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“Sip says it’s the glow that draws out the other ghosts. Like a moth to flame type deal.” Huck looked down at their joined hands, surprised to see that part of his arm was in color again as well.
His hoodie was green.
Huh.
He’d forgotten that.
“I’ve heard that before,” Grant said. “That a medium or another sensitive person is attractive to spirits because of our energy.”
“Well, I happen to think you’re attractive in a bunch of different ways.”
Grant laughed and shook his head. “You’re sweet, thanks.” He didn’t seem to actually register the compliment, instead asking, “So, there’s you, Sip, and Mrs. Charles here.”
“And the shades.”
“Right. The shadow people?”
“Most of them are in the old morgue. One or two hang around the kitchen.” Huck tried to think. “Oh, and Miss Flynn. She’s here sometimes.”
“Wait, the actress? She’s here?”
“Yeah, that’s her.”
“Where is she? I thought you said ghosts can’t leave.”
“We can’t. But she likes to take what she calls a sabbatical and loses time for like a whole year.”
“Loses time?”
“Hardcore ghost zoning out. We just, I dunno, sort of relax and veg and bam suddenly a month has gone by. Time is super weird for us. It’s like dreaming. I forget that I don’t need to sleep and then I wake up like two days later.”
“Is that why some ghosts don’t realize it’s the future now?” Grant’s eyes widened, and his grip on Huck’s hand tightened. “Because they’re losing time like that?”
“Maybe?” Huck shrugged. “That’s more of a Sip question. He knows all about this stuff. He’s the one who found me. You know, after I died. He helped me figure out how to ghost.”
“Well, I’m enjoying our date so far, and I think it would be rude to go talk to some other guy.” Grant grinned.
“So, it is a date?”
“You said it was.”
“Then it’s a date.” Huck beamed.
“Sorry that I’ve been spending it interrogating you.” Grant’s grin turned sheepish. “This is pretty exciting for me.”
“Me too.” Huck rubbed his thumb over Grant’s knuckle. “Do you mind, uh, if I ask you some questions too?”
“Of course. Shoot.”
“The TV show. The cameras. Are you ever gonna try to film stuff like this? Us talking?”
“No.” Grant shook his head vehemently. “For one thing, it would just look like me talking to myself. I also don’t wanna ever be on camera doing this, so don’t worry. That’s never going to happen.”
“Why not?”
Grant hesitated. “I don’t want anyone to know what I do. They’re either not going to believe me or worse, they will believe me and want to pick me apart to figure out how I do it.”
“Oh. Like a zombie.”
