Ghost Time Read Free

moment he took that picture, what I was saying was, Don’t leave! I turned over, and I go, What do I have to do to get you to stay? And Cam goes, Thee, look at this. Look how beautiful you are, as he showed me the picture he took.
    The thing is, I really hated that picture when he first showed it to me, but now I kind of like it. Not because it’s the best picture of my butt, definitely not, but because… because it’s true, you know? It’s so true. I mean, I’m not beautiful—I never really feel that way about myself, on my own. But when I look at Cam, when I see me the way he sees me, I don’t know what happens, but I’m the most beautiful girl in the world.

MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011
    (FOUR HOURS LATER)
    9:26 PM
    I called him twice, and I texted him, too, like, three or four times before I went to bed—he couldn’t still be tutoring after ten o’clock, right? Usually he calls right back, but I don’t know, I figured maybe he was working on his car—sometimes he’ll stay out in the garage, working on his car until, like, two, three in the morning. Cam’s a total night owl—he’ll stay up half the night, working on his car, or taking drives, or writing equations in our notebook: part geometry; part hieroglyphics; part graffiti tags. Cam has a written language all his own that he shares with me—it’s crazy and beautiful, in no particular order. Anyhow, he loves to work at night, so I didn’t worry about it, really.
    And since I figured he was working, I decided I better get some work done, too. Not homework—please, instead of talking to Cam all night, I spent the night working on some drawingsI’m making for him. For the past couple months now, I’ve been designing something I like to think of as our Barbie Dreamhouse. Which looks like a five-thousand-square-foot downtown loft in New York pretty much. Except that in Thea and Cam’s Barbie Dreamhouse, we’ve got this enormous wooden half-pipe, so Cam can skate anytime he wants, rain or shine. And we have also got all these projectors mounted that project wall-size skateboard and surfing and old BMX movies all day, and I have this huge walk-in closet that’s bigger than our whole apartment. It’s not serious or anything—I mean, it’s not like I think we’re going to get married and I’ve already named all our unborn children or whatever—it’s just a place I’m making for the two of us. Like if I could stop time and go anywhere I want to go, I’d be with Cam, and that’s where I’d take him, to our home.

MONDAY, APRIL 4, 2011
    (FOUR HOURS EARLIER)
    1:37 PM
    I’ve gotten used to it, the way people look at him all the time, because he’s such a pretty boy. He’s tall and thin and has this ruddy skin, never gets any zits. Sandy-blond hair, thin eyebrows, thin nose, long eyelashes that almost look like he uses a curling wand, with these big gray eyes—and his bone structure, like his cheekbones, are
to die
. And I’m not just saying that because he’s my boyfriend, either. Everyone notices, even guys.
    Seriously, Cam started shaving his head last year, and it makes his cheekbones stand out even more, so I started calling him Hitboy. Like the video game
Hitman
, right? So we cut last period, and on our way to my house, we pulled over to get some gas. Cam was about to get out, and I go, Wait—I’ve got to rub the Buddha. What I mean is, Cam’s got really thick hair, so after he shaves his head it gets all soft and bristly, and I can’t stop buffing his head with my hand ’cause it feels so good.
    So he leaned over, and I rubbed my hand back and forth a couple times. Okay, I said, but he’s such a smart-ass, he goes, Anything else you want to rub? I was just like, Keep your pants on, Buddha, and he goes, You know, Buddha was quite a lady’s man, and I rolled my eyes, and I go, Just fill ’er up, will you? And then Cam goes—never mind. I don’t know what it is, but boys and crudeness, it’s like a pig in mud, you know what I mean?