Girl Meets Ghost by Lauren Barnholdt Read Free Book Online Page B

something. It’s different than when she saw Travis Santini in the mall. That was more like something that made her mad, and this . . . this is like she feels bad for someone else. Maybe she’s not as self-centered as I thought.
    I quickly tell her about Jen accusing me of looking for gossip. “And now . . .,” I sigh, “I have to somehow figure out a way to get her to talk to me. Which isn’t really going to be easy, since she thinks I’m a total crazy person.”
    â€œWell, Kendall, it was pretty crazy how you tried to track her down at school like that. And after practice! Everyone knows that no one comes to practices! It would have been better if you’d just gone to one of her meets or something.”
    I stare at her, incredulous. Now she’s telling me this? “ Now you’re telling me this?” I ask, throwing my hands into the air. “You could have told me that before this whole thing happened! And by the way, if you’re going to—” But I stop talking because Daniella’s face has gotten all scrunchy, and she’s wrinkling up her nose and staring off into space. “What?” I ask. “Are you remembering something?”
    â€œYes,” she says, pulling at her hair. “I mean, kind of. I’m . . . I’m remembering . . . digging.”
    â€œDigging?”
    â€œYeah, digging.”
    â€œDigging, like in the dirt?”
    â€œYes.” She looks at me and shakes her head. “And now it’s gone.”
    â€œGreat,” I say. I slide off the bench and flop down in the grass near my grandma’s headstone. I stare up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily with the breeze. “We are in so much freaking trouble.”
    Digging in the dirt? What kind of thing is that to remember? Why the heck would Daniella be digging? She’s definitely not the outdoorsy type. Is it possible she’s just remembering her own funeral? Maybe Jen didn’t come to her funeral, and so Daniella’s all mad about it? God, I hate this part. Trying to figure things out can be so frustrating!
    A little boy and a woman go walking by, holding hands. The woman gives me a sympathetic look, I guess because she thinks I’m mourning whoever’s grave I’m at. But even though I’m at my grandma’s grave, and I do miss her more than anything, I’m not sad for her. I know she’s moved on to somewhere better.
    â€œWhat’s she looking at?” Daniella asks, staring at the woman. “Move it, lady. Nothing to see here!” She waves her hand at her.
    I laugh, and the woman gives me a disapproving look.
    â€œCome on,” I say to Daniella, sighing and picking myself up off the grass. “Let’s get out of here.”
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    When I get home, my dad’s at the stove, stirring something really yummy-smelling in the frying pan. There’s a cut-up pile of tomatoes and lettuce sitting on a platter on the counter.
    â€œHey, honey,” he says. I peek into the frying pan.
    â€œMmmm, tacos,” I say, inhaling the scent of ground beef and spices. “Delish.”
    â€œTacos are so good,” Daniella says. “I wish I could have some.” Ghosts don’t really ever get hungry. But they do sometimes crave food. It’s like they can’t break the emotional attachment they have. “Not that I ever ate them much when I was alive.” She sighs. “I was always in training.”
    â€œTry this.” My dad holds a spoon of seasoned ground beef out to me. “Does it need anything?”
    â€œYum,” I say, eating it. “No, it’s perfect.”
    â€œSo how was studying after school?” he asks, turning back to the pan.
    â€œGood,” I say, feeling a little uncomfortable that I told my dad I was staying after again. But it’s not like I did it to hang out with Brandon. I was