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  ‘So what’s been going on with you, then, Summer?’ she says.

  I shrug. ‘Not much,’ I say. ‘Everything’s been a bit rubbish really. Mum’s been working all summer. Jodie moved up to Manchester with her family. Lauren’s been away in France for the entire summer. And I’ve been sitting at home.’

  Sky makes a face, like, that sucks.

  ‘Oh, and then Nan had a heart attack and died, as you know.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Sky says. ‘That’s rough, sis.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  A waitress brings us our drinks. Sky’s is some frothy iced coffee thing. My lemonade comes in a foreign-looking can with a neon pink straw sticking out of the top. It looks way more glamorous than a can of lemonade has any right to look.

  ‘So what have you been doing?’ Sky says, stirring the froth on top of her coffee.

  I shrug. ‘Nothing much really. Hanging around the flat mainly. Reading. Helping Grandad.’

  Sky takes a sip of her drink. ‘Sounds like you need some fun.’

  ‘If only,’ I say. ‘There’s the funeral this week.’

  Sky sips from her coffee again.

  ‘So what about you?’ I say. ‘How’s Edinburgh?’

  Sky shrugs. ‘OK. I’ve been working most of the time.’

  ‘Are you still seeing Dougie?’

  Sky looks down at her coffee and gives it a stir. And for a second she doesn’t look quite so grown up. She looks more like the Sky that lived at home. ‘Kind of,’ she says. ‘It’s a bit complicated at the moment.’

  She looks up at me and smiles, but it’s a forced smile. I want to ask her how it’s complicated, but I can’t read in her face whether she’d be happy if I asked or not. So I don’t. I slurp some of my drink and look around the café instead, people watching. I try to imagine who everyone is, why they’re here, what they’re talking about.

  The waitress arrives and puts our food on the table. My sandwich hardly looks like a sandwich at all, more like a work of art. I pick it up awkwardly and take a bite. Sky and I are quiet for a little while as we eat. But then Sky puts her sandwich down and wipes her hands on her napkin. She looks at me.

  ‘So is there anything going on in your love life, Summer?’

  I smile. ‘Not sure,’ I say. ‘Maybe . . .’

  Sky’s face lights up. ‘Ooh, intriguing,’ she says. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘I met this boy on the bus the other day.’

  Sky raises her eyebrows. ‘On the bus?’

  I nod. ‘Yeah. I was forced to sit next to him on the bus. But then we got talking and it just felt like something clicked.’

  ‘Wow. Exciting.’

  I nod. ‘I bumped into him again in the supermarket the other day –’

  ‘The supermarket? Summer, you seriously have to hang out in some more exciting places.’

  I give her a sarcastic smile. ‘You would have been proud of me, Sky. I went straight over to him and within thirty seconds we’d swapped phone numbers!’

  ‘Summer Hornby!’ Sky says in fake admonishment. ‘You are a brazen hussy!’

  I look down at my food and smile. ‘I know. Thank you.’

  Sky takes a sip of her drink. ‘So? Has he been in touch?’

  I shake my head. ‘Not yet. It was only the other day.’

  Sky nods. She takes a bite of her sandwich.

  ‘Do you think I should text him?’

  She thinks for a second and then shakes her head. ‘No. He’ll call. Just wait.’

  Johnny

  I feel rubbish. Again. I haven’t had enough sleep. But more than that, I feel strange about what happened last night. In the cold light of day it seems stupid, like it can’t possibly have happened, like it was all a trick of the mind. There was nothing spooky about my room when I woke up this morning. It was just my room, plain and simple. How stupid was I for being spooked out last night?

  Dad must think I’ve lost it, wandering around the house with a cricket bat in my hands. He was already at work by the time I got downstairs for breakfast, so at least there was no need to face him this morning.

  Right now it’s nearly lunchtime and Jake and I are on the football field, collecting up bibs and cones in silence. As we’re carrying everything back towards Terry’s car, he comes staggering over towards us.

  ‘All right, lads?’

  Jake and I nod.

  ‘No coaching Wednesday, boys, don’t forget,’ he says. He looks vacantly into space for a second, like he’s thinking about something else.

  I nod again. Jake and me take the footballs and bibs and cones and put them in the boot of Terry’s car.

  ‘You got any plans for your day off?’ Terry asks us.

  Jake looks at me and smiles. He looks back at Terry. ‘Fast rides and loose women.’

  Terry laughs. ‘Be careful you don’t get ‘em muddled. Fast women and loose rides are a recipe for disaster, believe me,’ he says and then he wheezes out a laugh at his own joke.

  He gets in his car and starts the engine. He winds down his window and lights a cigarette. In another second, he’s started his car with a squeal and a cough and then turned and driven off.

  Me and Jake amble out on to the road and start walking home. And as I walk, I try and work out whether or not to ask the question that’s been floating around my brain all morning, or whether Jake will just think I’m a weirdo.

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts?’

  Jake turns and looks at me like I’m a weirdo. I knew he would. He breaks into a smile and shakes his head. ‘No way.’

  ‘What? Not at all?’

  He shakes his head. He kicks at a squashed cola can on the road and sends it skidding to the grass at the kerb. ‘It’s all mumbo-jumbo,’ he says. ‘Don’t you think?’

  I shrug. ‘I s’pose,’ I say. Then I think again. ‘Don’t you ever get the feeling there’s more out there than just humans though? That there are other forces? Spirits and stuff like that . . .’

  Jake shakes his head again. He’s caught up with the can now. He goes over to the side of the road and kicks the can. ‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I don’t buy it. It’s all just stories made up to scare people. Haven’t you ever seen Scooby-Doo?’

  I give him a look. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘Scooby-Doo. They always think there’s a ghost. Only when they catch up with them at the end, they rip the mask off and find out it was the mild-mannered janitor all along.’

  I shake my head. ‘You idiot,’ I say. ‘So do you base all your opinions on what you see in cartoons?’

  Jake laughs. ‘Most of them, yeah,’ he says. ‘Seriously though, there’s no evidence, is there? Show me the evidence that there’s such a thing as ghosts and then I’ll start believing in them.’

  ‘There is evidence though,’ I say. ‘People have seen ghosts before. And there are loads of ghost stories. Why would there be so many stories if they didn’t exist?’

  Jake gives me a raised eyebrow. ‘There are loads of stories about dragons, but it doesn’t mean they exist in real life.’

  I sigh. ‘Yeah, but people don’t go round saying they’ve seen dragons, do they? They do about ghosts. There must be some truth in them.’

  Jake shakes his head. ‘All right then, who do you know that’s seen a ghost?’

  I feel my cheeks start to redden. I could say that I think I have. But I get the feeling I’d never live it down. So I try and think of someone I know that says they’ve seen a ghost. Only I can’t think of anyone.

  ‘No one I know,’ I say. ‘But –’

  ‘Exactly my point,’ Jake says. ‘There’s no proof that they exist. There are no photos, no film evidence.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s cos ghosts can’t be caught on camera,’ I say. ‘They don’t have a physical form – they’re spirits.’

  Jake looks across at me. He looks like he thinks I’ve gone mad. He stops walking. ‘J, man. What’s with all this ghost stuff? What’s got into you?’

  I stop
walking too. I look at Jake and shrug. I wish I hadn’t said anything. He’d think I’d lost the plot if I told him what’s happened, or at least what I think has happened. He’d take the mickey mercilessly. So I say nothing about it and start walking again, trying to appear as normal and innocent as I can.

  ‘You must believe there’s some kind of afterlife though, Jake . . .’

  ‘Nope,’ he says.

  ‘What happens to our souls, then, after we die?’

  We’ve reached the junction that leads to my road in one direction and up towards Jake’s in the other.

  ‘Nothing,’ he says. ‘You die and then you’re gone. That’s it.’

  I sigh. ‘That’s a bit depressing, isn’t it?’

  Jake smiles and shakes his head. ‘Not unless you want it to be. It’s just life,’ he says. He starts walking off towards his house, then turns back and says, ‘Think about it this way, right. If everyone that had ever lived – all the cavemen and everyone from history – if all their spirits were floating around the world, you wouldn’t be able to move for ghosts. And seeing as no one I’ve ever met or anyone you’ve ever met has seen one, that leads me to think that ghosts don’t exist. It’s all make-believe.’

  I don’t really know how to answer that, so I don’t. We say goodbye and then walk home.

  Summer

  There’s a gentle knock on my door and then it opens. Sky comes in, dressed in the baggy old T-shirt she sleeps in and a pair of socks.

  ‘Morning, Summer. I made you a cup of tea.’

  I sit up in bed. Petal jumps down off the end of my bed. I look at the clock. It’s already after eleven. I didn’t turn out my light till late last night – Sky and me sat up chatting for ages.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say, taking the mug from her. I cradle it in my hands and take a sip.

  Sky sits down on the end of my bed where Petal has just got up from. ‘You sleep OK?’

  I nod. I sip my tea.

  Sky smiles. ‘So, then, little sis. What are we gonna do today?’

  I shrug. ‘Dunno.’

  Sky rolls her eyes. ‘We can do whatever you want, Summer,’ she says. ‘Theme park? Shopping? We could spend the day pampering ourselves.’

  ‘What, just you and me?’

  Sky smiles. ‘Yep.’

  ‘Where’s Mum?’

  Sky shrugs. ‘Dunno. Out,’ she says. ‘So what do you fancy doing?’

  I sit and think for a second. ‘The boating lake in the park.’

  Sky smiles and nods, but raises an eyebrow as well. ‘OK,’ she says. ‘If you want . . .’ She pauses. I can tell from the look on her face that she thinks it’s a lame idea. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you with a day of indulgence and luxury instead?’

  I shake my head. ‘No. D’you remember when we used to go out on the boats with Nan and Grandad when we were little? That’s what I really want to do.’

  ‘Can you remember Dad?’ I ask as we drift around on the middle of the boating lake.

  Sky sits up in her seat a bit. She looks at me for a split second and then gazes out across the lake. She takes ages before she answers. ‘Yeah,’ she says. ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Can you remember what he was like?’

  Sky smiles a bit. ‘Think so.’ But then she shrugs.

  ‘What was he like?’

  Sky picks up one of the oars and idly moves it through the water, barely moving the boat at all. ‘Dad was great,’ she says. ‘He was lovely. He . . .’ She falls quiet. She smiles faintly, but she doesn’t say anything more.

  I will her to keep speaking. I want to know exactly what he was like. I want her to tell me everything for a change. But I get the feeling she’s not going to. So I ask her again.

  ‘What was he actually like though, Sky? What kind of things did he do?’

  ‘You know,’ she says, ‘dad kind of things.’

  I feel like saying that I don’t really know what dad kind of things are. I’ve never had a dad to do dad things with. I want to say that it isn’t fair, that she should share it all with me so I know.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I don’t know, Summer. I can remember sitting on his knee while he read me stories. And he always played stupid games with me. You know, like bouncing me up and down on his knee.’

  ‘What kind of things did he used to say?’

  Sky stares into space, the oar resting across her lap. Then she looks back at me and smiles. ‘What is this, Summer?’ she says. ‘Twenty questions? Haven’t we been through all this before?’

  I shrug. I look across the water. ‘I just want to know everything about him, that’s all. He was my dad as well.’

  Sky nods. ‘OK. Sorry.’ She looks out at the water again and thinks. ‘I remember he always used to look at my eyes and say that they were as blue as the sky. I always used to think it was a stupid thing to say just because of my name. It always made me laugh. He used to call me his “little piggy princess”. He used to say loads of stupid little things like that. But, you know, I was only four when he died so it’s all a bit hazy. I bet you can’t remember much from when you were younger than four.’

  I think about it. She’s right. I can’t remember things from when I was that young, or at least not clearly. ‘Doesn’t it make you sad though?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you can’t remember the things he used to say.’

  Sky thinks for a second and then nods. ‘Yeah, it does. But I guess there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?’

  ‘At least you’ve got some memories, Sky,’ I say. ‘I’ve got nothing. All I have is a box of his things and other people’s memories.’

  Sky looks at me, a sympathetic smile on her face. And I have to look away. I look down at the bottom of the boat. I feel Sky move over towards me and put her arms around me. We sit like that in the boat for what feels like ages, till Sky sniffs and sits up straight. I look at her. She forces a smile.

  ‘Right,’ she says, making herself sound jolly. ‘We’re meant to be enjoying ourselves here. Let’s have some fun.’

  Johnny

  I keep looking at my phone, opening up my messages and thinking about writing one to Summer. But I’m a total coward – I keep chickening out. I can’t work out what to write. And besides I don’t want to look desperate. For all I know, she just wants to meet up as friends.

  One thing is for certain though – I won’t find out unless one of us does something. So I bite the bullet. I’ve waited long enough. What’s the worst that can happen?

  Hi, Summer. Good 2 c u the other day. Still want to meet up? Johnny.

  I don’t send it right away. I sit and stare at the message thinking about how lame it sounds. But I can’t think of anything better to write so I put my thumb on the button and send it. I feel nervous for a second. I wonder if she’ll roll her eyes when she sees she has a text from me. But then I remember that it was her who came up to me in the supermarket. She must like me.

  I stay on my bed, staring at my phone for a minute or so longer, waiting for my phone to glow and the message tone to tell me that Summer’s replied. Nothing happens. And I realise that I’m wasting my weekend staring at my phone. So I go downstairs.

  Mikey is lying on the sofa in the lounge like the lazy numbskull he is. For a change he’s not staring at some rubbish on TV though – he’s doing something on his mobile.

  I sit down on a chair.

  Mikey’s mobile does a bing as he gets a message. He reads it and laughs.

  ‘Who sends you messages?’ I say.

  ‘None of your business, ginger nuts,’ Mikey says as his thumb goes into overdrive sending a message back.

  ‘I bet you’re sending them to yourself, aren’t you?’ I say. ‘To make yourself look popular.’

  Mikey stops texting for a second to give me the middle finger. ‘No, Johnny. That’s what you do.’

  I sigh. I think about taking the mickey out of Mikey some more. But I’m hungry, and as Mum and Dad are out in the garden, I s
ense a chance to go and sneak a bag of crisps. I get up from my chair and go through to the kitchen and look out through the back window at the garden, at Dad mowing the lawn and Mum sitting on the patio with the newspaper and a cup of coffee. I open the kitchen cupboard and rummage around for some salt and vinegar crisps. As I do, I hear my mobile’s message tone come from the lounge. I grab a pack of crisps and go back through.

  When I get into the lounge, I see Mikey throw something towards the chair that I was sitting in before. I look down at the chair and see my phone.

  ‘What have you done?’ I say. ‘Have you been reading my messages?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘You had my phone,’ I say.

  Mikey shakes his head and makes an innocent face. He can’t help but smirk though.

  I pick my phone up from the chair and look at it.

  ‘What kind of a name is Summer anyway?’ Mikey says.

  I open up the message just as he says it. Sure enough it’s from Summer.

  Definitely. I thought you’d never ask. When is gd 4 u? Tuesday? x

  I look up at Mikey, who’s grinning back at me.

  ‘You read my message?’

  He shrugs his shoulders. ‘Might have,’ he says. ‘Can’t remember. I’m not sure if it was meant for you though cos it’s from a girl and I thought you were gay.’

  I roll my eyes. ‘You’re so immature.’ I move over towards him and give him a punch on the arm.

  Mikey rubs his arm but then smiles. ‘I know. Good, isn’t it?’ He gives me the middle finger and then starts texting again. ‘So is Summer your girlfriend, then, Johnny?’

  ‘What is it to you?’ I say.

  ‘No reason,’ Mikey says. ‘It’s just I think I might have sent a text back to her by mistake.’

  ‘You what?’ I say. I immediately go to the sent messages folder on my phone.

  Sorry. Changed my mind. I’m gay. Xxx

  I feel my cheeks start to flush. I see red. I can’t believe Mikey did that. I want to smack him in the face. But before I do that, I have to text Summer back.