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“Because that was a picture. This is real life.”
“Oh my God, no.”
“I could bedead,” she argued, pressing an impassioned hand against her chest. “Do you really want to begrudge a poor, frightenedghostgirl from what could possibly be her last wishever?”
“How about we focus on trying to figure out your name?” I countered.
“If I remember it, will you take off your shirt,then?”
I exhaled heavily to seek some patience, only to give in with a dry, “Sure.”
“Really?Yes!” She clapped excitedly before clearing her throat and drumming at her chin with two fingers in thought. “Let’s see. Let’s see. What pairs well with the middle name Diane?”
“No clue.” Returning to my bed, I collapsed onto the mattress with a sigh. “How about Elizabeth?” And with a yawn, I stretched out my legs, then draped the back of my arm over my brow.
When the ghost didn’t answer within ten seconds, I lifted my face to make sure she hadn’t disappeared on me again. But she was still there, sitting against the wall, just blinking at me.
“Hello?” I asked, waving a hand.
“Hmm? What?” She jerked her gaze from my legs and lap area to ask, “Did you say something?”
I groaned and bent up my knee to conceal the family jewels a little more from her avid stare. “You mentioned someone named Kinsey last night. Is she your friend? Does she attend HaveU as well? Maybe I can look up her name in the school directory and?—”
“Nope. Sorry.” My ghost was already shaking her head. “Kinsey’s my sister and lives in Galveston. She didn’t go to college at all.”
“Galveston?” I repeated, sitting up and reaching for my phone. “Areyoufrom Galveston?”
“Yep. Born and raised. I lived there with my dad and sister until I came to Westport to attend HaveU.”
“Really? And your last name is…?” I asked as I started to type the town’s name into a search engine. The island was located a couple of hours north of Westport, but I’d only been there maybe once or twice in my life.
The girl on the floor sighed as she pushed to her feet and wandered over to the bed where I was scrolling. “Can’t remember, sorry.”
“What about your mom?” I asked as I opened pictures of Galveston.
“Died giving birth to me,” she answered, sitting on the bed next to me as she pointed to my phone. “Hey. There’s Pleasure Pier. And Moody Gardens! I actually worked at the garden during the summer between my junior and senior years of high school. I fed the monkeys and two-toed sloths. Did you know sloths eat, sleep, mate, and give birth upside down?”
Of course, she’d remember that over her own name.
Shaking my head, I admitted, “I had no idea.”
She nodded. “Yeah. Carlton was my favorite sloth. He was such a sweetheart.”
“Did you live near there?” I asked.
“About fifteen minutes away. Just a couple of blocks from Moody Mansion, in fact. And the captain—that’s my dad—he runs a fishing service over on the pier.”
“Oh, yeah?” Listening to her details, I pulled up a map of Galveston before zooming in to the mansion she mentioned, hoping she could point out where she used to live. “And what’s the name of his charter?”
“It’s—oh crap.” With a crumpled expression, she scowled at me. “I can’t remember.”
“That’s okay. No problem.” Showing her a picture of the entire island, I asked, “Could you maybe point in the general direction of which pier he works from, though?”
“Sure.” Her index finger extended. “It’s east of I-45, there, and just south of Pelican Island in the channel.”
“Perfect.” I slid the map left so I could see more to the right of the mansion, then entered a search for the wordcharter. When a host of red pins popped up, showing us all the charter services in that area, I blew out an overwhelmed breath but then began to read them off to her anyway.
“Bill’s Fishing Company? Up and Away Adventures? Texas Rich Charters? Casting Crew Guide Service? Chum Charters?—”
