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Before Carrie can officially be forgiven and allowed to call herself Julie’s friend again, she has to meet the ghosts.
This is stupid, in her opinion, because she’s already met the ghosts. She saw them play with Julie, what, four times? They were present, if invisible, when Carrie went to Julie to explain Nick’s odd behavior and beg her to help get the real him back. Hell, they went on that rescue mission together—Julie and her dad, Carrie and hers, the three ghosts. They saved Nick together. The bassist with the puppy dog eyes picked her up when she tried to fistfight the evil ghost magician with terrible hair.
But according to Julie, that doesn’t count. According to Julie, Carrie can’t say she’s actually met the ghosts until they’ve spent at least twenty minutes together outside of mortal peril.
And according to Julie, Carrie needs to stop moping around the house waiting for Nick to forgive her and start making friends again, so. Here she is.
“Here’s the thing,” Julie says as she and Carrie walk to the Molinas’ together after school. “They know mostly everything, about… you and me, and… you and me and Flynn, and you and Nick, and me and Nick—”
“Okay, I get it,” Carrie snaps, getting the feeling that Julie will just keep going on if Carrie lets her.
But then Julie blushes a little, fingers tangled together in front of her, and Carrie feels abruptly nauseous.
Which is new.
“Sorry,” she says softly, eyes trained straight ahead. She still doesn’t miss Julie’s look of surprise. The apologizing—that’s new, too. “Go on.”
After a moment, Julie continues, “They’re just protective of me, okay? And a little fragile right now. So can you please…” She winces, like she knows before the words are even out of her mouth how they’re going to sound. “Try to be who you’ve been lately and not who you were for the last six years?”
Who Carrie was for the last six years would be so offended, would scoff at the implication that she’s ever been anything less than perfect, would insult Julie right back and then storm off in a huff, ghost boys be damned.
But the person she’s been since Julie played the Orpheum—since Carrie’s dad had a breakdown and Nick got possessed—doesn’t do things like that. The Carrie she’s trying to be is patient and forgiving and kind. She’s a good person.
Carrie hasn’t known how to be a good person in a really long time, but she is trying. So all she says is, “You don’t have to worry about me, Julie. I’ll play nice.”
She’s not sure how genuine it comes out sounding, but at least she tried.
When they get there, Julie stops in front of her garage doors and says, “Here’s the other thing.”
Carrie huffs and resists the urge to put her hands on her hips. “What, Molina.”
Julie blushes again, but it’s paired with a little smile this time, a smile that shoots sparks through Carrie’s stomach instead of that awful rolling guilt.
“I hope you like them,” Julie says. For a second, Carrie thinks she’s going to follow it up with, I hope they like you, but all Julie says is, “So.”
Carrie nods once. “So. Can we go inside now?’
Julie takes a deep breath, lets it out on another smile. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. C’mon in, Care. Come meet my boys.”