Ghost Game

 

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Cheese Sauce Unlimited

He's here.

"Are you sure you want to put all that cheese sauce on your nachos?" he taunted. I paused between pumps, the orange artificial cheese dripping from the metal spout onto my plastic tray of tortilla chips. This was a fancy gas station rest stop.

I knew he was teasing, like he always used to do, but I got defensive.

"I don't when I'm going to have another opportunity like this to sauce my own nachos. This could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I don't want to regret skimping on the cheese."

I felt good about my argument. It was true. I'd never had this kind of control over my nacho toppings. No place I'd ever been to in the city had this, and who knows when I'd be out here again, at this gas station in the middle of the desert, where for $2.50 you can make your own plate of nachos, cheese sauce unlimited. I decided that's what I was going to call this place, this day. Cheese Sauce Unlimited. The Day the Cheese Oozed Freely.

I smirked, handing my money to the cashier who was giving me a disgusted look. I'm not sure if it's because I was so obviously from out of town, from the city, so posh that I put this whole podunk town to shame, or maybe it was because I had cheese sauce running down my sleeve, my wrist had a cheesy lick mark, the crumpled bill I handed him . . . well, you can probably guess what was on the money.

I decided to eat outside, on a bench facing the gas pumps. He followed me, sat down right in front of me, watching me eat silently. I pretended he wasn't there. He basically wasn't. I looked everywhere but in his direction, pretending to be interested in clouds, a greasy receipt on the pavement, my paint stained Vans.

 

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Chapter 2

"Hey Lace, which condiment would you say I'm most like: mustard, ketchup, mayonnaise, or relish?"

I jumped up at his question, pressed the brake quickly out of nervous reaction. I'd been driving for two hours and only just now realized he was in the car with me. He was stretched out across the backseat, lying there on his back, reading one of my Cosmo magazines. "Well? I'm trying to find out which celebrity would be my best friend in real life. Which condiment?"

"Is Tabasco sauce an option?"

"Ohh yeah, because I'm so hot! I'll write it in. Thanks Lace. You're so flattering.

I sighed, but decided to roll with the punches. "Want to take a shift driving?" I asked him.

He laughed. "You don't want that. We'll get pulled over in no time. Where are we going, anyway?"

"Albuquerque."

 

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