Whispered Magics (8 page)

But that was my job. They’d picked us, orphans from all over
the galaxy, and trained us on the ship we’d called The Orphanage, before they’d
scattered us in various foster homes all over. Our first goal was to find the
potential leaders and encourage them.

I rubbed my ears, then pulled my hair away so my ears could
extend in antennae form. And soon as my signal went out, my ship appeared and I
began sending them my weekly report.

You’ve been seen. We’ll
have to be more careful, but maybe it wasn’t such a mistake after
all . . .

“Yo, Anna.”

The wind rustling the winter-dry branches outside my window
almost masked Ben’s whisper.

“Ready to see the ghosts in Neverland?”

His voice was low, but I could hear the challenge. He didn’t
expect me to go. He didn’t expect me to believe him.

“Sure,” I said, and scrambled out my bedroom window onto a
branch, and dropped to the grass.

We ran through the deserted streets of downtown. Neither of us
spoke until we were almost to Neverland Park. Then Ben said, “We’d better
hide.”

He still expected me to scoff—or to run back home.

I shrugged.

Even in the dark, I could see his surprise. As
if ghosts playing in the town park weren't as strange as the two of us being
outside together at midnight: Ben, the school’s bad kid, and I, Anna, the best
student in school.

Ex-best student.

“Here’s where,” he said as we pounded across the grass toward
a line of thick shrubs. Leaves skittered behind us down the pathway, driven by
the chilly wind that numbed my lips and made my eyes water. I crouched beside
Ben in the bushes.

“There they are,” he said, staring across the playground, his
breath making a faint glowing cloud.

We have the best park in five counties, designed and built by
someone who grew up here, went away, and made it rich, then came back old.
Neverland Park was meant to be the closest thing to Peter Pan’s island you
could get on Earth, a place where kids could play forever. Except there is no
forever on Earth.

About twenty kids swung from the ropes and twirled on the
carousel and climbed all over the ladder-slide. At first I thought Ben and
those kids were scamming me, but then I noticed some things. Weird things.

Like breathing. Ben’s and my breath made clouds that glowed in
the arc light reflections, and we were just sitting there. Those kids were all
playing, some of them with their mouths open, but I didn’t see anyone’s breath.

And then there were the clothes. Oh, most of them looked like
kids anywhere: jeans, T-shirts, crummy shoes. But one girl on the swings wore a
pinafore like straight out of
Little
Women
, her long curls bouncing on her back as she kicked her feet. And
walking along the top of the monkey bars was a boy in kneepants and a loose
shirt like in Tom Sawyer.

“Ghosts,” Ben said, with a strange kind of satisfaction.

I sucked in a long breath, and the cold made my lungs hurt.
“Where d’you think they come from? And why are they here?”

Ben snorted. “They’re from wherever ghosts come from. If I was
a ghost I’d rather mess around at Neverland than hang out alone at some old
house just to haunt it, wouldn’t you? Twenty bucks,” he added matter-of-factly,
sticking out his hand.

I don’t think he believed I’d pay up on the bet either,
because his eyes went wide with surprise when I yanked a crumpled bill from my
jeans pocket and slapped it into his hand.

His mouth went sour. “You’ve got lots of twenties lying
around?”

“In my mom’s purse,” I said. “Where I stole that from.”

He snickered, and turned to watch the kids playing again.

We watched for a little while longer, until my feet were numb
and my fingers and nose ached. Then Ben turned to look at me, his narrowed eyes
so steady I could see the bouncing, running ghost-kids reflected in them.

“What are you going to tell them at school?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “They can make their own bets.”

He shrugged, backed out of the bush and stood up. I followed,
and again we were silent as we ran back toward my house.

When we reached my street we both stood there, breathing
raggedly, then he said, “Want to watch ’em again tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said.

He ran off. I climbed back inside my room. Had my mother
noticed I was gone?

I stood still, listening.

Nothing.

o0o

Next day at school in math class, my eyes itched and I
kept yawning. Though Ben sat two rows away, I never looked at him. He must have
been yawning, too, because he got yelled at twice for it.

In English, I guess he put his head down on his desk just
after I did, because the teacher stopped talking and said sharply, “Benjamin,
if you need to sleep, you may explain why to the vice principal. Now.”

He got up. The teacher glared at him, but never looked at me.

I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew the bell had rung.

o0o

That night I set my dad’s old-fashioned alarm clock,
because I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay awake otherwise. I put it under my
pillow, then turned off my light and lay back. The street light shone through
tree-branches, making shadows on my ceiling like bent witch fingers clawing up
the walls.

I almost wanted to open my door, to call to Mom, but I heard
the clink of dishes, and her laughter. His laughter.

I buried my face under the pillow and pressed my cheek against
the clock, and listened to its ticking until I went to sleep.

o0o

“It’s about time,” I said when I saw Ben coming slowly up the
sidewalk.

I was sitting on the lowest branch of the tree, swinging my
feet. I’d planned it out—thought it’d look pretty cool if I was out there
waiting, like I’d been there all night.

Ben shrugged, his bony shoulders jerking up and down. The
shadows from the streetlamp were odd on his face. Made it look lopsided.

“Ready to run?” I asked, swinging to the ground.

“Nah,” he said, kind of sarcastic. “What’s the big hurry?”

I shrugged, making my shoulders jerk up and down. We walked.

When we neared the park, Ben said suddenly, “Let’s go out
there.”

“You mean, let them see us?”

“Sure.” He laughed, an angry snort of a laugh. “Why not?
They’re ghosts. Are you gonna get scared if they jump and yell ‘boo’?”

I said as carelessly as I could, “Not sure being touched by a
ghost is on my all-time want list.”

“Like they can really hurt you,” he sneered, and without
waiting for me he launched straight across the grass toward the ghosts.

I hesitated, wondering what could happen to me. If anything
did, my mother wouldn’t be alone at home when the phone rang. A big wash of
anger burned away all my fear. I stumbled after Ben, my heart drumming loudly
in my ears.

Ben was right in the middle of the park by then. At first it
seemed the ghosts couldn’t see him after all, but then they stopped what they
were doing, first one or two, then four or five, then all of them. They stood,
still and silent, their outlines glowing a kind of shivery silver and blue.

They moved toward us until they stood in a circle. I noticed
odd things; that glow and the fact that their feet didn’t make prints in the
sand, yet the cold winter wind ruffled their clothes and hair, same as ours.
Their eyes were all dark pits.

“Hey! Can ya hear us?” Ben yelled, making me jump. He waved
his arms and stamped toward a group of them.

They started moving, some waving their arms and stamping, and
some clapping, and some twirling around in a kind of dance.

Their mouths were open like they were laughing, but the sound
I heard was the wind rustling the barren twigs of the park trees.

Then flickering lights made us both duck. We looked up at the
Main Street bridge arcing over the stream that runs through the park.
Headlights jittered between the tree trunks lining the bridge.

“They can’t see us down here,” I said. My hands and lips were
numb.

Ben stood very still, one hand gripping the opposite shoulder,
then he turned away. “Let’s go.”

o0o

“. . . and the article says that if you can
talk to the spirit, you’re supposed to ask if it can see the light,” I said the
next night.

My breath was puffing. This time Ben wanted to run. At least
we’d stay warm, I thought.

“What light?” He paused and squinted at me. Those shadows were
still on his face, and they hadn’t moved. “Street lights? Store lights?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It just said ‘light.’ And you’re
supposed to tell them to go toward it. What is that on your face? Bruises?”

“I fall down a lot,” he said. “So sue me. That ‘light’ stuff
sounds like a load of crap.”

I snorted. “That’s what I thought. Hanging out in the dark is
cool. That’s what I’d do if I was a ghost. But that’s what it said in this
article I found on the Internet.”

“Why waste time reading that junk?” he snarled.

“You’re sure in a good mood,” I snarled back. “Anyway, it was
better than yawning over that covalency snore in the science book.”

Ben snorted. “Old Man Mattson let you read during class?”

“He ignored me like I wasn’t there,” I said.

He shook his head. “Geez. Some people have all the luck. I
drop a pencil on my desk, and he gives me an hour of detention. I miss an
assignment, and I get sent to the VP.”

“I haven’t handed in any work for a week.” I smirked. “All the
teachers act like I’m still their perfect little super-student.”

“Geez.” Ben shook his head again.

We reached the park, and it looked like the ghosts were
waiting for us.

Only there were more of them—maybe forty. As soon as we
appeared, they all ran toward us. The grass waved in the cold wind—I could see
it through their feet.

Then I was surrounded by them. Mostly girls, some hopping and
dancing. The one in the pinafore was there, her wide eyes staring and staring.
She reminded me a lot of my cousin Sarah, except this ghost was skinnier and a
couple years younger, and Sarah wasn’t dead. The others pressed close, though
not close enough to touch.

I walked slowly toward the swings, and the ones in front of me
backed away. When I reached the swings, I sat on one and for a time there I
was, pumping high, with ghosts on either side of me, blown back and forth by
the wind.

The ghost that reminded me of Sarah swung next to me, her
pinafore and hair fluttering, her solemn little face angled my way, as though
she was listening. Remembering what I’d read about the lights, I wondered if I
should try to talk to her, but it seemed so stupid. If she couldn’t see the
streetlights as plainly as I could, what good would asking do? And what if it
did somehow make her disappear? She was cute and fun to watch. I didn’t want
her to go.

I thought about asking Ben, and looked around. I was alone
except for the ghosts.

Ben wasn’t in the park at all, but running with a big swarm of
ghosts up the steep embankment to the bridge.

Swinging high, I caught a glimpse of them through the trees
sheltering the bridge. Then I heard brakes squealing.

My crowd of ghosts all drifted toward the carousel, looking
back at me.

Sarah hopped from one foot to the other, her bare feet passing
through the sand. It looked weird, and I laughed. The ghosts all laughed as
well, their mouths round and wide and dark.

Then we were on the carousel. The cold metal burned my hands,
so I rubbed them together, then pushed with all my strength. The ghosts piled
on and we went round and round, the winter wind streaming through my hair and
their bodies.

When Ben reappeared, I jumped down reluctantly, though my
teeth were chattering again. I said, “What’s so great on the bridge?”

“Scaring drunks.” He grinned as we began to trot. “You can see
’em coming up from Main, driving like this.” His hands wove back and forth.

“The ghosts jump in front of the car and it goes right through
the ghost, and the guy inside goes totally buggy. Did ya hear that one idiot?
He nearly went right off the bridge.” He laughed, a hoarse, high laugh.

“Stupid drunks.”

Pain lanced through me when he said
Scaring drunks
, but I wasn’t about to show it. Besides, why should
I care anymore?
My dad is dead
.

“Yeah, stupid drunks,” I said, and laughed, just as meanly as
he had.

o0o

“Where was Dad killed?”

My mother looked up from her coffee. “Good morning, Anna,” she
said brightly. “Please, sit down and have some breakfast. Here’s some toast—”

“Where was Dad killed?” I demanded.

Next to Mom
he
sat,
his eyes on the paper. He’d given up trying to talk to me a month before.

“You didn’t want me to tell you the details,” Mom said
carefully, her eyes scanning back and forth across my face. “Are you sure
you’re ready for it now? You look like you aren’t feeling well.” She reached
for my forehead and I stepped back. She pulled her hand down quickly.

“Just tell me where.”

She looked over at
him
.
He looked up, his brown eyes serious. “It happened out on the highway, Anna. He
crossed the line into a logging truck. It was a dangerous curve—”

I walked out.

o0o

The rain started right after the dinner I didn’t eat. I sat at
my window and watched. First it pelted down, hissing and roaring. Then it
tapered into soft drips. Then, slowly, it got stronger, until the drops between
my window and the lamppost were like thin spears of icy-white light.

At midnight, there was Ben, his hair hidden in his hoodie. I
pulled on a sweatshirt. If he’d worn only a shirt, so would I. No one would
call me a sissy, afraid of a little wet. I was just as tough as any bad kid,
and I cared even less.