Epilogue

 

 

Wait! Don’t leave. There are a few more things you need to know. It will be worth it, I promise.

During the bus ride to school, four boys seated in the back are having a loud argument about Jack Peak. Apparently, he left Altoona under mysterious circumstances. No one has seen him since the illegal grain alcohol still on his property exploded and set his truck and his house on fire. All sorts of wicked rumors are flying about. “What really made the monster leave town?” one of the boys asks.

Sitting next to me, Tabitha gives me a knowing smile and a fist bump as the bus pulls in front of Washington Middle School. I have to wonder if we will ever see the crazed axe murderer again.

As we climb off the bus to start our first day of seventh grade, Tabitha cheers me on. “You’re going to do great today, Bertie, I know it.”

“Thanks,” I say, hiding my panic. I know I’m not like the other students, and I never will be. And Tabitha knows it, too. Honestly, I’m glad for that. I just hope I don’t stick out like a mouse in a python parade. The weirdo new girl kids make fun of.

Minutes later, the tardy bell is about to ring, and I still can’t find my homeroom. Granted, my mind is a bit overwhelmed because something mind-blowing is going on. I was just sideways glancing at a cute boy passing by, when WHAM, it happened. No, I did not fall madly in love with the kid.

I saw his aura. Really.

Blowing out a thunderstruck breath, I rub my eyes and look again. Yep, I see the boy’s aura, clashing shades of purple and green. I quickly realize that if I squinch my eyes, I can see certain kids’ auras, just like when I wore the hoodoo sunglasses. But I don’t have the glasses.

How can this be? This is not cool. This is my first day of school. Hey, universe! Cut me some slack already!

Then it gets worse.

I see two wolves. One has icy blue diamond eyes, and the other wolf owns hot red ruby eyes. The wolves are gigantic, at least fifteen feet tall. They are painted on a school wall. Above their heads are the words FIGHT, WOLF PACK, FIGHT!

Turns out the Wolf Pack is the official mascot for Washington Middle School. I’m pretty sure this is no coincidence. Because things get even more strange.

Suddenly, my hair stands straight up. My breath catches, and I’ve got goose pimples on top of other goose pimples. I hear a crow cawing outside.

Oh man! Is Sandra Morton back? I don’t think so. Something about this woo-woo moment feels different.

“Bertie Blount?” says a voice behind me. Whipping around I see a girl, twelve or thirteen. She’s strangely dressed, like she jumped out of Nick at Nite rerun of Little House On the Prairie. For some reason she has no aura, just a spooky glimmer.

Then it hits me––she’s dead. The girl is a ghost. You’ve got to be kidding me! Another ghost! Apparently, I’m a ghost magnet. Apparently, I’m the only one who can see the ghost girl. So I do what any sane kid would do. I act like she’s not there.

BAARRRRRRIIINNNG!

The tardy bell rings. I hurry to my homeroom, realizing I still have no idea where I’m going. The ghost girl hovers beside me step for step. “I lost my sister, Ivy, and was told you could help me find her,” she says, touching my arm and giving me the heebie-jeebies.

Great. First a missing dog, now a missing sister. Am I the supernatural Lost and Found girl or something? I keep walking and pretend to be oblivious. By now, the hallway is nearly empty. I’m lost and late.

“Bertie, I know you can see me and hear me,” the ghost girl says. “I was sent to you specifically.”

Ugh. I guess I have to deal with her. “Why would Sandra Morton send you to me?” I ask, giving her an angry go away look.

The ghost girl shakes her head, confused.

“Your great-aunt Tillie sent me. She said you have the gift. Which you clearly do since you are talking to me.”

A thousand thoughts collide in my mind. No one in my family has seen Tillie in nearly two years. I don’t know where she’s living or even if she’s alive. She just disappeared.

I turn a corner and nearly crash into Principal Culpepper. He’s about forty-five, or fifty. He has a full head of unlikely brown hair, and a menacing black aura. Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “Why aren’t you in class, Miss Blount?”

“I’m a little bit lost,” I say. “I’m looking for my homeroom.”

Principal Culpepper glances at my schedule sheet, and points down the hall to Room 33. “I read your file this morning,” he says. “You were a troublemaker at your old school. We don’t abide rabble-rousers at Washington Middle School. You need to change your ways, or we will be seeing a lot of each other this year.”

I put on a smile so sweet I’m practically spraining my face.

“Actually, sir, I’m embracing change. Change is my new best friend.” I spot the ghost girl rolling her glowing eyes. I bolt away from the dead girl and her judgy attitude, and from Principal Culpepper’s dark, butterfly net aura: I’m the butterfly in that image. I have become a fierce protector of my glow.

Before I get to my homeroom, things get spooky. The air moans and stirs into hurricane-force winds. We are talking super-crazy stuff, guys.

WHAM! The screaming winds pin me to a wall as WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH! posters, banners, and signs rip free and fly all about the hallway. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! Locker doors open and shut at one hundred miles per hour. SMASH! A framed photo of Principal Culpepper crashes to the floor, shattering glass.

Meanwhile, Culpepper’s screaming, “Tornado! Take cover!” THWISH! His toupee flies off his head, and I see the shiniest bald head in the universe. For a nanosecond I think, Wow, does he polish that dome, or what?

Coming to my senses, I realize what’s going on. I call out to the ghost girl. “Okay-okay, message delivered. I will help you find your missing sister. Please stop the windstorm.”

The new ghost smiles and vanishes. The spooky winds stop churning, the flying debris falls to the floor, and order is restored. Well, sort of. I pat down my wild hair and look back at Principal Culpepper, who is refitting the toupee onto his head and giving me a suspicious gaze. “I don’t know what just happened here,” he says. “But I will be keeping a close eye on you, Miss Blount.”

Unable to stop myself, I say, “Might as well use both eyes so the other one doesn’t get jealous, sir.” Before he can answer, I turn for my homeroom.

Approaching Room 33, I take a deep breath. If seeing auras and ghosts and Lord knows what else is what my life has become, then I better be okay with it. Who knows, maybe being the school weirdo will actually be kind of cool. I mean, if you’re just another sheep in the flock, all you ever see are a bunch of furry butts in front of you, right?

At the very least I know this to be true: Things are about to get really-really interesting. “Here we go,” I say, opening the door and stepping inside the classroom and into the next phase of my big, spooky, wonderful life.