chapter eleven

meghan

I should have expected Graham would turn the daily adding-of-the-tallies on the chalkboard into a gameshow-like production. He couldn’t have made it more cheesy, from the dramatic way he paused between each tally mark to gauge our reactions, to his exaggerated announcement of the daily winner.

“Personally, I love this contest,” Xander said, interlocking his fingers behind his head. Of course he loved it—he was leading me by six subscriptions. “You should make it more theatrical, Graham. I mean, no drumroll? No entrance music? It’s like you’re not even trying to motivate us.”

Graham scratched his chin. “You’re right…”

“God, don’t encourage him,” I scoffed. It was just the two of us seated at the conference table in the newsroom, since Byron and Devonte were preoccupied.

“If you were winning, you’d want a little more pomp and circumstance,” Xander said. “Maybe a confetti cannon.”

Graham snapped his fingers. “I’m writing that idea down.”

I crossed my arms, ignoring Graham to tease Xander. “Don’t you have a talking animal you should be interviewing?”

With a proud smirk, he said, “Don’t you have another boring ribbon cutting to attend?”

“Don’t you have another one of my friends to bribe?” I watched in satisfaction as Xander’s eyes widened. “Yeah, she told me. If you think–”

“Children,” Graham interrupted, standing before us at the front of the room like he was our teacher and we were his unruly pupils. When Xander continued to talk, explaining how he and Jillian were easily going to win this thing, Graham turned around and dragged the flat end of the chalk along the chalkboard. The deafening squeak made my hands shoot to my ears, and Xander muttered a stream of expletives. When Graham finally had our full attention, he sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry I had to resort to that. Now get out there and make me proud. Or at least less disappointed.”

After erasing the streak of chalk from the board, he turned back to us with a dismissive wave and left the room. The alarm on my phone went off, reminding me it was time to meet with Chase. He’d had all weekend to come up with some normal, non-ghostly stories to cover, and I hoped he wouldn’t let me down. “Ugh. I have to go meet with Chase.”

“I’m surprised you two haven’t killed each other yet,” Xander said. He was still slouching in his wooden chair at the conference table, yawning like he might fall back to sleep instantly if he laid his head down. “Has it been weird with him?”

Every now and then, Xander showed a morsel of genuine concern, and though I was now running late to meet with Chase, I decided to stay and continue this conversation with Xander. There weren’t many people in my life I could open up to—this opportunity was rare. I decided to take advantage. “It’s been interesting,” I said, “but not as horrible as I thought. I think we’ve pushed past the awkwardness and we’re both just trying to do our jobs. He even tried to buy me a coffee yesterday.”

“Does he still want you?”

I squinted. “Um, I seriously doubt that. I’m kind of mean to him.”

Xander rubbed one eye with his fist, a small grin appearing on his face. “You’d be surprised how that doesn’t deter a man. At all.”

“Is Abigail mean to you, Xan?”

He casually rested on his arms on the table. “Abigail…” He stopped to sigh. “Abigail is mean in a nurturing way. Like in a ‘why the hell haven’t you been to the doctor in five years’ kind of way.”

“Have you not been to the doctor in five years?”

“She made me go. She even went with me to make sure I didn’t skip it.”

I shook my head at him. “Xander,” I said, the word dripping with shame. How could he be so blind?

“What?”

“Friends don’t just go to the doctor together.”

“I’m sure they do all the time,” he said with the utmost confidence.

“Have you and Abigail ever had, you know, a conversation about your feelings?”

I peered into his unblinking blue-gray eyes, waiting for him to respond. He held my stare for a few seconds before finally lowering his gaze to the table, tracing the wooden pattern with his pointer finger. “Abigail doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“Have you asked?”

“Don’t need to. Anyway, I thought we were talking about you and Chase.”

Not wanting to discuss my work relationship with Chase any longer, I started gathering my things, sliding my pen into the spiral of my notebook. “You haven’t shared how working with Jillian is going.”

“That’s enough chit-chat,” he said, knocking twice on the table. “Good luck at your meeting,” And with a tight-lipped smile, he rose to his feet and retreated to his cubicle without even a glance in my direction. My head was filled with follow-up questions about his abrupt dismissal, but I suspected the repetitive notifications on my phone were from Chase. I was several minutes late now.

He’d asked me to meet him in an empty classroom on the third floor. I didn’t have to question how he’d discovered it—he‘d been up there searching for ghosts, no doubt. He was sitting on the old teacher’s desk when I arrived, his dangling feet partially concealing a hand drawn sign that read WE LOVE YOU, MRS. BARKER.

Chase picked up his phone to glance at the time. “Look who finally decided to show up.”

I ignored him, looking around the room. Half a dozen student desks were haphazardly stacked in the corner, looking like they might topple any second. Along the wall, there were a few posters featuring notable U.S. presidents. Washington was hanging upside down by a single piece of rolled-up tape, and Eisenhower’s photo was so faded, you could barely make out his features. I could almost feel the energy of the students who once sat in those desks and stared at these posters. “Any ghosts up here?” I asked.

Chase hesitated before answering, twiddling his thumbs between his knees like he didn’t want to admit he’d been up here with his equipment. “I didn’t pick up any readings.” He cleared his throat. “But it’s a good place to have a quiet lunch if you don’t want to be bothered.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Find your own abandoned classroom. This is my spot,” he said, but his lopsided smile indicated he didn’t really mean it. I just shook my head at him as I walked over to the stack of desks, carefully lifting one. Chase jumped up to help me, but I’d already managed to get it down without his assistance by the time he even took two steps. He retreated back to the teacher’s desk with a, “Hmmm,” as he pulled himself up.

“What? Are you surprised to see I can handle this myself?” I pushed the little desk toward the front of the room.

Chase’s devious smile irked me. “No. Just remembering… something.”

I slid onto the shiny blue chair attached to the desk, opening my notebook to the list of article ideas I’d spent all weekend compiling. “Something about me?”

When I looked up, I was surprised to see Chase’s ears were a little red–a surefire sign he was embarrassed about something. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it, Chase?” I asked, resting my chin on my fist. I wanted to make him squirm. “Tell me.”

“Nah. It’s not appropriate.”

“Well, now you have to tell me.”

Chase shook his head, but I can tell from the way he sighed I’d broken him. It was so easy to get him to concede. With his eyes fixed on the floor between my desk and his, he said, “I was just remembering how you had that… schoolgirl fantasy.”

I felt my own ears getting hot as he met my eyes. I couldn’t believe he was bringing that up right now. I internally cringed, picturing the schoolgirl outfit I still had in a tote in the back of my closet.

He’d said imagining me as a Catholic schoolgirl creeped him out, so we turned it into this whole sorority girl/professor thing—I wore the plaid skirt the entire time, and I insisted he keep his tie and glasses on.

Fuck, was he thinking about all of that right now, too?

“Sorority girl,” I corrected, pressing my palms flat against the laminate desktop. Chase was suddenly unable to look me in the eye, which I found oddly endearing. I could feel myself blushing harder when I remembered the way he growled, “You’re going to earn that A,” before sucking on his pinkie finger to lubricate it.

Chase always played into my little fantasies. Every last one. You might even say he ended up enjoying them more than me.

Sitting before me now, he gripped the edge of the teacher’s desk until his knuckles turned slightly white. How many times had those same, sturdy hands grasped my waist, slapped my ass, and brought me to completion? And why was all of that on my mind right now?

His Adam’s apple bobbed before he said, “Right. So… I made you a list.” He reached for his phone on the desk beside him, his hands trembling. Wow, talking about our past really rattled him. It was hard to focus on his words as he scrolled through his apps—I could only stare at his fingers. “Do you just want to look at it yourself?”

“What?” I realized he was leaning forward to give me his phone. “Oh, sure.” I laid his phone atop my notebook and read the list in his notes app.

Skate park dev news

Feral cats

Candy shop turning 75 (Meg likes their buckeyes)

Evil bradford pear trees

Homeless pop. of Woodvale

Local music scene?

I put his phone down and covered my mouth to hide my smile. “What?” Chase asked. “Are they bad ideas? Is it the evil trees?”

“Look at my list, Chase,” I said, picking up my notebook and thrusting it outward. He took it from me, and before long, he was smiling, too, because our lists were strikingly similar. The invasive Bradford pears, the anticipated skate park, and the growing feral cat population—they were all on mine, too. And like him, I’d included a mention of my love for the buckeyes at Colemans’ Candies.

He lowered my notebook to look at me. “You forgot ‘local music scene, question mark ?’”

“Do we have one?” I raised an eyebrow.

“That’s the question.”

I let out a tiny chuckle and crossed my arms. “Well, that’s a good list. I’m actually impressed you did your homework.”

He opened his mouth to say something only to bring his lips back together a second later. Whatever he had been about to say, he’d decided against it. I watched as he licked his lips, reconsidering his words. “Yeah… and I refrained from adding any ghost sightings or witchy cults.”

“I’m sure that was very hard for you,” I said, scribbling something down in my notebook. “What was that part about the Woodvale homeless population? Do you know something?”

“I hoped you’d favor that one. And no, I don’t know anything that’s necessarily newsworthy, but I’ve talked to Lenny a lot, and I know there’s a story there.”

I knew who he was talking about—Lenny was a Woodvale icon. He rode his bicycle from one end of the town to the other day after day, collecting aluminum cans and talking to anyone who would stop for a chat. And he lived in the–

My face fell. “You just want to go to the abandoned orphanage.”

“What? No,” Chase said, but he sounded guilty as sin. “Why, is that where he lives these days?”

“Everyone knows that’s where he’s been staying. Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“I forgot.”

I shot a stubborn smile in his direction. “Well, regardless, there might be a story there. Everyone in town has a Lenny story, but nobody really knows him. We could talk about his life while shining a light on homelessness in Woodvale.”

“That’s more or less what I was thinking.”

“Good. I’m going to do some research and prepare some questions.” I flipped to a blank page in my notebook. “Let’s make sure to approach this in a respectful, non-exploitative way.”

“Agreed. Let him keep his dignity.” He looked down at his phone as he typed something with his thumb. “Maybe I’ll ask him if he has any ghostly roommates.”

I sighed. “Chase.”

He looked down at me with a grin. “Relax, Wednesday. I’m only kidding.”

“When are you going to stop calling me that?”

“How about… never?”

“That’s fine, I’ll just give you an annoying nickname, too.” I thought for a minute. “What are the Ghostbusters’ names?”

“Uh… Peter, Ray, Egon, and Winston?”

Of course he knew. “Which one’s the worst?”

Chase raised an eyebrow at me. “In what context?”

“You know what, never mind. I’m just going to call you Egon because his name sounds the dumbest.”

We locked eyes, and for a few seconds, neither of us said anything. His ever-present smirk was still there, but I was more distracted by his tousled hair, which looked like it might have a little bit of product in it to give it that perfect, deliberately messy look.

I taught him how to do that.

He licked his lips. “Look at that, I’ve gone from ‘professor’to ‘doctor’ with you,” he said, his voice dipping lower to that teasing, husky tone he used to use with me. He knew exactly what that tone did to me back in the day.

“On second thought,” I said, flipping my notebook shut, “I’ll stick to calling you ‘dumbass.’”

Chase just tilted his head to the side, giving me the usual smug, subtle grin, like he knew I didn’t really mean it. His charm was getting through to me, and he could tell.