Ghost Time

That’s what we call it, our notebook, and then I held Hubble up to his computer, and the graffitied words were erased where I’d torn our notebook page. I looked at Knox, making sure he saw it, too, and he did.
    Knox restarted his computer, not knowing what else to do, what else to believe, and I even wondered if that might change the image, but I knew better. Sure enough, the picture was the same; the words were gone. It only took a couple minutes, and then he got a text, a photo the cops had just taken. Knox held up his phone for me to see: the wall at the home looked exactly like it did on his screen, after I ripped the page— NOT LAUGHING!!!!!!!!!!!! —and I shuddered, crossing my arms and shivering, it scared me so much.
    Listen to me, Thea. Listen, Knox said, more serious than I’d ever heard him sound before: it’s that notebook. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but whatever you do, don’t let that notebook out of your sight. In fact, you should hide it, keep it here, and I said, No, Knox, I can’t do that, and he sighed, knowing I wouldn’t give it up. All right, but do not let it out of your sight, you understand? he said, and I nodded yes, grabbing my bag,hugging the notebook to my chest. I jumped, hearing my phone, and my first thought was Jenna Darnell, but it was just my mom, texting to say that she was outside.
    I made it to the car and opened the door, and then I stopped, realizing what this might mean. Because if I could change something just by tearing one of my pages, what would happen if I tore one of Cam’s pages, or scribbled on them, or erased them? You all right? Mom asked, and I nodded, buckling up, while she pulled out. How was the old Silver Top? she asked, smiling, because nothing changes at Silver Top. I told her. I said, That reporter showed up, Jenna Darnell, the one who’s been covering all the stories about what’s been going on in town.
    Mom’s mouth fell open, and then she furrowed her brow: What did she want? Did she try and ask you questions? Yes, but I said I couldn’t comment on anything, and Mom started to say something, then she shut her mouth. So we drove a couple blocks, not saying anything, and then, waiting at the red light, she goes, You know what we should do tonight, babe? Let’s go out to dinner, and I said, Out ? Out where? Because we never go out to eat anymore, and Mom nodded her head side to side, thinking about it, then she goes, What about Indian? Remember how good it was?
    There’s an Indian family who moved to town last year and they opened this little place in this old strip mall behind Wal-Mart. The smell of curry and cardamom hit you the moment you walked through the door, and the food’s so good, my mouth started watering. The owner came right over, the husband, soon as we walked in, and he was so genteel, I love him. Oh, good evening, ladies, he said, clasping his hands in front of him, and Momgoes, Good evening. Two, please? This way, please, the man said, holding out his hand, and Mom looked so happy, but once we sat down, I started feeling guilty, because I was thinking how big a splurge this dinner was.
    I couldn’t even stand to look at the prices on the menu, and then I started feeling angry with her, too, like why did she bring us here for dinner when we don’t have the money? But I didn’t say anything, I couldn’t—Mom was smiling and she wanted to treat me to a nice dinner, just the two of us. She must’ve read the look on my face, because she looked up and said, Is this okay? You’re not in the mood for Indian food? We could go somewhere else, she said. And the thing is, Mom looked so pretty again, like I remember her looking before our lives changed, before we moved here. This is great, I said, and she squeezed my hand, before ordering.
    Once the food came and we started eating, we had such a good time, I forgot everything for a couple hours, all our problems. I can’t tell you how nice that was, either, even for just two hours. For the first time in weeks, I went to bed feeling so much better, but then, I don’t know if I ate too much or what, but I woke up in the middle of the night. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I just lay there, staring at my ceiling.
    I felt so alone and it was so dark, I removed the Band-Aid from my shoulder, and I got up to look at the tattoo again in my bedroom mirror: TD + CC = TLA. It made me smile, but it was the painful kind of smile, the kind where the smile’s pushing