Ghost Bully

by Brian Corley

  “Hi,” the girl said.

  “Hi,” I said back with a smile, “I’m Jonah.”

  “Maude,” she replied, then introduced me to her group. I didn’t catch all their names … I was a little nervous.

  “Hi Maude, hi everybody.”

  I received a few nods and smiles now.

  “So when did you die?” she asked.

  The question caught me off guard at first. It seemed so casual, and I guess it was. Death was the one thing we all had in common here and was probably as customary a question as “Where are you from?” or “Where did you go to school?”

  “Recently, within the past few months,” I said.

  “Hey, fresh meat, girls,” she replied.

  “Cradle robber!” one of her friends said.

  Maude’s eyes sparkled as she looked me up and down, and the group laughed. I was confused for a moment. She looked and dressed younger than me, but then it all came together. I could dress however I wanted, whenever I wanted. Makes sense that we could look whatever age we wanted as well. So far, the ghosts I’d interacted with were dressed in period outfits because it was either all they knew or because it was how they wanted to dress.

  “When did you pass?” I asked.

  “Pass? So formal, modern men are so sensitive,” said another girl from the group.

  More laughter.

  “Shut up, Imogene,” Maude said. “I passed in the ’30s, of old age as we used to say, but probably a cerebral hemorrhage.”

  “What about you?” another girl asked. “How did you die?”

  “Oh, uh … murder,” I said.

  Hands clapped to mouths simultaneously, and gasps escaped around our little circle.

  “Oh my god,” Imogene said.

  “You poor boy,” Maude said.

  “Did it hurt?” a girl asked.

  “Yeah, I suppose,” I said, “but honestly, not that bad. I was so overcome by confusion and the fight for life that I don’t really remember the pain.”

  Based on the slack jaws around the circle, my answer was probably too honest, but before tonight, I hadn’t been able to really think through or talk about it with someone aside from Willard. Besides, they were so casual with the question. I didn’t think that revealing my cause of death would surprise them.

  “So,” another girl said, “anyone hear about this guy that’s going around kicking ghosts out of their homes?”

  Oh boy.

  “Nice change of subject. Deftly done, June,” Maude said. “Jonah, have you heard about this?”

  “What’s that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from going up a couple notches.

  “Apparently someone started chasing people from their homes. Everyone is talking about it,” she replied.

  “Someone is going around just randomly chasing people out?” I asked.

  “I heard they deserve it,” a girl said.

  “I heard he’s a vigilante,” June said.

  “I heard he’s handsome,” Maude said.

  “I bet it’s him,” another girl said, looking at me. “Is it you?”

  “Oh sure, it’s me. Don’t I look intimidating? What’s your name again?”

  “I have a boyfriend,” she replied.

  “OK, cool. That’s cool. I mean, I’m actually here with someone,” I said.

  Maude cooled, and the group subtly closed the circle, leaving me on the outside.

  “They in your pocket? I don’t see anyone with you,” Maude said.

  “Yep, something like that,” I said, “nice to meet you, ladies. Have a good night.”

  I passed by more groups: some hippies in a drum circle, businessmen in cowboy hats and suits, a group of goth teenagers—I did a double take to check and see if they were alive or dead. I was pretty sure they were dead.

  Through the crowd I saw a familiar face. Willard Hensch was holding court in the middle of a group of a dozen or so angry men—not that they were angry with him, but that they were angry about something and looking to Willard as though he had the answer to their problems. Good for him, looks like he’s really coming out of his shell. I eased into the back of their circle and caught Willard’s eye.

  “Jonah Preston,” he said.

  “Hi Willard,” I replied.

  “We were just talking about you,” he said.

  The group’s collective heads whipped around in my direction.

  This can’t be good.

  “No way, it can’t be,” a voice said.

  “Wait—that’s him?” asked another voice.

  A burly but neatly dressed man stepped through the circle. He puffed himself up and looked down on me.

  “Kip Johnson,” he said. “Is it true? Did you drive Mr. Hensch from his home? You driving other people from their homes?”

  “Uh … hi Kip. Did Willard happen to mention what happened before that?”

  “Answer me.”

  “Well, no … actually, I didn’t drive him out, but there were a few—”

  “What gives you the right to decide who stays or leaves?”

  “Let’s take him in front of the council,” a voice piped up from the back of the group.

  “Fuck that,” said another voice. “Let’s take care of him here. Get ’im, Kip!”

  Kip looked over his shoulder and back to me, popping his knuckles and rolling his neck.

  “Not here, boys,” a familiar voice purred. “You know the code here. Arguments are encouraged, but no fighting. This is hallowed ground.”

  My leather-clad savior returned from her meeting just in time. The tension released from the group as all eyes moved from Kip to Willard. And when I said “all eyes,” I meant all eyes—we had the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity.

  “Stand down, Mr. Johnson,” Willard said. “She is right. His time is coming—don’t worry. His time is coming.”

  I felt a hand gently lead me away from the crowd.

  “Nice to meet you, Kip, see you around,” I said over my shoulder.

  “See you in Hell, Jonah Preston,” he replied.

  “Good seeing you, Jonah,” Willard said over the crowd, his posture striking a new confidence. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again very soon.”

  The Cheshire Cat girl led me through the crowd until people stopped looking and went back to their conversations. We found a little clearing and came to a stop. I tried to play it casual, but my non-corporeal self was electric with fearful energy.

  “Thank you for that, but I could have taken him,” I said.

  “Him, maybe. Everyone? Probably not,” she replied.

  “How did your meeting go?”

  “Better than your mingling.”

  “Yeah, I have a real way with people.”

  “I can see.”

  “Kind of like how we’ve known each other for a while, and I still don’t know your name.”

  She smiled and looked me up and down. “So you want to know my name,” she said.

  “Um … yeah, it will come in handy when I try to get your attention.”

  And maybe for other stuff.

  “Did you know that the original name for Austin was

  Waterloo?”

  “Um … yeah, I did actually. What does that have to do with anything?”

  She looked at me again with a sideways smile and clicked her tongue. “I have to go,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I have to go,” she repeated and pulled me in for a hug.

  “I can’t tell if you’re shady or mysterious.”

  She looked over her shoulder as she walked away, and then she disappeared behind a young tree. Disappeared. Like the damn Cheshire Cat.

  Definitely mysterious.

  I wasn’t in the mood to mingle anymore. I just want
ed to go home. Actually, I wanted to wallow in self-pity, so I decided to take the long way back to the house and have a think along the trip. I floated up high to get a bearing on where I was. The cemetery was located on the east side of the city, so I started floating south and west toward home.

  What am I doing here? Why didn’t I just take my door? I don’t have any friends like me I can talk to, and it seems impossible now that the community thinks I’m some asshole kicking people from their homes. I can’t even get a girl’s name.

  At least not the girl I was interested in.

  I floated into my neighborhood and down into my house. It was quiet, Max was asleep, and it just made me feel more alone. I sat on my bed until I faded into morning.

  Chapter 24

  I faded back in the next night to the sounds of laughter and rapid-fire conversation. I floated through the living room and into the kitchen to find Max, Zoe, Quinton, and Lin around the kitchen table playing another game of Frebopple. There were a few shivers as I entered the room and made my way over to the fridge where they kept the radio tuned to static for me.

  “Hey Jonah,” Max said.

  “Not so fast, you bastard!” Lin exclaimed as she laid down half the cards in her hand.

  “Ohhhhh!” yelled Quinton and Zoe.

  “I told you that in confidence,” Max said. “It’s a family secret. Just for that, read these cards and weep amongst the fallen—which may include the father I never knew. Damn you and your indiscretion, Lin.”

  Max laid down all his cards—to Quinton and Lin’s dismay.

  “Yes!” Zoe said, pounding on the table. “That’s the game. I win!”

  Max crooked an eyebrow at Lin, who returned the gesture with an elaborate extension of the middle finger of her

  right hand.

  “Alright losers, clear the game while Zoe and I talk to Jonah about what we were able to dig up today,” Max said as he pushed away from the table.

  This time, it was Quinton’s turn to extend the middle finger of his right hand as he started to gather cards with his left. Zoe pulled her messenger bag into her lap from where it hung from the back of her chair, unlocked some clasps, and opened it, removing a manila folder.

  “We were able to find a lot actually,” she said, opening the folder and spreading paper out across the table. “We were able to find most of these pictures just through a Google image search of the property, and we were able to get dimensions of the house from Judy and Glenn from their closing packet from the sale of the property. We told them we would need to return and perform another ceremony.”

  “Good cover,” I said, looking at the pictures. “How did you get these of George and Ramona inside the house?”

  “Someone made their social media profiles public and turned them into memorials,” Lin answered. “There were tons of pictures around anyway. They were super-involved in the community, and there were thousands of pictures to sort through, just from a simple image search.”

  “What now, Jonah?” Zoe asked.

  I tried ghosting copies of the paper, but the imprints of the pictures and words faded as I forgot the content. It was a nice try, but I had a plan B.

  “Let’s head over to Judy and Glenn’s and start whatever ceremony you think it would take to finish up the job. Have someone take this file into the garage and lay out everything on the floor. Keep someone in the van with the radio on so I can communicate our progress and check in periodically.”

  “Max, think you can handle van duty?” Zoe asked.

  “Why do I have to stay in the van?” he replied.

  “Because we’re on a leaner crew and you look the least mystical,” she replied, straight-faced.

  “You look mystical,” Max mumbled under his breath as the group stood up and Zoe organized the papers back into the folder.

  “I’ll catch up with you back at their house,” I crackled over the radio.

  After a couple of, “Bye, Jonahs,” I blinked over to DeeDee and Jeremy’s.

  I walked up and rang the doorbell, and Jeremy answered the door with the look a plate of fine china would give to a slice of congealed fried ham.

  “Hello, Jonah,” he said. “Come in.”

  Jeremy left the door open and walked into the living room where DeeDee met us looking highly stylized but professionally dressed. She wore glasses with a perfectly tailored gray blazer over a black dress and chunky heeled boots. Jeremy was outfitted in a tweed jacket, a casual, white cotton button-down, dark-colored jeans, and suede lace-up oxford shoes.

  “So,” DeeDee began in rapid-fire bursts, “were you able to find anything, do we have a meeting set up with your clients, and if so, how do we plan on getting there?”

  “Yes,” I replied. “We were able to find a lot: pictures of the outside and inside, and dimensions from the closing docs. As to how we get there, I thought we would just fly over and you can follow me.”

  “That will take forever though. Doesn’t your team have a van? Why aren’t they with you?” she replied.

  I hadn’t considered that they might not be able to fly as fast as I could, and I wondered if they could blink over. I found it interesting that there were such varied talents or abilities in us ghost-types. I wondered if I could just blink us all over at once.

  “Let me try something,” I said, motioning for DeeDee and Jeremy to come in close. DeeDee was game immediately while Jeremy … wasn’t as eager.

  “No thanks on the group hug, Jonah,” he drawled.

  “Just work with me here, Jeremy,” I said.

  He relented and reached out begrudgingly so I could grab his arm. I blinked over to George and Ramona and checked to see if DeeDee and Jeremy made the trip along with me. The look on DeeDee’s face told me she couldn’t believe what just happened.

  “That is amazing!” she exclaimed. “Can you do this anywhere?”

  Jeremy gave me a harrumph of approval, and we walked toward the house.

  “I’m not sure about ‘anywhere’ just yet, but definitely places that I’ve been to before,” I said.

  “Dammit, this is one of Peter Fischer’s designs,” DeeDee cursed as she took in the house in front of us.

  “Yes, and it is gorgeous!” Jeremy added. “You never should have let him go off on his own, Deeds. Look at this yard. I bet he did this too—jealous.” Jeremy looked to me and explained, “Peter Fischer used to work for us when we started up the firm. He was good, obviously, but wanted to be partner after being on with us for just a few months. DeeDee let him walk, and he started his own design firm. Big mistake.”

  We heard music from the backyard, so I motioned for DeeDee and Jeremy to follow me up and over the house. DeeDee looked impressed as she inspected the house from a higher vantage point.

  “Ugh, that kid is good. Oh well, it’s not like we’re com-Pete-ing anymore,” she said.

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that one, Deeds—you’re re-Pete-ing yourself.”

  I laughed. “What’s up?” I said, adding my contribution to our little pun parade as we descended upon another psychedelic dance scene between George and Ramona.

  “Do you just drop in anytime you hear music playing?” Jeremy said as he descended behind me.

  “DeeDee and Jeremy, meet George and Ramona,” I said.

  The architects hit the ground ready to talk shop and affected a professional manner that was so good it caught me off guard. Jeremy could actually listen to people and add value to conversations without being snarky. DeeDee led George and Ramona through a series of questions that seemed like they rolled off the top of her head but with a specificity such that they could be for no other project but theirs.

  We heard the slamming of car doors out front that meant that the Psy-kicks would arrive shortly with her requested materials. She continued with her questions, asking George and Ramona about their fa
vorite memories of the house and the neighborhood, things that initially drew them to the house, and what—if anything—they liked about the current design.

  I saw cool haircut Quinton exit the back of the house with the manila folder under his arm and walk into the garage.

  The lights went on inside, and he was back out and into the house a couple minutes later.

  “Let’s take a look at what we’re trying to achieve,” DeeDee said after noticing Quinton return inside. She led us into the garage where we found pictures and plans laid out neatly on the floor. She knelt down and got a good look at a picture of the front of the house and scanned down to pictures of the inside and the overall dimensions. Jeremy’s right elbow rested in a perpendicular position atop his left arm as he dabbed the side of his face with his index finger. He focused on DeeDee.

  “Now, do you want everything the exact same size?” she asked Ramona.

  “Well, actually, maybe it would be nice to have another room—for like art projects, maybe?” Ramona answered.

  “Is there anything about the new structure that you want to keep?” she asked, pointing back in the direction of the house.

  “Maybe the yard, I like the yard,” George replied.

  “What about a pool?” Jeremy offered.

  “Do you think there’s room?” George asked.

  “I bet your neighbors wouldn’t mind if we borrowed a little land, would they?” Jeremy tempted.

  “Oh no, we couldn’t do that. That’s theirs, man,” George replied.

  “OK, OK,” Jeremy relented. “What if we float it above the yard here—no—what if we had three pools, cascading down like a spiral staircase?”

  George thought it over. “I don’t know, man, sounds too complicated.”

  “Yes,” Jeremy said, visibly disengaging. “Stairs are