Crossing Over by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel Read Free Book Online Page A

only water.
    We reached the leprechaun-mobile in a quarter of the time it had taken us to walk to the top of Mont-Royal. Sid stationed
himself by the door, counting each one of us as we got on the bus. Tim the Motor Coach Operator looked startled and rumpled
in his seat up front, as if he’d been in a deep sleep.
    Jac and I had gotten separated from Ben on the jog down. I tried not to look for him as I brushed the water out of my hair.
WhatI did see, after glancing in his general direction, was that Britches had gotten on the bus with us, and was sitting
next to Beige Girl.
    I could just kill him. Except he was dead already.

Chapter 8
    Our next stop was supposed to be the Biodome. It was a short bus ride (or rather, motor coach journey according to Tim and
Sid) from Mont Royal, so I did not have to address the problem that two ghosts had now taken up residence in the seats across
the aisle from my soul mate, who had safely, if not dryly, made his way to the bus.
    “Look,” Jac was saying, waving the display screen of her digital camera around in front of me. “Look! Are you looking?”
    “I can’t look if you keep moving it around,Jac,” I responded, shifting in my seat. Next time Jac really ought to give me
the window seat. Ben had a window seat. At least then I would have the same view he had.
    “Give it,” I commanded, taking the camera from her and examining the image on the screen.
    It was actually a really nice picture of both of us. Ben’s eyes do this amazing thing when he smiles—it’s like some kind of
light is projecting out of them. If that wasn’t enough, his dark eyebrows angled slightly down on the outside, making him
look very compassionate, like he was ready to listen to all your problems.
    He wore his black hair in a short brush cut, which had remained unaffected by the stiff breeze up at Chateau Mont-Royal. His
olive green windbreaker was zipped up most of the way, giving him a sweetly sporty lookand complementing his almond complexion.
I could have stared at his picture for a very long time. If the appropriate technology existed, I’d have had the photo tattooed
on the inside of both my eyelids.
    I have to say I didn’t look so bad myself. Jac had snapped the picture just as Ben’s shoulder had brushed mine, and there
was a happy glow on my face. My smile looked real, probably because it was. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but I thought
we looked really nice together. He wasn’t too tall—only about three inches taller than me. Even the deep purple of my thick
fleece seemed to go nicely, without being matchy-matchy, with Ben’s jacket.
    The whole picture was so glorious I could almost, but not quite, ignore the small sphere of light that appeared slightly behind
and over our heads. Most people would dismiss itas a smudge of dust on the lens, perhaps lit by a stray ray of sunlight.
But I knew better. The round light object was a spirit orb—the manifestation on film of a ghost.
    Britches, I presumed.
    “So you have to go show it to him!” Jac said, nudging me enthusiastically.
    “I so do not!” I replied, in my best I-mean-it voice. “That would be really lame, Jac.”
    “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll just send it to his phone.”
    She got up on her knees and leaned over the back of the seat.
    “Ben. Hey, Ben!” she called to him where he sat in his usual seat, three rows back, as I repeatedly hissed the word
no
. “What’s your cell number? I want to send this picture to your phone.”
    I heard Ben’s voice, and numbers.
Why why why?
I thought. It seemed like Jac couldnever leave anything that related to Ben Greenblott and me alone.
    But giving it a little more thought, it
was
a good picture. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing in the world to let Ben see that we sort of looked cute together. I let the
outraged expression stay on my face, but inwardly I was a little happy. Very a little happy.
    “Sent it,” Jac said, plopping down next to me. “And now we have