And that’s when the other one finally spoke, standing just to the right of strawberry head when he said, “What’s the payoff?” His bright blue eyes met mine, looking at his friends as they snickered and laughed amongst themselves. “Fame. That’s what. Worldwide fame is the payoff.” They shook their heads and rolled their eyes, smirking at me as though I was a grade-A moron.
I squinted, unsure I’d heard right. I mean, there was no way they could be serious about that.
“We’re famous,” he repeated, his voice as determined as the expression on his face. “We have name recognition. People come from all over the world just to try to get a glimpse of us—a chance to photograph us—to catch a voice recording of us—to have an encounter with us—to tell their friends back home they lasted through the night with us—” He glanced at his buddies as they all burst out laughing, his eyes back on mine when he said, “Which, by the way, is a big fat lie since no one’s ever made it through the entire night in this room. No one. No exceptions.” His face grew stern. “And, let’s not forget about all the books, and articles, and TV shows about us. We’re famous. International superstars! And we have been for years. We’re like—we’re like the Backstreet Boys in a way—only dead.”
Oh boy. Suddenly, I couldn’t help but feel bad for them for not only being completely delusional, but tragically outdated as well. I mean, the Backstreet Boys—could they have picked a more ancient reference? I shook my head and looked them over. They reminded me so much of some of the kids I used to go to school with, whose sole ambition was to be famous. For what? They hadn’t a clue. All they knew is they were destined for the spotlight.
And their first stop was YouTube.
My eyes grazed over them. They were so indignant, so sure that what they were saying was true, and I knew I had to find a way to break it to them.
I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath purely out of habit before I went on to say, “Um, I hate to break it to you, but you’re nothing like the Backstreet Boys. Not to mention, how do you even know about the Backstreet Boys anyway? You live in a castle in the middle of nowhere.”
They stared at me, a united front of white suits, white kneesocks, and outraged red cheeks.
“You’re not the first to look through people’s belongings, you know. We have access to computers, we’ve checked out an iPod or two,” said the smallest blond kid, as his buddies all snickered and laughed, taking a moment to shake their heads at me.
“Just because we live in a castle in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we don’t know the same stuff you do,” strawberry head added.
I nodded. I didn’t see that coming, I’ll give them that. To think that any ghost would be in touch enough to know about boy bands of the last decade and yet still choose to dress like that was beyond me. But then again, look at Bodhi—an almost-pro skater dude who for whatever reason chose to dress like a dork. People were complicated—both the living and the dead, of that I was sure.
“Okay, fine. My bad. I’m sorry I misjudged your knowledge of pop music. Still, I’m sorry to say, but you’re nothing like the Backstreet Boys. Because the truth is, millions of people all around the world loved them, but—well—how many people love you?”
I watched as they exchanged bewildered gazes, their thoughts of confusion and despair like a vibrating rumble that flowed through the room.
Then strawberry head shook his head firmly, determined to take charge and regain control once again, saying, “Do not listen to her. None of it’s true! She’s messing with us. It’s part of her mission or whatever agenda she has.” He shot me a scathing look that was almost as bad as when the flames shot from his eyes. “The point is, maybe they don’t exactly love us—but they love to fear us. People come from all over the world just because of us! Without us, Warmington Castle would be ruined! Nobody would bother to visit. It couldn’t continue and would shut down for sure.” The blonds both nodded, two sets of bobbing heads flanking him on either side.
“Maybe—maybe not.” I frowned, knowing that could very well be true though it was pretty much irrelevant here. “But what’s it to you either way? I mean, are you getting a cut of the share? Is anyone actually thanking you for volunteering to work here? All that time you spend, all the long hours you put in—what’s the payoff? Seriously, did it ever occur to you that you’re totally being used? Taken advantage of in the very worst way? You guys give a whole new meaning to the term graveyard shift. And really, other than your questionable claim to fame, what’s in it for you?”
They looked at each other, thoughts murmuring back and forth in a swirl of static and sound.
“Look,” I said, smoothing my skirt as I stood from my seat and approached them. “Here’s the deal. I know you’re afraid of being nobodies, of being invisible—of no one even remembering that you ever did exist. And trust me, I know exactly how you feel because back when I was still alive, I was afraid of the same exact thing. And I wasted so much time—my whole entire life really—just following my older sister around, trying to be just like her. To me, she was important, hugely important. She was pretty and popular and, well, she was somebody special. And I was sure that if I could be just like her, mimic her in just the right way, then I could be somebody special too. But the truth is, trying to be like Ever didn’t make me important or special—it just made me an annoying tagalong. And maybe even a little bit of a brat.”
I looked at each of them, hoping my words were beginning to penetrate in some way. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you have a choice. You can either stay here and continue to scare the beejeemums out of people, or you can move on to someplace that’s—well—” I hesitated, not wanting to lie and say it was better, since I pretty much knew that wasn’t entirely true. But still, needing to say something, I said, “Someplace that’s new. And—different. And far more exciting than anything you have going on here.” I motioned around a room so upended it looked like a rugby match had just taken place, remembering the manifesting, the beaches, the everchanging, glorious Here & Now scenery, and knowing that much was true. “I really think you’ll like it there. You just need to give it a chance, that’s all.” Stopping just after the words were spoken, and wondering if maybe that last bit of advice applied to me too.
“But what if we don’t like it there? What if we get there and decide that we hate it and we’d rather be here?”
I looked at them, tempted to lie to get this thing over with. To tell them they wouldn’t miss the earth plane, not even the slightest, tiniest, most minute bit.
But I couldn’t.
Couldn’t dupe them like that.
So instead, I looked them each in the eye and said, “The thing is, you will miss it. I’m afraid there’s just no getting around it, it’s practically guaranteed. But, if you play it right, you could come back for a visit. I mean, look at me—I’m here, right? Not to mention all the others before me who came here to get you. So, what do you say? Are you ready for an adventure, to try something new for a change?”
They turned to each other and consulted among themselves. Taking their time to go over it thoroughly, point by point, before turning back to me. Strawberry head taking the lead once again when he said, “Is now the time when you make the light appear?”
But I just laughed, shaking my head as I said, “No, silly. Now’s the time when I take you to the bridge.”
16
If I’d had one of those special cameras like the ghost-buster lady’s, I would’ve used it to take a picture of Bodhi’s face when I exited the blue room with a whole string of (not-so) Radiant Boys behind me.
“So, what now?” I asked, as they milled all about. Narrowing my eyes and shaking my head at Buttercup who’d run toward me and was busily licking my fingers as he gazed up at me with those big brown eyes, desperate for me to forgive him for bailing on me, and attempting to get on my good side again. “How do we get them to the bridge?”
But Bodhi didn’t answer.
He was far too
speechless for that.
His gaze darting among them, counting and recounting in his head, obviously newly amazed each time it added up to three.
“How did you—” He shook his head and removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes and blinking a bunch of times, before putting them back on and blinking some more.
“Never mind how I did it, just tell me how to get these guys to the bridge before they chicken out and change their minds,” I said, refusing to give away my tricks of the trade, not while I was still learning my way.
“Who you calling a chicken?” strawberry head said, making his eyes and mouth go all creepy again, in a way that made Buttercup whimper and Bodhi almost fall off the banister.
But I just looked right at him and said, “You. I’m calling you a chicken. Ten bucks says you and your friends cry like babies and refuse to even cross it.”
“You forget that money has no value to us. Or, maybe you didn’t forget.” Strawberry head lifted a brow and smiled knowingly. “You don’t need to trick us into crossing over, you know. Your little speech was convincing enough.”
“Really?” I tried to hold back my smile, but it was no use. I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself, and proud of them for making the choice that they had. “Well, the truth is, you helped me too.” As much as three ten-year-olds can help an older, wiser, more mature girl of twelve. “So, well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” strawberry head said, suddenly sounding far more mature than his years. “And, for the record, just so you know, we’re almost eleven. Oh, and my name’s not strawberry head.” His eyes met mine but thankfully they bore no ill will. “It’s Hans. And this is Dieter and Wolfgang.” He motioned toward his blond brothers. We’re triplets, and I’m the oldest—by seventy seconds.”
I nodded, feeling bad that he’d clued into my thoughts. I was really going to have to watch myself if I wanted to make any friends in the afterlife.
“So? Just where is this bridge anyway?” Wolfgang said, as his brothers nodded beside him, obviously eager to move on to the next adventure.
Bodhi slid his straw to the other side of his mouth, fully recovered from the shock of seeing them and completely back on his game when he said, “Okay, now everybody join hands. And Riley, you hold on to Buttercup, as we all imagine a shimmering veil of soft golden light . . .”
The trip to Summerland was brief. So brief it included no time for looking around, reconnecting with friends, or getting reacquainted with my favorite old haunts.
It’s like, one minute we’d walked through the golden mist, landed smack-dab at the foot of the bridge, and were bidding the Radiant Boys farewell, and the next, we were right back where we left off. Standing in the long hallway in Warmington Castle, as I looked at Bodhi and said, “Do you think they’ll be reunited with someone—like maybe their mother? Or has it been too long for all that?”
But Bodhi just shrugged, dismissing me and my question in a way so noncommittal, so completely uninterested, it immediately got on my nerves.
I mean, a little credit would’ve been nice.
A little: Way to go! Good job! Even a high-five would’ve sufficed.
But nooo.
Not only had he barely even acknowledged the monumental task I’d just pulled off, but he also managed to land us right back where we started, which wasn’t anywhere close to London, or a runway for that matter.
“What gives?” I scowled, wondering why he made us come all the way back here.
I’d done what I’d set out to do, completed my task and successfully rid the place of its ghosts—all three of them at that. And as far as I was concerned, now that I’d won the bet, it was time not only for my flying lesson, but also my trip to London.
It was clearly stated in the terms of our earlier agreement.
It was as simple as that.
And no way was I letting Bodhi find some kind of loophole to shirk his way out of our deal.
No way was I letting him get away with something as unfair as that.
But Bodhi just looked at me, his shoulders hunched, gaze sheepish, green straw bobbing up and down between his teeth when he said, “Um, I might not have mentioned it earlier, but there’s more. Just one more thing to take care of, and then we’re out of here. I promise.”
“What do you mean one more thing?” My hands clutched at my hips, as I made sure both my face and voice displayed just how completely furious I was. “You can’t just go expanding my job description like that! It’s not fair! I did exactly what I was supposed to and I got it done pretty quickly if I do say so myself. So, why the delay? Let’s go already! Seriously. Let’s move it! I want to be soaring over the River Thames by sunrise—or else!” I scowled, having no idea what the or else part actually stood for, but still, there it was. Besides, fair’s fair, and I was determined to see that the already clearly established set of rules were not only abided by, but met.
Feeling more than a little confused when Bodhi looked at me and said, “This one’s not for you, Riley. This one’s for me.”
17
Apparently, as it turned out, Bodhi, my guide/teacher/coach/counselor/boss had his own guide/teacher/coach/counselor/boss, who, as it also turns out, was less than enthusiastic with the job Bodhi had done so far.
Even though he’d pretty much started his day being summoned to the stage in what I learned had been a sort of graduation ceremony, he still had plenty more to accomplish.
Plenty more to live up to—so to speak.
Or at least that was the gist I was able to take away from his rambling litany of hazy, vague, purposely ambiguous mumblings. Carefully guarding any and all of the details, and refusing to share them with me.
And trust me, I was lucky to even get that much. Because when I started to hound him for more, wanting to know just who exactly his guide was, if it was possibly one of the Council members, or maybe even somebody else—and just what exactly his own job description might be—what was truly expected of a guide—and what were the consequences for those who failed at their tasks—what would happen to him if he failed to help me learn and grow and better myself—he clammed up.
And when I continued to press on to what I really and truly wanted to know—which was why he was looking and acting so freaked at just the mere thought of the task that awaited him—he turned away completely.
Just shut down, refused to speak, and showed me his back.
Giving me the stoop-shouldered silent treatment.
Refusing to divulge anything more than he already had.
And when I gave up on the questions and decided to offer my assistance instead (anything to make it to London by daybreak I figured), he just shook his head and said, “This one’s all mine. It’s absolutely imperative I do it on my own.”
Great. My face dropped into a frown as I snuck a quick peek at the grandfather clock in the hall, knowing that if this task, whatever it may be, took anywhere near as long as mine did, I wouldn’t get to London ’til nightfall, if then.
“Listen.” I smiled, knowing my motivations weren’t exactly pure, were far too self-serving to ever be mistaken for altruistic, but still continuing on when I said, “I’m a trainee, right? And it’s your job to—well—train me, correct?”
He nodded in his usual, noncommittal way, head bobbing forward ever so slightly but just enough for me to translate it as a yes, if only to make things easier and get it moving along.
Slinking around to his side and watching as he continued to chew on that same dented-up straw when I said, “So, with that in mind, what better way to train me, than to allow me to watch the master—meaning you—at work? What better way for me to learn something new than to watch, firsthand, how it’s done? And maybe—just maybe—get a little hands-on experience as well? But only if permission to do so is granted by you, of course,” I added quickly, seeing the way his mouth sort of slammed down at the sides when I got to that last part. “So? Tell me, what do you say? Surely your guide can’t fault you for that—for letti
ng me watch you do your thing and complete your task?”
Bodhi looked at me, clearly weighing the pros and cons in his mind. Then, squinting down the long hall, he sighed and said, “Fine. But just remember, you asked for it.”
18
He led us down the hall, far away from the blue room where I’d completed my task, and down the stairs, across a large foyer, and up another set of stairs, which led to yet another long hall, a smaller set of stairs, and a very narrow corridor with a tiny door at the very end that would require most people to stoop down low to get through, but not us, and onto still more stairs, until, at last, we were entering one of those turrets. One of those pointy tower-like things known to all the best castles that I’d always wanted to see the inside of.
But just as I started to rush the door, eager to manifest some seriously long, blond hair so I could have my long-awaited, much anticipated, Rapunzelesque moment, Bodhi stretched his arm across, barring me from going any farther when he said, “You sure about this?”
Please. It was all I could do not to roll my eyes in his face. Here I’d just faced down three glowing radiant brothers with red orbs for eyes and deep, dark, cavernous mouths, and he wanted to know if I could handle it? I mean, seriously, it was almost insulting. Just how bad could this possibly be?
“Because there’s no shame in being scared,” he said, studying me carefully, still chewing on that dumb straw, really working it into submission. “No shame at all. It’s perfectly natural and I won’t judge you if you decide to turn back while you still can. You’ve already proven yourself. You went in and succeeded where many before you have failed. You know, you’re pretty amazing, Riley Bloom. You’re the best Soul Catcher I’ve ever seen and it’s only your first day out! But this is my task, not yours. And trust me, there’s a reason for that.”
I couldn’t help it. For someone with a tendency to seek out all the compliments I could ever possibly get, the truth was, I wasn’t always so great at receiving them. And just after he said all of that my eyes started to burn as a lump took over my throat, and it was all I could do to nod and look away. I was so humbled and embarrassed by his praise.