Haunting Dorian

06 - Dinner and Small Talk

"So now that I actually invite you to my house, you're not coming? What happened to smashing mirrors and throwing stuff?"

Melinda peered around the corner at where the yellow house stood. She leaned back and shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing good ever happens when I go back there."

"Are you superstitious? About the mirror?"

"Definitely not," she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Melinda, we're friends now." They were both surprised about that small sentence. Melinda because of Dorian calling himself her friend and Dorian because of the way Melinda's face morphed.

She opened her mouth and shut it again when she figured her sarcasm could have stung the boy. For the first time, she considered her words before speaking them. Eventually, she smiled. "I guess it is true that I don't hate you quite as much anymore."

Dorian grinned and began walking. "You're a peculiar person, Melinda."

"Ah, stop flattering me." She folded her arms behind her back and when Dorian cast a look to the side at her, he noticed her smile wavering. "Dorian, I'm not a very good friend material, you know?"

He frowned. "Does it have anything to do with something that happened before you died?"

She gave him a tiresome look. "Dorian, it's because I am a ghost. That's not exactly good friend material."

"Well, I don't actually see anything all that bad about it."

"How can you not? What kind of a friend is a ghost, Dorian?"

"Well. Isn't it up to me to choose who my friends are?"

Melinda groaned. "You are twisting my thoughts into a pretzel, things don't have to be that difficult."

"Then stop over-thinking them and come on."

He quickened his pace and Melinda grew frustrated. Why would Dorian be making friends with a ghost no one but him can see instead of others at his school? He was new there, it was relatively simple to make friends when you were new, contrary to popular belief. You walked up to them and said hi, but not Dorian. Melinda's irresistible need for answers to all her questions kept her moving forward until she was up in his room again. She gave her surroundings a calculative look.

There were still paintings she had overlooked in her first visit which she was studying with interest when Dorian walked in. "My mom is leaving for a job interview soon," he muttered and dropped his bag down next to his unmade bed.

"House-party?"

Dorian scoffed and threw himself across his bed. "No," he mumbled into the sheets. "How about we sleep?"

"How inconsiderate! I don't sleep," Melinda argued but a playful smile danced on her face. Dorian was such a goof but she had to admit there was a charm to him that made him entertaining to be around.

Melinda strolled around the room, investigating little statues and books he'd unpacked and hadn't touched again. The closer she got to the window, the more she could find small shards of glass between his things from the exploding window scene.

"Why do you dress like that? You hardly seem like the girl who 'd feel comfortable in a dress," Dorian asked, leaning on his elbow. He was lounging in the middle of all that mess. He sort of seemed to disappear between fluffy pillows and the Great Wall of Bed sheets.

Melinda turned around. "Oh, these old rags?" She asked with bitter sweetness, twirling so the dress rose around her. She ended it with a curtsy and then rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan. "They dressed me up like they had always seen me. And that was their angel and princess. That's how I ended up in all white and a dress. I guess they didn't think of the fact that the last thing they dressed me in stayed with me in the afterlife." She sat down on the edge of the bed on the other side of his wall of sheets.