Spooky Little Girl (14 page)

“We can actually bring the temperature of a room down?” Kirk asked with a chuckle. “I thought only my ex-wife could do that. On second thought, she was dead on many levels ….”

“Ha, ha,” Chuck guffawed along. “I love a good dead joke.”

“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” Bethanny suddenly shrieked as she jumped completely out of her seat. “I almost forgot to tell you guys! They found my leg! They found my leg!”

A round of hearty applause filled the room, along with some congratulatory hugs.

“That’s wonderful news, Bethanny,” Ruby commented, and walked over to give the little girl a squeeze.

Bethanny took a deep breath and beamed gloriously. “A little kid found it while he was looking for shells. It washed right up onto the beach, and at first, the lifeguard thought it was a giant shrimp! But it was my leg, as if to say, ‘Here I am! Here’s Bethanny’s leg! Look at me!’”

“I’m so happy they found a part of you,” Elliot added.

“You know what this means?” Bethanny squealed to everyone, then waited for an answer that never came.

“A
funeral
!” she answered herself. “I finally get a real funeral!”

“That is such good news,” Lucy said with a wide smile, and patted her friend on the back.

“And on that wonderful note, let’s get back to our lesson,” the instructor called, and walked back over to the small stage. She came back rolling a large full-length mirror on casters from the rear portion of the platform and guided it to the front. “Lucy, you’re losing some of your shine, so let’s see if we can charge you back up a bit. Once you gather your energy, it is essential to use it within a reasonable period of time. It will slip away quickly, so make the most of your time when you have it. That’s why there’s so much activity in kitchens—cabinet doors opening and closing, dishes rattling, faucets being turned on and off—because that is the hallmark of a ghost who simply cannot hold his shine and acts out like a monkey. In time, you’ll learn how to sustain it, so you can make your presence known in any location.”

Lucy walked back to the stage, where Ruby positioned her directly in front of the mirror—a mirror that did not reflect Lucy’s image. In fact, it didn’t reflect anything.

She laughed. “Is this a carnival mirror, one of the trick ones?” she asked as Ruby took the lamp off the table and replaced it with a toaster oven.

“Not exactly,” Ruby answered. “I need everyone to gather around Lucy for this portion of the lesson. This mirror will reflect the way you appear on the physical plane. Right now you don’t even appear, there’s nothing there.”

Lucy’s classmates got up from their seats and mingled behind her. Not one of them was visible in the mirror.

“We’re invisible,” Kirk said as all of them studied the empty frame. “Just like we were at our funerals. But we can see each other … because ghosts can see each other since we’re on a different plane?”

“I saw another ghost at my funeral,” Lucy added. “His was across the hall from mine. He saw me run through a pair of doors.”

“Exactly,” Ruby confirmed. “We can see each other, but few on the other level can, unless you want them to. Another spectral spirit would be able to see that shine around her. One spirit will always be able to see another spirit, even if they’re not charged. They will look whole and full to you, just like they did when they were alive. You can tell a ghost from a living person by the shining around them. It’s like a little golden energy field buzzing around them like an outline—you will carry that with you, no matter what. Lucy, I want you to focus on the toaster oven, and draw from it.”

Lucy stood up straight in front of the mirror, even though she couldn’t see herself. She looked at the toaster oven and focused steadily on it, reaching out her left hand to touch the top of it. Again, she felt the surge of energy from the small kitchen appliance rush into her arms and over her shoulders.

“Focus,” Ruby coached. “Good, good, keep going. Your shine is getting strong. You’re building up a nice reserve. Keep it going, keep it going …”

The countess was the first to gasp; in the mirror, a mist formed. It was a loose shape, but still, it was a shape. Lucy saw it, too, and centered her concentration even further. The shape became denser, although still transparent, and became more defined.

“You’re doing fantastic, Lucy,” Ruby encouraged her student. “Just a little bit more. Concentrate.”

Excitement built from her classmates—they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Lucy’s cloudy reflection was becoming more definitive; the shape of her shoulders appeared, the color of her brown, curly shoulder-length hair, the contour of her face.

“Is that an eye?” Elliot whispered. “I think I see an eye!”

“Whoa,” Danny added. “I know I see a nostril. Houston, we have a nostril.”

And, with Lucy’s hand planted firmly on the top of the toaster oven and the light around her getting brighter and deeper, Lucy’s face slowly began to form in the mirror, an eye, an eye, a nose, a mouth.

It was a faint image, as if it had been lightly screened on a thin piece of silk, or a magical piece of linen, but it was there.

“Look,” Bethanny breathed, “it’s Lucy!”

Lucy smiled broadly, and, as if on cue, her translucent reflection smiled right back.

“Congratulations, my dear.” Ruby beamed. “You’re a lovely, lovely ghost.”

As the students in SD1118 conquered chapter after chapter in their silver binders, the promise of their ghostliness had begun to take shape. Ruby led them along a path of spirit discovery, each one of them revealing new facets of themselves. Halfway through the binder, everyone was finding their niche and discovering exactly what sort of spook they aspired to be. While all the students were comfortable with the basics—materializing and fading; collecting energy from the living, which resulted in delightful goose bumps in the warm-blooded; tapping on shoulders; and learning how to quickly and nimbly move just out of eyesight—some of the student spirits were obviously more gifted at one paranormal activity than another.

Who would have thought that Chuck, a man who’d had a gun rack bolted inside the cab of his Ford truck, would be an unrivaled master at spectral whispering and would send a shiver up another ghost’s spine simply by calling their name? No one would have
expected that Elliot, a slight man who could have easily shopped in the JCPenney girls’ department for his wardrobe when alive, possessed such a highly developed talent for generating loud, booming footsteps that mimicked a pirate’s heavy boot. And then there was Danny, the once lonely and bitter musician, who finally realized his calling was door slamming and blowing out candles; he was honing his talent to enact both challenges
simultaneously
.

It was almost as if death had opened a brand-new door and introduced the Surprise Demisers to new talents, abilities, and even possible genius. Kirk Russell, for example, surprised everyone with his ability to delicately hover behind someone and blow a slight, gentle stream of air onto an exposed neck or ear, a maneuver that was guaranteed to produce not only a shriek, but a frantic, panicked race to escape a house. The countess even brought her game to the arena with a playful yet nearly sinister cackle that could bounce for centuries off castle walls. And with Bethanny’s flowing, curly blond hair and her facial features nearly in miniature, she was of course mistaken for a haloed angel, much to her ethereal delight. To bring her point home, the perky towhead practiced for hours and hours in her spare time and came close to perfecting a definite flowing levitation, although she never left the ground without her familiar complaint that if she just had a fan to make her hair billow, she could get the effect absolutely perfect.

Lucy, however, was not really very good at anything.

Sure, she had had her moment in the spotlight the first day she’d materialized with the rest of her class looking on in admiration, but to be blunt, it was as if she had peaked at the moment when she’d seen the tiny caverns of her nostrils, and all the air had rushed out of her spectral balloon. It was at that moment that Lucy realized she did not want to be there. She didn’t want to be a ghost, she didn’t want to be dead, and she certainly didn’t want to go out on a
haunting mission. The rest of the class charged on with their studies, and Lucy watched as they tackled each section with enthusiasm and clapped along when Elliot was able to make his first floorboard creak and Danny was able to turn a battery-operated train on with a touch of his finger and some good old ordinary phantom-y determination.

It wasn’t that Lucy didn’t want to be a good, effective ghost; she did, but she simply found that her heart really wasn’t in it. She was tired. After getting thrown out of her house, losing her job, getting killed by a bus, and not having one single friend attend her funeral, Lucy couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit bitter, especially about the funeral thing. It’s easy to feel a lot better about almost anything as long as friends are behind you, but when they simply fail to show up, it’s just another knock in the teeth. Everyone else in the class, as far as Lucy knew, just died one day and wound up here, while Lucy’s life had been falling apart, chunk by chunk, until destiny decided enough was enough and blew a blinding visor of hair into her face, almost as if to end the misery. She was more than a little fed up with changes and just wanted to stay in one place for a while and adjust. To anything. Instead, she found herself in a ghost classroom being pelted with one lesson after the next—how to turn lights on and off, how to drop forks and knives from the silverware drawer onto the floor, what to do when the living sit on you or walk right through you, how to make small objects teeter and slide off a table, or how to misplace keys or tilt a photo or painting just the slightest bit off center.

Lucy, frankly, was sick of it. They had all been told that as soon as their training was complete, they’d be off to another new place for their assignment, another adjustment she’d be expected to make. All Lucy really wanted to do was stand up and scream, “I have post-traumatic death syndrome!” in hopes that everyone would take pity
on her and simply leave her alone. Instead, she delivered a half-assed attempt at almost everything, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s almost as if you don’t care how to switch television channels in the middle of a show the living are watching,” Bethanny said sorrowfully one night when the girls were picking up a few games at the Soul Bowl. “The only one who is worse than you is the countess, and that’s because she’ll watch anything as long as it’s in English. You really need to try, Lucy. How are you going to get to the next level if you don’t succeed in your assignment?”

Lucy took a deep breath and shook her head. “Maybe I just need to hang out for a while.” She exhaled as she shrugged. “Maybe I’m not ready to go on my assignment just yet, you know? It’s not like it’s that hard to change the channel anyway. You just punch the button on the remote control when they aren’t paying attention. Big deal.”

“You’re going to fail, Lucy, if you don’t watch it,” her once sweeter-than-pie friend warned sharply, her confidence freshly fueled by her levitation flair. “Then you’ll be stuck down there forever. I just want to do my job and move on so that I can relax for all eternity. Do you think they’ll have tanning beds in The State? I think they should, if it’s eternal and everything.”

Bethanny wasn’t the only one who was keyed in to Lucy’s lackluster attitude. In the middle of the lesson of moving small pieces of furniture, Ruby halted her demonstration when she noticed Lucy doodling in her binder, and promptly asked her to step outside of SD1118.

“You seem a little disconnected, Lucy,” the instructor said after her student closed the door behind her. “You’ve seemed that way for the past several sections. This is important stuff, and it’s essential that you pay attention. Is anything wrong?”

Lucy wasn’t thrilled about being confronted about her academic
failure, even though she truly liked Ruby and thought she was a wonderful teacher. Her anger got the better of her, and now that it had been tapped, there was no stopping it.

“Of course there’s something wrong,” Lucy replied.
“I’m dead
. Cut down before I was even thirty. I didn’t get a chance to start anything. I didn’t get a chance to finish anything. All of sudden, my turn at life is over, and now I’m sitting in a classroom trying to bump around a chair even though I’m invisible? Is this it? What was the purpose of my life?”

Ruby stood looking at her student for a while, while Lucy also stood quietly and averted her gaze.

“I am very sorry, Lucy,” she finally said. “I agree that you didn’t get a fair shake at your time being alive, but we are powerless about that. I’m here to help you get to The State, and I promise you, it will be worth all of the effort you can muster. If we can get you there, you’ll have endless days of elation and solace; everything you have been through will have been worth it. You’ll see. Think about the happiest, most comforting moment of your whole life and imagine that stretched out before you with no end. But you won’t get there without one hundred percent of your effort.”

Lucy scoffed and almost rolled her eyes, but held herself back.

“Who cares about moving furniture?” she rebuffed. “I don’t. I can already make it move. I don’t feel like being a ghost. I didn’t pick this. I’m sorry, Ruby, but this is all just stupid to me. I feel like I am wasting my time.”

“To the contrary, dear,” Ruby replied. “Time is all you have, and there’s quite a bit of it. I don’t want to hear centuries from now that you’re still trapped down there, roaming dusty rooms and scaring the crap out of people because you didn’t bother to learn the right way and ended up going rogue. There’s no happy ending for those spooks whose only skill is to terrify. They never get the job done.
And please tell me what you mean when you say you’ve already moved furniture. It’s quite difficult and is an advanced technique, so if you can indeed do it without training, I’d like to see it.”

“I moved a chair, just like how you showed us in class, but I was much angrier. It was at my funeral. I kicked it, and I saw it move. It didn’t move a lot—it didn’t tip over or anything—but it definitely moved.”