The Gloomy Ghost (8 page)

He smiled. “Indeed. You are welcome to stay here forever.”

Before I could say anything, the door burst open.

 

Nineteen

RORY THE STAR

I jumped back, expecting to see Teridakian and his ghost-catching machine. But it was nothing to be scared of—just a bunch of ghosts. They filled the room. I guess they had to use the door because this was a ghost house.

They all wanted to talk to me and tell me about themselves. And they all wanted me to show off.

“Do it again,” a man said. “Smash something.”

“Come with me,” an older man said. He grabbed my right wrist. “My business partner cheated me when I was alive. I want you to destroy his office.”

“No, with me,” a woman said. She grabbed my left wrist. “Come teach my husband a lesson.”

“Stop!” Josiah Winston shouted. “Give the lad some room. You'll all get your turn. There's time enough, and more time beyond. You're acting like a bunch of fleshsters.”

The two ghosts let go of me. All the ghosts stepped back for a moment, but that didn't last. They couldn't seem to keep away from me. I guess this was what it felt like to be famous. I looked around for the girl—the nice one who had helped me the first time I came here. But I didn't see her. It was just too crowded. In a moment, they were all around me again, pushing and shoving to get close.

I'd never had so much attention in my life. They all wanted to talk to me. But I started to realize that they really didn't want to talk about me. They wanted to talk about themselves.

It all began to sound the same. Half of them just wanted to brag.

I was an important banker.…

You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I was once the loveliest girl in my village.…

Yes, I was a great painter. They all copied me.…

I climbed many mountains.…

… I did …

… I was …

… I had …

… I made …

The room was filled with
I
's.

And half of them wanted me to smash something for them. As soon as I finished talking to one ghost, another would push forward and take his place.

Finally, Josiah shouted, “Enough! Give us some peace.”

The rest of the crowd grumbled, but they backed away and went out the door.

“Thanks,” I said when the last of them had left. “If I had to listen to one more person's life story, I think I'd scream.” As soon as I said that, I felt bad. I realized I didn't know anything about the man who had saved me. “What about you?” I asked. “This is your house, right?”

He shook his head. “This house was built long after I died. I am an ancestor of the man who built it. I never lived here. But this,” he said, patting the rocking chair he sat in, “was my chair. When it was brought here, I came with it.”

“But why are you a ghost?” I asked.

He smiled, then shrugged. “I'm not sure,” he told me. He waved his hand toward where the crowd had stood. “Most of them have unfinished business. They left life too soon. But as for me, I don't know why I remain here.”

After that, he stopped talking. I thought he was finished, but then he started again. “I wasn't the best man who ever lived. But I certainly wasn't a bad person. I was only really bad one time in my life. Yet here I am. Maybe I expected this. It's funny. We often get exactly what we expect. Notice how we can walk on the ground, but we walk through walls. I think that happens because we expect it to be that way—we expect solid ground. But I can't complain. I am comfortable, and in good company. Someday, I imagine I'll pass on. But enough about me.”

The way he said it, I knew he didn't want to talk about himself anymore. That was okay. I had other questions. “I still don't understand what I did,” I told him.

“You released a pure form of energy. It is produced by great emotions—rage, sorrow, fear.”

“Can I control it?” I asked.

“In time, perhaps,” he said.

“How long?” I was good at learning things. I'd learned to ride a two-wheeler in less than a day. And that was really hard.

“A century or two,” he said.

“A century!” I knew how long that was. And it was more time than I had. Time! I looked at my watch. It was 7:15. It was morning already. I'd wasted hours being famous.

“Thanks for helping me,” I said. “I have to go.”

“But—”

“I have unfinished business,” I told him. I ran toward the door.

“Watch out for Teridakian,” he called after me.

“I will.” I raced down the steps and rushed toward the hospital.

 

Twenty

RUNNING OUT OF TIME

When I reached the hospital, I realized I still had no idea what to do. I stood there, watching my family watch my body. Mom and Dad and Sebastian and Angelina were there. So was Norman. A nurse came in and saw Norman. She told him the room was only for family members. Norman started talking to her, using really big words. Finally, the nurse told him he could stay.

Josiah Winston had told me I had poltergeist power. If I got angry enough, I could smash the whole room.

But that wouldn't do any good. That would just destroy stuff and scare people.

Scare people!

I remembered what else Josiah Winston had said:
All of us can cause a little fright or sorrow. We can make the fleshsters tingle and shiver a bit
. I thought about the rest of what he'd said:
At best, we can touch treasured items from our past
.

I searched the room for anything that might be a treasured item. There wasn't much at all. My clothes were in a closet. I checked my pockets. Nothing. There were some flowers on the table next to the bed. Mom had probably bought them at the hospital gift shop. But I didn't see anything of mine that was a treasure. So that wouldn't work.

I'd have to use fright or sorrow. I didn't want to scare them. It wouldn't do any good. But if I could make them really sad, maybe they'd go home. All of my treasures were at home. Maybe I could find some way to show them the berries. It was my only chance.

I hated to make them sadder. They looked sad enough already. It seemed like a rotten thing to do to them. But I couldn't think of anything else, and I didn't want to stay a ghost forever.
Be sad,
I thought.

Nothing happened. They didn't look any different.

Maybe I was doing it wrong. How do you make people sad? I wondered if they'd get sad if I was sad. I looked at myself lying on the bed and tried to be sad. It didn't work. I mean, my body was sick in the hospital, but I felt fine. Then I thought about Scott. That made me sad. He was so young, and he wasn't going to get any better.

The light in the room got dimmer. Everything looked sad and gloomy. Sad made the air dark blue.

“Oh, man, I can't stand it,” Sebastian said. He seemed sad. He stood up. “I can't stay here.”

“We understand,” Mom said. “Why don't you go home for a while.”

Sebastian nodded. Everyone else in the room looked real sad, too. But I guess Sebastian was the saddest. Maybe because he was trying the hardest not to show how he felt. I understood. That's how we are—all us guys.

“I'll go with you,” Norman said.

They got up and left the room. I was so happy, I shouted, “Yay!” as I rushed out to follow them.

“Your place or mine?” Norman asked when they walked out the front door of the hospital.

“Home!”
I shouted. They had to go home.

“My place,” Sebastian said.

“Are you sure?” Norman asked. “Maybe you'd feel better if you were somewhere else.”

“Shut up, Norman!” I told him.

“No. I want to go home,” Sebastian said. He started to walk down the street.

Norman followed him. I ran ahead, then waited for them to catch up. They were walking so slowly. I looked at my watch. It was 7:45. It wouldn't take long to get home, but there wouldn't be much time left when we got there.

If they didn't stop anywhere on the way, I figured it would all be okay. And there was no reason for them to stop. No reason at all.

Just when I thought that, I heard Norman say, “Mellon alert.”

I looked ahead. Right down the street, straight ahead of us, I saw Pit Mellon. He was too small to bully Sebastian and Norman. But he wasn't alone. He was with a bunch of his big brothers.

 

Twenty-one

FIGURING OUT AN ACTION

I saw Lud and Bud and Clem and Clyde walking with Pit. There were a couple of others I didn't recognize. They were probably cousins or uncles. They were real noisy and rough. Clem and Clyde were hitting each other, and Lud kicked a phone pole as he walked past it. Even though they couldn't touch me, I felt like running.

“Let's go around the other way,” Sebastian said. “I don't want to mess with them.”

“Yeah, they can be okay alone, but they're unpredictable when they travel in herds,” Norman said. “We'd better go the long way.”

“No!” I tried to grab Norman but my hand shot right through his arm. If they went the long way, they'd never get home in time. I had to do something. I looked at Pit. He had my action figure in his hand—it was Mousconi from
Swollen Rat People
. That was the one he'd taken from me at school. I could feel the anger boiling inside me. Everything started to turn red. I knew that in a second or two, the figure would go flying free, smashing into all the Mellons. Stones and sticks from the ground would go flying, too. Pit might even go flying. That's how angry I was getting.

I squeezed my fists together.
Calm down, Rory,
I told myself. This wasn't right. They'd get hurt. Everyone could get hurt. There had to be another way.
Calm down,
I told myself again. The red faded away. I looked at Pit, and I looked at the figure in his hand. I stared at it and moved closer. Then even closer. I knew it so well—every part of it. Even the little marks in the back from when Darling had started to chew it. It was mine. It belonged to me.

I moved closer.

And then I was inside it. I was smaller, and wearing the figure like a suit of armor. I looked up at the giant face of Pit Mellon. Then I raised a hand and pointed at him. “Thief,” I whispered, even though I figured he couldn't hear me. I shook my other fist at him.

There was no way he could hurt me. I was a ghost inside a piece of plastic. I was still a little scared, but not so much as before. The fear was fading.

Pit stared down at me, his eyes wide. He opened his hand. I stomped my foot hard, slamming my heel on his palm. I was so small, it couldn't have really hurt him. But it sure got him moving.

Pit screamed. He turned and ran back toward his house. Anyone with half a brain would have dropped me. But Pit held on at first. Then he must have realized what he was doing. He screamed again and threw me.

Mousconi went flying. I popped out and floated to the ground.

“What's wrong, little brother?” Lud Mellon called.

“Something scare you?” Bud Mellon asked.

All the rest of the Mellons chased after Pit. For a moment, I just stayed where I was. I felt a little confused and dizzy. When I looked back, I saw that Norman and Sebastian had decided not to take the long way.

“What do you think got into them?” Norman asked.

“Must have been frightened by the sight of us,” Sebastian said. He held up his arm and flexed his muscle.

I looked around for Mousconi. I could use it to give Sebastian a message. But I didn't know where Pit had thrown it. I couldn't take time to search for it. Norman and Sebastian were already on their way again.

There had to be something in the house I could use to send a message. “Hurry home,” I called over my shoulder as I ran ahead of the two of them.

When I reached the yard, I heard barking. Yip was there. He rushed over and wagged his tail at me. “Good boy,” I said. I petted him.

He barked again and licked my face.

“I can't play,” I told him. “I have to show Sebastian the berries.”

Yip looked at me, then suddenly looked next door toward Mr. Nordy's yard. Then he started to rise slowly into the air. It was just like what happened to me before the ambulance came. As he rose, he started to fade.

 

Twenty-two

GET THE MESSAGE?

“What's wrong?” I asked him.

He didn't bark. He didn't look scared. He just kept drifting higher. I jumped up to grab him, but my hands went right through his body, like he had become the ghost of a ghost.

He wasn't only going higher, he was also going toward Mr. Nordy's yard. I ran through the hedge. When I got to the other side, I saw what was happening.

Mr. Nordy was burying something in a hole at the back of his yard, right next to his flower garden. “Sorry, puppy,” he said. “I wish you'd had a longer life.” Mr. Nordy doesn't talk much. He started to fill the hole back up. Browser whined. I looked over at Mr. Nordy's house. Sheila, the other dog, was there, with a bunch of puppies. I guess Yip was one of the puppies, but he'd died. I also guess his ghost was waiting until he got buried.