Discalimer: None of the characters that Meg Cabot made up belong to me.
Like I said he looked kind of confused at first. Then he smiled, showing his pearly whites. He was really more of a 'Ghost Man' then 'Ghost boy' but Ghost Boy sounded so much cooler. He was wearing a tux which was pretty strange. He actually looked quite good in it but he looked a bit too old for me. He looked more like was almost to his thirties. He didn't have a grey hair on his head, it was all black, and a bit longer then normal and he had this scar right above his eye that looked halfway cool. He was surprisingly trim, and fit for an older man.
"What is your name?" he asked obviously ignoring my demand for him to get out. Usually ghosts wondered out loud 'You can see me?' but this guy didn't. He was full of surprises. My mouth may have dropped open a little at hearing this but it was quickly shut when Ghost Boy laughed. My face felt slightly hotter then before.
"Like I'd tell you. You'll--" as soon as I was about to tell him off in some Spanish but I heard my name being called. Very loudly. Lola just had to ruin this moment for me. As soon as I told him that he wouldn't know my name Lola goes and starts calling it at the top of her lungs like this house is so big that she has to.
"Jesse the movie is starting!" She yelled from downstairs. I looked at the door as if she was standing there. If she were standing there though, I would've given her my 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' glare'. She would ignore it of course like she usually did, or she would ask me what was wrong, or if I was trying to fart. I yelled that I would 'be down in a sec' back to her. Her reply was 'I'm counting'.
"Listen buddy, if I see you in this house again, I'm going to have kick your ghost extremo." I pointed a finger at him making sure he understood very clearly. He just disappeared. I had the feeling that he wouldn't listen me, and that I would find him meandering around the house in the next couple of days. I sighed, I was tired and Ghost boy wasn't making my life any easier. I went downstairs and fell on the couch, laying my whole body across it, when Lola came in, a bowl of popcorn in one hand and some sodas in the other. Lola, in her New York life, was a waitress who sometimes had to cook due to cook the cook constantly feeling the need to run away and hide out for a while. It's true, when the official cook has enough money she just leaves a note on the door of the restaurant and takes off. Which is good for Lola because the 'chef' gets paid more then a waitress, and if it weren't for that Lola wouldn't know how to cook. Lola was actually really good at cooking.
"No talking in Spanish. I hate not understanding anything you say to me." She declared sitting down.
"¡Usted lo obtuvo!" I exclaimed with a smile. She reached over and smacked the back my head. "Okay amiga. I'll quit." I lied. So maybe I wasn't going to fully stop talking in Spanish. She wasn't going to notice I was even speaking a different language once the movie started.
Suzannah's POV
I walked through the front door and was greeted to the sight of Jesse and her friend, Lola, asleep. Jessie was on the couch and Lola was reclined back in the leather recliner, her arm was hanging over the edge and her mouth was open. I wondered if she knew that she snored lightly in her sleep, or that she drooled the tiniest bit. I stuck my tongue out (in a grossed out manner) when I saw my daughter--my own flesh and blood-- lying on the couch with a wet puddle of drool on her pillow. I had only seen my brothers do something grosser then that but they weren't blood related so it didn't matter. Then I began to worry that maybe I did that in my sleep. If I did then Jesse (the guy) was sure to see it and annoyingly note how 'cute' it was.
"Don't worry querida you don't drool in your sleep. Though you do have a habit of talking a little bit." Jesse (the guy) said startling me.
"Jesse," I exclaimed. It was then that I decided that I was going to call my daughter something different because having both Jesse's around was a bit confusing. Sometimes someone would call out her name and I'd look around to look for Jesse (the guy). "You have to stop doing that." I breathed. He smiled.
"Who is she?" he asked gesturing his head at my daughter. His daughter. I thought it was kind of pathetic that all of these years I couldn't even get the courage to tell him that he had a kid. It was also a bit pathetic that all these years and he didn't even notice her. I opened my mouth and shut it again. It failed to make any noise. I tried clearing my throat.
"I--uh--that's--she's"--I was stammering searching for the right way to say it. Which was funny because all of these years I had pictured telling him this, very calmly and coolly, but now I couldn't even remember all of those things that I had planned to say.