Excerpt from Ghost Girl, Banana by Wiz Wharton, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I wouldn't worry," Dr. Fenton said when I mentioned the trees on the Common. "Nature tends to take care of itself, irrespective of others' intentions."

He seemed distracted that day. His pen, which I could never keep up with, remained at a lazy angle, his eyes drifting toward the window. Not that I blamed him. How many shopping lists and plans for home improvements had been gestated during similar tedium?

In an effort to pass the time I decided to show him the letter. I followed his eyes as he read it twice and then put it back on the table. "You made the call?" he said.

"I just assumed it was one of those cons. Like that bumf they send you in the post. Reader's Digest. The pools. You're a winner!" He didn't laugh when I gave it the jazz hands.

"The man's name didn't ring any bells?"

Hei-Fong Lee. Deceased.

I shook my head.

"Have you spoken to your sister about it?"

"I was hoping she'd get one too, so we could decide what to do. Together."

"And what if you couldn't agree?"

"That's not going to happen," I said. "I mean, obviously we have differences of opinion ... telly and books, that sort of thing. But never about the important stuff."

He smiled. "Like coming here, for example ..."

My armpits prickled under my jumper. I shouldn't have sat so close to the radiator. "Look, maybe I wasn't that keen to begin with, but that's my point about Maya. She's always known what's best for me."

His pen sprang to life across the page. The most it had moved in ten minutes. "So those initial feelings you expressed here, that your sister was attempting to control you—"

I started laughing. "I didn't say that!"

Fenton raised an eyebrow in contradiction. "If I remember correctly, you were quite angry about a list she'd made in order to help your recovery."

Try to go out for a run; stop examining yourself in mirrors; practice having conversations with others.

I shuffled against my seat. "If I said it, it was out of frustration. I'm a very frustrated person. Isn't part of that blaming each other?"

"Sometimes, yes," he said. 'But it makes me wonder why you didn't make the call. As something you could do for yourself." He gestured to the letter. "As far as I can tell, this could have any number of outcomes available."

"As in, the cat is both dead and alive?"

"If you like."

I knew what he was getting at. If the inheritance was connected to Mumma, it would be a chance to find out about her, learn something about myself: where I came from, where I fit in, especially as Maya and Dad had never talked about it. But as usual with Dr. Fenton, such a proposal relied on the binary.

"You're forgetting something," I said. "Knowing after the fact is one thing. But you can't unopen the box."

"Fear didn't stop you before."

"I don't know what you mean. Aren't I here because I'm frightened?"

"And when you hurt yourself at Cambridge? That must have taken guts."

I pinned my elbows against my sides, trying to hide the dark circles of sweat that had started to leak from my armpits. "That wasn't bravery," I said. The same petulant tone of voice as if he'd bested me at marbles. "And I was a different person then."

He crossed his legs and his notebook fell, its landing deafening and infinite in the silence. "Were you—really?" he said.

Excerpted from Ghost Girl, Banana by Wiz Wharton. Copyright © 2023 by Wiz Wharton. Excerpted by permission of HarperVia. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.