chapter 8

Ghost

IT WAS THE demise of the notebook that sent Pink over the edge.

He'd spent the rest of the day trying his best to make Suraya

smile. He'd gathered her favorite flowers—wild jasmine—and

sprinkled them all over so that her whole room was filled with their

sweet scent. He'd enticed the bees into giving him some of their

fresh, golden honey, which he collected in a cup made from leaves—

Suraya loved honey and lemon in her tea in the evenings. He'd even

slipped away as she did her homework to go to her old school, creep

into the teachers' lounge where her mother sat marking papers that

afternoon, and whisper a suggestion in her ear. That evening, Mama

came home bearing piping hot packets of Suraya's favorite nasi

lemak from the stall near the post office, the coconut rice, sambal,

hard-boiled egg, and fried chicken all still steaming as they sat down

for dinner.

It might have worked. It might have made Suraya's heart just a

little lighter. But for Pink, it wasn't nearly enough.

That night, he sat on the windowsill staring out into the inky

blackness as Suraya slept. He did not move for a long, long time.

When he finally did, it was to rub his long back legs together. The

familiar chirp of the grasshopper's song echoed out into the darkness. If you were listening, you might have dismissed it as just

another part of the soundtrack of midnight, along with the buzzing of

the mosquitoes and the chirping of the geckos. But then again, this

song wasn't meant for you.

Then, there was a tiny skittering sound that grew louder, as if

hundreds of little feet were running, then they stopped right beneath

Pink's window. He bent his head low and whispered his instructions.

It took a long time.

Eventually the little feet skittered away again into the shadows,

and Pink curled up with Suraya as he usually did, a satisfied look on

his face.

The next day, Kamelia and Divya weren't at school. And when they

did return, days later, they sported new identical short haircuts and

sullen expressions.

"Why did they do that?" Pink heard Suraya whisper to a

classmate. "I thought they loved their hair."

"They did," the classmate whispered back. "But my mom was at

the pharmacy the other day and she met Divya's mom and Divya's

mom told her that they had the most TERRIBLE lice infections. Like,

so bad that it looked like their hair was MOVING, all by itself. Divya's

mom just, like, had no idea what to do."

Suraya touched her own long hair, in its neat braid. Pink knew

she loved her hair and couldn't imagine cutting it all off. "Couldn't

they just have used some medicine? Did they really have to cut it?"

"It was so bad the medicine wasn't even working anymore! They

both had to get their hair cut, and I heard they CRIED." This was

said with a particular relish; everybody in the lower school feared the

two girls, and they certainly didn't mind them suffering, at least a little

bit.

"Poor things," Suraya said softly, and the other girl snorted.

"If you say so," she said. Then she quickly slipped away. It

wouldn't do to be seen talking to Suraya, not when the new girl was

so clearly in Kamelia's crosshairs.

Pink poked his head out of Suraya's worn shirt pocket to drink in

the sight of the two girls, their long, shiny hair now cropped close to

their heads, and smiled a slow, wicked smile.

It was only what they deserved.