Predictably, Ching continued, ignoring him. “Telling her you died in a freak accident two years ago but got resurrected into a human-ghost hybrid by the power of your love for her and the only way you can remain is if she lov—”

“That was a terrible movie, you’re terrible, everything is terrible, we have to go.”

Sanjiv pushed back from the table, and the horrible combination of cheap metal chair screeching on old tiled floor broke the perfect silence of the library. Fantastic! Awesome. Now everyone was looking at him while Ching just cackled, like she was watching an enemy’s ship sink to the ocean floor.

Even Addy. Who he tried valiantly not to notice as he stalked out of the library, the bell ringing just as the door swung shut behind him.

“Talk to her! Talk. To. Her. Talk! To! Her!” Ching floated along by his shoulder, throwing her fist with each word, as though she was going to get a whole crowd to join in.

“What did I do to deserve you, honestly?”

“Sanji! You got lucky.” Ching grinned and waggled her eyebrows. “Now let’s go; you have a calc test to fail!”

Nine hours . . .

He didn’t fail. Hopefully. He had kinda paid attention during class, which was probably enough to get a C. Everyone was allowed to use their ghosts on tests, which was really great if your ghost was highly educated or, say, the inventor of calculus, but most people had ghosts who were experts only in some highly specialized and probably outdated trade. Ching couldn’t help him in much, except for fencing. And navigation. And, despite the fact that he tried desperately to block out her detailed stories, he knew way, way too much about running a brothel in the 1800s.

Way. Too. Much.

Life with Ching was basically a nightmare.

“What’s for lunch? Is it the little dinosaur nugget things again?” She was looking lustily at the cafeteria, eyes wide with anticipation. Sanjiv often thought that she never looked more like a pirate than when thinking about food. She couldn’t eat, but she liked to watch him eat, which was rather uncomfortable three times a day. “Do they really taste like chicken?”

“No, not really.”

“What then?”

“Like soggy cardboard.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine.” Sanjiv didn’t care. He wasn’t hungry and he had only English left after lunch. He wouldn’t have to do much except make a few points about the poetry homework, which was simple enough. He just wanted to go to the lake and think. He was turning seventeen tomorrow. He could legally have his ghost removed forever with a simple procedure. If he wanted.

His heartbeat sped a little just imagining it.

“Let’s find Addy and ask if she wants to share the cardboard with you!” Ching was wiggling her eyebrows.