Chapter 9: That's all I need

Sharpay could be anywhere! The school day's over and she still hasn't popped up yet. I trudge along home and consider that she might be at hers. After all, I would miss my family, too, if I were dead.

I suppose I shouldn't be worried if she's with them.

Troy even said he'd … help. After any rush of cold air he feels, he told me he'd yell out, 'Sharpay, Gabriella's looking for you!' Now that's friendship. He'd ruin his public image for me.

I pen a note on to my calendar to remind me when the game is. It'll be my first time showing interest in the sport, but I'll learn as I watch. Hopefully. It cannot be very hard to blend in with all the basketball fanatics. Clap and scream when they clap and scream, and I'm all set. If the person beside me asks, "Number fourteen's good, huh?" I'll reply, "Oh, yes, very good." Because he is. He's great.

I'm falling without checking to see if there's anyone to catch me first.

My mother comes home early today, lugging in four bags of groceries. She's using the reusable ones I bought for her, so I smile while relieving her of the weight.

I set the bags on the kitchen counter and start unpacking them. Opening the refrigerator, I unconsciously shiver and frown again.

"How was school today, Gabi?" my mother questions, taking out a loaf of bread from one of the bags.

"It was fine as usual." Yeah … I don't want to go to therapy or to a hypnotist so I'm going to keep mum about Sharpay for now.

"How's your new friend doing?"

The carton of eggs I'm holding almost crashes to the tiled floor. She can see Sharpay, too? When did this happen? Does she know she's a ghost? This ghost-seeing-ability must run in the family. Oh, my goodness. I must check first, though. "W-What new friend?"

"Oh." She pauses in thought. "I just assumed … you've been on the phone in your room an awful lot lately, considering you rarely use it."

My heartbeat and breathing regulate. "That was … my partner for this project. We're not really friends."

Her shoulders slump slightly. Yes, she's aware of how … independent I am.

"Gabi," she starts but I already don't like where this is going. It's her suggestion voice. And she's my mother but sometimes her advice doesn't help at all. "It's your last year of high school. Have you ever thought about doing any extra curricular activities?"

Wait for it. She's going to list the examples now.

"Like student council, or the scholastic decathlon, or a sport … "

"It's a bit late, I think."

"I'm sure not all the teams and clubs are over. In fact, some are starting soon." Her voice goes all chirpy and excited. "Why, I was talking to one of my coworkers and she has a daughter that goes to your school. She just went out and bought equipment so she could join the rugby team! There's try-outs next week. I hear everyone has a good chance of making it, since not too many people are interested."

I often end up joining something after these talks. I just feel so guilty, and she is right. Last year it was the reading club. The year before that is was the knitting club. Even the chess club didn't want me.

"I'm happy living the way I am."

I think my mom has an irrational fear of cats. That's why she doesn't want me growing old alone and collecting them.

Well, perhaps I'll change it up a bit and have twenty-eight dogs. Ooh, but not the big ones. Perhaps twenty-eight hamsters, then. Twenty-seven more to go.

"Are you thinking of going to prom?"

If those eggs were still in my hands, they'd be goners. No way would I be caught at prom date-less and friend-less and by myself in the corner. I scoff, "Mom, tickets are $75. Plus, I'd have to buy a dress. I don't really want to go."

"But trust me, Gabi. Prom is a great way to end off your senior year. I'll help with the cost. Don't you have babysitting money, too?"

Man, she's relentless. "Yeah, I get that it can be a really nice princess moment, but I'd be putting more into it than getting stuff out if it."

My mom chuckles. "You're over-thinking it. It's only Prom. Just let loose and have fun and it will go great."

She tilts her head slightly to the side, and in that I'm-a-single-mother-looking-out-for-my-only-daughter tone, she says, "You don't have to spend every moment holed up here."

I shake my head. "That's all I need."

"You could have more."

"It's okay," I reassure her. "I don't want it." I can't have it. I don't deserve it.

I squeeze the colourful toothpaste on to my electric toothbrush and everywhere else when Sharpay's reappearance scares the hell out of me.

I do a double take of her reflection in the mirror and wash the excess toothpaste off my hand in the sink before wheeling around. "Sharpay!" I exclaim. "You're back!"

"Uh-huh," she says tensely, crossing her arms, "and I'm waiting for an apology."

Tired, I sigh softly, "Sorry, Sharpay. I didn't mean to be rude before." I meet her gaze expectantly. "And I forgot to erase the note, you know, before handing it in. I got what I deserved. Mr. Wilson's probably going to fail me."

She gives in and rolls her eyes. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have bugged you, and I may have gone a little too far."

I offer her a small smile, proud of the way she also owned up to her mistake and glad that we can see where each other's coming from.

"Where'd you go?" I lean back on the counter, waiting to hear her story.

She purses her lips. "I just needed some time to myself."

I nod in understanding. Have only one person to talk to can be irritating sometimes. Especially if it's me.

"So I went to different places because they seem more familiar now," she continues. "I went to the mall, to the cinema … saw that new Shia Laboeuf movie." Sharpay grins widely, her eyes lighting up. "Yum."

I laugh. Now there's a perk to being a ghost. All the free movies you want. I'm glad she enjoyed herself at least.

"I saw some cute things at the mall," she says conversationally. "Obviously I wasn't thinking of them for me, but a certain Troy Bolton might appreciate you in them." She shrugs nonchalantly.

I brighten. She was thinking of me? "How does a ghost play matchmaker? Troy and I are fine as friends, Sharpay."

She ignores me, pretending to be transfixed by the brown textured wallpaper.

I go back to my personal hygiene, brushing my teeth thoroughly.

"What if that's my unfinished business?" she pipes up. "To get help you out because you're lonely? That's why I was sent to you. Because I was popular, right? You showed me all my friends in the yearbook."

I consider this as I floss. "We'll see how it works out. But for now, I'm tired. Good night, Sharpay."

She smiles. "Good night, Gabriella."