Alice

"Okay," I whispered to myself. "This is not a big deal."

Who was I kidding? This was a huge deal.

After Mom told me the story yesterday about Ghostbusters, I'd been very intrigued. I mean, she'd said it herself, they were kind of like superheroes. How many kids can say their parents had been Ghostbusters?

Only two that I knew of: myself and Jeremy Venkman.

Jeremy Venkman was probably THE most popular sophomore at Leonard Hines Public High. He was the star of the varsity football and the varsity baseball team, and according to other girls (not that I talked to them much), "hunkilicious."

Yesterday, when my mother had mentioned the name "Venkman" to me, I'd wondered if Jeremy Venkman was his son. So here I was, going to talk to the school's it boy; me, the class freak…about Ghostbusters, of all things!

Sometimes, I just wish I was just like other girls: stupid and superficial. Why do I have to be such a bookworm?

I looked in my locker mirror one last time, just to make sure my sweatshirt and jeans looked alright. "Alright, Wilcox," I muttered to myself. "No turning back now."

My mother and I have different last names. I have my father's last name, and Mom changed hers back to her maiden name after she and Dad divorced when I five.

"Why?" I had asked Mom one time.

She hadn't answered. All I know is, I haven't spoken to my dad since.

The lockers at school are helpfully arranged alphabetically, with the last name of the owner printed on the front. I ticked down the V's. There it was, right after Vasquez: Venkman.

And there he was. Jeremy Venkman was just as I'd heard him described: orangey-red hair, tan and freckled, and kind of toned. I could see why the girls cackled over him.

I gulped and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up. "Can I help you?" he asked in a baritone voice.

"Ah…" I suddenly lost my train of thought. Five seconds earlier, I'd been thinking of Ghostbusters, our parents, the physics aspect of the whole ordeal. All I could think of now was: God. His eyes are so…blue!

Jeremy Venkman wasn't just cute. Jeremy Venkman wasn't just hunky. Jeremy Venkman was the most gorgeous boy I'd ever laid eyes on!

Jeremy waved his hand in front my face. "Um…anybody home?"

Say something, stupid!

I blinked a couple of times and tried not to stare directly into the sea blue eyes in front of me. I cleared my throat. "Um…hi. I'm Alice Wilcox."

"Jeremy Venkman," said Jeremy.

"I know." Do'h!

"Hey, aren't you in my history class?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," I replied. History is the only subject where I'm not advanced. I suck at History. "Um, are you Peter Venkman's son by any chance?"

He looked at me funny. "Yeah. How'd you know that?"

"Well, uh, your dad and my mom are old friends," I explained. "They're actually ex-coworkers too…listen. If I tell you a weird-sounding story, do you promise not to think I'm crazy?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Of course not."

I took a breath. "Okay, back in the eighties, your dad and my mom, Jennifer Colby, worked together with a couple of other guys. They were sort of like exterminators."

Jeremy looked confused. "But my dad doesn't kill bugs. He's a psychiatrist."

"Um…it wasn't exactly bugs," I muttered.

"What did they do?"

"Well, they…okay, here's the weird part," I paused. "They caught…ghosts."

Jeremy was silent for a second. "Um…what was that?"

"I know, I know," I groaned. "I didn't expect you to believe me."

"Did you just say that my dad was a ghost catcher?" asked Jeremy, looking like he was trying not to laugh.

"I'm not joking," I said quickly.

He gave me the once-over. "Uh, look, I don't really know who you are, but are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, really," I sputtered. "I just thought you ought to know about it."

"So…what was this business called?" Jeremy asked a little too casually.

My hopes rose a bit. He's interested! "Well my mom told me that they called it Ghostbusters."

Jeremy let out a snort. "Ghostbusters? What kind of name is that?"

I blushed. "I know. It's kind of funny, huh?"

"This whole thing's funny," Jeremy pointed out. "Are you really serious about this ghost catching thing?"

I nodded. "I checked out a book on parapsychology at the public library. It's actually quite interesting."

He raised an eyebrow. "You're pretty smart, huh?"

"Well, I'm taking all advanced courses, except History, and I'm in a junior's physics class," I couldn't help but state.

"Wow." Jeremy looked impressed. "That's…awesome. I mean, that's really cool. I wish I was that smart."

"Really?"

"Well…yeah. Athletes are a dime a dozen, but being smart…it's kinda special," he admitted.

I couldn't help but let a smile grow across my face.

Jeremy suddenly looked at his watch. "Crap, I gotta go. It was cool hearing that story, but I have baseball practice." He started to rush off.

"Wait!" I called after him. "You…do believe me, right?"

He turned around. "Well, I…I don't know. It's kinda unbelievable. Sorry!" And he took off running.

"Ugh!" I closed my eyes and banged my head against the lockers. Did you really expect him to believe you? It's so far-fetched!

"Hey, Alice," wheezed a groaningly familiar voice. I didn't have to open my eyes to know who was standing next to me.

Well, you should've seen that coming. T is pretty close to V in the alphabet. "Oh. Hi, Dexter," I said flatly.

Even since eighth grade, when he "fell" for me, Dexter Tully would not leave me alone. He's about five foot three, four inches shorter than I am; and has acne, ultra-thick glasses (I know, I'm a hypocrite on that point), and the most ridiculous headgear ever! "So," he said, with a grin on his face. He had something green in his teeth. Yuck! "You got a date for the end-of-the-year dance yet?"

Uh oh. I had to get out of this one fast. "Um, yeah," I answered. "I'm going with…uh…" Inspiration came over me suddenly. "…Jeremy Venkman."

"Really?" He looked in the direction of the athlete. "Oh. Oh, well." He shrugged and left. Phew.

It was funny. I don't like lying. Never have, never will. But, I found, I didn't much mind telling that particular lie.

Just a little bit of trivia: Jeremy Venkman's looks are based on this guy named Spencer I go to school with. Why won't he talk to me? *sighs*

Hey, don't laugh. I've liked the guy since sixth grade, okay?