Page 17 of Ghost in the Cupboard

Amused at my statement, Max shook hands with both of us and said his goodbyes. Seconds later, I was shutting the front door as his truck growled down the driveway, away from the house. When I returned to the cupboard, Danny was standing before it, squinting at the paint job.

“Fifty bucks isn’t a bad deal,” Danny said nonchalantly.

“Yeah.”

“If you actually needed the cupboard,” he said, grinning, though he didn’t turn his head to look at me.

I said nothing.

“You may be a swindler, but you’re singlehandedly trying to keep every business in town afloat. Five-dollar milk? Fifty-dollar useless cupboard? The fraud with a heart of gold.”

I turned to give him an expressionless stare.

“I’m only kidding.”

“I know what you think of me,” I said. “And I also know you’re here every other night getting in my pants. Maybe you should worry what you think about yourself.”

“Si, I—”

“Or,” I stopped him, “maybe you should admit to yourself that you don’t really think I’m a fraud. You just can’t bring yourself to believe something you can’t prove.”

“Prove it to me, then.”

Instead of taking offense, growing red-faced, and blathering angrily at me, Danny simply crossed his arms over his chest and grinned. I stared at him for a moment, peering into his eyes. Finally, I reached out and grabbed his wrist with both hands. He didn’t jerk away or look alarmed as I rolled his sleeve up his forearm and lay both hands against the flesh underneath.

Closing my arms, I squeezed his arm and concentrated. I could hear Danny’s breath as he watched me stand before him, acting as weird as one could imagine. Finally, after ten seconds, I opened my eyes and found him still staring back at me. I let my hands fall from his arm.

“At lunch you ate a tuna salad sandwich. You ate late because the work load was light and you figured you’d get everything done so you could knock off early.”

Danny squinted at me for a moment before responding.

“Touch psychic, eh?” he asked. “You hold onto my arm and that wacky little mind of yours gives you flashes of my past?”

“No,” I said. “But I smelled it on your breath when you kissed me. And you never get to your mom’s house before I leave. Lucky guess. Maybe I simply pick up clues from people and I am a fraud.”

I shrugged. Danny groaned angrily.

“Why do you do this?” He huffed. “I’ve been calling you a fraud for years! And every time you have a chance to prove it to me, you make a joke out of it! Tell me, Si! Why?”

I shrugged again. “Maybe because I know there’s nothing I could tell you that would make you believe me?”

Danny, angry as I’d ever seen him, his face growing red, reached into his back pocket and whipped out his wallet. A second later, I was staring at three twenty-dollar bills. He shoved the money into my chest and held it there.

“There,” he said. “The money you spent on this piece of crap and ten to spare. I’m hiring you. Summon my dad. You can’t do it for my mom, do it for me.”

I shook my head.

“Do it!” Danny insisted. “Right now. Summon my dad. I don’t even care that you’re swindling my mom to help fund your little charity! Fair enough. She’s got the money and it may as well go to a good cause. But prove to me that you’re not lying to me. Right now!”

I grabbed his handful of money and pushed it away.

“No.”

“No?” Danny barked the question. “Because you can’t and you really are a fraud, or you want to be cruel? Maybe you’re dragging things out with Mom to keep reeling in the dough you need for The Lunch Counter. Fine. I won’t tell her. But I need to know. Right now.”

“Just no,” I said, simply.

“Why?” Danny was no longer angry.