My goodness! With the three month anniversary of not updating approaching I new I had to update. I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner. I kept meaning to, but it kept getting pushed to the back of my priority list. I'm soooo sorry. I promise updates with be more regular now.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Hate to disappoint everyone who thought I was Meg Cabot. (It's called sarcasm. Learn it, Live it, Love it.)

So on with chapter 3….

/3/

The girl scowled, and in an unenthusiastic voice said, "Never mind, Mom. Everything's fine. The room is great. Thanks so much."

The girl's mother looked skeptical, but to what looked like the girl's relief the mother didn't press. The mother smiled though, and said, "Well, I'm glad you like it. I was sort of worried. I mean, I know how you get about… well, old places." I tried not to be offended. What was wrong with old things?

"Really mom. It's great. I love it." The girl really tried hard to look convincing.

At this, the father, a man I had come to know as Andy, smiled excitedly and proceeded to show around the room, including the clap-on lights. The useless things people came up with these days….

She really tried hard to be happy, I could tell. And she did a pretty good job too.

When Andy finished his little tour of the girl's room, he left the room, leaving the girl and her mother.

"Is it really all right, Suze?" Her mother asked. "I know it's a big change. I know it's asking a lot of you—"

The girl took off her black jacket that would have had her condemned, and did something that would have, in my time, had her severely punished. She interrupted her mother.

"It's fine mom. Really." She said, a bit too gruffly in my opinion. Her mother seemed unfazed.

"I mean, asking you to leave Grandma, and Gina, and New York. It's selfish of me. I know. I know things haven't been… well, easy for you. Especially since Daddy died."

I didn't know her grandmother, or this Gina person, but after hearing that her father had died, my heart swelled with grief for her.

Her mother went on to talk about what she called "fresh starts" while the girl rolled her eyes a lot, when she thought no one was paying attention.

"Well," her mother said finally. "I guess if you don't want help unpacking, I'll go see how Andy is doing with dinner."

"Yeah Mom," I cringed at the slang word "Yeah." Yes. I felt like telling her. The word is yes. "You go do that. I'll just get settled here, and I'll be down in a minute.

Her mother nodded and got up. But as she got to the door, she turned around, and I saw her eyes fill with tears. "I just want you to be happy, Susie. That's all I've ever wanted. Do you think you can be happy here?"

The girl gave her mother a hug and said, "Sure mom. Sure I'll be happy here. I feel at home already." At that moment, I decided I liked this girl a lot. Even though she couldn't see me, she'd be a good roommate. She wanted to make her mother happy.

"Really? You swear?" Her mother said, on the verge of more tears.

"I do." She said. And I was surprised to realize that now she was actually sincere.

Her mother left, and the girl closed the door. After a few seconds, she did something that to this day will surprise me forever. She turned around, looking straight at me, and said, "All right. Who the hell are you?"

-

I was shocked. I looked over my shoulder, just in case, to make sure I was alone. Could she honestly be talking to me? I was so shocked, in fact, that her language almost didn't faze me. In my day, it wasn't proper for women to use those words.

"Nombre de Dios." I said.

"It's no use calling on your higher power," She said to me. "In case you haven't noticed, He isn't paying a whole lot of attention to you. Otherwise, He wouldn't have left you here to fester for—" She paused, as her eyes scanned my clothes. "What is it, a hundred and fifty years? Has it really been that long since you croaked?"

This girl spoke in a manner I was most unfamiliar with. She was a girl who obviously was comfortable taking charge, and that definitely wasn't something that I ran into a lot when I was still alive. And that word… croaked? I stared at her confused.

"What is croaked?" I asked, although it was almost difficult to speak, having not used my voice for so very long. She rolled her eyes, I noticed. "Kicked the bucket. Checked out. Popped off. Bit the dust." I still had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. "Died." She said in an exasperated voice.

"Oh," I said, upset that she was speaking to me so condescendingly. I shook my head at her. "I don't understand," I was still recovering from the shock of her actually being able to see me, let alone answer any questions she was asking. "I don't understand how it is that you can see me. All these years no one has ever—"

And then, I am surprised to say, she cut me off, just like she had her mother.

"Yeah," she said. YES. I thought. It's yes. "Well listen, the times, you know, they are a-changin'. So what's your glitch?" She said.

I just blinked at her. I had no idea what she was talking about. At all. She was using these words that I did not understand the meaning of, such as "glitch" and she expected me to answer.

"Glitch?" I asked. I was expecting her to roll her eyes some more, or do something equally vulgar, but she didn't.

Instead, she said, "Yeah," YES! She cleared her throat. "Glitch. Problem. Why are you still here?"

I stared at her. This girl was fascinating, albeit confusing. "Why haven't you gone to the other side?" She asked, in a frustrated tone.

I shook my head. I was still confused. "I don't know what you mean."

"What do you mean you don't know what I mean?" She yelled at me. "You're dead. You don't belong here. You're supposed to be off, doing whatever it is people do when they're dead. Rejoicing in heaven, or burning in hell, or being reincarnated, or ascending plane of consciousness or whatever. You're not supposed to be just… well, hanging around." This girl was fiery. And short tempered.

I looked at her and resisted my urge to use her habit of rolling my eyes. "And what if I happen to like just hanging around?" I asked, also resisting the urge to laugh.

"Look, you can do all the hanging around you want, amigo." I inwardly cringed. She called me amigo. "Slack away. I don't really care. But you can't do it here."

I looked at her for a second, before I said, "Jesse."

"What?" She said.

"You called me amigo. I thought you might like to know that I have a name. It's Jesse." I surprised myself with the slight sarcasm I had in my voice.

She nodded. "Right. That figures. Well, fine, Jesse then. You can't stay here, Jesse."

"And you?" I was smiling now, blatantly ignoring what she was telling me. It was actually kind of fun. She was getting frustrated with me, and I was actually enjoying it.

"And me, what?" She said rather rudely. I just kept smiling at her. This was rather enjoyable.

"What is your name?"

She glared at me, and I so badly wanted to laugh. "Look. Just tell me what you want and get out. I'm hot and I want to change clothes. I don't have time to—"

She interrupted me, so I had no problem inturupting her. "That women—your mother—called you Susie. Short for Susan?"

"Susannah." She said. "As in, 'Don't you cry for me.'"

I smiled. I used to sing that song to my sister. "I know that song."

"Yeah. It was probably in the top forty the year you were born, huh?" I had no idea what the top forty was, but the face she was making was amusing, so I smiled.

"So this is your room now, is it, Susannah?" I asked.

"Yeah," She said. "Yeah, this is my room. So your going to have to clear out."

I thought it was funny she assumed she could make me 'clear out.' I've been leaving here for years. "I'm going to have to clear out?" I asked. I raised an eyebrow. "This has been my home for a century and a half. Why do I have to leave it?"

"Because." She said. She was getting angry, and I found it rather cute. "This is my room, and I'm not sharing it with some dead cowboy."

Dead cowboy. Dead Cowboy. She did not just call me a dead cowboy. I lept up and stomped my foot. "I am not a cowboy." Under my breath I added, "Niña loca, no sabes que dices."

"Woah!" She said. "Down. Down, boy."

I waved my finger in her face. "My family worked like slaves to make something of themselves in this country, but never, never as a vaquero—"

"Hey," She said. Then she did something I will also never forget. She yanked on my hand and pulled me closer to her. I was so shocked at the contact, I stopped talking. "Stop with the mirror already. And stop shoving your finger in my fave. Do it again, and I'll break it."

I paled at that very moment. I could tell she was absolutely serious.

I looked at my hand still shocked. How had she touched me? Grabbed me, even?

"Now, look, Jesse. This is my room, understand? You can't stay here. You've either got to let me help you get to where you're supposed to go, or you're going to have to find some other house to haunt. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

I was still shocked. Who was this girl? What in the world was going on. Nombre de Dios, help me.

"Who are you? What kind of… girl are you?" I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

"I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not," she said. "I'm not the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite sex. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you some time to think about it. But when I get back, Jesse, I want you gone."

And then she turned around and left the room.

I was angry. Very angry. How could she talk to me like that? She didn't even know me.

So I disappeared, and hung out in the beyond for a bit, just to blow off some steam. One thing was sure, I was not going to leave that house.

/3/

I promise to do review responses next time! I'm too sleepy to do it now… I'm really sorry about not updating sooner, so I made this chapter longer :)

I decided to do two chapters. Where the (-) is, that's where the first chapter ended. I'll update soon, I promise.

Love,

Monica