Page 13 of Ghost in the Night

“Nah,” I say. “Look how the lights stack on each other. The guide said there was a woman from like the 1800s who died right by that window. It’s probably her ghost!” I whisper.

Truth squints, her face closer to the camera. “Oh. Ohhhhhh.”

“Can you sell that picture to, like, CNN or something and get some coins?” Kiki asks with a grin.

I laugh. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“Yooooo, this is madddd creepy,” Truth says. “Get this off my phone, yo.”

I giggle and stretch across my twin bed. Although I would have preferred a hotel, after being spoiled on room service and anyone but me making my bed, I gotta say, theguesthouse is cute and cozy. I have my own room with a nice-sized window facing the rest of the backyard.

“How’s Savannah?” Truth asks. “Besides the ghosts.”

I yawn. “Well, we just got here, but it’s cool. Different. I feel like I’m walking around a movie set.”

“A horror movie set,” Kiki scoffs.

“Aight, so when you coming back home? You stay there too long, you gonna end up possessed,” Truth says.

“Before school starts, definitely,” I say. “Maybe earlier if I do that Studio Museum program.”

“You send in that application yet?” Kiki asks.

The Studio Museum in Harlem has this photography program for kids. They meet once a week for eight months, give you a brand-new digital camera, teach you everything you need to know about photography, and there’s a thousand-dollar stipend at the end. If I get in, not only will my photos be fire, I’ll have enough money to finally buy that fancy lens.

I sigh. “No. I don’t think my portfolio is perfect yet.” The application requires five photos for what they call a portfolio. I have four that I love—including a picture ofGrandma we used in her funeral program. All I need is one more.

“What about this ghost photo you just took?” Kiki asks.

I mean, Icouldadd this one from Calhoun Square, but … would the program think I was some weirdo, going around chasing after ghosts? What if they don’t believe the orbs are a ghost at all?

Still, it’s a good picture …

“Aight, wanna hear something crazy?” Kiki says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Aalyiah and Trenton broke up.”

Truth and Kiki been keeping me up with all the tea at school. But the more time I spend away, the more out of the loop I feel. Like they had a big water fight at the end of the year that I missed. Kiki and Truth talked about it for a whole week.

Kiki and Truth go on talking about some school gossip that’s carrying on over the summer, but I can’t stop thinking about my Studio application and that photo I took on the ghost tour. Maybe Kiki’s right: I should use this photo for my portfolio.

First thing tomorrow morning, I need to find a print shop.

The moment I wake up, all I can think about is my picture. I think about it while brushing my teeth, getting dressed, cleaning my glasses, eating breakfast, even while tying my kicks.

“Where are you taking me?”

Robby is acting like I’m kidnapping him, when he’s the one that saw me pack up my camera and head out the door, then yelled, “Wait for me!” from the porch.

“Real photographers print their work so they can really look at it,” I say. “They don’t leave it on memory cards or stored up in some phone.”

“What photo do you need to print?” he asks.

“The one I took last night of that house in Calhoun Square.”

Robby rolls his eyes. “Oh boy. For the hundredth time, it’s NOT a ghost!”

I pull up the photo again, pushing the camera in his face.

“Yo, you don’t see those lights with the strange blue tint?”