“Hey,” I said to him, a little breathlessly. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Dad said. “My little girl’s first real dance? You think I’d miss it?”

“That’s not why I’m glad you came,” I said, reaching out to take his hand. “I wanted to say thanks.”

“Thanks?” Dad looked bewildered. “For what?”

“For what you did for Jesse.”

“For Jesse?” Then comprehension dawned and he made as if to drop my hand, looking embarrassed. “Oh. That.”

“Yes, that,” I said, holding his fingers more tightly. “Dad, Jesse told me. If you hadn’t made him come to the hospital when you did, I’d have lost him forever.”

“Well,” he said, looking as if he wished he were some-place—anyplace—else. In fact, he looked… well, almost as if he already were someplace else. He was much less opaque than usual. “I mean, you were crying. And calling me. When it was Jesse you should have been calling.”

“I thought Jesse was gone,” I said. “So I called you. Because you’ve always been there when I really needed you. And you were there for me then, too. You saved him, Dad. And I just wanted to let you know how much that meant to me. Especially since I know you didn’t agree with my going—you know—in the first place.”

My dad reached up to straighten my orchid. But for some reason, instead of being able to grab onto it, his fingers seemed to go right through the waxy petals. Suddenly, I realized what was happening. And there was nothing I could do but stand there, looking up at him, tears gathering beneath my eyelids.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Dad went on, meaning our disagreement about my going back through time to “save” Jesse. He was growing physically fainter and fainter with every word. And it wasn’t just because I was looking at him through a veil of tears. “It’s just that if you’d gone back and saved my life, it would have been like… well, like I’d died—and been hanging around for the past ten years for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing, Dad,” I said, holding as tightly as I could to the hand that, even as I spoke, I could feel slipping away. “It was for Jesse. And for me. That’s why you’re finally ready to move on. See for yourself.”

Dad looked down at himself and then at me, clearly stunned.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I said, reaching up with my free hand to wipe the tears from my face.

He was almost impossible to see now… just a shimmer of color and light, and a faint pressure on my hand. But I could tell he was grinning. Grinning and crying at the same time. Just like I was. “I’ll miss you.”

“Take care of your mother for me,” he said quickly, as if he were afraid of being snatched away before he could get the words out.

“I will,” I promised.

“And be good,” he said.

“Am I ever anything but?” I asked, my voice breaking.

Then, with a shimmer, he disappeared.

Forever.

It was a long time before I could go back to where Jesse was standing. I’d had to cry for a while behind one of the palm trees, then repair the damage those tears had done with the makeup from my bag. When I finally returned to Jesse’s side, he looked down at me, and smiled.

“He’s gone?” he asked.

“He’s gone,” I said automatically. Then I gasped.

“Jesse…” I stared up at him. “Can you… did you…?”

“See you talking to your father just then?” he asked, the corners of his lips twitching a little. “Yes.”

“Then you can…” I was completely dumbfounded. “You can…”

“See and speak to ghosts?” Jesse grinned in the moonlight. “Apparently so. Why? Is that a problem?”

“No. Except that… that would mean—” I could barely believe what I was saying. “That means you’re a—”

“Querida,” Jesse said, pulling me toward him. “Let’s just dance.”

But I was still too stunned to think of anything else. Jesse—my Jesse—was no longer a ghost. He was a mediator.

Like me.

“The only thing I don’t understand,” Jesse was saying, his breath warm in my ear, “is why it took him all this time.”

I swayed in Jesse’s arms, barely registering what he was saying. Jesse is a mediator, was all I could think. Jesse’s a mediator now.

“Your father,” Jesse said. “His moving on, I mean. Why now?”

I put my arms around his neck. What else could I do?

“Do you really not know?” I asked him.

He shook his head.

I smiled because I felt as if my heart might burst with joy.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Laura Langlie, Abigail McAden, and especially Benjamin Egnatz, as well as all of the readers who supported this series from the beginning.

About the Author

MEG CABOT is the author of many best-selling, critically acclaimed books for teens, including the Mediator series, the 1-800-Where-R-You series, the Princess Diaries series, ALL-AMERICAN GIRL, and TEEN IDOL, as well as NICOLA AND THE VISCOUNT and VICTORIA AND THE ROGUE. When she is not reliving the horror that was her high school experience, she also writes books for adults, including the boy next door, boy meets girl, and every boy’s got one. She currently lives in New York City with her husband and a one-eyed cat named Henrietta.

Visit meg’s website at : megcabot.

Visit AuthorTracker for exclusive information on your favorite  author.

Books by Meg Cabot

THE MEDIATOR 1: SHADOWLAND

THE MEDIATOR 2: NINTH KEY

THE MEDIATOR 3: REUNION

THE MEDIATOR 4: DARKEST HOUR

THE MEDIATOR 5: HAUNTED

THE MEDIATOR 6: TWILIGHT

THE PRINCESS DIARIES

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME II: PRINCESS IN THE SPOTLIGHT

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME III: PRINCESS IN LOVE

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV: PRINCESS IN WAITING THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME IV AND A HALF: PROJECT PRINCESS

THE PRINCESS DIARIES, VOLUME V: PRINCESS IN PINK