“It’s great, thanks.”

Not two seconds after Second Mike left the car and ran up to the front door, Trace put the car in gear and demanded to know who Josh was.

“The ghost.”

“What, from last night?” She was overcome with laughter. “You named him Josh?”

I shook my head. “Didn’t you see the name on his sweater?”

She smiled. “I must not have been paying as close attention to his… clothes as you were.”

“Maybe.” I felt my face burn. “Anyway, he followed me home last night.”

“What?” She took one hand off the steering wheel and grabbed my arm.

Shocking her left me smug. “Surprised me, too. I was in bed when suddenly there he was. Just out of nowhere.”

“And?”

“And I think he likes me.” I turned on her radio. Static crackled around the local college station. “I always thought my life would end up as an Araki film. Not something by Burton.” I never imagined any boy would ever like me.

“Josh is a good name.”

I nodded. “I love names that begin with ‘J.’ They’re perfect. In seventh grade I had a crush on a Jared.”

“Always liked Jacinth. It’s an old word for hyacinth,” she said. “A gem too.”

We went to the expensive supermarket and bought a small baguette and a block of brie and sat in the parking lot getting sticky crumbs all over ourselves. Trace made sure I left no detail about last night unsaid.

“We should have bought figs, too.” She licked a finger. “Josh sounds wonderful for a dead jock.”