Morgan laughed again. “The report . . . Did it say how I died? Did I have some kind of exotic disease? Or . . . wait . . . Did someone murder me?”
For some reason, Zane thought that was a riot and uttered a roar of laughter. “You’re a ghost, Morgan,” he said, squeezing her arm. “Are you going to haunt us all?”
“The—the letter said it was a car accident,” I said.
Morgan nodded. Her smile faded. “Did you say five years ago? And which school were the records from?”
“Five years. And it was Shadyside Middle School.”
“Really? Weird. I don’t understand the mix-up at all.” Her eyes flashed. “I’m glad you were worried about me, Julie.”
“We thought maybe you were a zombie,” Amber chimed in. “That would be exciting.”
“Well, I have been known to eat human flesh,” Morgan joked.
Zane turned and made growling noises as he pretended to chew on her shoulder. I noticed a bandage going down Zane’s cheek. “What happened to your face?”
He shrugged. “Morgan and I were tossing a Frisbee back and forth. I was telling her about our Ultimate Frisbee games. She threw one too high and fast and—I was such a klutz. I missed it and it cut my cheek.”
“You should have seen the blood,” Morgan said. “I felt so bad. It was a deep cut.” A strange smile crossed her face. She patted Zane’s hand. “Zane is a real bleeder.”
Zane came over after dinner the next night. He tossed his jacket onto the bench in the entryway, dropped onto the brown leather couch in the den, slipped his backpack to the carpet, and gazed around with those serious, dark raccoon eyes. “Where are your parents?”
“Went to a movie,” I said.
Zane used to spend a lot of time at our house. His parents were going through a bad time, and my home was like a safe place for him. He tried to make jokes about his parents’ arguments. But I knew him too well. I could see the trouble was tearing him apart.
When they divorced and his father moved away, I think it was kind of a relief for him.
I lowered a basket of tortilla chips and a bowl of salsa onto the coffee table and sat down at the other end of the couch. Sure enough, I heard the click of toenails on the wood floor in the hall, and Yancey, our French bulldog came waddling in, wagging his stubby tail.
Yancey adores Zane. For some reason, he likes Zane even better than he likes me.
Yancey barked to be picked up. He’s too big a tub to jump on the couch by himself. Zane groaned as he lifted the dog up beside him. Yancey insisted on licking his face. The dog nearly licked the bandage off his cheek.
Yancey finally calmed down and plopped next to Zane, waiting for Zane to start petting his back.
“I should do a comedy bit about Yancey,” Zane said, wiping dog drool off his face with one hand. “Maybe like how unsanitary dogs are. And they know it, see. They don’t really like to lick people. They are just on a mission to spread germs. Make us all sick. Take over the world.”
He lowered his gaze to Yancey. “What do you think? Pretty funny?”
Yancey began panting and put what looked like a grin on his round face.
“Look. He likes it,” Zane said. “He’s laughing.”
I rolled my eyes. “He’s a pushover,” I said. “He laughs at dust balls on the floor.” I took a handful of chips. “Do you have any new ideas?”
“For sure.” Zane reached into his backpack and pulled out an iPad. He tapped a few things, then brought the screen to his face. “Uh . . . One idea is about dissecting frogs in biology lab. I mean, why frogs? They’ve been doing that for a hundred years. Why not make it more interesting, you know? More exciting. Like if the lab teacher brought in a giraffe? Wouldn’t that be a lot more exciting, to dissect a giraffe?”
I chewed for a while. I knew he expected me to laugh or at least smile. But I thought it was a terrible idea.
“What else have you got?” I asked.
He squinted at the iPad. “I’ve been working on this routine about a girlfriend. See, I’ll say I have this real bossy girlfriend. She always has to get her way. Then maybe something about how she even tells me when I can go to the bathroom. Like, she has a special hall pass for me at her house. Stuff like that.”
You don’t have a girlfriend, I thought.
“That’s a lot more promising,” I said. “We should work up some more bossy-girlfriend jokes.” And then, without thinking, I blurted out, “Are you going out with Morgan?”
I could see that my question surprised him. He lowered the iPad to his lap. “No, I’m not. I asked Morgan if she wanted to do something this weekend. I asked her last night at Benson’s. And she said she was busy.”
Yancey groaned and pressed his body closer against Zane’s leg. Zane scratched the back of the dog’s ears.
He leaned closer to me. “You know about the bet, right? I mean, Amber heard about it. I’m sure she told you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know about the bet. You guys are so mature.”
“Well, I think Winks won,” Zane said. “I think Winks and Morgan are going to be a thing. He—”
“Everyone knows about the bet but Delia,” I said. “If it’s true, Delia will be heartbroken. You know she’s totally in love with Winks.”
Zane sighed. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “Winks says it’s over between him and Delia. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
“You mean he hasn’t told her?” I said, raising my voice. “He’s breaking up with her, and he hasn’t told her?”
“Pretty much,” Zane replied. He avoided my gaze, kept his eyes down on Yancey.
“This is bad news,” I said. “Delia will be seriously messed up.”
Zane didn’t reply for a long while. It was so quiet in the room, I could hear the clock ticking on the mantel.
“You guys are ridiculous,” I said. “That bet is just . . . juvenile. Not to mention piggish. None of you would be interested in her if she wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous.”
“You’re right,” Zane said, still avoiding my eyes. “So what’s your point?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know what my point is. But—”
“You should tell Delia,” he said, finally turning to me. “You should do it, Julie. You’re Delia’s friend.”
“No way!” I cried. I jumped to my feet. “Winks has to step up, Zane. You have to talk to Winks and tell him to stop being a baby and just be straight with Delia.”
Zane rubbed a hand through his short brown hair. “I don’t know . . .”
“You have to do it, Zane,” I said. “Delia has to know—uh—”
I stopped because Delia stood in the den doorway.
I blinked, making sure she was really there. Zane made a startled gulp sound.
“No one answered the door,” she said, “so I just came in. Did I hear someone mention my name?”
I opened my mouth to answer.
“Uh . . . We were just trying to figure out a comedy routine,” Zane said first. “It’s about these three girls who make a bet they can be the first to get this guy.”
“Sounds very sophisticated,” Delia said sarcastically. “Not your kind of thing.”
“Oooh.” Zane motioned a knife going into his chest. “I think I’ve just been trolled.”
“Has anyone heard from Winks?” Delia asked. “Do you know where he is? I’ve been trying him all night, and I can’t reach him.”
