Ghost Time

her problem? but I didn’t care. I don’t know how long I stood there, but long enough that the hall emptied again, and third bell rang, and then I started walking to the front door. And of course there was a voice that said, You can’t do this. Don’t leave. You’re going to get in so much trouble if you cut school again. But I wouldn’t listen, no, I put my hand on the front door, and I opened it, telling myself to shut up.
    It was so bright out, I covered my eyes, stepping outside, and I didn’t even have my coat, but I walked down the front steps. I don’t know what I was thinking, but when I got to the football field, no one was there, so I walked to the top of the bleachers,and I started shouting, as loud as I could: Where are you?! Cam, where the hell are you?!
    Nothing. Not a sound. Screaming like a tree falling in the forest. My throat hurt, my heart hurt, my head hurt, so I sat down on the top bleacher. Hoarse, sighing, I put my bag down, and stretched out my arms, about to lean back, then I felt something scratchy. I looked, and someone had carved 6001133, big—about six inches long and three inches wide, cut deep, using a pocketknife or something, and I leaned to the side, lifting my butt, and the numbers kept going. I stood up, and they went on and on, all the way down the bleacher. I didn’t know what it was, but I had that feeling again, and I looked at the bleacher below me, and more numbers. I got up and walked to the bottom bleacher, far right, and there it was, starting: 3.1415926… Ohmygod, I covered my mouth with both hands, seeing that the numbers went on and on, all the way across the first bleacher, the second bleacher, the third bleacher, every single bleacher covered in numbers, thousands and thousands of numbers, circling around and around, until I reached the very top again. I didn’t know what the hell it meant, really, but I know π when I see it.
    And then I heard his voice in my head, and I got such a chill, I had to cross my arms, nipping out: You do, too, know, Cam said. I’d almost forgotten about that night, the night he took me to the baseball field and he showed me the secret tunnel. After we got back in the car, Cam started to turn over the ignition, and then he changed his mind. Hunching over the steering wheel, he looked up at the hole in the fence, right above our heads. He just staredfor like a minute or two, and the look on his face was the same look a little boy has, staring at a dump truck or a crane, lifting beams into the sky: pure joy, you know? Finally, I said, What’re you thinking, boy genius? Cam sat back and he said, Numbers, Thee. Everything, absolutely everything in reality comes down to numbers and codes. Said it once, and I’ll say it again: you break the code; you alter reality. That’s the whole game, right there: just got to hack the code, he said, sitting back, beaming.
    Rolling my eyes, I tsk-tsked, because he was basking in his own glory again. Christ, funny how that kept happening. So he raised his brow at me, and he goes, You disagree? I said, Everything, huh? Everything, he said, nodding yes at himself, and I said, Love, too? Is love just a code? He knocked his head backward, and then he goes, Ohhhh! And the crowd goes, Rahhhhhh! Rahhhhhh! he said, cupping his mouth with both hands: Thea Denny, ladies and gentlemen! Thea Denny hits a grand slam, right out of the park! I reached over to slap him with the back of my hand, but he caught my wrist, pulling me across the seat, holding me across his lap. Lying there, in his arms, looking up, I could see it, too, the dark hole in space and time that had Cam so smitten.
    Cam kissed the top of my head, and smoothed my hair, and then he said, You know what pi is? And I said, No, and he gave me a smack on the butt. You do, too. Go on, tell me, he said, and I said, I know the definition , but I don’t know what it means , and he said, Tell me the definition of pi, then, and I said, Cam, please. No more homework—. Tell me, he said, and I could tell he wasn’t going to let it go, so I huffed, but I told him. I said, pi is the circumference of any circle, divided by its diameter, andhe said, See? You know! No, Cam, I really have no idea what that means—. You do, Thee. Because pi is math’s greatest love story—it never ends, infinite. Just like you and me, kid.
    I could barely breathe, standing there, with my back to the football field, and I looked up, grinning at the sky, despite myself. You