to his camera and barks orders at us from behind the viewfinder.
Junie stands behind him and directs me with hand gestures, helping me find poses to
hide my ravaged neck and chin.
The photographer yells for, like, the millionth time, âSherry, look up! Eyes off
your shoes.â
Junie shakes her head, index finger pointing to the ground.
I bob my head up marginally, then back down.
Dad gives an exasperated âFor Peteâs sake, Sherry, canât you
follow simple directions?â
Even The Ruler is no longer bubbling like champagne.
GI Joe strides over, grasps my chin in one hand and my forehead in the other and
angles them up. He frowns at my skin. âIâll have to do touch-ups.â
I snap.
âNo more pictures!â I scream over my shoulder as I fly into the house
and lock myself in the upstairs bathroom. Forget about not losing control. At least I manage to hold
back the tears until after the door lock clicks into place.
What has happened to me? Iâve turned into a geyser with all this crying.
Iâm probably dehydrated.
I slurp some water from a paper cup, ignoring the science info printed on the side.
Thanks to The Ruler, even brushing our teeth is an educational experience. Then I peel off the ugly
bridesmaid dress and stuff it in the wicker trash basket.
Standing back from the mirror over the sink, I gaze at all the angry red bumps. From the
waist up, I look like a lizard alien from Planet Grotesque. The rash is getting worse. Itâs up to
the circles under my eyes.
Knock, knock.
I donât answer. Lizard aliens from Planet Grotesque donât talk. They do
listen, though, and I press my ear to the door. Itâs Junie and The Ruler.
âMaybe itâd be better if you talked to her,â The Ruler says. She
actually sounds concerned.
âOkay,â Junie says.
âLet her know sheâs not needed for any more pictures.â
Like that was going to happen, anyway.
The Ruler adds, âHer uncleâs picking up some topical cream and
Benadryl from the pharmacy.â
Thereâs silence for a moment. I guess Junieâs waiting for The Ruler to
leave. Junieâs a great friend, the perfect friend. I couldnât have picked a better best
friend.
Knock, knock.
âItâs me,â Junie says.
âCan you grab me some clothes?â I unlock and crack the door.
Within minutes, sheâs in the bathroom, shorts and a T-shirt draped over her
arm. Her eyes widen. âYouâre a mess.â
âTell me about it.â I slip on my outfit, then drop the lid on the toilet seat
and sink down. âEverything about my life is a mess, a big, ginormous, awful
disaster.â
Junie puts a hand on my shoulder.
And I think maybe itâs her hand, that physical connection with my best friend,
that tips me over the edge. Junie, the one person who can help me out of the overwhelming craziness
and scariness of ghost mother + mystery challenge + wedding + rash + Josh.
Whatever the exact reason, itâs like I canât help myself. Before I realize
it, my mouth is open. And the words are tumbling out, pushing and elbowing each other in their rush to
exit. I blurt out the whole entire story of my mother and the rhino mystery at the Wild Animal
Park.
Junieâs jaw drops. âYour motherâs a ghost?â
I nod.
She crosses her arms. âAnd you have to help her solve a
mystery?â
I nod again. âThis is the biggest, most important challenge of my life. I
canât do it without you. You have to help me.â
âOh, Sherry.â Junieâs face is long with concern. âOh,
Sherry.â She shakes her head. âOh, Sherry.â
All the guests have left. Iâm sitting on the landing at
the top of the stairs, listening to the normal sounds below. Samâs playing Wii Sports, probably
now changed into his fave Diamondback T-shirt. Dad and The Ruler are in the kitchen,
Learning to Kill: Stories