Safe Landing

by Tess Oliver

  She jumped out of the driver’s seat. “Brazil! What are you doing? I could have hit you.”

  My voice cracked painfully out of my throat as I motioned wildly to the back door. “He’s there, in the kitchen.” I grabbed her arm and began to pull her along. “The ghost is in our kitchen.”

  The twins raced past us and through the back door. We stepped into an empty kitchen.

  “You jerk, Zilly. There’s no ghost in here,” Tyler said.

  Aside from the animals that had run in to greet Mom, the kitchen was deserted.

  “I swear, Mom, there was a guy standing right there. See the knife in the door? I threw it and it went right through him.”

  She walked over, pulled the knife from the door, and turned it over in her palm a few times. She looked worried. For a minute I’d almost convinced myself she believed me. “Brazil, it’s been a rough week. The house is old. A place like this can cause people to imagine all kinds of things.”

  I stared at her for a minute then walked out of the kitchen.

  The apparition did not appear again that evening. The twins teased me nonstop, and Mom kept staring at me, obviously trying to decide if she should have me committed. I downed two aspirin with a glass of orange juice. The mixture nearly burned a hole in my stomach as I trudged up to my room. After all, it didn’t matter where I was in the house because the entire place was haunted, and the stalker ghost apparently only had issues with me.

  Chapter 8

  “Did you realize you do this odd, little twitching thing with your nose when you sleep?”

  My eyes shot open, and I flew out of bed and landed on the hard ground with a thud.

  My transparent bedfellow peered down at me. “Not to worry. With that button-sized nose of yours, it is not altogether unappealing. Rather like a rabbit.”

  I sat up and scooted several feet away on my butt. “You--you are on my bed.”

  He lowered his head and surveyed the side of the mattress before looking back up. “Yes, it appears so. I thought you twenty-first century girls were open-minded about such things.”

  “No, not really. I haven’t allowed any strangers onto my bed lately. Especially not see-through ones.”

  He rose up silently and floated off the bed to sit on the window seat. “You’re right. Where are my manners? Why, we hardly know each other.”

  I stood and contemplated racing into the hallway or screaming to get someone’s attention, but I had a feeling Sebastian would disappear again, and I would be fitted for a straight jacket.

  I pushed to my feet and pressed against the wall adjacent to the door. “Why are you haunting me? Couldn’t you find someone else to bother? I’m sort of in the middle of feeling sorry for myself at the moment.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed. But I decided you were spending too much time thinking about Brazil, so I’m giving you something else to think about.”

  “I do not spend too much time thinking about Brazil. And if you were wondering why Emily didn’t write back, it might have had something to do with the fact that you’re extremely irritating.”

  “Brazil!” Mom’s voice drifted up the stairwell. “Brazil, are you on the phone? You’ll be late for school.”

  The ghostly figure of Sebastian Middleton floated in and out of focus. I blinked hard to see if I could make him disappear altogether. When I opened my eyes the third time, he’d moved closer. I tried to back up but the wall stopped me.

  “You needn’t be afraid of me. I am no longer flesh and bone.”

  “Considering I can see straight through you to the beach below, I’ve sort of figured that out. What do you want from me?”

  “I need your help.”

  One of the twins rapped loudly on my door and I startled. Sebastian vanished. “Bathroom is all yours, Zilly,” Tyler shouted through the door.

  “But don’t expect any hot water,” Raymond added, and they both laughed as they plodded down the hall to their room.

  My gaze flashed around the empty room. Sebastian was gone. At least for now. With trembling hands and a racing heart, I rummaged through my drawer to look for my jean shorts and raced to the bathroom to make up for lost time.

  The floor, mirrors, and walls were soaked as usual. I reached in to turn on the water and a thought poked into my mind. What could possibly keep my ghostly friend from joining me in the bathroom? I found myself searching under the sink, behind the toilet, and inside the tub, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t taking any chances. I showered in my pajamas. It was awkward to say the least, but knowing he could pop in on me anywhere gave me the shivers.

  I grabbed a dry towel and did that silly dance you do at the beach when your mom holds a towel around you so you can climb out of your wet bathing suit. It was distinctly harder holding the towel with my teeth and rolling off wet pajamas. I threw on my dry clothes and dropped my wet pajamas over the towel rack. The hall was dimly lit. I looked both ways as if crossing the street. No ghost.

  Apparently, I had not seen him in the bathroom or the hall because he was perched on the windowsill of my room flipping through my magazine. The pages were moving without him touching them. He did not look up as I entered. For an apparition, he had a fantastic head of dark, curly hair.

  “I am too much of a gentleman to watch you in the shower,” he said.

  “How should I know that? After all, I woke up with you breathing over me this morning.”

  He laughed. Who knew dead people still had a funny bone? “I’m rather certain that I was not breathing on you.”

  “Well, you were hovering anyway.” I grabbed a pair of earrings. “And how do you know that I was worried about you watching me?” My eyes widened as I glanced at him. “Unless, of course, you were watching me?”

  “Let’s just say you are a girl with a lot of expression. It is easy to read your thoughts.”

  “Great.” I leaned toward my mirror and pushed my earrings through my lobes with trembling fingers, wondering how long my incorporeal house guest would be sticking around this morning. I glanced over without turning my head.

  The magazine rose in the air and turned sideways and Sebastian leaned his head as if he was looking at a centerfold. “Girls are ridiculously skinny these days. Rather like holding a skeleton, I imagine.”

  “My family thinks I’m crazy.” I turned to face him. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they’re right. And now I’m talking to you like we’re old acquaintances.” Had I been that desperate for a confidante that I’d invented a friend? But what girl in her right mind would conjure up a sweet-looking guy from the nineteenth century who was obsessed with another girl. Even though I had little doubt I was in my right mind at all, I was still convinced that my imaginary guy friend would have the hots for me and not someone else. “You still haven’t told me what you want from me?”

  “It has to do with my letters.” He floated up and the magazine dropped to the floor. He was tall for a dead guy.

  I scooted a wide berth around him to the window seat where my shoes sat. “Listen, I can help you rewrite your letters, but something tells me this Emily chick is not going to be around to read them.”

  A huge rush of cold air blew across the room and pushed me hard onto the window seat. “What the fuck!” I glared up at him. “What was that for?” My voice got shaky at the end of my question when I saw that his eyes were round and black with anger. I inched back further on the seat.

  “How could you possibly improve my letters with your ridiculous utterances like holy crap and what the fuck? And of course my dear Emily is gone. She would be more than a century old.” The fury in his voice sent a nervous tremor through me, and I wondered if I could slip past him to the door.

  My fingers clutched the edge of the window seat nervously. “If Emily is dead then why don’t you find her?”

  “Of course, you are right. Why did that not occur to me? I’ll just leave and go find my dear Emily.” He headed toward the window. I jumped out of the way. “Oh yes, I just remembere
d,” he floated closer and glowered down at me, “I’m stuck here . . . with you,” he added harshly.

  Now I was pissed. “Look, this is not exactly a picnic for me either. Even though you are nice looking for a dead guy, and you have that heart-stopping English accent, you are still rude, arrogant, and a pretty major inconvenience in my life at the moment.”

  He floated to the window and gazed down at the beach. “I’m sorry to be an inconvenience.” His voice sounded distant as if his thoughts had traveled off to a faraway time. His face turned up to look at me. “You think I’m nice-looking?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s just say you’re the best-looking dead guy I’ve met so far.”

  “You are jesting with me.” He turned away. “Never mind. I thought I had finally found someone to help me out of this middle world and into the next, but you are not that person.” With that he disappeared leaving a steamy mist circling around the room. My stomach twisted into a knot as I watched the moist cloud evaporate. I sat back on the window seat to put on my shoes.

  “Brazil!” Mom’s shout startled me, and my head smacked the window.

  I glanced at the clock. Now I was late for school, and my head was throbbing. The whole time I wondered if the ghost was gone for good. And I wondered if he was angry enough to make my life even more miserable than it already was. I mean, I’ve had enemies before but never a pissed- off dead guy.

  ****

  I decided not bring up ghosts anymore to Mom. I was sure she was just one crazy Brazil rant away from calling a psychologist. I arrived at school and moved around in a cloud all day. The morning was uneventful, or at least, I’m pretty sure it was. Julie had talked my ear off while we waited for chemistry to start. I felt a little guilty that I’d barely heard a word she’d said. All I could think of was that I doubted anyone else was shambling through the halls worried about the angry ghost in their bedroom. By third period, after I’d nearly jumped out of my chair when the guy behind me tapped my shoulder to borrow a pencil, I’d convinced myself that I had to contact Sebastian and tell him I would help him. Even if I had no idea how to do that. Maybe if I helped him pass through to the other world, he would not be lingering in the house any longer. I’d read somewhere that spirits stick around if they have some terrible issue to resolve. This must have to do with Emily. I had no idea how I could help with that, but I had to give it a whirl or be stuck with him popping in and out of my life.

  A small group of people had gathered around Seth’s locker before lunch. Seth was there and so was Mr. Burke, the vice principal. As I approached, I could see black paint on the front of Seth’s locker. I peered past Mr. Burke. The words blood sucker were spray painted on the door.

  “Why would I paint this on my own locker, Mr. Burke?” Seth asked.

  Mr. Burke took hold of the door and examined the inside edge as if he was able to see fingerprints with his naked eye. “Well, do you know who did it?” As if on cue, Hank lumbered up to his locker.

  “Man, look at that. Freak had his locker ambushed,” Hank said.

  Everyone turned to look at the jerk. “Did you have anything to do with this, Hank?” Mr. Burke asked. Was the man really so clueless that he had to ask? He was the vice principal. He had to know Hank was an ignorant ass.

  Hank held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.” He busied himself in his own locker.

  “Look, Mr. Burke, I’ll find Mr. Spencer and get a bucket and scrub brush. It’ll be gone in a few minutes,” Seth said. He pushed past the vice principal and squeezed by Hank. “Fucker,” he said through gritted teeth.

  I peeked up at Hank’s face. He forced a grin, but I could swear he was nervous about the look Seth had given him.

  Normally, it made me feel better about my own day when I saw someone else having a day that was a two or a three, especially if it was someone despicable. Someone like Hank. Unfortunately, today Seth was the one wavering over a two. After the locker incident, I saw Seth sitting with Gina on the wall of the quad at lunch. She had just pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse when one of the all-important hall proctors stepped into the lunch area. Gina saw the guy and panicked. She threw the pack of cigarettes into Seth’s lap, and the proctor headed right toward them. Seth shook his head in disbelief at his girlfriend and stood to follow the proctor, with cigarettes in hand, to the principal’s office. Gina seemed upset at first at what she’d done, but her guilt was fleeting because a few minutes later she was laughing it up with one of her hairdo challenged friends.

  The day was finally over, and I tossed the books I didn’t need into my locker. Seth was at his locker too. The look on his face made me feel sorry for him. It was a heated mixture of anger, irritation, and sadness. And as hot as he looked when he smiled, this serious, sort of anguished look made him one great big package of heartbreak. I had a terrible urge to kiss the frown lines from his forehead.

  I slammed my locker shut with my foot. “Did you get in a lot of trouble?”

  His face popped around the door. The black paint had worked its way into the rough surface and the letters s-u-c- and k were still slightly visible. “I guess you saw what happened. An hour of detention plus now I’ve got to convince my mom that I don’t smoke.”

  Seth cracked a faint smile. Poor guy. I felt like telling him the day was only a two and it would eventually fade from his memory, but he would probably think I was a nutcase. Which I sort of was.

  He closed his locker and leaned against it with his arms crossed. He was staring at me with those lash-fringed eyes. There was the tiniest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, but it was hard to break into a full smile when your day had been shitty. “So what kind of stuff are you into?”

  “Stuff?” I asked.

  “I mean what do you like to do?”

  I shrugged. “I used to ride horses, but we had to sell mine when my parents divorced.”

  “That must have sucked.”

  “My parent’s divorce set off a chain of sucky events and the dominoes keep falling.”

  Seth leaned forward and motioned to his locker door with his head. “Sucky seems to be the order of the day for me.” He pressed his back against the lockers again. “There are stables down at the end of the cove where you can ride on the beach. We should go sometime.”

  “S—sure,” I stuttered, confused by his suggestion.

  “I like the way you explain stuff,” he said after an awkward silence. “Not many people could put divorce, sucky events, and falling dominoes in the same sentence and have it sound exactly right.

  I saw Gina slinking down the hallway toward us, so I stooped back down to my locker to avoid talking to her. I pretended to look for something, not sure what, but I made it look important.

  “Babe, you aren’t mad at me, are you?” Gina’s voice was drippy sweet. “I’ll wait for you after detention and make it up to you.” The last words were whispered seductively yet loud enough to be sure that I heard. Now I wish I’d left the hall instead of hanging out at my locker shuffling my books back and forth.

  Seth’s locker slammed shut. “You want to make it up to me? Then you sit in detention for an hour this afternoon.” He walked away.

  “But, Babe—“

  “I hate it when you call me that,” Seth said loudly into the air as he headed toward detention.

  I heard her tiny shoes run after him, and I straightened from my crouch. At least the conversation with Seth had taken my mind off my ghost problem for a while. Did Seth just ask me out or was that wishful thinking? Pretty soon I was going to need a new rating system for my day. Instead of how bad it’s going, I’d have to factor in a weirdness rating. Today was definitely high on that scale. In fact I was pretty sure ten wasn’t high enough for a day that included a ghost.

  Chapter 9

  For three days I’d not seen or heard anything that resembled a ghost. I’d almost convinced myself that Sebastian Middleton was gone for good, or maybe he’d really been a figment of my crazy imagination. Seth’s inte
rest in me had been a figment too. I’d hardly seen him for the rest of the week as if he was purposely avoiding his locker so he wouldn’t have to see me. But I’d seen more than enough of Hank. This morning I had backed up into him accidentally, and he’d groaned crudely in my ear. Actually, it had been more of a primitive grunt.

  The boys were at baseball, Mom was at work, and the house was extra scary at dusk. Every noise made me jump. I’d tried to talk the animals into coming upstairs with me but when Mom’s not at home, they sit in front of the door and wait for her.

  Sebastian’s letters sat perched in a neat stack on the old bookcase. There must have been at least ten. I stared at the brittle, yellowed envelopes for a long time and suddenly, it seemed horribly sad. He loved Emily so much, he kept on writing even though there was no response. I picked up one of the letters. The dried paper ripped open easily. It was Friday night and I had nothing to do and no friends to speak of. I’d been avoiding the computer because I still wasn’t sure what to say to Jen. I was still hurt by what she’d done, but I was more upset about not having her to confide in. And man did I have some stuff to tell. Not that I was totally sure that Jen would believe me either. I hardly believed me.

  I picked up a letter. There was a cluster of limp, dead daisies painted in the corner which was more than a little disturbing. Maybe he had gone mad with heartbreak before he killed himself.

  August 4, 1880

  Dammit, Angel! Pray, do not torture me with your silence.

  News of your death would be easier to bear than your wordless disdain.

  Yours in anguish,

  Sebastian

  Geez, that was harsh. I read the words again. I could almost picture Sebastian hunched over his desk, writing feverishly, torn between anguish and rage. Those handwritten letters sure could put across a lot more emotion than a text message. I tossed the letter onto the bookcase. “Emily was a bitch.” Bad choice of words.