Page 58 of Ghost in the Cupboard

“Okay.”

“Go on, then,” I said. “If you stick around, people will drive by and see your truck at the fraud’s house.”

Danny shook his head and rolled his eyes. But he turned and headed back to his truck. I watched him as he walked away. When he grabbed the handle, he turned to look at me.

“I don’t actually think you’re a fraud,” Danny said softly. “I’m just not a believer.”

I stared across the distance between us at him.

“I’m too afraid of having hope,” he said with a shrug. “Scares me to think that this is it, you know?”

He gestured vaguely.

“Life’s kind of crap, you know?” he said. “Why trick yourself into thinking that there’s something better? Why have hope? We’re born, we live, we do our best, and we die. I’m afraid to believe anything else. Because hope is sometimes scarier than no hope.”

I cleared my throat.

“I never said there was anything better,” I said. “Just that there is something else.”

Danny watched me for a while.

“No bills for ghosts, though,” he said, chuckling bitterly. “That’s better.”

He shook his head and popped the handle of his door. As it swung open, I coughed. Danny turned to look at me.

“Kenny,” I said.

Danny’s eyes grew wide.

“Your dad called you Kenny sometimes,” I said. “For Kenny Loggins. You thought ‘Danny’s Song’ was about you when you were little. So, Harlan called you Kenny when you were little. Made you laugh.”

Danny’s face was pale when he looked away.

“Kind of a weird song for a small child to be obsessed with,” I mumbled. “But kids are weird. You heard ‘House at Pooh Corner’ on the Loggins and Messina album and—”

“How do you know that?” Danny choked out.

I looked him directly in his eyes.

“As you’ve said,” I replied, “I’m a fraud. Right?”

Danny stared at me for a moment, then began looking around frantically. I stared at him, willing my eyes not to move.

“Is he here now?” Danny asked. “Can you—”

“This weekend?” I stopped him. “We’ll…yeah. Text me or something.”

Danny started to argue, but he saw the look on my face and stopped. His jaw clenched and flexed, his hand balled at his side, but finally, he nodded, leapt into his truck, and closed the door. I gave him a wave as he started it up and turned his truck around, careful to avoid my car on his way.

I watched as he drove down the drive, out of sight. With a sigh, I sat back in my chair and stuck my hands in the pockets of the cardigan. I wasn’t certain that Danny believed me still, but what I’d told him definitely had an effect on him. Either way, he’d stop asking the same old question.

What did my dad used to call me?

I was about to reach for my laptop when the moan stopped me.

“Yoooooou didn’t tellll him my message.”

Frozen in place, unsure how I wanted to handle things, I chewed at my lip. Finally, I looked up at the ghost that had been following me for months. He’d been sitting in the chair next to me all evening as I worked on my laptop on the porch. Harlan Milner was angry with me. But he was always angry with me. I was getting used to it.