by Edie Claire
“How do you know that?”
He had to think about it a moment. “Oh,” he said finally, seeming surprised at himself.
Kylee and I shook our heads in amazement. “Is it really that easy?” I asked. “Do you just think about a place and see what’s happening there, just like that?”
“Well, not usually, no,” he defended. Then he hugged me to his side again. “It’s your own fault! You energize me. You’re like a portable charger.”
“That is so romantic I can’t stand it,” I said dryly.
“Romantic or not,” Kylee said thoughtfully, “it could be very, very useful. I’m going to make that call. You two figure out the ‘dry land’ part.”
She walked off across the lawn. I looked anxiously at Zane. “No challenge there.”
“We barely know the guy,” he agreed, his forehead creased. “It’s not like we can tell him what to do.”
“And if we told him the truth?” I threw out, knowing the answer.
Zane shook his head. “He’d think we were nutcases. And why shouldn’t he? The only way he’d believe us is if he had some abilities himself, but we’ve got no reason to think he does. He didn’t see those ghosts today, that’s for sure. He might believe it if someone else he trusted had abilities, but how could we know that?”
“And if we take a chance on his believing us and tell him the truth, and we’re wrong…”
“We’ll lose any chance we have to get close to him,” Zane finished.
I groaned. “I don’t suppose the old woman ghost had any ideas?”
Zane frowned. “I wonder if that’s part of the… well, part of all the despair you’ve been picking up on. These souls obviously have some connection to him, and they know he might die. The other ghosts we’ve known, like your grandmother and Kylee’s great aunt, when they came back to help a loved one, they had a plan. But what are these guys doing? They’re flying around like chickens with their heads cut off — excuse the metaphor. I don’t think they have a clue what to do for Makani, and I think that’s part of why they’re so miserable.”
“So Jabba the Hutt goes around randomly attacking people who mess with the guy’s lucky boardshorts?”
Zane shrugged. “Hey, maybe Jabba’s not such a bad guy. Maybe he was superstitious in his life and just wants to give Makani every advantage in the water. What else is he supposed to do with his energy, anyway? He probably feels as helpless and frustrated as we do.”
I leaned my head against Zane’s shoulder. “That’s big of you.”
He smiled a little. “You do realize the guy didn’t actually hit me, right?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I replied, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before prying myself reluctantly away from him and up off the bench. “Nobody messes with my boyfriend. Now, let’s go back in there and do some acting. We can’t let Makani see any of this weirdness.”
“Or Tara,” Zane added, getting up with me. “Not when they’re getting along so well. If she…”
“I know,” I agreed. I didn’t like keeping things from my friends, but he was right. If Tara was going to flip, it would be a hundred times better for everyone if she did it after she and Makani had said goodbye.
We made our way back to the third floor balcony and started at the beginning of the timeline again, waving an “all better now” to Tara and Makani across the open hall. We didn’t get too close to them yet, since my eyes were puffy and I was still hiccupping a little. The pictures and artifacts describing the history of the Hawaiian monarchy actually did look interesting, but we couldn’t begin to concentrate on them. We just milled about, lost in our own racing thoughts, grateful that Tara and Makani seemed too absorbed in each other and the exhibits to pay us much attention.
By the time the two of them had finished circling the balcony, Zane and I had caught up and Kylee had rejoined the group as well. None of the three of us had a clue what was written on any of the placards, but it seemed to have depressed the heck out of Tara and made Makani more thoughtful as well. “It’s really sad, isn’t it?” Tara said, stepping up beside me.
My eyes itched horribly. Hearing her say such a thing when I was still so miserable threatened to make me bawl all over again. But she couldn’t know about Makani. She was talking about something else. What exactly, I didn’t know, but I nodded anyway.
“I’ve read about all this before,” Tara said soberly. “But I didn’t really get it, you know? Why so few of the people living here now are descendants of the original Hawaiians. It’s unbelievable how many of the native islanders died from disease after making contact with Westerners. And in such a short period of time, after they’d been living here so long!”
“Oh,” I said sympathetically, understanding her melancholy now. “I know. It is horrible.”
“And the way the queen got swindled out of power is just unconscionable!” Tara fumed. “No different than what happened in Wyoming with my own ancestors!” Her cheeks flared with red, and she muttered something else to herself and moved away.
The fire in her tone, I knew, was personal. Tara had found out through a DNA test in the spring that she was four percent Native American, a fact she was proud to boast about, more so because she knew how bizarre it sounded coming from a fair-skinned, blue-eyed blonde.
“I think we have time to see the Pacific Hall too, if we hurry,” Makani announced, moving toward the stairs. Zane asked him some question about the history of the museum, Tara scooted closer to listen in, and Kylee seized the moment to whisper in my ear.
“My ba noi says that if you’re sure the ghosts seem loving and that their intentions are good, we should let them lead us.”
I sucked in a ragged breath. “Why does that thought make me really, really nervous?”
Kylee’s dark eyes studied mine. “Because you’re not sure their intentions are good?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m sure they care for Makani. But I don’t think they give a rat’s you-know-what about us. And I don’t think they have a clue how to save him, either.”
“But we could work together,” Kylee insisted. “You may think that because they sense danger for Makani that they understand all about our abilities and what we’re thinking, but ba noi doesn’t think that’s true, and neither do I. Maybe if we tell them what we can do and offer to help?”
“Be my guest,” I said quickly. “You and Zane are the ghost whisperers, not me.”
We descended the steps and made a series of turns through the lobby and into the Pacific Hall, a smaller but equally beautiful koa-wood room that featured a double-hulled sailing canoe and celebrated the various cultures of the Pacific Islands. Zane the actor was making a stellar effort to discuss the exhibits intelligently with Makani, and since Tara was an eager participant in those conversations, Kylee and I were free to chat while we wandered.
“It blows my mind that I’ve only seen a couple ghosts in my whole life before, and now they’re all over the place,” Kylee marveled, looking up in the air and over at Makani as much as she looked at the display cases. “Ba noi thinks that some places make it easier for them to appear because they’re so rich in energy. Either because of the people gathered, or because of what’s happened there in the past, or maybe even because of the energy in the objects stored there. Remember the old man Makani hugged?”
I nodded.
“Around him, the ghosts got, like…” Kylee struggled for words. “So much stronger. Like the ones that were only wispy got more solid. They seemed to draw strength from that man’s energy. Or from his feelings for Makani. Or something. I don’t know. It was just so weird.”
“These ghosts don’t look like real people?” I asked, thinking of how when Kylee had seen a ghost as a child, she had believed the ghost was a real person. The first ghost Zane had seen had appeared to be a real person to him, too.
Kylee shook her head. “No. None of them are that good. I mean, I think that takes more energy than they have. They can’t talk and they can’t s
tay visible long. Most of them are just wisps. I think Jabba and Baldy, maybe the old woman — they’re the type that haven’t crossed over yet. You know… the type with issues. They died near here, they haven’t gone into the light for whatever reason, and they’re more visible to us because of that.”
“So the only ghosts strong enough to help us are the ones with… issues?” I said with discouragement, not even wanting to think about what actions might have landed Jabba in that nether zone.
“O.M.G!”
I jumped with alarm as Kylee whisper-hissed directly in my ear. I thought she was being attacked, but she was only looking at a display of ancient tattoo tools, which looked like combs and were made out of bone. “It’s a good look on him,” she said, staring with awe at a grainy, black and white picture of a nineteenth century Samoan man with an elaborate, repeating geometric pattern of tattoos covering the majority of his body. “But I would make a terrible warrior. I almost passed out when I got my cartilage pierced.”
I looked away from the still-sharp implements. I’d never been the type to suffer for beauty, and the last thing I wanted to think about now was elective pain. I had just opened my mouth to ask Kylee if we shouldn’t go somewhere away from the others to try to “talk” to some of the friendlier ghosts when I was interrupted by an announcement over the loudspeaker.
The museum was closing.
Zane, Makani, and Tara rejoined Kylee and me, and we all began walking back outside and toward the parking lot. “Sorry you didn’t have time to see more,” Makani said genuinely. “I hope you’ll come back another day, if you can.”
“Oh, we will,” I said as cheerfully as I could manage, stepping back a bit every time Makani turned toward me or slowed down. I wondered if he noticed the odd distance I kept putting between us, but there wasn’t anything I could do to stop myself. Now that I knew the truth, the soul-crushing sadness surrounding him was unbearable, even with Zane holding my hand.
“Tara says you live out by Backyards?” Makani asked Zane as we walked.
“For another week anyway,” Zane answered ruefully. “Then I’ll be moving into the dorms in town. Just in time to miss the fun stuff.”
Makani chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a bummer. But hey, I heard there might be a little something heading in up there.”
Zane’s eyebrows perked. “Yeah. I heard that, too.”
When we reached the edge of the parking lot, Makani stopped walking. “Well, my car’s this way,” he said, gesturing. Then he offered Zane a friendly fist bump. “Thanks, man.”
“Thanks for what?” Zane replied, managing not to flinch at the contact this time.
“For not bugging me with a bunch of questions. You know. About the tour and everything.”
Zane’s eyes twinkled a bit. “No problem.”
Makani turned back to Tara. “You know, I would say I’m sorry about the suitcase switch again, but I’m really not,” he admitted with a grin. “This has been too much fun. Just what I needed, with all this craziness lately.”
“It’s been amazing,” Tara assured. “You’ve got a gift, Makani, you really do. You make history so interesting. If the surfing thing gets boring, you should seriously look into being a docent.”
He laughed out loud. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He started walking backwards. “Hey, Zane, if the country does start pumping, maybe I’ll see you out there.”
Oh, wow. Zane’s heart would be beating out of his chest at the thought!
“I’ll be there,” he called back, sounding suitably restrained. I shot him a smirk, and he smirked right back at me while I knew his inner child was doing handsprings. Yes, yes, YES!!!
Only then did we remember. We were supposed to be keeping Makani out of the water.
Our smirks faded.
“Oh! If you do go out on the North Shore between now and Saturday, please text me!” Tara called after him. “I’d love to watch! But don’t worry. We’ll pretend we don’t know you, I promise!”
“Tara,” Zane said with a laugh, “If he shows up anywhere on the North Shore, believe me — it won’t matter if we recognize him or not.”
Makani chuckled. He reached his car and popped it open with a beep from his remote. We all called out another round of thanks as he opened the door and got inside.
“Don’t forget The Plan!” Tara shouted just as he was closing the door. And after returning a smile to her that I could only call “secretive,” he gave the rest of us a final wave, shut the door, and drove away.
We all stood silently, watching, for a long time after he’d gone.
“He has the most amazing intellectual mind,” Tara said finally, turning around toward the rest of us. Her face was beaming. “It’s a crime that a brain like his isn’t in college right now. They wouldn’t even let him finish high school! Did you know that? He was in the Kamehameha School, and probably at the top of his class, and he had to quit and do some stupid cyber school thing so he could traipse all over the world going to surfing contests! I mean, I know it’s not every day that somebody has his athletic talent, but still, if you—” she cut herself off and stared at us. “What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Even with Makani’s aura long gone, the urge to spout salt all over again almost overwhelmed me. Tara was not going to take this well.
“Tar,” Kylee said gently. “Some things have happened. We figured some stuff out. About the drowning vision.”
Tara’s clear blue eyes transformed from bubbling over with joy to piercing the back of my skull with their sharp perceptiveness. She looked at me, inside me, over, and through me and then did the same thing to Zane and Kylee in turn. Her chest began to heave with rapid breaths. Her face paled. She blinked once, and then her eyes turned glassy.
She turned her back on all three of us and walked to the car.
Chapter 20
I have experienced some uncomfortable family dinners in my life. There was one fast food meal, soon after I first told my parents about my abilities, when we were all so out of sorts we dumped three uneaten burgers straight into the trash. Then there was the dinner at which Zane and I told my dad that we’d found my grandfather, a biological father the Colonel didn’t know he had. That one gave new meaning to the word ‘awkward,’ but at least it had included some happy news, too.
This dinner was just totally, unequivocally wretched.
My dad had started the evening in the best of moods. He was — of course — as excited as a little kid to hear all about our afternoon with one of the world’s most famous surfers, and he had gone out and bought a huge plate of barbecued ribs and roasted pineapple to celebrate. Bringing him down with ordinary bad news would have been bad enough — kind of like poking him with a stick. But bringing the man down with a spooky tale of woo-woo had been like shoving him head first into a vat of ice water. He was now sitting in his chair on the kitchen lanai with his head hanging, his hands resting limply at his sides, and his eyes as glassy and unseeing as Tara’s.
My mother wasn’t much better. She had started out trying to cope with her emotions by fussing with the food, but now that it was clear no one wanted any more, she couldn’t figure out what to do with her hands.
Almost all the talking had been left to me. Zane had tried to be useful when he could, describing the appearance of the ghosts, but Kylee — the traitor — hadn’t said a word. She had agreed with Zane and me on the ride home that we owed it to Makani to do everything we could to help him, and that meant making full use of the available brain trust — calling on every person who knew about my abilities for their ideas and input. Yet here Kylee sat, easily breaking her own record for longest stretch without a word, previously set the day after she got her wisdom teeth out.
Tara was even worse. All we’d gotten out of her since the museum were grunts and groans.
“So,” I finished at last, letting loose with a long, slow exhale. “That’s the situation.”
Everyone was quiet for at least thirty seconds. M
y mom sprinkled salt into her napkin.
“Well,” Tara said finally. “At least if he goes surfing, we’ll know. I asked him to text me.”
Zane and I exchanged a look of concern.
“You asked him to text you if he went surfing on the North Shore,” Zane explained to her patiently. “But the surf in the country’s usually flat in August. He only said maybe he’d see me out there this week because they’re forecasting a swell that’s kind of a fluke. But even if we do get something, I seriously doubt it’ll get big enough to tempt him away from town. The South Shores are where the action is in summer. The surf’s much better here.”
“Guy like him could hop a plane to Maui or Kauai, too,” my dad threw in.
Tara looked from one of us to the other. Her hopes seemed dashed, but only for a second. “Well, I’ll just have to text him back, then,” she declared. “I wouldn’t normally bug him like that, but we have no choice. I’ll say that I’d really like to watch him surf before we have to leave, that we’re running out of time, and to please let me know the next time he heads out, wherever that might be. I’ll promise him we’ll stay out of his way and that we won’t let on to anyone else that he’s there.”
The energy at the table ticked up a notch. “Perfect,” Zane agreed.
Tara whipped out her phone and started typing.
“What will you do then?” my mom asked in a calm, reasonable voice, even as she lifted her folded napkin and methodically tapped out the salt into a line down the center of her plate.
“They don’t know that the boy’s going to drown, Diane,” my dad answered irritably. My mom raised her eyebrows at him, but she knew he wasn’t irritated at her. He was irritated at the whole annoying business of the supernatural that in one fell swoop had soured his family’s brush with greatness and threatened harm to Hawaii’s next best hope at a men’s world championship. “They know he started to sink. Right? That’s where it ended. So who’s to say somebody doesn’t rescue him? The point is to make sure that somebody gets to him in time.”