ran over to one and sat on it.

  “I’m a kangaroo!” I whooped, and bounced to the other kids.

  ***

  When I turned four, the principal bought me a birthday card and a little bag of candy. She told me, “You’ll be coming to my house for dinner tonight.” Mama had an appointment and wasn’t able to pick me up after school.

  The principal took me out to her black car. “Put on your seatbelt,” she said after I climbed in. I blinked at her. She leaned over and pulled it over my shoulder. “See this funny metal piece? We put its tongue right here.” She clicked it into place and I clicked my tongue back at it in return.

  She drove through a neighborhood where each house was edged with a white picket fence. We turned into the driveway of a brick two-story house. She let out a sigh, then smiled at me. “We’re home.”

  Slowly, I climbed out of the car and followed her to the front steps. She unlocked the door and, with a sweeping hand, welcomed me into her home. I tugged down my too small t-shirt and stood in the dark wooden entryway, unsure of what to do.

  “Go in,” she encouraged.

  Her living room was enormous. I froze in the hallway when I heard my footsteps echo on the hardwood floor.

  The principal said, “Come in, come in.”

  She pointed to a chair near the dining table. I climbed up onto it, and it felt like a king’s chair. I ran my hands down its sleek arms. She brought me a coloring book and some crayons in a plastic tub.

  “Color in this while I go make macaroni and cheese for dinner.”

  I left the book in front of me unopened and looked quickly around the room. I felt like a robber in the strange room. Behind my chair was a tall, dark shelf filled with leaning books of all different sizes and colors. Did the books know that I didn’t belong in this house?

  She caught me peeking at them when she came back and smiled. “Those books are old friends.”

  After dinner, she poured out a plastic bag filled with seashells on top of the table with a clatter, and we glued the flat shells onto paper. In a low, gentle voice, the principal asked me questions about my home life. How often did I eat? Did I get to see my dad? How did I get that bruise? I picked up a white seashell, held it over my eye like a patch, and then spun it in my fingers.

  “This seashell lost his brother,” I said, pretending not to understand her questions.

  I was afraid to talk about Mama. I didn’t know why, but our life was a secret, and Mama would be mad at me if I said anything. I rattled off a story about the seashell, hoping to distract her. After gluing it to the yellow construction paper, I ran my fingers through the pile of shells scattered across the table.

  “Maybe this is him!” I pointed, frantic not to give her an opportunity to speak again. She looked at me, and then walked into the kitchen to get ice cream. She didn’t ask me any more questions.

  The principal dropped me off that evening, and she spoke to Mama through the opened car window, “We had a great time! She’s had dinner and ice cream.”

  Inside the apartment Mama frowned at me, “You sure have her fooled. She spoils you rotten. If she knew you, she wouldn’t like you.”

  I ran into my room with my shell art paper. I didn’t want to make her even angrier by being on her side of the house. I never told her about how the principal had asked me questions.

  A few days later, Mama picked me up from school and we drove to the store. I waited in the car while she went in. She came out carrying two ice-cream cones. I bounced up and down on the seat grinning with surprise. She pinched the two of them in one hand while she wrestled the car door open and then passed one over to me. As I ate it, I wondered if it meant something was different in our relationship. Maybe she wanted to be around me now? I held the vanilla ice cream like it was proof that Mama loved me. As slow as possible I savored each bite, rolling it in my mouth. I didn’t want the proof to disappear, but couldn’t figure out a way to save the cone without it getting mushy.

  We sat in the Pontiac without talking. Mama stared out at some far-off point through the car’s windshield. I tried to see what interested her; nothing but a light pole. She turned her ice cream cone upside down and shook it hard twice. I looked over again, was she doing a magic trick?

  “Why did you shake your ice-cream cone?” I almost put my hand over my mouth for being so dumb to question her. I was afraid she would use her scary voice.

  She gave a little twitch and glanced over at me. In a flat tone, she said, “I don’t remember doing that. “ We both turned back to look out the window and continued to eat in silence.

  When we returned home, I followed her into the dark living room with the shaggy orange carpet. Will Mama let me be in the same room as her? She gave me a look, and I wondered if I had tracked in dog doo on my shoe.

  “What are you doing in here? Go play in your room.”

  On the way back to my room, I thought, what am I still doing wrong? I wanted to fix it so that Mama would think I was a good girl.

  On a cold afternoon, a few weeks later, Mama’s brother came over. It had snowed all night, and I could hear them talking with excited voices.

  Then Mama yelled, “CeeCee! Get in the car!”

  I scrambled into my jacket, and the three of us piled into the Pontiac.

  Leaning close to the window, I breathed out on to the glass to watch it fog and drew swirls and dots with the thumb of my knitted mitten. The snow on the ground was so beautiful, clean, and white.

  The car gave a hard jerk, and my head bobbed. Mama drove off the road, through the crunching icy grass, and then out onto the frozen lake. I recognized the big warning signs with a giant, red “X” through them. The signs meant stay o
ff the ice. I spun around to look out the rear window at the distancing shore line. Did Mama drive out onto the lake by accident? Did she see the big red “X”?

  Mama gave a crazy laugh as she revved the Pontiac, and we flew out into the middle of the lake. I caught our reflections in the rear-view mirror; she was grinning from ear to ear and my face was white. Pictures flashed through my mind--- ice breaking and all of us trapped in the car, drowning in the dark water. Mama jerked the wheel, and we snapped into a hard spin, causing me to fly across the vinyl seat. My fingers dug into the slippery seat but I couldn’t stop myself. I hit the window hard with my shoulder, crying out in pain. They laughed even harder the faster the car spun.

  When Mama heard me, she said, “Oh Crap! Don’t be such a crybaby. Do you want me to give you something to cry about?”

  Pinned against the side window I stared out the window at the spinning world. I squeezed my mitten tight over my mouth.

  Mama spun the Pontiac in tight circles eight or ten more times, while I hung tight on-to the window handle. On the last spin my uncle said, “Whoa, the ice is a bit thin here.” I held my breath, only letting it out when she turned the car around for the shore.

  That night and over the next few days the snow fell hard, until it was up to my waist. One night, after it finally slowed, Mama called me to get my jacket on. I raced throughout my room, looking for my jacket.

  “Now CeeCee!” Mama yelled.

  I caught a glimpse of the jacket sleeve poking out from under the pile of blankets on my bed. I shrugged it on and ran out to the car.

  My uncle was already in the passenger seat, waiting for me to climb in. Mama was drumming her hands against the steering wheel while I climbed into the back seat. She took off into the black night. We raced over a hill and around a bend in the road, where we shot straight into a car accident. Screaming, she swerved and stomped the brakes. The Pontiac slammed against something I didn’t see. I flew in the air and into the back of the driver’s seat with a slam, crumpling to the floor.