I hurriedly grabbed my eyeballs, popped them back in, and blinked.
When my vision cleared, Donald was already foaming at the mouth and fainting dead away.
By the time he woke up again, we were already at Amelia's house.
I waved cheerfully. "Hey there!"
He blinked, then screamed, "G-Ghost!!"
"Donald, she's not a ghost, she's my good—" Amelia began, but I quickly winked at her.
Being my best friend for years, she instantly caught on.
"Yes," she said firmly. "She is a ghost."
Donald was speechless.
For some reason, hearing her admit it so bluntly made it sound less terrifying.
I grinned at him, then dramatically folded my limbs, rotated my head 180 degrees, and crawled creepily across the floor toward him.
Donald's face turned as pale as a sheet, and he almost fainted again.
Luckily, Amelia acted fast—she grabbed a bottle of medicated oil from the table and poured a generous amount straight into his nostrils.
Donald's eyes watered instantly. "I'll confess! I'll confess!" he sobbed. "I knew I couldn't handle my evil brother's mess, so I helped him transfer something onto a USB drive! And now—now I'm seeing ghosts!"