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.He never came to collect his daughter—if he even knew he had a daughter at all.Pram had been told that her mother died in childbirth, and that it was likely her father never knew about her, and they didn’t know how to reach him.Her aunts made up this lie to protect her, and to provide her with closure.They couldn’t know the horrible guilt it had given Pram—a guilt that would only increase each year as she grew to appreciate the tragedy of it.She had ended a love affair between a beautiful young woman and a sailor.She felt that, at the very least, she owed her father an apology.And at the very most, she owed him a daughter, if he would have her.CHAPTER4Felix stepped out of the tree’s trunk.“How was school?” he said.“All right,” Pram said, searching the grass because she thought she’d seen a ladybug.She didn’t see much of them this time of year, so it was a fair guess that it was a ghost.The only way to know the difference between a living insect and a ghostly one was that the ghosts were impossible to catch.She’d cupped her hands around several of them over the years, and when she opened her hands, they would be empty.The insects would reappear on her nose or in her hair.It was a game they played.“Just all right?” Felix said.“Were the other kids as cruel as you’d thought?”Pram shook her head.“They didn’t even know I was there.”“They clearly weren’t looking,” Felix said.He couldn’t imagine anyone not noticing Pram.“I like it better that way,” Pram said.“Me, too,” Felix said.He stared at the grass.His cheeks were pink.He was quite good at mimicking the living.“I wish we were the only two people in the world,” he said.“Maybe not the only two,” Pram said.“There should be some exceptions.My father, for starters.”“Are you still going on about that?” Felix said.“He didn’t want you, which means he’s a fool.”“He might not know about me,” Pram said.“Or he might be angry with me.”“Why would he be angry?” Felix said.“Because I killed my mother,” Pram said.“If he thinks that, he really is a fool,” Felix said.He frowned to see Pram’s glum face.He grabbed the ribbon tied in her hair.With a single pull it came undone, and Pram’s white hair opened from its ponytail like it was coming to bloom.“Hey,” she said.“Want it back?” he said, and ran away.“Felix!” Pram chased him counterclockwise around the pond, trying to be angry but laughing instead.He had an unfair advantage over her, being a ghost.He could have disappeared.But he let her catch him.He felt the full weight of her when she crashed into him and knocked him to the ground.He felt her bony knees on his stomach and her hands on his shoulders.She reminded him of what it had been like to be alive.“Got you,” she said, and snatched her ribbon from his fist.She hopped to her feet and fixed her ponytail while Felix lay in the grass, watching her.“Pram!” Aunt Dee called from the doorstep.“Come in and wash up for dinner.”“I have to go,” Pram told Felix.She didn’t even give him a chance to say good-bye before she ran off.He watched her go.Her ponytail flew behind her like a kite made from a piece of sun.“Did you have a nice time at school today?” one of the elders—Ms.Pruitt—asked as Pram splashed her cheeks at the kitchen sink.“It wasn’t bad,” Pram said.“I’m teaching advanced watercolors this year,” Ms.Pruitt said.“Come to my classroom and I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”“I will, Ms.Pruitt,” Pram said.Pram knew that the elders lived in their own imaginary lands.She liked to pretend those imaginary lands were real, though, and that she was surrounded by artists and poets and professional jockeys.It made the house seem magical instead of sad.At the dinner table that evening, there was minimal fussing from the elders.Aunt Nan, who usually had a scant few minutes to eat her own meal, had to get up only twice, to retrieve a thrown napkin and wipe a dribbly chin.“Have you made any friends at school?” Aunt Nan asked.“I don’t know if you’d call him a friend,” Pram said.“But there was one boy who was nice.”“By this time next year, you’ll have a lovely shape,” Ms.Pruitt said.“You’ll be an early bloomer.I’ve drawn a lot of ladies, you know.”Pram stared at her plate, blushing.She’d been worried for some time about growing up.Hanging over the staircase was a black-and-white photo of her mother wearing a polka-dotted swimsuit that overlapped her thighs [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]