Wendelin Van Draanen
Copyright © 2026 by Wendelin Van Draanen
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For love everlastingo
Gemma
For the Sake of Your Heart
Can I give you a little advice? In my ofteen years on Earth, it9s the one and only thing I know for sure. So please, for the sake of your heart, your hope, your life, hear me when I say this: Never fall in love with a ghost.
R 2 r Jimmy Meeting Gemma Carroll
It9s a living nightmare to be trapped inside this graveyard. Or, more to the point, a dying nightmare, seeing as how I9m buried here.
For years I tried everything I could think of to escape, to be free. But after the main gates were chained shut and the living stopped coming, I gave up hope of ever breaking through the ruddy force oeld that keeps me here.
Then, about seven years ago, Gemma Carroll tumbled into the graveyard.
And now?
Now I9m back to dreaming of freedom.
Gemma changed everything.
It was early autumn the orst time she climbed over the graveyard9s mossy stone wall. She was younger then, with dark, bobbed hair, all giggles and whispers and knobby knees, wearing shoes that didn9t match4one white, the other deep blue. <Come on!= she whispered across the wall once she9d landed on her feet. <It9s easy!=
The St. Agnes bell tower tolled four o9clock as the face of another girl4this one with thready blond hair and close1set eyes4popped above the top of the wall. <Are you sure it9s okay?= the girl whispered.
<Sure, I9m sure!= Knobby Knees said, but from her skittish look about the place I could tell she was nervous. Which was understandable.
After all, she9d landed in a graveyard.
The second girl came over, her legs shaking as she worked her way down the ragged stones. She had mismatched shoes, too4one blue and one white4and I remember wishing I9d had a chum like that at their age. Someone willing to swap shoes to bind your friendship. All I9d swapped as a kid was fear and lies.
<Where is he?= the blond girl asked once she9d landed. She looked to be about seven or eight, same as Knobby Knees, but with a suspi1 cious air about her and an unhappy mouth.
<There!= Knobby Knees said, pointing out a gray squirrel scam1 pering up the gnarled trunk of the old walnut tree.
<Are you sure he has it?=
<Positive!= Knobby Knees raced for the tree. <Look! There9s a nest!= she called, pointing into the branches. <I bet he9ll stash it there.=
As Knobby Knees began to climb the tree, I watched from my usual haunt at Lionel Finnegan9s tombstone. Lionel9s spirit had been bound to the graveyard for three days, then vanished, as did most of the souls laid to rest here. How they escaped the force oeld remains a mystery to the ove of us spirits trapped here4a mystery we9d really like to solve.
<I think I can get up to the nest!= Knobby Knees called from her perch on a low branch. She pointed above her. <It9s right there!= Curious, I drifted up to the nest to see what the cheeky
critter had made of with, if anything. The squirrel screeched at me, but I just laughed and pulled a face at him. It wasn9t like he could hurt me.
Inside the nest I spotted a sparkling earring. An expensive one, from the looks of it. There were other bits and bobs in there, too4a blue1and1yellow marble, a bottle cap, some coins.
<Is it an emerald earring you9re chasing after?= I asked.
This was met with silence. Of course. The living can9t see or hear us spirits. It had been a long time since anyone had entered the graveyard, and I9d forgotten that my voice would sound like nothing more than the wind.
But Knobby Knees did hear me. <Yes!= she cried, then searched around for where my voice had come from. When she looked up again toward the nest, she went wide1eyed. <A ghost,= she gasped, and promptly fell out of the tree.
Her friend ran over, calling, <Gemma! Gemma, are you all right?=
I drifted down to her. Not that I9d have been able to help her if she9d gotten hurt, but it was my fault she9d fallen. And also...she9d heard me! She9d understood me! In the eternity of my time in the graveyard, that had never happened with a living soul.
Gemma scrambled to her feet. <Are you a...a pirate ghost?= Her face was nushed with hope.
<A pirate ghost?= I asked with a laugh. <What makes you think that, lass?=
<The way you9re dressed? How you talk?=
If a tattered shirt and trousers made me a pirate in her eyes, she had a lot to learn about sailing the seven seas. But who was I to disappoint?
<Aarg!= I growled, lunging as I pulled a fearsome face.
She squealed and backed away with a giggle.
<Gemma?= her friend asked. <Who are you talking to?=
<Him!= she cried, pointing to me. She tilted her head to the side a bit and asked me, <What9s your name?=
I gave a sweeping bow. <Sir James Waterford, at your service.=
I threw in the <Sir= as part of the game, tho pirates aren9t exactly noblemen. Then I added, <But I9d be pleased if you9d call me Jimmy.=
<What are you smiling at?= the blond girl demanded.
<At him!= Gemma cried as she pointed to me again. <His name9s Sir James Waterford!=
<But there9s nobody there!=
<She can9t see me, Miss Gemma,= I said. <Or hear me.=
<Well, why can I?=
Her friend stomped her white shoe. <Quit faking! There9s nobody there!=
<But Lexy, there is,= Gemma said. <He9s a ghost. And he9s right there.=
<There9s no such thing as ghosts,= the Lexy girl said with another mighty foot stomp, this time of the blue shoe. <Stop lying!=
I sensed company, and when I turned I caught sight of the Col1 onel lurking nearby. Behind him, blowing in like a storm cloud, was Haggy, giving us a keen look through her little round spectacles, her long silver hair as wild as ever.
Gemma could see them, too. <There9s more of you?= she squealed.
<Ghosts knockin9 about in a graveyard?= I asked with a grin. <You don9t say.=
Her friend looked around frantically. <Where?=
<Right there!= Gemma cried, pointing to the lot of us.
Haggy9s frown was dug in deeper than usual, but the Colonel hitched his thumbs behind the straps of his overalls and looked amused. <She9s a kid, Haggy. She9ll outgrow it.=
<What9ll I outgrow?= Gemma asked.
Before any of us could answer, Lexy said, <This isn9t fair! Why do you get to see them and I don9t? I9m going home!=
Gemma chased after her, calling, <Lexy, wait!= She stopped when she reached the wall and turned to me. <Bye, Jimmy! See you later!= Then she toed her way up and over the crumbling stones.
<A Seer,= the Colonel said after a moment. <And one who9s not afraid. That9s a orst.=
Haggy pinched a look through her round spectacles. <That girl9s trouble. If she comes back, I9m doin9 a Fright.=
<What? No!= I said. <What if...what if she can help us escape?=
Haggy shot me a look. <And how would she do that?=
Shotgun and Trip4the onal two spirits of our graveyard crew4 descended, hovering next to the old walnut tree. <Yo!= Shotgun called out. <What9s happening?=
Haggy was quick to answer. <Not much.=
The Colonel and I stayed mum. Shotgun had a way of adding fuel to any argument.
<What9s wrong, Trip?= Haggy asked, neatly switching paths. <You look depressed.=
<Man, I9m bored out of my mind,= Trip answered.
<Aren9t we all?= Haggy agreed. <Do a perimeter. It always helps.= Then she drifted of to her haunt by the Bergmann mausoleum, which she9d claimed as her own after the Bergmann spirits had moved on.
<I think I9ll patrol the main gates,= the Colonel said. <Who9s coming?=
<Might as well,= Trip said, and Shotgun nodded. Then the three of them drifted across the graveyard while I went back to Lionel Finnegan9s stone to think.
My body had been buried here orst. The others had lived in the physical world longer4Haggy by almost ofty years4but I9d been trapped inside the stone walls the longest. On that account, I should have been the one to say what was what in the graveyard, but it didn9t work that way. To the rest of them I wasn9t James Waterford, or even Jimmy. I was just <the Boy= or <Brit Boy.= And with a nesh-and-bone life that had ended at ofteen, I couldn9t argue about that. I was the youngest of the Ethereals4the nickname the Colonel had given us4and Haggy and the Colonel were the oldest, so they called the shots and I mostly stayed mum.
I was deep into thinking of ways I might stop the others if they decided to do a Fright on Gemma when a ladder was pushed over the wall near where the girls had climbed it.
<Daddy, I don9t need a boost,= came Gemma9s voice, and in two shakes of a lamb9s tail she9d gotten herself into the graveyard.
<Look who9s back,= I said as an unfamiliar happiness swept through me.
<Shh!= she whispered. <My mom and dad think I hit my head when I fell out of the tree. They said they9ll take me to the doctor if I keep talking about ghosts.=
<Ah,= I said, noting that both her shoes were now blue. I gave her a pirate1y grin. <So maybe I should disappear?=
She giggled, <You9re funny.= Then she put a onger to her lips and went quiet because all at once, there was her father.
Mr. Carroll was a jaunty chap with a head of thick black hair, a trimmed stubble beard, and dark1rimmed spectacles. <Which tree is it, Button?= he asked her.
<That one right there,= Gemma said, pointing.
Her father hefted the ladder and set of. He went right past me without a glance and walked with long strides through the graveyard9s tall grass and wildnowers.
<Button, huh?= I teased, following along as Gemma chased after him.
She rolled her eyes at me but didn9t give herself away.
<Perhaps you9d like a proper title? Say...Lady Button?=
She stuck out her tongue, which made me laugh out loud.
Her father climbed the ladder into the tree9s branches, where the squirrel put up a fuss, then a oght, screeching like Gemma9s father meant to set the nest on ore.
<I don9t see an earring,= Mr. Carroll called down from the nest. <Are you sure?=
<Am I sure?= she asked me without moving her lips.
<Sure, you9re sure,= I said, echoing what she9d said earlier.
<Sure, I9m sure!= she called. Then out of the side of her mouth she whispered, <Can you tell me where in the nest?=
I drifted up to the nest, where I spotted the jewel, twinkling like a star. <Back left side,= I called down to her.
<Check the back left side,= she relayed up to her dad.
<This darn thing9s ready to bite me!= he said, swatting away the squirrel. <What if it has rabies?=
<You want me to do it?= Gemma called up the ladder.
<No!=
<Perhaps feed him a walnut,= I suggested.
<Perhaps feed him a walnut!= Gemma called.
Her father turned to stare at her. <Perhaps?=
<Oops,= she said under her breath, then cried <Look!= and pointed toward the squirrel, which was scurrying farther up the tree.
Her father pawed through the nest and declared, <Found it!= followed by, <Hey, isn9t this Matthew9s favorite marble?=
Gemma caught the shiny blue1and1yellow glass ball neatly when he tossed it down. <It is!= she said. <He9ll be so happy!=
All the ruckus had brought the Colonel and Haggy back around. <I don9t like it,= Haggy said after taking in the scene. <They9re like crows, robbing a nest.=
<Quit worrying,= the Colonel said. <They9ve found what they were after, and look4they9re leaving.=
As Gemma and her father made their way back to the stone wall, Gemma slipped me a smile and mouthed, See you later!
<What did I tell you? She9ll be back,= Haggy said to the Colonel <And mark my words4it9ll be nothing but trouble.=
The Colonel sighed. <No it won9t.=
<You wanna bet weekend night watch on it?= Haggy challenged.
The Colonel raised an eyebrow.
<She8s taken a shine to the Boy, can9t you see that?= Haggy said.
<Don9t be daft!= I cut in. <She9s just a kid.=
<She won9t always be,= Haggy said in an ominous tone.
The Colonel scofed. <Stop worrying, would you? This is a graveyard. It9s no place for a young girl. If nothing else, her parents won9t let her come back.=
<Weekend night watch, Colonel,= Haggy said, holding her ground. <Put up or shut up.=
<Fine,= the Colonel hufed. <If she comes back in the next seven days, I9ll give you a weekend night watch.=
Haggy wasted no time sealing the deal. <Done!= she crowed, and took of cackling.
As it turned out, Haggy was right. At least partly. Gemma did come back, and she visited us like clockwork over the years that followed. But she didn9t cause trouble, and it didn9t take long for the others4even Shotgun and Haggy4to look forward to her coming 9round. Year upon year, Gemma brought life into the graveyard. Life and stories and news. But it wasn9t until a few months ago that it dawned on me what Haggy had meant.
<Trouble= happened one late1summer evening as Gemma sat on a bench beneath the turning leaves of the walnut tree, reading a story
aloud to us. Her hair was long now, and it fell over her shoulders in soft raven waves. As she read, I noticed the way the dipping sun lit our meeting spot, making it glow like a golden dome in the midst of the neglected grounds.
For some reason I can9t quite explain, I moved from behind Gemma to beside her on the bench. Close enough to feel the warmth of life radiating from within her.
When she9d onished the story and was preparing to leave, Gemma9s hand brushed against mine4brushed through mine.
Something inside me, deep and long forgotten, stirred.
And then our eyes met.
Her gaze pulled the breath right out of me.
Froze me in place.
Gemma was grown now4nearly the same age I am4and the warmth of her smile, the sparkle in her eyes, the rose of her cheeks... They made me realize that I9d had it all wrong.
It wasn9t the sun giving the graveyard its golden glow.
It was Gemma.
And in that moment, I also understood exactly what Haggy had meant.
R 3 r
Gemma The Touch
Ididn9t mean to fall in love, let alone with a ghost. I was only eight years old when I met Jimmy, so love was the furthest thing from my mind. But I did immediately like him. He was more fun than my three little brothers, who were loud and boisterous and everywhere all the time. And Jimmy always seemed happy, which was more than I could say for my friend Lexy. I played with Lexy a lot because she lived right next door, but she was bossy and competitive and would get mad when I was better at something than she was. Grades or games or...anything, really. I9d started losing on purpose and giving wrong answers in class, just so she wouldn9t get upset with me.
There was also the fact that back then I thought Jimmy was the ghost of a pirate. He seemed like someone out of a storybook to me. Not a pirate captain, with a fancy tricorn hat and a brass1buttoned coat4more the sort of pirate who hoists the sails and swabs the decks. Jimmy9s pants were held up by a rope belt, and he wore a sort of bil lowy white shirt and worn leather boots. He had shaggy hair and a cockeyed grin, which was quite pirate-y. I wasn9t at all afraid of him then, but he9s a diferent kind of dangerous now.
All these years later, Jimmy9s clothes are the same, his hair9s the
same, his British accent9s the same, and so9s his age. As a ghost, he9s hopelessly stuck at ofteen.
I, on the other hand, have gone through a lot of changes since I met Jimmy. I9m in high school now, and to steal a cringy euphemism from my mother, my body has <blossomed.= I9m also onally done trying to ot in with my childhood friends.
To me those changes have seemed gradual and normal...until this September, when a single moment in the graveyard nipped my whole world upside down.
See, I9ve had this sort of book club with the graveyard ghosts for years. Story time started as an excuse to visit Jimmy while babysitting my brother Matthew, who was only ove at the time and oblivious to our <secret park= being a graveyard.
Over time, I read picture books and chapter books aloud to Mat thew. Then, after sports had taken over his life and Matthew had bailed on story time, I kept going to our usual bench under the big walnut tree to read novels aloud to the ghosts.
They call themselves the Ethereals, and none of them know why it is that4out of the hundreds of graves4there are only ove of them left in the cemetery. There9s Jimmy, of course4he9s the only young ghost. The rest of the Ethereals call him the Boy, or Brit Boy because of his accent, which is sort of a mash1up of his childhood in England and all his years as a spirit here.
The others go by nicknames, too. There9s the Colonel, who9s got a round, balding head and a big mustache and wears bib overalls. He and Haggy look a lot older than the others. Then there9s Shotgun, who
wears a tattered denim jacket with a turned1up collar and seems to be very proud of being a <Jersey boy= with <Elvis sideburns.= He died in his twenties, same as the last ghost, Trip. Trip always seems kind of high, but he9s the one who likes story time the most4especially when there9s a love triangle involved. Haggy and Shotgun rib him for that, but I think it9s sweet.
The hows and whys of the ghosts have never made sense to me. Like, why are they wearing the clothes they died in? Why are they stuck in the graveyard? And why am I able to see them when no one else can? To me they look like formed smoke, with weirdly sharp details. Like a person stitched into a misty patch of fog. They shift and shimmy, but I can see their clothes and their faces clearly. I can see their eyelashes.
Jimmy once said that the Ethereals were like <chalk and cheese.= It9s one of his British expressions and it ots because other than being buried in the same cemetery, they seem to have nothing in common. And yet, every one of them shows up for story time. They might argue over what I should read next or how a story should have ended, but they9re always happy to see me. They9re funny in their own dysfunc tional way, and being around them makes me feel like I belong.
Jimmy has been my favorite since day one. He9s charming in a swashbuckling way, plus he9s funny and nice. It didn9t take long for him to become my conodant. Conversations with him are interesting, and he gives thought to things, which sets him apart from any of the boys in my class.
Plus, his friendship comes with zero drama.
He9s a ghost.
We9re just friends.
At least that9s how things were until that fateful September evening.
I9d just closed the cover on a really funny romance novel when my hand happened to brush against Jimmy9s.
Brush through Jimmy9s.
I felt a chill rush up my arm and spread over me. In all the years I9d been visiting the ghosts, I9d never touched any of them, so it was...startling.
And then my eyes met his.
I don9t know how to explain it, all right? The ghosts may be translucent but right then Jimmy seemed so real.
So alive.
And so...not handsome exactly. More...beautiful.
Can a boy be beautiful?
I think so. And he is, okay?
Looking into his eyes sent a weird out1of1control electricity through me. One that took my breath away.
One that made me feel lighter than air.
I couldn9t shake the feeling after I left the graveyard. I kept day dreaming about that moment between us; about the look in his eyes; about the chill and the charge that buzzed through me.
I thought it would pass. I hoped that the next time I saw him, things would go back to the way they9d always been. But when I went to the graveyard the next afternoon, I felt all of it all over again.
The problem was4well, one of the many problems was4I couldn9t
tell if he felt the same. He seemed shier than before. He would barely look me in the eye. So maybe he was being cautious because falling in love would be impossible? Besides the whole ghost vs. human thing, there was the obvious reality that in a year I9d be older than Jimmy, and I9d keep getting older until4
It hurt my head to think about. And I felt like I needed someone to talk to, but who? It was hard to have a normal childhood4to develop normal friendships4when I couldn9t tell anyone my secret. And there9s never been a good time to bring it up with my parents again. Besides, it would freak them out, and my mom is frazzled enough. She doesn9t need to start worrying about my mental state.
Our family4my parents, my three brothers, me, and our dog, Dickens4lives in one of the old, narrow, two1story houses on Chest1 nut Street near the heart of <the Quaintest Town Around,= aka Dove Crossing. The seven of us oll our house to the rafters, and besides being cramped, the house is always loud, especially back when baby Louie was squalling day and night and little Archie was throwing anything he could reach from his high chair.
When my parents were young, they were theater geeks. They met in an old1timey vaudeville troupe and worked behind the scenes. Dad ran lighting and sound efects and Mom played piano and helped make costumes. Then <real life hit=4yours truly4and now Dad is an electrician and Mom gives piano lessons on weekends.
They9re still what people call free spirits, which seems contradic tory to me since they deonitely don9t believe in ghosts. And since they also don9t believe in raising <screen zombies,= there9s only one shared
computer in the house, in an alcove by the kitchen where everyone can see what you9re doing.
The things my parents do believe in are crafts and cooking, playing an instrument, and reading books. Mom has always done this sub scription thing with Dove Crossing Books where we get a monthly box with something for everyone. We have so many books, which I guess is why my mom cited my <wild storybook imagination= when I said I could see ghosts.
Since Chestnut is a busy road with the houses close to each other and not far from the street, and since our backyard is small and crowded, Matthew and I were allowed to play in the long, narrow dirt alley that separates the backs of the houses on Chestnut from the old stone wall of the St. Agnes Church property. Cars can9t drive down the alley, so as long as we wore our safety whistles, Mom was just one with Matthew and me spending all afternoon out there, and lots of times Lexy and some other friends would play with us.
I didn9t realize there was a graveyard on the other side of the wall. Not until a squirrel ran of with an emerald earring4one of a pair that Lexy had swiped from her mother9s jewelry box4and cracked my world wide open.
After I9d climbed the wall a few times to visit the Ethereals, the Colonel pointed out a small side gate down the alley. To me it felt like a magical portal that led to a wonderland. I loved sitting on the bench beneath the branches of the walnut tree, listening to the St. Agnes bell tower echo across the grounds. The graveyard may be a resting place for the dead, but it9s still so full of life. It has twittering
birds and scampering squirrels and heavy1bellied bumblebees. Even in the winter, it feels like it9s straight out of The Secret Garden
Lexy hated the graveyard. And she hated that I loved it. Right after I met Jimmy, Lexy started whispering about me to our friends. Benny, Kaden, Melanie, and I had all gone to the same preschool and elementary school and were used to Lexy9s moods. But her anger about the graveyard stuck around. I don9t know if it was because Lexy was jealous that I9d been able to see ghosts4even though I told her I was joking when I realized it was causing a problem4but she started going at me hard. She9d act fake-friendly to me, then mock me in front of the others. A few times, she even tripped me in the hallway. <It was an accident!= she9d say when I called her on it, then tell me to quit being so paranoid.
When I onally let on to my mom why I was so unhappy, she told me Lexy was going through a hard time.
<She is?= I asked in disbelief. Lexy was the one putting me through a hard time!
Mom explained that Lexy9s dad didn9t live with them anymore, and that Lexy was having trouble dealing with the change. <It9s why her mom got her a puppy. She9s hoping it9ll...help.=
Lexy9s new puppy was named Pixie, and maybe I felt bad for Lexy about the reason she9d gotten her, but none of that explained why she treated me the way she did, and I said so.
Mom sighed and held both my hands. <I9m sure it9ll blow over. In the meantime, I would be very proud of you if you could ond it in
your heart to help Lexy through this hard time. Everyone deserves a second chance, especially when they9re sad about something.=
So I did work at being friends with Lexy again. Partly because she had some weird control over our other friends. Melanie, Benny, and Kaden didn9t seem to notice how cruel she was to me, and I felt like I couldn9t be friends with any of them if I didn9t stay friends with Lexy.
Still, the harder I tried the worse things seemed to get, and when we hit junior high the situation got really...toxic. Anytime Lexy saw Kaden talking to me, she9d wedge herself in and deliver some back handed compliment like <I love how much you love that sweater,= which really meant, <You9re wearing that again?=
Then, after Kaden had left, she9d tell me to stay in my own lane. I knew she9d had her sights on Kaden for a long time, but I didn9t like him that way and I9d told her so a million times.
The onal nail in the coïn of our friendship, though, was when everyone else in the group got phones. I9d been asking for years, but my parents were a united front. They worried about phone addic1 tion and doomscrolling and developing sheep brain, and even when I begged, they held strong. <No!= my mother onally snapped. <Not until you9re sixteen! That9s onal, so stop asking.=
Doomscrolling sounds bad, but when all your friends have phones and are messaging each other nonstop, that feels bad. You never know what9s going on, or where they9re hanging out, or4as it turned out4what mean things they9re saying about you. By the middle of
eighth grade, the only friends I had were invisible and trapped inside a graveyard.
Lexy spent the summer break before high school in the city with her dad, which helped me close that chapter of my life. I was more relaxed with her gone, and started looking forward to freshman year. I got curtain bangs, began wearing a little makeup, and ditched the T-shirts and oversized sweaters. It felt like a new era.
And then came the Touch.
Touching Jimmy changed my friendship with him, too. Since the Touch, I think about him during school, at home, all the time and everywhere. I9m constantly scheming reasons to go back to the graveyard because just being near him has become...enchanting?
Yes. That9s it exactly.
He makes me feel enchanted.
I keep reminding myself that it9s unrealistic4not to mention stupid4to feel this way. Jimmy is a ghost. A very dashing, very charm1 ing, very interesting ghost, but still...a ghost.
I remind myself that I9ll never be able to hold his hand or kiss him because he isn9t actually real4not physically, anyway.
Plus, there9s the not-knowing-how-he1feels1about1me part. Some days I catch him looking at me in a way that makes my heart race, and other days he seems so...distant.
So maybe that look between us was all me.
Maybe he didn9t feel it, too.
Or maybe it9s not even possible for a ghost to fall in love.
If that9s true, where does that leave me?
It feels like my heart4the whole of it4belongs to the ghost of a boy who died a century ago.
I love a good storybook ending, but I9m not delusional. I can see the future bearing down on me.
I know this is going to shatter my heart. And still, my heart won9t listen.
R 4 r Jimmy
A Change of Heart
As summer faded into autumn, the glow Gemma had brought to the graveyard began fading, too. There was a sadness to her now4one she wouldn9t talk about.
The orst clue was in the way she said hello.
Years ago, I9d taken to calling out <Ahoy, lass!= when she came to visit, going along with the pirate thing. <Cheers, mate!= she9d call back, and the greeting stuck. It9s how we always said hello.
But not long after the evening when our hands touched, she switched from <Cheers, mate= to <Hi, Jimmy.= I noticed that her eyes seemed to look everywhere but at mine. I felt like an idiot calling out <Ahoy, lass!= so my greeting changed, to <Mornin9= or <Afternoon,= which brought back memories of workhouse gravy4something meant to be smooth and delicious gone pasty and lumpy.
Then her visits became unpredictable, and when she did appear there was no lift to her voice when she read aloud to us. Her mind seemed to keep slipping away from the story, away from us.
Afterward, she9d leave with a breathy <Bye,= instead of her usual <See ya later!=
And then she stopped coming altogether.
Gemma had missed days and even a week or so before, but her absence now stretched on. The church bell tolled through the hours, turning day into night into day into night. Once a fortnight had passed, I feared she might never return.
One afternoon in October I went looking for the other Ethereals just to get my mind of Gemma, and was surprised to ond them all together behind the Bergmann mausoleum.
The gathering seemed strange. Secretive. So I hid behind the mossy tombstone of Quinley Vonn9s grave to watch and listen.
<I told you this would happen!= Haggy was saying. <Years ago, I did!=
<You told us there9d be trouble,= the Colonel corrected. <How is this trouble?=
<Those power lines?= Haggy said, eyeing the new wires that had been strung over the graveyard. <That9s trouble.= She jabbed an arm toward the rusting main gates. <That notice? That9s trouble. And that wicked brat Lexy and her bootlicker friend snooping around here? That9s double trouble!=
<But they9ve got nothing to do with the Girl,= the Colonel said.
<Sure they do!= Haggy snarled. <The Girl9s the reason that vicious cat keeps prowling around. I don9t care what she9s trying to prove, I9m sick of it.=
Trip and Shotgun had been muttering to each other, and now Shotgun cut in to say, <You bozos are just bent outta shape 9cause the Girl left us high 9n9 dry.=
<How so?= the Colonel asked.
<She ditched us in the middle of the Fire Swamp!= Trip said, referring to where Gemma had left of reading from a book called The Princess Bride. He sighed. <To string us along like that and then just split? Not cool, man. Not cool at all.=
<Right on,= Shotgun agreed.
Haggy raised an eyebrow at Trip and Shotgun. <Listen to the two of you. Such romantics.=
<Shut up,= Shotgun ored of. <It9s all we9ve got in this joint.=
<I didn9t have story time growing up,= Trip said. Then, quietly, he added, <I like it.=
Haggy gave them a sharp look through the little discs of her spectacles. <Well, you can blame the Boy for her being gone.=
Shotgun nicked a onger through one of his thick, wide sideburns. <The Boy? Why?=
<Are you blind?= Haggy snapped. <He let her fall for him!=
<How9s that even possible?= Trip asked. <I mean, she9s alive and he9s a ghost?=
Haggy snorted. <Yeah, well, she9s grown now and I9m guessing she9s noticed that the Boy9s handsome.=
<And that accent of his?= the Colonel said with a tsk. <Ladies swoon over Brit1speak.=
Trip held his hands to the sides of his head like he was trying to keep it together. <But one of them9s dead, so how9s that work?=
<It doesn9t!= Haggy answered. <Which is the whole point! It9s a one-way street and that9s how it9s gotta stay.=
The Colonel hitched his thumbs behind the shoulder straps of his overalls. <But...why?=
<Ever read Romeo and Juliet?= Haggy cried.
The Colonel laughed. <Those two are hardly4=
Haggy cut him of. <Besides, we have to start thinking about ourselves! She hasn9t outgrown being a Seer like you said she would.=
Shotgun9s eyes squeezed down on Haggy. <What9s that mean?=
Haggy hufed and paced around a bit. <Never mind.=
The Colonel studied her closely. <What are you not telling us?=
<Yo,= Shotgun said. <Out with it.=
<Enough!= Haggy snapped. <Look, with the graveyard being full and locked up, there9s only ever going to be the ove of us here. We9re like family4=
<Family?= Shotgun cried like she9d run him through.
<Well, we9re all we9ve got,= Haggy said. <So if he falls for her...=
Her voice faded away, and the Colonel prompted, <What if he does?=
Haggy sighed. <If she manages to get him out4=
<How9s she going to do that?= the Colonel demanded. <We9ve been trying to get out for years!=
<I...I meant if there was a way out,= Haggy stammered.
Shotgun frowned. <Think we can9t tell when you9re lyin9?= He seemed to have a sudden thought. <Does this have to do with that Mariela chick?=
Trip exhaled. <Mariela was smokin9 hot.=
Shotgun kept both barrels on Haggy as he thought aloud. <There
was something oshy about that whole situation. She was here for two months and then she rose.= He pointed to the Colonel. <According to him, that9s never happened before. Or since. It9s always been three days. Three. Days.=
<It9s true,= the Colonel said. <It never made sense to me.= He studied Haggy. <You know...I remember you were patrolling the main gates when she disappeared.= Haggy9s eyes went shifty.
<Out with it!= Shotgun demanded. <What do you know that we don9t?=
<Nothing!= Haggy said, but even I could tell she was lying. Something clicked together in Shotgun9s mind. <Mariela didn9t rise, did she. She escaped!= Haggy looked away.
The Colonel drifted right up to her. <Haggy!= he barked. <You9ve been keeping this from us for over ofty years?=
<Whoa,= Trip said like the universe had shifted. <Mariela escaped?=
<Spill it, Haggy,= Shotgun snapped. <Enough pussyfootin9 around.=
<All right, all right!= Haggy cried. <But I swear I9ve got no idea how she did it.=
The rest of us waited as if on pins and needles, and at last Haggy began explaining.
<There was a girl. She was maybe six or seven? Her and her mom were walking past the Main Street gates where Mariela used to hang out singing that sad song. Remember that?= Haggy looked around at us.
<Get to the point!= Shotgun snapped.
<The girl could see Mariela, and she recognized her because she squealed and said, 8Mommy, look! It9s Mariela!9 When her mom tried to yank her along, the girl said something to Mariela and reached for her through the gate. The next thing I knew, Mariela was slipping through the bars.=
A stillness settled in and lay like a scratchy blanket over the grave1 yard. I was cross now, too! How could Haggy have kept this from us?
Shotgun broke the silence. <Yo. All this time we coulda been askin9 the Girl to set us free?=
<I told you,= Haggy said. <I don9t know how she did it! I don9t know what she said! Besides, where would we go? We9re stuck between worlds. All we9ve got is each other. If we get out and separate, we9ve got nothing.= Shotgun9s frown dug deeper. <So you9ve been keepin9 us here by force?=
<By force?= Haggy hacked out a laugh. <Clean out your ears! I don9t know how she did it.=
<But you never even told us there was the possibility,= the Colonel fumed. He gave her a stern look. <Have you tried?=
<Why would I try? This is home.=
Trip frowned. <Why9s there even a stupid force oeld? And just for us? Makes me feel like I9m back in school. And man, I hated school.=
<Boneyard High,= the Colonel said with a snort.
Trip perked up. <I could go for getting high.=
<Quit with the sidetracks!= Shotgun barked. <The point is, I9m more than ready to blow this joint.=
<But how?= Trip asked.
<Easy,= Shotgun said. <If a Seer9s our ticket outta here, we just gotta get the Boy to sweet1talk the Girl into helping us.= He started away. <Leave it to me. I9ll get him on board.=
I stayed hidden behind Quinley Vonn9s tombstone until the others had gone their separate ways. Then I slipped over to the northwest corner of the graveyard where a blackberry bramble has run amok, stretching nearly to the boarded1over iron gate that leads to the car park behind the church. It9s the one corner the others hardly ever roamed, and I needed time away from them to think about what Haggy had said4not just that Gemma fancied me, but also that Mariela had escaped.
I hadn9t been there long before I heard the voices of Lexy and her lackey mate Mel. Gemma had told me how rough Lexy and Mel had made her life at school, and I knew it was worse than she let on. I9d seen Lexy spying over the wall many times in search of Gemma. Haggy had once given her a good Chill that sent her scampering home, but she was bold as brass, and here she was again.
This time, Lexy and Mel were with a boy I9d not seen before. He was a handsome lad with a sharp1looking head of hair4full on top and trimmed short on the sides. He had a clever look about him, but then looks can be deceiving.
<This is where we9ll climb over,= Lexy was saying. <It9s easy. I9ve done it a hundred times.=
A handful was not a hundred, but she was one for telling wicked porkies.
<Are you sure she9ll be here?= Mel asked.
<I told you. She comes every Halloween to do her perverted sacrioce ritual. Last year she used our neighbor9s cat.=
Mel9s face pinched as she whispered, <She really killed a cat?=
Lexy nodded. <I9m telling you, she9s not who you think she is.= This statement came with a look in the boy9s direction. When he said nothing, Lexy sighed. <Kaden, you need to trust me4Gemma9s dangerous. You think she9s going to stop with pets?=
The Kaden lad shook his head. <I just can9t picture it. Gemma9s not...I mean...I just don9t believe it.=
<Which is why you need to come,= Lexy said. <See for yourself. I9m telling you, she should probably be institutionalized.=
<But Lexy4=
<Fine. Stay hung up on her.=
<Who says I9m hung up on her?=
Lexy snorted. <Oh, please. You don9t think we see the way you look at her?= She turned sympathetic eyes on him. <Kaden, come on. As your friend, I think it9s important for you to know the truth.=
Mel cut in. <How can she read incantations out of a book in the dark?=
<She brings a book light,= Lexy said.
<But4=
<Look, Mel,= Lexy snapped, clearly mifed by the interruption. <If you don9t want to help rescue a cat or a puppy or whatever she9s going to sacrioce this year, stay home.= She turned to Kaden. <But
you need to see for yourself. I don9t know how else to convince you how disturbed she is.=
Kaden sighed. <Okay, one. I9ll come.=
<Me too,= Mel said.
Once they were gone, I knew I had to get Gemma back to the graveyard.
Not to get her help.
To warn her.
R 5 r
Gemma Night Song
My bedroom is downstairs. It9s so small it doesn9t have a closet, and there9s just one narrow window that faces the backyard. But I wouldn9t trade it for any of the upstairs bedrooms. I have fairy lights and a gauzy canopy over my bed, and Dickens loves the soft green rug between my bed and my beanbag chair. To me, the room feels like a fantasy realm, and that can do a magical thing to my mood.
Mom didn9t like the idea of me being downstairs alone at night. But upstairs had become so crowded, and when I pointed out that Dickens would protect me from burglars, she gave in.
Turns out, my brothers like me being down here because they don9t have to cover their ears when I practice violin.
I used to hate the violin. I was nine when I started, and at orst my playing was screechy and squeaky and I resented having to do scales over and over and over. It was frustrating to be so bad at something I worked so hard at.
But then about two years ago, a little miracle happened. Maybe my ongers just got bigger or stronger or...I don9t know what. But the very same violin that screeched and squeaked and made my ongers ache started producing the sweetest sounds.
The orst time it happened I was practicing Massenet9s <Medita tion.= I9d been rehearsing the piece for a few months, but that night the music gave me chills. It was otherworldly, like angels were drifting through my room, carrying my heart away.
Even Mom noticed. Her head popped into my doorway and she said, <Gemma? Oh, wow. That was you? You9re sounding amazing.=
Now I practice every day.
Because I want to.
Because I want my heart to feel that way.
And because it rescues me when life seems determined to break me.
Falling in love with Jimmy has made everything complicated. I try to remind myself that, logically speaking, Jimmy will be ofteen forever. I replay how when I asked him what he9d do if he could leave the graveyard, in all his excitement talking about how he9d go to the theater and hang out at a <pub= and explore the <high street,= he didn9t mentioned me once. I could tell it had never crossed his mind to go to a movie with me, or walk down Main Street with me, or come over to my house, even though I9d said more times than I could count how I wished he could visit.
And yet it never fails. My heart goes wild when I9m near him. My cheeks nush, my hands shake...it9s embarrassing!
So it wasn9t logic or self-control that made me quit visiting the graveyard.
It was Matthew.
Matthew started Dove Crossing Junior High this year, just as I moved up to the high school. Dove Crossing9s junior high and high
school campuses are connected, and they share some facilities4like the cafeteria and the sports oelds and the new rec center.
Matthew was excited about starting seventh grade. He9s cute and fun to be around, and he9s always been one of those kids who makes friends easily. Meanwhile, because of Lexy9s campaign to freeze me out of, well, everything, I9m like the opposite. Basically, I read tons of books, do my homework, hang out with Dickens, and practice my violin.
When school began this year, Matthew and I rode our bikes there together. He chattered away, pumped about everything, and his happy-boy vibe rubbed of on me. But before long he got busy with cross1country and started catching a ride to school with his friends Sebastian and Slater, and I was back to feeling all alone.
So I was more than a little surprised when Matthew knocked on my door one evening in early October and said, <Hey, can I talk to you?=
I could tell from the way his face was twitching that he was ner1 vous about something. <Sure,= I said, putting aside my violin.
<You9re getting really good on that,= he said, giving my violin a nod as he scooted in next to Dickens on the beanbag chair. <Better than I am on the oboe, that9s for sure.=
I laughed and said, <You9ve never been an oboe guy.=
He grinned. <Thanks for noticing.=
<So...what9s got you all nervous?=
<Nervous?= he asked with an uncomfortable laugh.
I held his gaze until he turned away and focused on petting Dickens.
<Matthew?=
He heaved a sigh.
<Matthew. Talk to me.=
He took a deep breath and looked up from Dickens. <People are saying stuf about you at school.=
I felt my face nush. <Like?=
<Like that you do animal sacrioces in the graveyard. That you9re obsessed with Satan and that you9re...you9re not going to stop with animals.=
<And you believe them?=
<No! Of course not! I tell them that9s insane, but...= His voice faded to silence and he went back to petting Dickens.
<But?=
<What is it with you and the graveyard?=
<It9s peaceful! And beautiful!=
His head quivered back and forth. <Gemma, it is not beautiful, it9s...it9s creepy.=
I frowned. <You didn9t use to think so.=
<I was a kid! I didn9t know any better!=
We were quiet until I said, <In case you9re actually having doubts, I do not perform satanic rituals or animal sacrioces.= I shook my head.
<I hate her. I hate1hate1hate her!=
<Who?=
<Lexy! She9s the one behind all of this! She9s been running a campaign of lies about me since elementary school. How can anyone believe her?=
He scooted forward on the beanbag chair. <Because you give her free ammunition!=
<You mean because I read books in a graveyard?=
<Yes!=
<Why should I let her bully me out of going there?=
He fell back into the chair with a groan. <Because it9s messing up my life. My friends are like, Are you into that, too? I tell them it9s not true4that none of it9s true! But Gemma, it9s giving serial killer, and nobody9s down with that.=
<You know I don9t do anything like that! I read books! That9s it!=
<You can read books anywhere, Gemma. Why the graveyard?=
I wanted to shout, Because my friends are there! Because I9m in love with a ghost!
What I said, though, was <So it9s okay with you if Lexy wins?=
<It9s not about her winning,= he said. <I mean, don9t you want friends? Don9t you want to, you know, do stuf ?=
I looked down.
Of course I did.
<She won9t quit, you know,= I said softly. <Even if I stop going to the graveyard, she9ll keep at it.=
He leaned forward again. <You make it too easy for her. Can you please just not go back?=
I saw the desperation in his eyes. The pleading puppy1dog look that9s always made me give in to him. <Okay,= I sighed. <For you, I9ll stop.=
He jumped to his feet so fast it made Dickens yip. <YES! Thank
you! You9re the best!= And before I could change my mind, he swooped in with a hug and dashed out the door.
I remember thinking about his hug... it was a real hug. It was warm and sweet and full of brotherly love. And it left me facing the undeniable truth: I would never get a real hug4or a real kiss4from a ghost boy.
That night, I resolved to stop going to the graveyard, and for the next two weeks I poured my heartache into the second movement of Tchaikovsky9s violin concerto. I practiced until my ongertips were so tender I couldn9t play anymore. Besides crying into my pillow at night, it was the only thing that could reach the agony inside me.
And then one Monday night, I was almost asleep when I heard my name drift in on a breeze through my window.
My fairy lights nickered on and of, on and of.
I sat up and held my breath.
<Gemma?= the voice came again.
It was faint.
And yes, ethereal.
The lights in my room nickered again.
<Ahoy, lass!= Jimmy9s voice called from a distance. <Are you there?=
My heart stopped.
Then broke.
I choked on his name because I couldn9t call back4people would hear! And I couldn9t go out this late at night!
But...why was he calling me?
I sat up in bed, listening to him say my name again and again,
wanting to answer, wanting to go to him but knowing I couldn9t4no, shouldn9t
The lights nickered again, and this time when his voice drifted in, it was wrapped sweetly around a melody.
There once grew a rose in a garden of pain, Warmed by the sun and washed by the rain...
My breath caught. His voice was so clear and tender. So...pure.
He9d told me once that as a boy in England he9d literally had to sing for his supper, but no matter how often I asked, he9d refused to sing for me.
And now...
I held my breath as his beautiful voice wrapped around my heart. And I realized4this song...it was a love song. A love song!
I was pulling on my shoes before the second verse began.
R 6 r Jimmy Good Deeds Gone Wrong
Something strange came over me when I saw Gemma walking toward me beneath the soft light of the waxing moon. A swelling in my chest. A noating feeling like none I9d known before, either in life or as a spirit. Her hands were buried deep inside the pockets of her coat and her long hair streamed around the sides of its hood. She looked diferent to the Gemma I knew. Older.
I couldn9t stop myself from calling out, <Ahoy, lass!=
<What9s going on?= she asked from the other side of the wall.
The strange feeling grew as she toed herself up a stone to face me eye to eye. <There9s something I must tell you,= I managed to say.
<Yes, Jimmy?= she asked, her eyes shining.
<It9s about Lexy.=
She leaned back. <Lexy?=
<Yes, she9s4=
<If this is about Lexy, why were you singing that...that song?= Her eyes went hard. <And in the middle of the night? If anyone notices I9m not in bed I9ll be in major trouble!= Before I could wedge a word in, she took up again in a oerce whisper. <I9ve asked you to sing for
me, like, ofty times and you wouldn9t. And now you sing a song like that? Like some...some siren luring me to the shores of destruction? I have to go to school tomorrow! I can9t be out here talking to ghosts.=
<It9s only me,= I said, and straightaway felt thick as a log. That was what I chose to wedge in? But she was in a fury. And she seemed, as I said...older. All of which made my tongue twist into crippling knots.
<You can9t do this,= she said, and now there were tears in her eyes.
<You just can9t do this!=
What I said next surprised the both of us. <You do fancy me, then?=
<As in like you? No!= She clamped a hand over her mouth before saying it again in a whisper. <No! You hear me? No!= Then, like a quick nick of a knife, she added, <You9re a ghost.=
She9d called me that before, of course, but never like this, and I felt the cut of it in a way I9d not known I could.
<Is that why you lured me out here?= she was asking. <To ond out if I liked you?=
<Lured? No! I wanted to warn you about Lexy!=
<Like I don9t already know she has it out for me?= Gemma looked over her shoulder at Lexy9s house, where a light had come on, then onished her climb and nipped gracefully over the wall.
<She was here with her little lackey Mel and a lad named Kaden,= I explained.
<Kaden was here?=
I didn9t much like the way she9d asked4like that bit of news mattered most to her. <He was.=
<Well, why? What did they say?=
<Lexy knows you read to us every Halloween. She9s plotting an ambush.= I looked down, unable to meet her eyes. <She9s telling everyone you9ll be doing an animal sacrioce. They9ll be meeting in the church car park at nine o9clock that night.=
<This is unbelievable! What does she think she9s going to prove?= She shook her head. <Well, they9ll be really disappointed since I won9t be here.=
<Wait!= I said as she turned to leave.
<Please, Jimmy,= she said, her voice cracking. <I have to go.=
<Gemma, what happened? Why have you stopped visiting?=
<Why?= She looked right at me. <Because of Lexy and her merry band of trolls! Because I have no real friends. Because I9ll never make any if all I do is think about you!=
I was confused. <So you do fancy me, then?=
<No!= she cried, this time loud enough to wake the dead. Or, leastways, gather some ghosts.
When we saw Shotgun moving toward us, Gemma let slip a curse. <The reason I9ve stopped coming,= she said, <is Matthew. His friends believe Lexy9s rumors about me. I don9t want him to have to deal with that.=
Shotgun was upon us now, so I moved closer to Gemma and said, <I also wanted to warn you that4=
Shotgun cut in. <You need to help us.=
<Help you with what?= Gemma asked him, then looked at me.
I was about to answer when Trip joined us. He looked oddly bright and let out a hic and a giggle.
<Are you okay?= Gemma asked him. <Why are you... glowing?=
Another giggle bubbled out of Trip. <I am havin9 the freakiest freakout.=
<What9s happened to him?= It was the Colonel, drifting in from the left.
<He9s been up in the power lines,= Haggy said, swooping in from behind us. <Up 9n9 down, up 9n9 down. Sizzlin9 and poppin9, sizzlin9 and poppin9.=
<I was looking for a way out,= Trip said, staggering around. <And I thought, Hey! What if the new power lines messed with the force oeld and we could get out through them? It didn9t work, but man, what a charge! I9m nying so high right now. You have got to try it. Free juice, and forever? It9s making me rethink everything. Why would anyone want to leave?=
Shotgun frowned. <Well, I do.= He turned both barrels of his gaze upon Gemma. <So. Are you gonna help us?=
<Help you do what?= Gemma asked.
<Escape!= Shotgun answered.
<Escape?=
<Wait, wait, wait!= Trip said, his words all sliding into each other. <Before she does that, she has to onish reading the book. I gotta know if Westley and Buttercup get out of the Fire Swamp.=
<Of course they get out!= Shotgun snapped. <The question is
how do we get out of here.= He pointed a onger at Gemma. <And I9m bettin9 she knows the answer to that, too!=
Gemma looked puzzled. <Why do you think that?=
Which is when the Colonel took charge of relaying the story of Mariela Talamantes passing through the main gates.
<How long ago was that?= Gemma asked.
<Oh, it9s been ages,= Haggy said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
The Colonel cleared his throat. <If you use her gravestone to do a little math, you9ll ond she was twenty-seven years old ofty-two years ago.=
<Always gotta go and show us up, don9t you,= Haggy muttered.
Shotgun was getting restless. <Can we just try it already?=
Gemma squinted at him. <Try what?=
<You reach through the force oeld and pull us out.=
<Pull you...what?= But then her eyes went wide and she said, <Shh!=
We heard the patter of footsteps in the lane. <Seriously!= came a whispered voice over the wall. <Who else would it be?=
I recognized the voice of that conniving Lexy, as did Gemma, who balled herself into near invisibility behind the leaning tombstone that marked Fannie Newman9s grave.
Lexy9s head appeared over the wall, and into her phone she whis pered, <If anything happens to me, you9ll know it was her, okay?... Hold on...No! Don9t hang up!=
<Come on over, ya nasty trollop,= Haggy muttered. <We9ll give you the Fright of your life.=
Gemma held still as a stone. I9d told her about Frights, but she9d never seen us carry one out and I didn9t know how she would react. In the graveyard, a Fright isn9t questioned. It9s law and order, done to protect the graves.
Still, I9m not keen on them. I leave an icy chill, passing through a soul, but I also pick up heat. Human heat. It makes me feel uneasy, with a heavy sadness that takes days to shake.
The other Ethereals don9t seem to have that problem. And the ove of us have never completed a full Fright Flight because no intruder has ever stuck around for longer than three passes. It usually takes one, perhaps two, before the terror takes hold, which is why Haggy and Shotgun tussle over who goes orst.
<Come on, girlie!= Haggy was saying. <Hoist your conniving keester over that wall!=
What came over the wall instead was a bright beam of light that swept slowly across the tombstones. <I can9t see her,= Lexy was saying. <She must be hiding.=
<That girl won9t have the guts to come over by herself,= the Col onel said. <Not after last time.=
<Well, that9s no fun,= Shotgun groused. Then he perked up. <So how9s about we Whip her?=
Haggy nodded. <Better than nothing, I suppose.=
One by one we all fell in line behind Shotgun and new in a circle as close to Lexy as we could reach. Faster and faster we went, making a growing cyclone of wind powerful enough to blow her back of the wall.
Lexy screamed as she fell, and she crab1walked backward a few steps before righting herself. <She blasted me of the wall!= she shrieked into her phone. <It...it must9ve been with some sort of satanic incan tation!= She hurried away, saying, <No, I9m telling you! She9s in there right now, probably butchering something!=
<Yo, that was fun,= Shotgun said as we watched her leave.
Even Haggy was smiling. <It9s been a while.=
Gemma came out from hiding, and Shotgun wasted no time closing in on her. <Okay. Time to return the favor. Get us outta here.=
<Favor?= Gemma began marching of. <You made everything worse! She knew she was spreading lies before, but you just made her believe them!=
<Where are you going?= the Colonel called as we moved to catch up.
<I have to get home! I can9t go over the wall4Lexy9s probably watching! I have to sneak out through the side gate.=
<The side gate9s perfect!= Shotgun said. <We9ll do it there.=
<No!= Gemma snapped. <I have to get home!= Haggy took up for Gemma. <Just let her go. We don9t want her to get in trouble.=
But as Gemma opened the side gate, Shotgun said softly, <Please, Gemma?=
Hearing this was more than a surprise4it was a shock. Shotgun had never said <please.= He9d also never called Gemma by name. It was always <the Girl,= usually with a sneer attached.