‘Excuse me,’ I mumbled, trying the polite approach.
No one moved.
I tried again. ‘Could I just squeeze through?’
Again, nothing. Maybe they couldn’t hear me over the music. I was gathering in my breath, ready to let rip with a shout, when Hep’s hand closed on my wrist and yanked me forwards through the bodies. I found myself face to face with The Perfect Boy.
‘This is Lucy. She’s new,’ Hep said.
Ryan smiled, rows of white teeth sparkling against his tanned face. ‘Hi.’
It’s safe to say that in the Hollywood version of events, Ryan would be played by himself. Obviously this would depend on him not being dead, but you get the idea; he was film-star good-looking. His oh-so-casual sandy hair and deep blue eyes would have the entire female population of the planet staring up devotedly at pictures of him.
‘Hng,’ I said, in an effort to knock him sideways with my devastating charm. Unfortunately, my tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth. I peeled it away and tried again. ‘Hi. Great party.’
He opened his mouth to reply, but Kimberly had spotted us. In an instant, she’d abandoned whoever she’d been talking to.
‘Look, it’s Rosie and her new playmate.’ Her eyes glittered as she studied us. ‘And they’re holding hands. How sweet.’
Too late, I realised Hep was still holding on to my wrist. Lightning quick, she let go.
‘So how long have you been here?’ Ryan seemed not to have noticed Kimberly’s comment.
Somehow, I knew he wasn’t talking about the party. ‘About eight months. You?’
‘A year and a half.’ Ruefully, he shrugged. ‘I still don’t know what I’m doing here.’
‘You’re here to make my afterlife bearable,’ Kimberly said, her eyelashes fluttering up and down at speed.
I stared incredulously at her. ‘Wow. I’ve read about that, but I’ve never seen anyone actually do it.’
She turned, smiling without a trace of humour. ‘Do what?’
‘Bat their eyelashes. You could probably get a job at a wind farm.’
‘Ha ha.’ Kimberly shot me a venomous look and turned her attention to Ryan. ‘Come and dance with me.’
Easily, he shook his head. ‘I’m talking to Lucy and Hep. Maybe later?’
It was one of those moments you store away to enjoy over and over when you’re on your own with nothing much to do. There’d be payback sometime in the future, I was certain, but the expression on Kimberly’s face at that moment was worth it. Her pinched-up mouth reminded me of Mr Cuddles’s bum. Without another word, she stalked away.
Hep flashed me a tiny smile. ‘Told you he’s all right,’ she whispered. In a louder voice she said, ‘I need to talk to the band. If they don’t play my favourite song next, things are going to get seriously ugly.’
She melted into the crowd, leaving me alone with a boy who made the object of my previous crush look like Ron Weasley. My stomach squirmed with a thousand ghostly butterflies.
‘So,’ I said, for lack of anything clever to say. At least the movie-me wouldn’t have that problem.
‘So,’ Ryan agreed. ‘How are you coping with the whole death thing?’
I considered the question. It wasn’t half bad these days, since Jeremy had come along and we’d found there were other ghosts. ‘It’s OK. Jeremy helps.’
He tilted his head to one side. ‘Jeremy?’
Ah. How to explain that one? ‘My not-dead friend. Don’t ask me why, but he can see me.’
Ryan looked intrigued. ‘That must be useful.’
There was that word again – useful. Hadn’t Hep said the same thing? ‘Er, yeah. I suppose so.’ I thought back to earlier that evening. ‘Mostly he’s just annoying.’
‘What did you do before you died?’
Another good question. ‘The usual stuff. Went to school, hung out with my mates. Played bass guitar in a rock band.’
‘Really?’ His eyes gleamed with interest.
‘No,’ I sighed. ‘But I wish I had.’
‘I know what you mean. I always wanted to play the Polynesian nose flute.’ He shook his head tragically. ‘I feel my life was incomplete.’
I grinned, pleased he knew how to play the game. ‘Well, it just so happens that I’m very accomplished on the nose flute. I can teach you.’
His sapphire eyes twinkled. ‘Lucky me. Actually, I play a mean bass guitar so I can teach you. When do you want to start?’
‘Since I don’t have a nose flute on me and you don’t have a guitar it could be tricky. Unless you play air guitar?’
‘I do, but there’s a few things we need to get straight first. Best movie of all time?’
I didn’t hesitate. ‘The Goonies.’
His eyebrows furrowed. ‘Uh-huh. Favourite band?’
Uh-oh. This was where it could all go down the drain. Get it wrong and I might never recover my credibility. On the other hand, if I lied I’d be stuck with it for all eternity. It was a tough call.
In the end I plumped for honesty. ‘I’d have to go for Muse.’
With no indication of whether this was a good or bad thing, he nodded. ‘Favourite song?’
Argh. Enough with the difficult questions. ‘Erm . . . it depends on my mood, but usually I’d say “Unintended”.’
‘From the “Showbiz” album?’
I almost sagged with relief. Musical incompatibility was a deal-breaker. What if he was into frothy pop? I’d never be able to take him seriously. ‘You like Muse too?’
‘Nope. Give me a bit of R’n’B any day.’
I swallowed my disappointment. It was probably a good thing he had some faults. Besides, it meant I could teach him the error of his ways. I mean, seriously. R’n’B?
A vaguely familiar teenager appeared beside us. ‘Sorry dude, we need you on the stage now.’
Ryan touched the other boy’s fist with his own, then fixed me with a stern look. ‘This conversation is not over. Wait here and do not move. I’ll be back in a few minutes.’
Purposefully, he cut through the crowd. I hung around, trying not to look like a Billy No-Mates. It was too much to hope that Hep was nearby. I’d just have to wait and hope Ryan didn’t forget about me.
When the opening notes of ‘Unintended’ floated up into the night air, I assumed he’d asked the band to play it for me. A warm glow bubbled up inside me. He’d requested my favourite song, even though he hated it; definitely a good sign. As the lead singer sang the first words I pushed forwards for a better view. It was amazing how different songs changed his voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it wasn’t the same person singing . . .
Realisation hit me. The band wasn’t playing. Ryan was, and he was singing to me. Shock stopped me in my tracks and, as I listened, the familiar lyrics took on new meanings. A slow smile crept across my face. He focused on me, weaving a world containing only the two of us and the song. It was the most magical thing I’ve ever heard. I never wanted it to end.
The last strains died away. For a nanosecond the air was filled with absolute silence. Then the spell broke and the room erupted into cheers. Ryan was smiling, but didn’t break eye contact with me. In that exact moment I knew two things: one, I’d met my soulmate and two, the timing sucked. Why couldn’t we have met before we died?
Chapter 9
Every now and then there comes an experience which rocks your world so much that you remember it forever. In my case, forever really was an eternity, but I knew time would never tarnish the way I felt at that moment.
‘Well? Did I get the job?’ Ryan was grinning from ear to ear as he walked towards me.
I was far too busy fighting the goofy smile threatening to take over my face. ‘What job?’
‘Teaching you guitar.’
I gave in and let the smile win. ‘Well, there were a lot of other applicants, but I took pity on you.’
‘Did you like the song?’
Like it? That was was up there for understatemen
t of the year, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, I put on a sorrowful expression. ‘You lied to me.’
He spread his hands. ‘I’m sorry. It was worth it to see your face, though.’
Sniffing, I said, ‘You’ll be telling me next you lied about the nose flute.’ I shook my head sadly. ‘I’ve gone right off you now.’
His face split into a dazzling smile. ‘Now who’s lying? You’re mad about me, I can tell.’
I laughed. ‘Mr Confident, aren’t you?’
‘Always.’ He raised an eyebrow smoothly. I tucked it away as another fact I liked about him. Maybe he’d even teach me how to do it.
‘There you are.’ Kimberly strutted over. Ignoring me completely, she pouted at Ryan. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘He’s been on stage,’ I supplied helpfully. ‘I’m surprised you didn’t see him.’
She pretended not to hear. ‘You promised me a dance.’
‘I hadn’t forgotten.’ Ryan’s tone was polite, but I could sense an edge to it. ‘I’m busy right now.’
Kimberly let out a tinkling laugh. ‘Surely you’ve done enough charity work for one night?’
I frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
‘Shut up, Kimberly.’ He was beginning to look angry.
‘Haven’t you told her?’ Kimberly threw me a pitying glance. ‘I suppose you think he’s been talking to you because he likes you.’
I eyed her uneasily. ‘Maybe he does. Not everyone has the personality of a pit-bull.’
An evil smile played around her lips. ‘Ryan spends his time helping the newly dead to adjust.’ Triumphantly, she went on, ‘He’s not speaking to you because he wants to, he just feels sorry for you. It’s practically his job to waste time on losers like you.’
A roaring sound started in my ears. It couldn’t be true. I’d felt a connection; we both had, I was sure of it. I turned to Ryan. His eyes were apologetic.
‘Lucy!’ A voice bellowed across the air.
Almost as one, the entire room stopped chatting and dancing and looked at Jeremy as he strode towards me. I stared in dull disbelief. Could things get any worse?
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ I muttered, a deep scowl creasing my forehead.
Oblivious to the interested gaze of the surrounding ghosts, Jeremy called crossly, ‘The last bus goes in ten minutes. We have to go now.’
Ryan threw me a sympathetic look. ‘Let me guess. Your non-dead friend?’
There was no point in denying it. ‘Yeah. Although he’s going to be one of us very soon because I’m about to kill him.’
A low muttering had broken out. Clearly the other ghosts were working out that Jeremy was different and that he could see me. Curious glances were being tossed in my direction.
Kimberly got there quicker than most. ‘You’ve got a pet psychic? You really are a freak, aren’t you?’
Maybe I should have come up with a cutting reply, but I had no answer. None of the other ghosts I’d met had someone like Jeremy. Maybe she was right – I was a freak.
Sensing she had me down, Kimberly went for the kill. ‘Let me help.’ She leaned forwards and grabbed hold of my plug necklace. ‘You heard the man. It’s time you went home.’
With a vicious twist, she tugged on the thin chain. It sank into my neck, causing a moment’s fleeting discomfort. Then it snapped and she pulled her hand away, still gripping the plug. For a split second, nothing happened. Almost in slow motion, I saw Hep pushing her way towards me. A wave of dizziness washed over me and my ears clanged. Tiny black and white dots clouded my vision, like they had when I’d fainted in assembly. It felt like I was disintegrating where I stood. I fought to stay upright, but it was useless; I was being sucked away. Helplessly, my shocked eyes searched for Ryan. The last thing I saw before being dragged backwards was his sorrowful face.
‘How bad was it?’
Jeremy hovered at the bottom of the stairs, his face etched with uncertainty. Sat on the only clean patch of floor, I turned my face towards the wall wordlessly. What sort of question was it, anyway? Less than an hour before, I’d been dragged, kicking and screaming, through half the buildings in the city. It felt as though my every molecule had been flipped inside out and jumbled back together any old how. How did he expect me to feel?
‘Go away.’
He crossed the tiled floor to squat beside me. ‘If it’s any consolation, your friend landed Kimberly a serious wallop for what she did. If she wasn’t a ghost, she’d be wearing a shiny black eye by now.’
The thought of Hep launching herself at Princess Perfect cheered me up a bit. I hadn’t checked my phone. There was probably a gleeful text waiting for me. ‘Remind me to thank her next time I see her.’
Encouraged by my response, Jeremy went on. ‘The boy you were talking to gave her hell, too.’
I closed my eyes. I’d been trying not to think about Ryan. We’d hit it off so well; he couldn’t have just felt sorry for me. Embarrassment rose up in a hot wave. I couldn’t fool myself. There’d been truth in Kimberly’s words, it had been written all over Ryan’s face. And now that I knew I’d only been a pity case, I’d never be able to look him in the eye again. My own eyes snapped open. Wait one second . . . how on earth could Jeremy have known what happened after I headed off to the party?
‘Before you ask, no, I didn’t see any other ghosts. I met one of the psychics from the Dearly Departed as I left the party and she told me. Apparently, one of them goes along to these events to help set up and make sure no one else living goes poking around.’
I hadn’t noticed any other living people there, but I’d been blinkered by the love goggles. A giant pineapple could have been dancing the night away and I wouldn’t have seen it.
‘It was horrible, since you ask. I think I threw up.’
Crossing to where I sat, Jeremy squatted beside me. ‘Are you up to a visitor? The psychic from the church said someone wanted to tag along and see you.’
A reluctant smile tugged at my mouth. ‘Hep?’
He shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. As far as I’m concerned there’s no one up there except the homeless guy who sleeps in the doorway of the Tommy Hilfiger shop.’
It had to be Hep. I didn’t really know any other ghosts. ‘Send her down, then. I’d go myself, but the floor sways when I stand up.’
Minutes later, he was back with my visitor in tow. Surprise, surprise, it wasn’t Hepzibah. I groaned silently. As if my night hadn’t been humiliating enough, I had to face the last person I wanted to see my unglamorous home; Ryan was following Jeremy down the stairs to my dimly lit lair. Jeremy hovered by the steps, unsure what to do.
‘Hi.’ Ryan’s voice echoed softly around the tiled walls as he neared me. ‘How are you doing?’
I raised my shoulders listlessly. ‘I’ve been better.’
He looked down at his trainers. ‘I’m sorry about Kimberly. I don’t know why she did what she did.’
Oh please. A five-year-old could figure out what Kimberly’s problem was. I opened my mouth to tell him so. He beat me to it. ‘Actually, I do. I’ve known for a while she was . . . er . . . interested in me. I suppose she saw how well we were getting on this evening and got jealous.’
‘It doesn’t make it OK.’
He sighed. ‘No, but try not to be too hard on her. She’s got problems.’
I stared at him incredulously. Kimberly had done what had to be the worst thing one ghost can do to another, and he expected me to cut her some slack because she had problems?
‘Here’s some breaking news, Ryan. We’re stuck in spiritual limbo here. We all have problems.’
His blue eyes met mine. ‘I know. That’s what I do – try to help ghosts solve some of them. I’m not bad at it.’
‘What are you, some kind of unofficial celestial social worker?’
He smiled. ‘Kind of. I welcome the newly dead and help them pass on any messages to the living. The goal is to get them to move on, make them realise they do
n’t have to stick around.’
I frowned. There were questions I wanted to ask, but they’d have to wait. ‘Do the world a favour – move Kimberly on faster.’
‘Deal.’ His mischievous expression dissolved as he fixed me with a serious look. ‘She was wrong, anyway. I wasn’t talking to you because I felt sorry for you or because I had to.’
Jeremy cleared his throat uncomfortably. ‘Are you going to be all right, Lucy? I wouldn’t mind getting some sleep.’
Eek, I’d almost forgotten he was there. It had to be weird for him, watching me have a one-sided conversation with thin air, but then strange had become an everyday thing for Jeremy since he’d met me. I was just glad I hadn’t said anything embarrassing. ‘I’ll be fine. Thanks for coming to check on me.’
Nodding, he said, ‘I’ll drop in tomorrow.’ His gaze darted around the room. ‘Bye, Ryan. Nice to . . . er . . . meet you.’
‘Good to meet you too.’
‘He said your trousers are too short,’ I supplied.
Startled, Jeremy looked down. ‘Really?’
‘No,’ I grinned. ‘Go home.’
And then it was just the two of us. Ryan settled down on the floor next to me and didn’t even flinch at the puddles.
‘Welcome to my place,’ I said to fill the silence, waving an arm around. ‘Do you like what I’ve done with it?’
‘At least you’ve got a roof over your head,’ he replied, taking in the view. ‘Actually, it’s not that different from mine. Same smell, but there’s no way to flush.’
I didn’t answer immediately, unsure how to phrase the question I wanted to ask. It reminded me of the first time I’d gone swimming without my mum. I hadn’t been sure of the best way to get into the pool; the steps were for babies. Eventually, I’d decided to plunge in at the deep end. ‘Hep said you died in a car crash. Are you a homeless ghost, then?’
Tamsyn Murray-Afterlife 01 My So-Called Afterlife Page 5