Radiance

by Alyson Noel

  My shoulders drooped. All of me drooped. I was done with words and out of excuses. I just wanted it to end. To learn my place, and move on.

  They gazed at each other, communicating in a way that was completely blocked from me, finally coming to some sort of mutual agreement when they nodded toward Celia, who turned to me and said, “Based on your accumulated history and your strong attachment to the earth plane, you will train as a Catcher. Any questions?”

  Train as a—what? A question that was soon followed by a gazillion others just like it.

  “A Soul Catcher,” Samson said, pushing his long silver hair off his face and settling his violet eyes right on mine. Adding, “A catcher of souls.” As if that made any more sense.

  And I was just about to ask the obvious, when Aurora cut in with her soft, soothing voice that made every word sound like the most perfectly chosen lyric to a beautiful song, and said, “Riley, your situation is not as unique as you think. There are plenty of souls who resist the call to come Here. Many of whom are still wandering the earth plane, unwilling to cross the bridge and move on. Some resist for centuries, ignoring any and all attempts to lure them Here, while some only linger for a short time. And while each individual soul is granted free will, every now and then we find they require a little extra . . . push, if you will. A little reminder that they have choices, better choices, than those that they’ve chosen. And that’s where you come in.”

  My eyes darted between them, and even though I was brimming with questions, lots and lots of questions, it’s like I had so many I had no idea where to begin. All I knew for sure is that I was going back.

  Back to the earth plane.

  The glorious earth plane!

  And as far as I was concerned, I couldn’t leave soon enough.

  “We’ve no doubt that carefully guided and given the proper training, you’ll be a very successful Soul Catcher for us,” Royce said, granting me a smile that was made for spotlights, movie screens, and magazine covers as the others nodded their agreement.

  “So, when do I leave?” I jumped to my feet, suddenly brimming with an abundance of energy that was lacking just a few moments earlier. “When do I get my old life back?” I asked, picturing myself moving right back into the old neighborhood and enrolling in my old school, not quite sure how all the logistics would work. You know, how they would go about fixing the fact of my being dead one day, and, well, pretty much undead the next. Then dismissing it just as quickly, figuring that to be their problem, not mine.

  Me, I was fulfilling a mission.

  A very exciting mission.

  But my excitement barely had a chance to take hold when Aurora looked at me, her brown/red/black/silver/blond hair swirling around her in a whirl of waves and rivulets as she said, “You will return in spirit form only. Invisible to all but your fellow spirits, and the gifted few who are able to sense us.”

  My eyelids grew heavy, my shoulders sank, and I sighed. Deflated, disappointed, disillusioned—not one of those words even begins to describe how I felt. And yet, I was still going back. There was no changing that. If the Council saw fit to send me packing, well, who was I to fight it, no matter what form I’d be in?

  And from what I’d seen so far of this school, with the assembly and the singing and the glowing, and all the other accumulated weirdness, well, I figured I wouldn’t really miss it.

  “When do I leave?” I asked, instantly ashamed when I realized I hadn’t given a second thought to what I would tell my parents and grandparents until the words were already out.

  “No reason to delay,” Celia said, checking with the others who nodded their agreement.

  “The sooner the better,” Samson chimed in.

  “Now would be good,” agreed Royce.

  And even though I was excited, I still had to ask, “But, what about my family? What’ll I tell them?”

  Turning as Claude motioned toward the screen that was now split down the middle—one side showing my dad enjoying some kind of jam session with a bunch of other musicians, while the other side showed my mom painting in some brightly lit studio, her smock splattered with virtually every color in the rainbow as a smile lit up her face. And even though I had no idea what it meant, my insides started to do that weird clenching/curling thing again.

  I pressed my lips together, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Wondering why they weren’t where they said they would be, why they’d choose to lie and play hooky from what they’d told me. But then, before I could blink, the screen split again, and I saw each set of grandparents engaged in some pretty surprising activities of their own, especially once their age was factored in. Enjoying stuff like: surfing, and hiking, and ranching, and symphony composing, as well as overseeing a nursery full of brand-spanking newborns.

  “They’ve already been placed,” Aurora said. “They’re enjoying their soul work now. There’s no need to worry about them.”

  Soul work? I blinked. Things were getting weirder by the second. I mean, initially, I was worried about them worrying about me. But from what I could see, I’d be surprised if they even noticed I was gone.

  “Your family already understands what’s just now becoming clear to you. Sometimes, back on the earth plane, real life gets in the way of who we are truly meant to be, but Here you can do what you’ve always dreamed of, you can fulfill your destiny.” She smiled.

  And even though she clearly thought this was a Really Great Thing, and clearly expected for me to agree—I didn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  Knowing all of that just made me feel even more alone, completely unnecessary, and more than a little unwanted.

  “So—you’re saying that back home, back on the earth plane, me, and Ever, and Buttercup—got in the way?” Instantly ashamed by the way my voice suddenly cracked, but still, the whole idea of it made my insides go all weird again.

  But Aurora just smiled, as did everyone else, nodding toward Celia who said, “Of course not.”

  “Your parents and grandparents love you, and they wouldn’t change a thing!” Samson nodded.

  “But Here, you have your own guide, which frees your family up to live out their destinies. It doesn’t all end with death, you know. We have tasks, things to accomplish, learning to do. Your parents have found their place, and now you’ve found yours. All is as it should be,” Royce said, pressing his hands together and bowing toward me.

  “But—what about my house? And—and my dog—” I shook my head, unable to finish, unable to understand how it got to this point. At first I was so excited, sure I’d won the afterlife lottery by getting to go back, only to have it all ripped out from under me as everything familiar slipped away too.

  “You’re free to come back and visit between assignments,” Aurora said, glowing in the most beautiful, mesmerizing way. “And Buttercup,” she smiled, “is free to travel alongside you.”

  “Really?” I cocked my head to the side, wondering how Buttercup might feel about that. “Does he have a destiny to fulfill too?” I asked.

  Only to be met by the sound of Royce’s deep, hearty laugh when he shook his head and said, “Dogs are a gift to mankind. They are happy and joyful and loyal by nature. They are pure, positive energy and teach by example. That is all that’s required of them.”

  I nodded, doing my best to take it all in. It may not have been what I’d first thought, or even what I’d hoped for, but still, it could’ve been a lot worse.

  My thoughts interrupted by Aurora when she said, “Riley, how about we let go of your past and look instead toward your future. What do you say? Are you ready to make that leap?”

  And before I could answer, before I could do much of anything, Buttercup ran out from behind the red velvet curtain, tail wagging like mad, licking my face, and knocking me down in the way that always made me laugh. And by the time I finally got him to calm down, everyone was gone.

  Not even waiting long enough for me to respond.

  And that’s when I realized
the question had been rhetorical.

  My place had been determined.

  Whether I liked it or not.

  9

  I stood outside with Buttercup beside me, both of us on high alert, waiting for some kind of sign.

  Both of us equally clueless with absolutely no idea where to go, which way to turn, or what to do next.

  And while it may seem weird for a person to look to their dog for guidance, the thing was, Buttercup’s the one that led my family to the bridge. He’s the one that leaped across first. So, with that in mind, I figured he might have some kind of unique, canine ability, some kind of yellow Lab instinct. Like a dog-only radar for these kinds of things.

  But nope, he just sat there with his big brown eyes and pink nose, blinking at me as I gazed all around, thinking how a little instruction, a little guidance of some sort would’ve been nice.

  But nooo.

  The Council just vanished, just completely disappeared.

  Who even knew where they went?

  All I knew was that between me and Buttercup we hadn’t a clue how we were supposed to get from Here to There.

  Was I supposed to just wish it—just desire it like everything else in this place? Or was there some kind of regularly scheduled transportation, like a bus, or a train, or even some kind of wings we could rent?

  All I knew for sure was that the bridge I had crossed over to make the trip Here was strictly a one-way-only kind of thing. And I know this because I happened to look back the second I’d made it to the other side.

  I wasn’t nearly as committed to the crossing as I’d pretended to be.

  Only it was too late.

  It’d completely vanished from sight.

  Never to be seen again.

  So, with no signs headed our way, I made for the nearest building instead. Motioning for Buttercup to follow along, figuring we should try to look for someone who might be willing to help, and we were just about halfway there when I heard:

  “So, how’d it go? Did you cry? Grovel? Promise you could do better if only they’d give you another chance?”

  My gaze narrowed, as my lips pressed tightly together, watching as dorky guy came up from behind me, head bent, clump of greasy hair swooping into his face as he paused to clean his glasses with the end of his tie. And I hate to admit it, but for that split second, he actually looked really different, almost like someone you’d call, well, cute.

  But like I said, it didn’t last. It was pretty much over in a flash, and a moment later, the glasses were in place, his hair was greased back, and he returned to being dorky guy again.

  “Why do you even wear those, anyway?” I motioned toward his thick, nerd frames, purposely ignoring his question. I had no intention of confiding anything about my life review to him, or anything else for that matter. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get myself to the earth plane where I’d never have to see him again. I was really looking forward to that. “Can’t you just wish for better eyesight? Or maybe try to manifest a cooler pair of glasses?” I looked at him, waiting for a response, but when he failed to answer, I said, “Seriously, there are much cooler frames you could wear, fashions have really advanced in the last several—decades—you’d be amazed!” I nodded, assuring myself I was veering much closer to helpful than judgmental. Just stating the facts as I so clearly saw them. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t been anywhere near the earth plane, since—” I scrunched my brow and squinted, he was so out of date I couldn’t even guess when he was last seen alive.

  “What happened to you anyway?” I asked. “How’d you end up here? Did you go head to head with a newly sharpened number two pencil? Did you accidentally choke yourself with your tie? Or, perhaps you actually died of the embarrassment of wearing clothes like that?” I shook my head and laughed, I couldn’t help it—sometimes I really crack myself up. And even though he failed to join in, that didn’t stop me from saying, “You do know you can manifest a whole new wardrobe, right? We’re really not bound to the mistakes of our past. So go ahead, knock yourself out. Just close your eyes and ask—What would Joe Jonas wear?”

  But even though that last part really got me going, like the bent-over, thigh-slapping kind of going, my laughter was soon halted by the sound of him saying, “If you have to know, it was cancer. The big bad C did me in. Osteosarcoma—or bone cancer, as most people know it. They even removed my leg in an attempt to save me, but it was too late, it’d already spread all over the place.”

  I gulped, my eyes locked on his, knowing I should say something, anything, but no words would come. Telling myself he was just one of many. That this place was full of sad stories like his. Every tragic ending found its way Here. But still, it didn’t make me feel the slightest bit better. I’d had no right making fun of him like I did.

  “I was well on my way to going pro too.” He shrugged. “It was back in 1999—missed the millennium, the timing couldn’t have been worse.” He looked at me and shook his head, his gaze so matter-of-fact, bearing not the slightest trace of ill will or regret. “But that’s how it goes sometimes, right?”

  I nodded, weakly, I didn’t know what else to do. And even though I was curious as to just what kind of pro he was talking about, I was far too uncomfortable to ask.

  I just stood there, watching as he turned, glanced at Buttercup sitting patiently beside me, and said, “Seriously? You’re bringing the dog?’

  I rolled my eyes, my mood going from shamed to annoyed in a fraction of a second, as I looked all around, wondering where the hall monitors were. At my old school, you’d never get away with this kind of harassment, this kind of covert bullying and truancy. But Here, it seemed like pretty much anything goes. Like we were all on some kind of honor system or something.

  Motioning for Buttercup to follow along as I turned and called out behind me, “For your information, the dog has a name—it’s Buttercup.” I glared, shooting him my best over-the-shoulder death stare. “As for the rest, well, it’s really none of your business now is it?”

  I picked up the pace, eager to put some distance between us, but it didn’t make the slightest bit of difference. No matter how fast I went, he was right there beside me, looking at me when he said, “Well, I can see why you might think that, but you’re wrong. It is my business. All potential travelers must be cleared by me. I decide who gets in and who doesn’t. Think of me as the bouncer for this particular trip.”

  “Dressed like that, it’s pretty much impossible to think of you as anything other than dorky guy,” I mumbled, taking a moment to roll my eyes at Buttercup, completely annoyed by his tendency to be overly affectionate toward strangers, especially this stranger. Going so far as to actually sniff, then lick dorky guy’s hand, carrying on like the worst kind of traitor.

  “And another thing, this whole dorky guy thing? It ends now. I have a name, and I’d like for you to use it,” he said, appearing right before me again.

  I stopped, there was no use running a race I couldn’t win. Hands clutching my plaid-covered hips when I said, “Yeah? So, let’s hear it. What would you like me to call you instead?”

  “Bodhi.” He nodded, seemingly pleased with the sound of it.

  “Bodhi,” I repeated, thinking that as far as names went, it was a good one. Only thing is, it didn’t work. In fact, everything about it was wrong. Bodhi conjured up images of cute, tan, surfer boys, like the ones who live in Ever’s Laguna Beach neighborhood. The kind who were pretty much the opposite of Mr. Pocket Protector with the bad hair, worse glasses, and nerdy clothes who stood right before me.

  “Seriously,” he said, eyes narrowed on mine for a moment before he looked around nervously. “You have to stop this. I heard every word of that—and so did—” He paused, gritting his teeth to keep from saying anything more. His gaze locked on mine when he added, “Listen, all you need to know is that I’m your guide. I’m the one you’ve been looking for. Think of me as your teacher, guidance counselor, coach, and boss, all rolled into one. Which
means you cannot continue to talk to me like that, or to call me that. There will be consequences for that sort of insubordination. Serious consequences. So just stop—okay? My name is Bodhi, and I expect you to use it. You need to—” He hesitated, his eyes darting all around in the most paranoid way, his voice lowered to a whisper when he said, “You need to respect me, okay?”

  I squinted, alerted to the undercurrent of begging that rang loud and clear, with just a pinch of paranoia thrown in for good measure.

  So this is my guide, I thought, sucking in a mouthful of air, wondering what other punishments might be in store. I mean, he had no wings, no shimmering robe, no halo, nothing that indicated he should in any way be the boss of me, and yet, there it was. He was the boss of me. And despite my wanting to believe otherwise, somehow I just knew it was real. Somehow I just knew he wasn’t lying about this.

  “So, you’re like my guardian angel then? For real?” I watched as he shrugged, obviously uninterested in the details. And something about him, something about the slouchy way he stood—not bad-posture slouchy—not low-self-esteem slouchy—but more like cool guy with a cool name slouchy—just didn’t fit with his overall look.

  Something was weird about him.

  Off.

  Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  “Listen,” he said, eager to move on. “It’s my job to teach you everything, if you want to get to the next level, that is. And believe me, you have a lot to learn before you can even think about that. But, first things first—we need to get moving. Are you ready to head back to the earth plane?” He buried his hands in his pockets and looked all around, obviously as eager to vámanos out of this place as I was.

  “The next level?” I eyeballed him carefully, as I walked alongside him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”