Beetlejuice ran to the mirror on his dresser.
The curtains were pulled in Lydia's room. It was warm with early evening light. A suitcase lay open on the bed, with folded clothes beside it. Black boots and black Converse sneakers with a skull and spider web design were on the floor beside the bed.
But where was she?
Beetlejuice heard the sound of a hanger being hooked in the closet, and pressed his face against the portal. Lydia stepped from the closet. Her hair was pinned back; she wore a red t-shirt, a black, pleated skirt, and flat-soled black shoes. He could see the black suit jacket she'd just hung up.
"Hey!" Beetlejuice shouted.
Lydia started. "Oh. You."
"Yeah, me! Where've you been?"
"Locked in a car with Delia for seven hours. And Dad. Though Dad's presence was pretty much unnoticeable. As always." Lydia plunked down on the bed. She popped off one shoe with the toe of the other, then kicked off the first.
"Did ya just get in? Why didn't ya call for me th' second you guys got into Peaceful Pines? I coulda been waitin'—"
"It's been a long day. Okay?" Lydia wiped her hands across her face.
"Makeup? What th' hell are ya wearin' makeup for?"
"Because one wears makeup when one's stepmother makes the family have dinner with one's new Dean." Lydia's voice was very dry and weary. "The Deetz's are very popular in academia. We have a lot of money, you know. Even with the collapse in the real estate market. Apparently, Dad had the good sense to shift his interests into technology." The young woman sighed. "It's been a long month."
"Let me in, an' tell me all about it!" Beetlejuice hopped eagerly.
She gazed at the mirror with tired eyes.
"Lyds?"
"I really need to get to sleep."
"But…It's not even dark yet."
"I really do."
"But…"
Lydia took a dark cranberry shawl from the suitcase and walked to the dresser with the mirror on it. She flipped the large, oval mirror towards the wall.
"Lyds! What's gotten into ya?"
"'Bye." The shawl was draped over the mirror, effectively blocking all sight and sound from Lydia's bedroom.
Beetlejuice stared at the silent black oval of his mirror.
"'Bye?"' Not "See ya tomorrow?" Or even "Good night, sleep tight, hope the bedbugs bite?'
Beetlejuice sat on the mattress of his coffin bed, his hands limp between his knees.
She didn't say she missed me. That she was happy to see me. A realization, more disturbing than the others, hit him.
She didn't say my name. Not even once.