Tonya Hurley_Ghostgirl_03 Read Online Free
Author: Lovesick
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Fantasy & Magic, Social Issues, Girls & Women, Adolescence
admitted, “except love.”
Pam and Prue just shook their heads in exasperation. They clearly had not made a dent in Charlotte’s stubborn romanticism.
The threesome arrived at the phone bank and were pleasantly surprised by how different everyone looked. Happy, rested, and at peace. Even CoCo had a relaxed air about her, and not from her flatiron either. After a few tears and hugs and kisses, Charlotte thought, they’d all be off for a hard-earned afterlife of leisure and an eternity with friends and family. They’d all remain close, of course, and if not, there would always be reunions, she was sure. That would be heaven.
The only downside for Charlotte was that she’d been getting to see Eric in the office every day. Now she’d have to be lucky enough to run into him around the compound or, just maybe, find another way to spend even more time with him. Charlotte scanned the room quickly—she didn’t want to be obvious—and noticed his office was empty, along with Mike’s and DJ’s.
“Late again,” Pam noted to Charlotte.
“Predictable to the end,” Prue complained.
“Metal Mike and DJ are bad influences,” Charlotte whispered, excusing Eric from blame. “Too many late-night jam sessions, that’s all.”
Markov cleared his throat, signaling for quiet. He was not the sentimental type, so no one expected a gooey farewell speech.
“I’m glad you are all here,” Markov began. “Well, almost all of you.”
As he was about to continue his remarks, the interns heard a familiar rumbling of footsteps that quickly grew into a stampede as what appeared to be a little tornado of souls burst in. They turned toward the door, overhung by the sign that read Docendo discimus (We learn by teaching).
“Sorry, yo,” DJ hollered.
“D.O.A.,” said Mike.
“You’re tardy,” Markov admonished.
Just because it was their last day didn’t mean he was going to give Eric, Mike, and DJ a pass. He considered tardiness not just disrespectful to him, but dangerous to all those callers who were counting on them for guidance.
“Oh,” Eric said casually as he took his seat, in a tone that might have conveyed either arrogance or curiosity, depending on one’s point of view. “Did we miss something important?”
Eric was rough around the edges, rocking a choppy punk haircut, Wayfarers, a black leather jacket, red high-tops, ripped skinny black jeans, and an attitude to match. He could be coarse but was always charming and hard to dislike. Even for Markov, who cracked a knowing smile.
“I’d like to think that everything I say is important,” Markov replied sarcastically. “Otherwise I’d be wasting my breath.”
“What breath,” Eric joked, fist-bumping his cohorts.
“Now, may I proceed?” Markov asked sarcastically.
“Proceed,” Eric proclaimed magnanimously.
Charlotte broke out into a wide grin at Eric’s nerve. She could never be as willfully rebellious as he was, but she had broken a few rules herself and could totally relate. Besides, she loved the way he slung his guitar over his shoulder and how his demo tape poked out of the top of his jacket pocket, ready to be handed over to someone who might give him his big break.
He still had dreams too, she thought. He glanced over at her and nodded a silent hello, locking eyes with her for just a second. To Charlotte, it felt like forever.
“Interns, your work here is done,” Mr. Markov said, uttering the words they’d been longing to hear.
A collective sigh of relief escaped the interns’ mouths.
“And just as we did upon your arrival here,” Markov added, “we will celebrate with a surprise.”
Markov gestured toward the doors and right on cue, they reopened, silently this time. Everyone was speechless, watching the new crop file through the doors.
“Your replacements,” Markov declared.
They marched in one by one, all familiar faces. A new class of Dead Ed graduates ready to man the phones.
“Green Gary!” Pam yelled, waving
Pam and Prue just shook their heads in exasperation. They clearly had not made a dent in Charlotte’s stubborn romanticism.
The threesome arrived at the phone bank and were pleasantly surprised by how different everyone looked. Happy, rested, and at peace. Even CoCo had a relaxed air about her, and not from her flatiron either. After a few tears and hugs and kisses, Charlotte thought, they’d all be off for a hard-earned afterlife of leisure and an eternity with friends and family. They’d all remain close, of course, and if not, there would always be reunions, she was sure. That would be heaven.
The only downside for Charlotte was that she’d been getting to see Eric in the office every day. Now she’d have to be lucky enough to run into him around the compound or, just maybe, find another way to spend even more time with him. Charlotte scanned the room quickly—she didn’t want to be obvious—and noticed his office was empty, along with Mike’s and DJ’s.
“Late again,” Pam noted to Charlotte.
“Predictable to the end,” Prue complained.
“Metal Mike and DJ are bad influences,” Charlotte whispered, excusing Eric from blame. “Too many late-night jam sessions, that’s all.”
Markov cleared his throat, signaling for quiet. He was not the sentimental type, so no one expected a gooey farewell speech.
“I’m glad you are all here,” Markov began. “Well, almost all of you.”
As he was about to continue his remarks, the interns heard a familiar rumbling of footsteps that quickly grew into a stampede as what appeared to be a little tornado of souls burst in. They turned toward the door, overhung by the sign that read Docendo discimus (We learn by teaching).
“Sorry, yo,” DJ hollered.
“D.O.A.,” said Mike.
“You’re tardy,” Markov admonished.
Just because it was their last day didn’t mean he was going to give Eric, Mike, and DJ a pass. He considered tardiness not just disrespectful to him, but dangerous to all those callers who were counting on them for guidance.
“Oh,” Eric said casually as he took his seat, in a tone that might have conveyed either arrogance or curiosity, depending on one’s point of view. “Did we miss something important?”
Eric was rough around the edges, rocking a choppy punk haircut, Wayfarers, a black leather jacket, red high-tops, ripped skinny black jeans, and an attitude to match. He could be coarse but was always charming and hard to dislike. Even for Markov, who cracked a knowing smile.
“I’d like to think that everything I say is important,” Markov replied sarcastically. “Otherwise I’d be wasting my breath.”
“What breath,” Eric joked, fist-bumping his cohorts.
“Now, may I proceed?” Markov asked sarcastically.
“Proceed,” Eric proclaimed magnanimously.
Charlotte broke out into a wide grin at Eric’s nerve. She could never be as willfully rebellious as he was, but she had broken a few rules herself and could totally relate. Besides, she loved the way he slung his guitar over his shoulder and how his demo tape poked out of the top of his jacket pocket, ready to be handed over to someone who might give him his big break.
He still had dreams too, she thought. He glanced over at her and nodded a silent hello, locking eyes with her for just a second. To Charlotte, it felt like forever.
“Interns, your work here is done,” Mr. Markov said, uttering the words they’d been longing to hear.
A collective sigh of relief escaped the interns’ mouths.
“And just as we did upon your arrival here,” Markov added, “we will celebrate with a surprise.”
Markov gestured toward the doors and right on cue, they reopened, silently this time. Everyone was speechless, watching the new crop file through the doors.
“Your replacements,” Markov declared.
They marched in one by one, all familiar faces. A new class of Dead Ed graduates ready to man the phones.
“Green Gary!” Pam yelled, waving
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