ghosts 》a.i.

01

February 13, 2001

"Peaches, what does the word 'imaginary' mean?" I ask and lay down on my bed, looking up at the ceiling.

"It means unreal. Something imaginary is something that only exists in your mind," she answers quickly and gently sits down next to me with a perfectly poised back.

"Why do you always wear that ribbon in your hair?" I ask, reaching for it, but she swats my hand away.

"Why are you asking so many questions?" she laughs softly and stands up, straightening her shirt. "Let's play a game."

"Sure, what do you want to play?" I stand up as well, turning towards my toy chest.

"My mom taught the game to me a while ago - I think I saw it in your living room. It's a word game."

"But I don't like words."

"I know but that's okay because I also know tons of words. Go get it and tell your mom that you want to play. I'll help you."

"Why do you say it like 'mooom' instead of 'mum' like I do?"

"Why are you asking so many questions again? Just tell her."

"But won't she notice if I'm cheating?"

"Trust me, she won't notice at all. It'll be like I'm not even there."

"Okay, what's the game called?"

"It's called Scrabble."

February 13, 2015

"Ash, do you want to come over?" Michael asks, walking over to me shortly after last period. "Cal and Luke are gonna be there too."

"Honestly, when are they not there? But as much as a great plan that is, I'll pass today," I put my coat on and we walk out of class together.

"But Jasmine is coming over with all of her friends later. You know what that means," he nudges me and wiggles his eyebrows.

"Don't you mean that you're having a party but know that I'll decline if you say 'party?' I still can't go," I shake my head, knowing that he does this every single time he throws a party.

"But it's Friday."

"Yes, Friday the 13th. I'm not going to risk going to a party today."

"You don't believe in all of that superstition, do you?"

"Of course not, I have to work today."

"Out of all the days to work, you choose Friday?"

"And I have to close the store too, sorry mate," I smile, patting his back and walk to my car.

"You suck, Ashton Irwin, you know that right?" I hear Michael yell and I turn around smiling and giving him two thumbs up.

-
"What if someone comes in? We can't be playing Scrabble," Martin shakes his head as we set up the game on the counter. We each take a stool and sit across from each other.

"Then we simply pause the game. Plus, who comes in here? I'm amazed this place is still in business and it's raining outside. No one is going to come in," I explain the truth. Crossroads is the smallest bookstore on the planet and no one ever goes inside.

"Facts," he says and sits down, playing "micro" for 18 points.

"You're so basic, Martin," I reply, shaking my head and playing "enamor" for 24 points.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means 'inflamed with love,' it's a pretty great word."

"And you're the one that calls me a nerd."

"Shut up and play," I say and we continue to play for almost an hour when we declare me as the winner.

"How did you manage to win by 106 points? Are you cheating or something?" Martin stands up, double-checking the points that we kept track of on a piece of scrap paper.

"No, I've been playing this game for a while now. Also, my vocabulary that just so happens to significantly greater than yours," I boast and grin as he shakes his head, gathering the tiles inside the red velvet drawstring bag.

"When did you start playing then, Mr. Word-Enthusiast?" he asks as we place the game into the box and neatly tuck it on a shelf behind the counter.

"I don't remember exactly, but probably since I was 6 or 7," I shrug, eyeing the clock. It's 7:30 PM and we usually close up around 8:30 PM, even though, our signs say we're supposed to be open until 10:00. No one comes around regardless but usually on rainy days like this, Martin and I close the store at 8:00 due to the lack of people outside and us being able to get home safely. If we close around that time, I'll be able to make it to Michael's party.

We continue to hang around, cleaning the store over and over again with the occasional elderly person searching for a book from their childhood. "Shit, I have to get home by 8 and make dinner before my dad gets home. Can you lock up at 8?" Martin asks, looking at the clock and running to get his things gathered. I glance at the clock as well, it reading 7:45 PM.

"Yeah, no problem. I don't want your dad to get mad at you," I nod reassuringly and catch the keys from him as he runs out the door. I continue to sit around, reading and getting "you should come over" texts from Michael, Calum, and Luke. Then, the bells chime from the door.

"Excuse me, do you have a book about ghosts?" a tiny voice says and I look up, startled at the sight of her. I don't know automatically who she is, but I'd recognize that distinct peach colored hair anywhere.