Ghosting Read Online Free PDF

feels good.
    Sometimes I still can’t believe
    that Chloe Carney wants to be with me.
    I put my arms around her,
    but out of the corner of my eye
    I catch sight of Maxie getting back
    into the car.

FELIX
    while the anil kid and chloe carney are off at the swing set, probably making out, brendan’s cell buzzes. he gets out of the car to answer it. max reappears, sliding back into her seat. she doesn’t open her moonbuzz and i can tell she doesn’t want to drink it. not my favorite brew either, but no big.
    up front, emma is slowly, steadily drinking hers, quiet, watching brendan through the front windshield. suddenly she turns around and looks me straight in the eye.
    Why’d you quit soccer, Felix?
Emma asks.
    Tore my ACL,
I say.
    she keeps looking at me. then shakes her head.
    That was sophomore year. I saw you play since then, that game with Harvest Prep last year. You were amazing. A rock star.
    i was, too. got a recruiting e-mail a week later from georgetown.
    So?
she says.
    Never healed right. And I reinjured it.
    she turns back to looking out the front windshield. i can tell she doesn’t believe me.
    That was some game,
she says.
That Harvest Prep game.
    she’s right about that. some game, best i ever played. best night of my life, until it turned into the worst night of my life. the night my world went away. vanished. kerflooey.
    Anyone want a hit?
I say.
    i can feel max looking at me, puzzled. she still wears how she feels on her face, even when she’s trying not to. one of the things i always liked about her. nobody else says anything. until emma pipes up, her voice a little fuzzy already.
    Too bad about that ACL. Bet you would’ve gotten a full ride.
    Yeah,
I say with a shrug.
    would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

MAXIE
    Ever since he got in the car
    I’ve been trying to figure out
    Felix.
    What’s different about him,
    other than
    the pot.
    And suddenly
    it hits me.
    Underneath
    the grin
    and the nonchalance
    and the smoke,
    Felix is sad.
    I mean really sad.
    Hey, douche bags, let’s go,
calls Brendan to Anil and Chloe, who are entwined by the swing set.
Axel said to get over there, party’s starting to rock.
    I am so
not
looking forward
    to this
    so-called “rocking” party.
    It’s not that I’m anti-drinking.
    Don’t mind a glass or two of wine,
    getting a little tipsy
    like we sometimes did
    back in Colorado.
    But kids at these kinds of parties,
    the kind Mr. MoonBuzz,
    cocaine-in-a-can Brendan,
    would want to go to,
    well, we’re not talking a
little
buzz.
    We’re talking a messy,
    drink till you puke
    all over yourself
    booze fest.
    And somehow it’s just
    not the way
    I want to meet and greet
    these kids I’ll be seeing for
    the first time
    in four years.
    The party house has tons of cars
    parked in front and
    music blaring from open windows.
    Brendan has to park
    a few blocks away
    and just as he turns off the motor
    I spot a kid
    throwing up
    into a neighbor’s
    pot of geraniums.
    Nice.
    Welcome back to Illinois, Max,
says Felix, who saw the guy, too.
    I take a
    deep breath.
    As everyone begins to pile out,
    Felix looks sideways at me.
    Hey, guys,
he announces,
I’m feeling a little trashed. Think I’ll stay here. Keep me company?
he adds in my direction.
    I nod,
    relieved.
    Lightweight,
Brendan says but tosses Felix the car keys.
Lock it when you decide to come in. Just don’t be going joyriding or anything. And guard that MoonBuzz with your life. If any’s missing when I get back, you’re dead meat.
    Anil and Chloe climb past us again.
    I’m getting used to her
    sweet, fruity perfume
    and his
    clean, soapy smell.
    Thanks,
I say to Felix after they’re gone.
You must be a mind reader.
    Your face is pretty easy to read, Max.
    I know,
I say.
It’s really annoying.
    No, I like it. Besides, I’m not that into partying.
    I look at him,
    skeptical.
    Well, not this kind of party. Stoner parties are a lot mellower. Speaking of which . . .
    He pulls out a plastic bag
    and some