Shimmer (8 page)

So instead I just said, “Um, care to translate?”

Watching as he moved until he was standing a few feet before me, taking a moment to survey the land with his hand pressed tightly against his brow, shielding his eyes from the deluge of ash that continued to fall. Then dropping his hand just as quickly, he snatched up an old, burned-out tree branch from the ground, using the pointy broken end to draw a small circle deep into a bed of ash as he said, “This circle represents you.” He glanced at me, making sure I understood, before he went on to draw a much bigger circle just outside of it. “And this is the bubble.”

I nodded. So far, so good, I was able to follow.

Then after drawing a zigzaggy line that filled up the entire area between the small and large circles, he added, “And somewhere in here are your friends.”

“Yeah, Bodhi and Buttercup,” I said, eager to get on with it, sure he was just about to get to the good part—the part that would tell me exactly where to find them.

“And so, knowing what you know about this Bodhi and …
Buttercup
.” My dog’s name sounding almost hilariously foreign on his tongue, he tapped the ground with his stick and asked, “Where would you begin looking for them? What would be the very last place they’d ever want to revisit? What would be the place that holds the most trauma—the most anger for them?”

My cheeks began to flush, and I quickly averted my gaze. I had no idea how to answer, and I couldn’t help but feel deeply embarrassed for that.

Sure, Bodhi’s untimely death by bone cancer seemed like the obvious choice, but when I remembered the casual way in which he told me, the way he just shrugged it off and said something like, “But that’s the way it goes sometimes, right?” well, I wasn’t so sure.

I mean, was that just a bit of bravado?

Some big, phony, tough-guy act he put on because he wanted me to respect him and make a good impression?

Had he really been so accepting of his early demise?

Or did that acceptance come only after the point when he could no longer change it—when he was already dead and couldn’t do a dang thing about it?

Because when it came down to my own untimely exit, I fully admit that even though I was learning my place and finding my way on the other side, I still had my moments when I couldn’t help but feel outraged that I’d never, ever get to be the only thing I really wanted to be:
thirteen
.

The only real, actually feasible, seemingly attainable goal that I’d had was to be a bonafide, real-deal teenager—and just like
that
it was stolen from me.

But still, maybe that was just me. As far as I knew, Bodhi had an entirely different way of seeing these things.

I turned back to Prince Kanta, my shoulders lifting as I said, “There was a girl. A really pretty, dark-haired girl. And even though I know it was Rebecca in disguise, Bodhi couldn’t see that. To him, it was someone he recognized, and he raced after her like…” I paused long enough to replay the scene in my head, remembering the look on his face, the longing in his voice, before I looked back at the prince and said, “He raced after her like he really, really missed her. Though I’m afraid I don’t know anything more.”

The prince’s gaze narrowed and darted as though he was alerted to a sudden change in the area, his back stiffening, shoulders squaring, as he said, “Now just keep that in mind. No matter what happens next, no matter where you find yourself, just stay focused on your friend. Do
not
allow her to get to you. Do
not
allow her to introduce anything personal. The moment you focus on yourself, the moment you let your mind stray from your friends,
you lose
.” He looked at me, our eyes meeting briefly before he looked away again. “Can you do that?” he asked.

And even though I wanted to smile and nod and give him two big thumbs-up along with a superconfident reply of
Heck yeah, I can do it, no problem—no problem at all!

The reality is, I just stood there and gaped.

The words “The moment you let your mind stray from your friends,
you lose
” running amok in my head.

Because the truth was, there was no denying the fact that I wasn’t all that great at staying focused. In fact, I had a really bad habit of jumping from one thing to the next. And as far as my thoughts were concerned, well, most of the time my mind was nothing but a big ol’, jumbled-up mess.

But unfortunately, I didn’t get to express those concerns. Instead, I just stood there, wide-eyed and mute, as Prince Kanta whispered, “She’s here.”

And that’s the last thing I heard before I was separated from the prince and sucked even deeper into her world.

14

It’s like, one moment I was standing before the prince like the world’s biggest shell-shocked doofus, and the next I was somewhere entirely different. Noticing how the scorched landscape had made way for a carpet of patchy weeds and rich, red-tinged soil, while the relentlessly falling ash had transformed into a clear and sunny day, allowing me a beautiful view of a pristine blue lake.

I narrowed my eyes and gazed all around, seeing the still navy waters, the towering pine trees, the smoldering campfire … the memory of something nudging me, prodding me, as I gazed down at my clothing and took a quick inventory of faded hand-me-down jeans, mud-covered pink-and-silver sneakers, and a lime green sweatshirt with the sleeves yanked down well past the tips of my fingers in order to hide the charm bracelet I’d
borrowed
from my sister.

And suddenly, I need look no further.

I knew exactly where I was.

My last trip to the lake.

My last trip with my family.

The last place I ever visited—or at least as a living, breathing resident of the earth plane.

The last time I’d ever hug my parents, play fetch with my dog, or joke around with my sister as a real, live, flesh-and-blood person.

The last time I’d ever be dumb enough to believe that the thing I’d looked forward to most—my thirteenth birthday—was just around the corner.

Everything about that scene feeling as real as it did that day.

Only it wasn’t real. Not even close.

And while part of me knew that, it was only a very small part of me.

Somewhere inside, on some deep-down level, I knew I needed to turn away and focus on something else. Something extremely important. Something in need of my utmost attention.

But the truth was, I was so caught up in the scene, I could no longer remember what that important thing was.

Couldn’t imagine anything more significant than focusing on the splendor that played out before me:

Buttercup running in circles and barking like crazy before jumping into my dad’s SUV and settling onto my knee.

Ever and I bickering and fighting and basically driving both our parents crazy.

Ever discovering she’d left her prized sky blue Pinecone Lake Cheerleading Camp sweatshirt behind, and begging my dad to turn the car around and head back to the lake so that she could retrieve it.

My dad agreeing to do just that despite his concerns about the traffic.

Me singing along to a Kelly Clarkson song I blasted on my iPod—partly because I liked it, and partly because it annoyed Ever.

A deer appearing out of nowhere, dashing right into our lane, as my father swerved to avoid it, smashed through the guardrail, down the embankment, and into a tree that left us all dead.

Me not realizing I was dead.

Me feeling so fine, and good, and alive that halfway across the bridge to the other side I changed my mind and went back to search through those vast fragrant fields for my sister.

Only to find she’d returned to the earth plane—to her body—to life.

Only to discover the horrifying truth that I no longer could.

A fact that made me so
angry,
the next thing I knew I was stuck in a moment of flaming red rage I was forced to relive over and over again.

A rage so deep, burning so bright, it turned the once vibrating, pulsating field back into its original state of scorched, burned, and unforgivingly seared earth.

Prince Kanta’s warning
The moment you let your mind stray from your friends, you lose
reduced to a long-forgotten memory.

Prince Kanta was gone.

He had no role in this story.

My entire world had been reduced to a small plot of land consisting of nothing more than my deep seething anger and me.

15

I sank to my knees, threw myself onto a large pile of ash that instantly blackened my clothes, and cried and screamed and cursed and wailed, just like I had then.

Though it’s not like it brought my family back.

It’s not like it returned me to the way I had been.

Still, I was unable to stop, unable to remove myself from the scene.

Unable to focus on anything other than the neverending cycle of anger and rage that threatened to consume me.

If you asked how long it went on, well, the truth is, I have no idea. Somewhere between an eternity and a handful of seconds would be my best guess. Either way, it was far too long for me to be carrying on like I’d been.

But then, eventually, somewhere in the midst of all the shouting and tantrum-throwing came a sort of break.

A brief respite that lasted a split second at best.

A brief respite that contained what I can only describe as a small patch of—
silence
.

A small, bright space where anger could not exist.

And though it only lasted a moment, from that moment on, a part of me was focused solely on waiting for it to happen again.

And when it did, it seemed to linger just a little bit longer.

And the time after that—longer still.

Until finally, that bright and tiny gap of
silence
stretched and grew until it expanded into a space just large enough for me to crawl into.

My rage stilled, and soon my anger disappeared, as everything around me and inside me began to settle and calm. Allowing me to observe my situation with such clarity, there was no denying the fact that I was not at all different from anyone else who got stuck in this place.

We were all just as angry and unforgiving as Rebecca wanted us to be.

I was connected to all of these lost and lonely souls just as sure as they were connected to me.

For that brief split second, I could see the truth of
everything
—and that’s all it took to break free.

That’s all it took to know that I wasn’t alone, and never had been. I had nothing to fear, nothing to be angry about, and while it was true that I’d never expected my life to end up quite like it did, there was no denying the fact that in a lot of ways it’d ended up a lot better than I ever could’ve imagined.

I rose from my place, watching in astonishment as the scorched field gave way, revealing the bubble in its real and true state—so different from the view Rebecca wanted me to see.

No longer was there falling ash or burned-out trees that morphed into kindergarten classrooms, no longer were there vast and lonely fields, and family trips ending abruptly: There was nothing but a dark and murky crowded sea of wretched, writhing souls, each one trapped in a tormented hell of his own.

I moved among them, wondering what happened to the prince as I searched for Bodhi and Buttercup—eager to try and release them in the same way I’d been. Pushing through a throng of neverending cycles of pain and misery and centuries-old suffering, as I struggled to hold my focus on what I’d just learned, what I needed to remember most, while suppressing my own rising panic that fought to summon my own darker impulses.

Then, just as quickly, I stopped. Stopped right in the middle of all that continuous pain and chaos, thinking that if it was true that we were all connected, then I shouldn’t have to wander very far, if at all. I should be able to stay right where I was, keeping just calm enough and just quiet enough to tune in to this bubble of lost souls and, like the prince said, allow their stories to come forth.

So I shut my eyes tightly and tried to sort through the haze of frenetic energy in order to locate my dog and my guide.

And while I’m happy to report that it didn’t take all that long to find Bodhi—being able to reach him was a whole ’nother matter.

16

I hung back, not quite sure how to proceed. Carefully observing Bodhi, who remained completely unaware of me.

His brow creased, his hands clenched into fists he held tightly to his sides, his lips quivering, teeth gnashing together so hard it rendered his long string of words impossible to decipher.

Knowing he probably wouldn’t like it, knowing that as soon as he was released from whatever torment played out in his head, he’d find some lame excuse to rail on me about invading his privacy (or some other infraction either real or imagined), I went in anyway.

Slowly inching my way toward him until I was close enough to reach for his balled-up hand and grasp it in mine, allowing my energy to stream and merge with his, until I’d eased my way inside his head.

At first, it was impossible to make sense of much of anything. It was messy, chaotic, and extremely confusing—like a super-disorganized bedroom with big piles of papers and clothes and books and
stuff
littered all over the floor—and it was a while before I was able to get myself settled and get it all sorted out.

Unlike my thoughts (and my room!), which had always been more or less orderly and clear, his weren’t even close. So, I went deeper, eventually sinking so far inside, it was as though I’d become him.

I stood there, feeling tall and awkward as I tried to get used to being inside his body, watching everything play out before me as though it were actually happening to me. Though it all seemed so random and confusing all I could really make out was a school.

From the looks of the lockers and the hand-painted signs that lined up and down the hallway where I stood—all of them touting football games, bake sales, and upcoming dances—I figured it was a high school.