Thirteen

I BACK UP A STEP. “You’re not supposed to touch me without permission.”

He holds up his palms in a surrender gesture. “Sorry. I just needed a little energy boost.”

Maybe I didn’t repel him because all my defenses were down, or maybe it has something to do with the black mark on his neck. I get the sense that not all the rules of the Prism apply to him. “Are you stalking me?” He was at the graveyard and in Carson’s car. Now here.

“You’re paranoid.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right.”

Shrugging, he sits on the bench, stretches his arms along the back and his long legs in front of him. “I’m waiting for someone.”

Is it just coincidence that he’s waiting where I happen to be?

“Where’s Thatcher?” he asks.

Guilt swamps me, along with a sense of disloyalty.

Leo chuckles. “He doesn’t know about your little private excursions, does he? He will not be happy.”

Don’t I know that.

“I have to go.” But I’m suddenly self-conscious about him watching me create a portal.

“What’s the rush? You should stay. It’s always more exciting when Thatcher isn’t around. He is such a total downer since he died.”

I’m taken aback. “You knew him when he was alive?”

“Oh, yeah.” He interlaces his fingers together, makes a double fist. “We were close.”

Before I can ask him what happened, Reena appears down the street. When I turn toward her, she waves. “Hey!”

Behind her are Delia and Norris.

“About time,” Leo says, shoving himself off the bench.

“Sorry. We got caught up in something.” She smiles at me. “So glad you’re here, Callie. You can hang with us.”

“I don’t know. I’ve been gone for a while.”

“Are you feeling tired?”

“No, but—”

“Then play with us.”

A thousand alarm bells go off in my head. I know Thatcher wouldn’t like this, but my curiosity has always overwhelmed my caution. Besides, I know these ghosts.

“I guess I could stay a little while longer.” Not to mention I welcome a distraction from my inability to make any progress with Nick. Maybe hanging around with Reena will teach me something that will help.

“Great. So what’s up?” Reena asks, smiling fully now.

So many things.

“Not much,” I say. “Still dead.”

Norris and Delia laugh enthusiastically. “I like you, Callie,” says Delia. “Just being around you, I feel amazing.”

“Callie’s found what Ponce de León never could,” says Norris, and I’m not sure what he means, but he’s smiling, so it must be good.

“How are things going with your haunting?” prods Reena.

Her face is cheerful, curious. The warm glow in her eyes says that I can trust her, that I can talk to her.

“I don’t know,” I say. “I mean, I’m trying. I just feel kind of . . .”

“Down?” asks Reena.

“Yeah. Something like that.”

She reaches into her pocket for a hair tie and pulls her long black locks into a quick ponytail.

“Why don’t we all go have a little fun?” she suggests. “I can show you how to interact a little more. You want to connect with those you love, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Thatcher has her brainwashed,” Leo sneers.

“No, he doesn’t,” I say in my—and his—defense.

“But he’s trying to convince you to stick with the whole soul-touching thing, right?” He leans toward me. “Who are you gonna believe? Those who completed their hauntings? Or the guy who failed at his?”

Although Thatcher did fail, he must have learned something from his experience or he wouldn’t be a Guide. Leo’s dislike of Thatcher has me not wanting to be anywhere near Leo. I still don’t trust him. “You guys go on, have fun. I really need to get back.”

Reena steps nearer to me. “Look, Callie, where’s the harm in at least learning how to do it? It’s like all the facts you learn for a history exam. They’re not all on the test, but you’re prepared if they are. Everyone’s experience in the Prism is different.” She comes a little closer and lowers her voice, like we’re sharing something she doesn’t want the others to know. “You already know that Thatcher hasn’t told you everything—like the truth about the portals. I’m just saying, knowledge is power. Be prepared. You don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable with it.”

She’s right. Thatcher did hold out on me. Why shouldn’t I learn what I can and make my own decisions? I nod. “I guess it can’t hurt.”

Leo claps his hands together, his smile big and broad. “Hell, yes. Who feels like a coffee?”

 

We step into Kudu, a café where people are always hanging out, sitting around and drinking coffee. Some are students, others are townies, but it’s kind of a scene. When we arrive, Leo laughs and says, “Laptop city.”

“Who first?” asks Reena with a gleam in her eye.

Norris points at a redheaded girl in the corner who quickly types like her thoughts can’t keep up with her fingers. We follow as Reena strolls over to the table and stands behind the typing girl.

Reena touches my forearm and a buzz jolts me, tingling its way through me, like ice cracking in the center of a frozen lake sending out jagged fissures toward shore. Cold and sharp. She stares me right in the eye, almost challenging me not to pull back. “To connect, you just have to heighten your energy,” she explains. “That won’t be a problem for you.”

For a tense moment, I could swear I hear a spark of envy in her voice. I almost point out that it’s rude to take energy without asking—wondering if they invited me along because of what I have instead of what I am. Like the girl at school who’s suddenly popular because she got a sports car over the summer. I shake it off. I have energy to spare and they need it. So what? “How does this work?” I ask.

“You remember the feeling of whatever you’re going to interact with,” Reena explains, “so right now, I’m thinking about the light weight of laptop keys under my fingers, the way my nails click a little bit on their surfaces . . .”

She closes her eyes, puts her arms on either side of the girl, and rests her fingers on the keys. The girl is typing out what looks to be a painful history paper, but suddenly the document has a mind of its own—or Reena’s own, I guess. Right in the middle of the page, new words emerge:

 

I’M WATCHING YOU, RED.

 

The girl’s mouth falls open as she looks nervously around the coffee shop, like someone could have broken into her document virtually and done this.

Leo and Norris crack up at her bewildered gaze. It is pretty funny. I would be so freaked out. She erases Reena’s typing, then takes a deep breath and starts working again.

“Not a big enough reaction,” says Delia, throwing her golden curls over her shoulder. “Let’s try something more drastic.”

“Like what?” I ask.

They all huddle around me, like we’re calling secret plays on a football field. “Put your hands in the center,” says Reena. I’m wondering if we’re going to do some sort of ghost fight cheer, but when I place my palm on top of the others’, I feel a deep vibration, almost like we’re holding on to a moving car. Tiny sparks are shooting through me, reminding me of a bug zapper that lights up every time a mosquito hits it.

I look up at Reena, and she must see the question in my eyes.

She smiles reassuringly. “We’re pooling energy,” she says. “That way we can do bigger things. Try anything you want, Callie. Anything.”

I would expect to feel revitalized. Instead I’m beginning to sag. I must not be doing this right.

After thirty seconds or so, Leo shouts, “Break!” and our hands part. I welcome the break in contact, glad all the little zaps are no longer pinging through me. Everyone turns in a different direction, but I need a moment to regain my equilibrium, so I stand there watching while they put on a show.

Leo focuses on the iPod behind the counter, changing the music from chill indie rock to upbeat hip-hop.

As everyone in the café looks up from their laptops and conversations, Norris starts touching the strings of white lights that are hung around the café, making each of them flash in time with the music.

I laugh as the faces of the Living fill with questions. Some are smiling, some look bewildered, but everyone is exchanging glances, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Delia leans over one table and blows the foam off a girl’s cappuccino. As it floats into the air, her friend giggles nervously. Then Delia moves from table to table.

“Decapitate all frothy drinks!” shouts Leo.

It’s like we’re the guests of honor at a party, making everyone stop and stare and spin in wonder, whirling in the unknown and sharing this moment together. Suddenly my energy is boosted. I’m exhilarated, I’m energized, I’m feeling . . . elated.

I join in and bend down to the straw of an iced coffee at the table near me where a mom sits with her toddler. I put my lips around it and blow, making gurgling bubbles erupt in the cup. The little boy squeals with delight.

“Nice, Callie!” says Delia.

We all laugh, and I turn to see what Reena’s up to. She’s standing at the window looking up at the sky, not paying attention to what’s going on in the café. I see the dark black mark on the back of her neck, just under her ponytail. It suddenly seems ominous, threatening.

I walk over to her to ask her about it, but before I can speak, she grabs my shoulder. A slight burning sensation where she’s touching me has me gasping, and I start to pull away but she holds me fast. She’s incredibly strong for such a petite girl, and the wildness in her eyes makes me wish I weren’t here.

“What are you doing?” I ask her, my voice raspy and taut.

Triumph lights her eyes as she commands, “Look.”

I follow her gaze outside, where it was bright and sunny just a minute ago. Now, dark gray clouds are swirling and lightning flashes streak the sky. Abruptly, a heavy rain pounds the pavement, the sound like drumbeats in a marching band.

The Living gasp at the quick change in the weather. Chairs scrape across the floor as some get up to come to the window. They look confused, disoriented. Summer storms aren’t unheard of, but this one has an almost unearthly force to it. Beyond the window, people run for cover—into stores, below awnings. For a moment, this little street in Charleston resembles the set of a disaster movie. Rivers of water flow down the sides of the street, cars stop in the middle of the road, everyone stares up at the massive web of lightning above.

Reena releases her hold on me and smiles victoriously as Norris, Delia, and Leo join us at the window.

“No way,” says Norris.

“Badass.” Leo enunciates both syllables.

Delia taps her knuckles against Reena’s as though she conquered something huge.

“Did you do that?” I ask, pointing outside to the rain, which is lessening now to a slow drizzle. It doesn’t seem possible. Touching the weather? As fast as it came on, the storm dries up. Cautiously, people emerge from the buildings. The sun pushes through the gray clouds, turning them back into harmless summer puffs.

“We did,” says Reena. “I told you we’re more powerful together.”

“You’re our lucky charm, Callie!” Leo knocks me on the arm a little too hard.

I turn back to the café. The Living are all talking excitedly about what just happened.

The barista is staring at the iPod as he switches it back to the Decemberists.

The redheaded girl is telling the guy at the table next to her about how someone hacked into her Word doc just before the storm.

A guy in the corner is pointing to his Sunday newspaper, declaring loudly that his horoscope in the Charleston City Paper said this day would be full of “strange occurrences.”

Sunday? I shake off the sadness that more days have gone by, and fight to stay in the moment.

Now that the sun is shining brightly again, it’s difficult to believe a storm was raging only a few seconds ago. It looks like nothing happened outside. A little bead of worry nestles into my chest. People were obviously scared, but it doesn’t appear anyone was hurt. Their day was interrupted. No big deal. I was having fun, too. Besides, people are slowly resuming their activities, cars are moving along. I think of the words that I always see people in movies stamp onto moments in time—We Were Here.

Reena, Leo, Norris, Delia, and I—we’re all dead, but we just showed this one corner of the world that we’re not gone.

Then I see Leo sneaking up on the barista, who is leaning on the counter, staring out the window. Leo’s exaggerated stealth is comical. It’s not needed. The guy can’t see him.

When Leo is close enough, when he’s nudging up against the guy, he places his arm over the barista’s and slowly lowers it until it disappears.

“What’s he doing?” I ask Reena.

She’s watching, too. Intently. “Shadowing.”

“What’s that?”

“Haven’t you ever stood behind someone and tried to line your shadow up so it looks like there’s only one person?”

“I guess so.”

She shrugs. “It’s the same principle.”

The barista walks away, leaving Leo with his arm resting on the counter. Leo swears harshly.

“Why’s he upset?” I ask.

“You want to guess their next movement, move with them. Pretend you’re part of them. Shadow them—but since we’re ghosts, we can shadow them closer in death than we could in life.”

“And Leo’s really bad at it,” Delia says, chortling.

I don’t get it. It seems boring and pointless to me, but I guess it’s not like they can play video games. They have to find entertainment where they can.

Leo is still cursing when he joins us.

“Nice try,” Norris says.

Leo gives him the finger. “I almost had it.”

Norris releases his horsey laugh. “Yeah, well, almost doesn’t count.”

If looks could kill, well, Norris would be dead again.

His eyes burning with fury, Leo reaches for me and wraps his hand around my arm. It’s like a tidal wave of power rolls through me, gathers up, and shoots a bolt of lightning from me to Leo. He laughs like a lunatic. I want to pull free, but he’s holding on like grim death.

Everything spins around. Darkness hovers at the edge of my vision.

“Callie?” Reena’s voice comes from a great distance.

I stagger, drop to my knees. Leo must have let go, because there are no more lightning bolts, no more anything. I feel like I’m sinking into an empty void. I don’t want to go there. I don’t know what’s waiting for me, but it can’t be good.

“You’re okay,” Reena says. “We just need to get you back to the Prism.”

I try to nod, but it’s as though I’ve turned into a rag doll, as though I no longer have any structure.

And then I plunge into the inky blackness of total oblivion.