Chapter 6: Do you have any unfinished business?

I take Sharpay back to my house, but, alas, it's just another strange place for her.

"Who else lives here?" She wanders into the kitchen, floats through the wall, and then inspects the dining room.

"Just me, my mom and my hamster." I lay my bag down with a thump and motion for her to come up to my room.

Sharpay takes a moment to regard her reflection in my full-length mirror, twirling translucent strands of thin, angel hair. I remark that when the light streaming through my window a certain way, she seems to glow, looking ethereal.

"I can see myself," she says, a little stunned, and fluffs her blonde waves.

"I thought it was vampires with no reflections. Ghosts have been photographed before." I perch myself on the end of my bed. This gets me thinking about other things that I once thought were nonexistent. Ghosts, I now know, are real. Are mermaids, too? And Edward Cullens? I could so be a Bella.

She muses, "Hmm, true."

If she were any other guest, I'd offer her a drink or a snack. I'm not sure how to be hospitable towards a ghost.

Sharpay continues to groom herself. I'm not sure who she's trying to impress. "That boy, Troy, is he your friend?"

"No."

She seems to understand. "Ah--boyfriend?"

Guess not. "Good heavens, no, Sharpay."

"Then why'd you pick him to blab everything to? He must be the smartest student in school who knows everything supernatural."

"Not exactly. He's more of a jock. I had to tell him because he'd heard too much. He'd even heard me calling your name earlier today. He'd get suspicious."

Sharpay isn't satisfied. "So he's someone you like then."

I blush, giving myself away. "Why do you have to do this?"

"Humour me, Gabriella. I'm a ghost who can only talk to a girl with no social life. I must have done something horrible when I was alive to deserve this."

I want to giggle (but I don't because I feel bad for her misfortune). She's sounding more like her old self now. It's a good thing, right?

"I can't like him. It'd only be one-sided and doomed from the beginning."

"Why? He listened to you talk about ghosts like a crazy person. Who else would do that? You can't seriously be that picky."

"I'm telling you, I'd just be setting myself up for disappointment."

"How? It can't be that hard to charm a guy. This one seems interested in you already. Start with some banter and before you know it, he'll ask you on a date."

"I can't banter. I can't even talk to anyone without them getting bored. I'm not funny or witty and I'm horrible at choosing good conversation topics." Homework seems to be my favourite.

"Surely no one can have as little self-esteem as you do."

"I'm happy with who I am." I match her prim tone, straightening my back. "It's just that no one else is."

She raises her eyebrows. "All right."

"So," I begin, changing the topic. "Back to you. I, uh, assume you'd like to … move on?"

"Yes." She comes over to sit beside me on my bed. "I don't know why I'm here, and the world has nothing to offer me anymore."

Wow, she's accepted death really quickly. "Do you have any unfinished business? Regrets?"

"I only have a fraction of my memory, I've told you."

"So let's work on regaining it for now." I walk over to my closet, pull out an almost tattered cardboard box and start digging around until I find my yearbook from last year. Its hard, red cover gleams in the ambient light.

"Here we are," I say showing it to her. "It's a look back into last year to hopefully jog your memory." I flip the pages. "You've been in quite a few school productions. Musicals, plays, talent shows."

"I know. I have lots of trophies in my room," she sighs because this is nothing new.

We go through the whole darn thing and end up with nothing. I've pointed out some girls who I think were her friends (although her posse was quite large, so I couldn't have gotten all of them), some significant school events and her other achievements (she was voted Best Hair and Most Likely to Win an Oscar). She's pointed out how her hair could've been better in her main photo, and how I only have one picture in the entire yearbook.

As soon as I close it, I hear Boxer rustling around in his cage. I bound over to open it and grab the dark grey ball of fuzz, cupping him in my hands.

Sharpay shrieks, retreating to the opposite corner of my room. "What is that thing? Why do you have a mouse in your room?" She's horrified.

I shoot her an unimpressed look while trying to keep Boxer from squirming out of my grip. "It's a hamster, Sharpay."

"So? Just put it back!" As her voice climbs higher, the more banshee like she becomes.

"Calm down! There's no way he can hurt you. I just want to try something." I inch closer to her slowly like I would approach a frightened animal. She could leave in the blink of an eye.

I explain, "Haven't you ever heard that animals have some sort of sixth-sense or supernatural detector thing? What if Boxer knows you're here?"

"Whoopee," she says sarcastically, "so I now have a hamster to keep me company along with the socially-inept."

She pouts and crosses her arms. "And who names their hamster Boxer?"

I stop in front of her and let him sniff the air. I'm not sure what to expect or what I want to get out of this. Is it to keep convincing myself I'm not crazy?

I sigh as nothing happens (even when Sharpay reluctantly waves a hand in front of him) and plop him back in the cage.

"Maybe I need to find a dog or something," I tell her.

"Yes, your hamster is much too pea-brained to be smart enough to notice me." She shrugs as if to say 'I told you so'. Then she sighs and admits, "But Boi didn't."

"Boi?"

"My dog," she states. "I saw him when I visited my house. He seems very depressed, won't even eat his favourite dog treats … "

Hmm, well if animals' senses aren't heightened enough … I wonder …

"Gabi, it's cold," Mollie whines.

I'm over at her house, babysitting for the night. And, of course, I brought Sharpay with me. Maybe I was expecting Mollie to morph into Haley Joel Osment or something, but she can't see Sharpay either.

"Gabriella, just give it up," sighs Sharpay. "Why are you so intent on proving I'm here? You didn't make me up. You aren't going crazy. How did you manage to convince Troy I exist if you don't even believe it?"

I send Mollie off to go watch television, and turn to Sharpay. "I don't know. It's so unreal, kind of a shock."

"I'm not having the best time accepting this either," she reminds me.

Man, but I thought this would be easy. Like she'd just say, "Go fetch my most prized trophy and lay it near my grave. Then I will be at peace and leave you alone." We spent the whole afternoon and evening figuring out what our next move would be.

But there's nothing to do but follow through with my promise.