Page 34 of The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy

“Like I’m not terrified of the human I’m supposed to scare.”

“Yup, that’s the one.” She patted him on the shoulder and called, “Reset and let’s go again.”

The second time Leila screamed in his face, Edgar tensed every muscle so he wouldn’t move.

“Um, let’s try you over here, Leila,” Amelia said, setting up the shot so Edgar was only in the corner of it. This time, he had been trying so hard not to move backward that he ended up pitching forward, as if his ghost was drunk or clumsy.

They tried a few this way. “Better,” Amelia said, but she frowned at the camera.

Jamie walked over to her, and they talked quietly. After a few minutes, Amelia gave a thumbs-up.

“Okay, Edgar, let’s try it so that you turn and immediately run toward Leila. We’ll shoot it from behind so we only see her face and the back of your head. No matter what, you just chase Leila, okay?”

“Okay,” Edgar said. He was feeling more and more like this had been a mistake. Now he was ruining Amelia and Jamie’s movie.

“It’s all good,” Jamie said. “This is totally normal. We don’t know if a shot’s gonna work until we try.”

Edgar calmed a little. “Okay.”

When everyone else turned back to their tasks, Jamie blew Edgar a kiss. Edgar felt warm beneath the heavy makeup.

As they set the shot up again, Leila leaned in.

She was athletic and funny and had been keeping everyone entertained during their downtime.

Now she said, “I don’t know if it’ll help at all, but what if you scream too?

Or yell? They’re going to add a sound for the ghosts, so maybe they can mix your scream in? ”

It was worth a try, Edgar supposed. He thanked Leila, and she gave him a wink.

“I’ve been an extra in six movies, and Jamie’s right. It’s always like this. You’re not fucking up.”

Edgar’s shoulders slumped. “You sure?”

“Yup, totally sure,” she said. “So you think you can scare me? Cuz I’m not sure that you can.” Her voice was a challenge, but her expression said this was all in good fun.

Honestly, Edgar thought that just seeing him made up like this should be enough to scare her, but she was clearly unimpressed.

“Um. What about this isn’t scaring you?” He gestured to his makeup.

Leila cocked her head like a babysitter might, to sugarcoat something for her charge. “Weeeeeeell, kinda everything,” she said. “You’re just—sorry, I hope you’re not pursuing a career in haunting like Jamie or anything because your entire being is deeply unscary.”

“No. I work at a cat café.”

She put a hand to her heart. “Yeah, that seems much more your speed.”

“But you don’t even know me.”

“No, but…I’m not sure I can explain it, but you emanate noncreepiness. It’s a vibe, same as when you can tell someone does seem like a creep.”

Edgar frowned. “But if you saw me unexpectedly. In an alley or something?”

Leila considered him.

“Yeah. If you jumped out at me in an alley, I’d be terrified. But I’d be terrified if a not-covered-in-ghost-makeup person jumped out at me in an alley too. Being startled is always, you know, startling.”

Edgar nodded, considering.

He remembered all the times that he’d seen people he thought were living, but then the light had struck them in a certain way and he’d realized they were ghosts.

When the figures were far away, there wasn’t the element of immediate fear that he felt when a ghost appeared from nowhere near him.

He wasn’t scared of them after the initial jolt of recognition, because the startle didn’t require action.

No fight or flight, just walking in the other direction.

“Okay, places!”

Edgar stood on the tape X, and Leila grinned at him, two compatriots who’d hatched a mutual plan.

“I dare you to scare me,” she whispered.

This time, Edgar didn’t think about seeing a ghost.

This time, he imagined being the ghost.

This mortal couldn’t hurt him. Nothing she did would affect him in any way. She could scream or throw things or shoot him, but he wasn’t bound by mortal rules. He was free from judgment, free from consequence, free from fear.

Can you remember a time when you weren’t afraid? Poe had asked him in their aunt’s bar. Even before the ghosts? Because I can’t.

Poe was right. Edgar had been afraid of a whole hell of a lot besides ghosts. Before ghosts had become the thing he’d focused all of that fear on.

Freedom from fear—what would that even feel like?

Edgar closed his eyes and imagined that he could sweep fear out of his life like cobwebs, collapse it in a tiny sticky packet, and wipe it from his fingers.

It would feel like ease, like relaxation, like part of him that had been working very hard for a long time was finally able to take a long, desperately needed rest. It would feel like a fog being cleared away from the window between him and what he might want in the world.

It would feel like the ability to pursue those desires.

It would feel like curiosity and wonder and experimentation.

It would feel like a chance, finally, to stand in the world, of the world, and see what all the fuss was about. It would feel like arguing for what he wanted and standing up for who he wanted. It would mean friends and a partner and maybe a family.

It would feel like love.

Because wasn’t that what it all pointed to? Fear was keeping him away from all of it, and that meant being kept from love. Keeping himself from love.

Jamie stood behind Amelia’s shoulder, pointing at something on the screen. As if they could feel Edgar’s gaze on them, they looked up. They smiled at him, and it was a smile that cracked on his head an egg of joy that dripped down his neck.

I’m so close to loving you, Edgar thought. I’m as close as I can be with all this shit in the way, and I want to get rid of it, please. I just don’t know if I can, and I’m so so afraid that you’ll give up on me before I get there.

Jamie winked at him and turned their attention back to Amelia.

Edgar started to clench his fists, dig his fingers into his palms like he usually did to forestall the escape of inopportune emotion. But he stopped himself because it would ruin the makeup coating his hands. Instead he sucked in a deep breath through his nose and blew it out his mouth.

He was going to scare Leila. He was going to take all the fear that he held inside him, form it into a ball packed tight with rage and resentment, unfairness and grief, and he was going to launch it at Leila the second the camera started rolling.

“Ready, sound?” Amelia called, and someone shouted in the affirmative.

Leila mouthed, I dare you , and turned her back on him. Edgar was vibrating with intent.

“Action,” yelled Amelia.

Edgar stepped to the side, and Leila turned.

As the fabric of her hijab floated around her, Edgar let his face show everything he’d always tried so hard to trap inside.

And when her eyes met his, her expression changed.

The look of fear she had composed for the other takes shifted, crept up to her eyes.

Her fear, it appeared, was real. She hesitated for a moment, like she couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t.

Then, when she opened her mouth to scream, Edgar launched toward her, bellowing from the depths of his soul.

The sound spewed from him, a puke of fear and rage and desperation that echoed in the abandoned amusement park like the one-time screams of roller coaster passengers barreling full-speed downhill, wind drying their mouths but utterly safe in the certainty that the ride would end and their chosen beast would trouble them no more.

“Holy fucking shit, cut!” Amelia yelled.

She had to yell louder than usual, because both Edgar and Leila had sprinted halfway to the arcade entrance during the take.

“Omigod,” Leila said, stooping to rest her palms on her knees. She was breathing hard. “You totally got me.”

And Edgar, makeup cracking off his face, smiled peacefully.

“Yup, we got it,” Amelia said. “That was exactly it.”

She held up her hand to high-five Edgar, saw his hand was covered with makeup, and gave him an air fist bump instead.

“Are we—do we get to do it again?”

“I think we got—”

“Yes,” Jamie said, loud and clear, wide eyes fixed on Edgar. “We get to do it again.”