Page 15 of Ghost in the Night

“This picture?” She looks at me sideways. “Um, no offense, but why didn’t you go to Walgreens or something? You know how much this is gonna cost?”

I want to say,’Cause the best photographers only have their pictures printed at real photo labs. Not some janky pharmacy. But that sounds a bit too nerdy.

“I need this on some good photo paper.”

The girl shrugs. “All right. It’s your money.”

“Cool. I actually need two copies. Can you print the full picture, and then zoom in on the bottom window to the left of the door and print that out too?”

Myah rolls her eyes and moves the mouse, clicking about.

“How long is this gonna take?” Robby asks, looking at his LEGO watch as if he has somewhere to be.

I nudge Robby with an elbow. “Yo, chill,” I grumble.

“What’d I do?”

“If you want to be home so bad, you should have stayed there in the first place instead of chasing after me. You bringing down the vibe.”

“Heh. Little brother problems?” Myah says without looking at us.

“I’m not her brother,” Robby says with a hand up. “And I’m not a problem.”

Myah snorts, a small smile creeping in, but then she stops, her eyes widening at the monitor.

My heart drops. Only one thing could have happened.

She’s screwed up and all my pictures are gone.

My body sways forward, stomach hitting the counter. I think I’m about to faint. Fall flat on my face like they do in the movies.

All those pictures, of Kiki and Truth, of Dad at his shows, of Grandma … all those memories … gone!

“What’s wrong?” Robby asks, and I realize he’s not talking to me. He’s asking Myah.

Myah has a trembling hand to her open mouth. She ignores the question for a silent few seconds before jumping off her stool. Behind us, a large yellowish printer whirs tolife. Paper whines through the gears, light catching the glass as it slowly putters, the sound echoing through the store.

Myah races around the counter, tapping the machine impatiently.

“Come on, come on,” she mumbles, bouncing on her feet.

“What is happening?” Robby asks, frustrated, while I’m still too stunned to speak.

The machine slowly spits out an eleven-by-seventeen print of my picture, but zoomed in on the window. I rush to Myah’s side as she snatches it off the tray. Blown up this size, I can see clearly the orbs in the corner frame. Just as I thought—two white-gray circles with a bluish tint.

But behind them is the silhouette of a person, slightly blurred as if they had just moved when I snapped the shot.

Oh my gosh. I wasn’t imagining things. I caught a REAL ghost, just like the ones I’ve seen in all those pictures online and in books. I’m going to be famous! Maybe the youngest photographer to ever catch a ghost. Maybe I’ll start doing my own tour. Maybe they’ll put this photo in a book. I’ll be rich. I could buy all the camera gear I want!

“Holy smokes,” Robby gasps. I didn’t even see him standingon the other side of Myah, tipping up his glasses.

“Where … where did you take this picture?” Myah asks me, her eyes wide.

I gulp. “On a ghost tour.”

“Where? When?” she asks eagerly, like I wasn’t talking fast enough.

“Last night. In Calhoun Square.” Is she scared? She lives in Savannah. She should know all about ghosts. “You … know what that is in the picture, right?”