“Brace yourself,” she said grimly.
An aura is the outward reflection of a living person’s soul, and these people were in dire straits. Their bodies glowed nearly black—but in the radioactive, toxic-waste sense of the word “glow.” Their souls were tarnished from those dark spirits, and it made me shudder to think of some of the even more evil spirits lurking around me that hadn’t yet attached themselves to people.
Spirits can be really different from ghosts. Ghosts are the souls of dead people wandering about, while a spirit can be any sort of nonliving supernatural entity. It’s like that miserable square-and-rectangle math rule: All ghosts are spirits, but not all spirits are ghosts. You’ll never hear me say an evil ghost is lurking around. As Kristina used to say, “Ghosts are good, but spirits need speculation!”
A ghost would never leech on to a living person’s aura, but an evil spirit would. And the longer it leeched, the more powerful it became. One woman in particular had such a dark aura that I couldn’t even see her face properly. She was shrouded in darkness, and it was obvious why. An Ashen, the name for a newly formed demon, was sucking away her energy. Just based on the darkness of her aura, I’d bet a hundred bucks this Ashen had used her to transform from a regular old evil spirit to a demon, the evil version of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. A disgusting, wretched butterfly.
I felt the need to help her, so I found the candle aisle, grabbed a few small white ones, and tracked her down near the checkout line. When the Ashen noticed me, its face went rigid. The demon’s lower half was as billowy and misshapen as smoke, giving way to a solid top half that was shrouded in loose black material. Its face was, in so many words, pointy and deformed. The chin was a sharp triangle, so sharp that poking it with my finger would draw blood. Its cheeks were scaly and sunken, and the forehead was big enough that you could sell advertising space on it for a nice profit.
And those awful eyes—unblinking furnaces of burning green. They’d turn red one day.
“Ma’am,” I whispered, looking at the demon, trying in vain to block it out. She turned to me, looking confused, since my eyes weren’t focused on her.
“You talking to me, kid?”
“You need to buy these candles, light the wicks, and imagine the light of the flames surrounding your body.” The demon roared with anger upon hearing my words, and I backed up a few feet.
“Baylor, it can’t hurt you,” Kristina reminded me. She was standing between me and the Ashen, her arms crossed and her eyes also scanning the creature. I wondered for a second if it could hurt her.
The woman narrowed her eyes at me. “What are you talking about, kid? I’m gonna call security on you if you don’t get away from me.”
I was still staring at the demon, which almost appeared to smirk, but that’s nonsense, since demons don’t smirk. As quickly as I could move, I pulled out my lighter, lit a candle, and sent the light her way. Like a rope cut by a white-hot sword, the demon detached with a terrible hiss as the light enveloped the woman.
Now that the demon was no longer attached to a person, I could easily block it from my view with Kristina’s help.
“Much better,” I said, sighing with relief. I raised my eyebrows at Kristina and did a little jig with my feet. Nothing like banishing a demon to really get your day going.
“What did you just do to me?” the woman asked. She wasn’t mad, though. In fact, whereas she had been hunched over just a moment ago, she now stood nearly a foot higher. “I haven’t felt this great in years!”
“That does not surprise me.” I blew out the candle and handed the armful over. “Buy the candles. Do what I told you. You’ll need it.” Demons always find a way back into people’s lives. It’s up to them whether they choose to fight the demons or let them wreak havoc.
She took the candles, thanked me, and walked off. Kristina nodded her approval.
“Nice one,” she said. “You’re making excellent progress.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” she said casually.
* * *
Back at home I finished the costume with one of Ella’s bibs and an old rattle.
When I checked myself in the mirror, I smiled. It was perfect.
“You have never looked this dumb,” Kristina said crossly, her hands on her hips. “I know you’re supposed to be a baby, but you’re not a cute baby. You’re an overgrown monster of a baby, and I think it’s only going to attract negative energy.”
“I think you’re jealous,” I said, turning to admire the way my butt looked in that diaper. “This costume can’t bring me anything but good vibes.”
She shook her head. “At least Mom’ll be happy.”
And she was right. When my mom saw the costume, she actually started jumping.
“Stay right there!” she yelled. “I need to get my nice camera.” She ran away for a moment, returning with her massive DSLR camera, and she proceeded to take a hundred pictures of me standing there, dressed as a giant pink baby.
“You look so good! I need to get Jack and Ella ready so they can jump in too.”
* * *
A couple of hours later my mom was getting the pictures she’d dreamed about for years in front of our sparsely decorated house.
We live in a nice neighborhood in Keene, a boring city in New Hampshire. All the houses on our street are old and give off that classic New England feel, with slatted wood, pillars, and stoops galore. Around Halloween most of our neighbors go crazy with their decorations. They put cobwebs and little white, cartoony ghosts in their trees. They hang big, hairy spiders around their doorways and plant bloody zombie hands in the soil. Witches on brooms seem to be very popular, and there’s always a few that feature the witch smashed headfirst into the side of the house—exactly what witches deserve, if you ask me.
Not our house. Except for a small orange sign that says HAPPY HALLOWEEN! and the occasional jack-o’-lantern (carved only with happy faces), you’ll never know it’s the season of goblins and ghouls at the Bosco residence. I forbade my parents from hanging up any decorations long ago, much to my mom’s displeasure. She used to love Halloween, but now that she had a child who could see those ghouls people usually only joked about, she’d had to stifle her affection for the holiday.
“Jack, smile for this next picture!” Mom said as we shivered in front of the house. Keene isn’t exactly known for its warmth and sun in the winter, but with highs in the thirties, it was unseasonably cold even for our frigid little town.
“I can’t feel my face!” he said. “Maybe I should put on last year’s costume. That one had a mask.” He was dressed up as a soldier from one of his favorite movies. Last year he’d been a dinosaur.
Ella was a princess, and a very cute one at that, with a pink tiara, a gold dress, and little pink shoes. Kristina was staring off into the distance near an almost bare tree, a few scattered leaves still clinging to the branches.
“You look good!” my mom said. “You’ll just have to run from house to house to stay warm!”
“Dad’s gonna love that,” I said, tickling baby Ella to make her laugh. My dad goes around with Jack every year while my mom stays home and passes out candy.
I usually go to the cemetery. It’s the most peaceful place to be on Halloween night, and the one place where spirits almost never hang around. Ghosts couldn’t care less about their bodies once they’ve died; they only care to be around the people they loved or hated.
This was the first time in years I wouldn’t be going to the cemetery, and it felt really strange. It had become a tradition to go down there, explore the different sections, read all the headstones, and hide from the evil spirits roaming through the night. It was my sanctuary, in a way. But not tonight.
* * *
After the photo shoot I headed to Aiden’s. I normally walk over, but since it was so cold, my dad gave me a lift on his way to meet Jack’s friends. He was just as surprised as my mom that I was going out that night.
“This is a big step for you, buddy,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m dressed as a giant baby to go trick-or-treating, Dad,” I said. “I’m not sure this is the best time for you to be proud of me.”
He laughed. “Well, you know what I mean.”
My dad had worked as a CPA for forever, but after his dad died a few years ago (a traumatic time for the two of us for very different reasons), he decided he wanted to be a teacher. Now he teaches math at the local high school. The very same one I’ll be attending next year.
“Have a good night, buddy!” he said as I got out of the car in front of Aiden’s house.
“Stay away from the scary costumes!” I warned Jack, totally serious. “You don’t know who or what will be near them.”
Jack’s expression melted into a grimace as they drove away. Ghosts had always scared him, and having me as his big brother was probably his enduring nightmare.
I knocked on the door of Aiden’s house and was greeted by his mother, Mrs. Kirkwood. She is the friendliest woman I’ve ever met but also one of the largest. She took up the entire width of the doorway, and she shrieked when she saw me.
“Aiden told me you were joining in on the fun tonight!” she squealed, wrapping me in a giant hug and pressing me into her soft yet still somehow very firm body. Hugging her fascinated me because it was like hugging a rubbery boulder. When she finally released me, she pushed me back and held me at arm’s length so she could look me over. “And that costume, Baylor! So funny! Oh, you four are going to have such a great time tonight! I’m just so excited for you all!”
“Thanks, Mrs. Kirkwood,” I said. Kristina laughed next to me, but I didn’t acknowledge her. Mrs. Kirkwood could get a little too excited by my gift, so I’d found it was best to pretend like it didn’t exist whenever I was around her. “Is everyone here already?”
“You’re the first to arrive!” she said giddily, closing the door and leading me to the kitchen, where she had set out bowls of M&M’S, chips and salsa, and a gourmet cheese and cracker plate.
Aiden, dressed as a very wide skeleton, was hovering over the bowl of salsa, a handful of chips in his hand.
“Dude, you actually came!” he said. “I know you said you would, but I didn’t believe it till right now.”
“Yeah, I decided to mix it up this year,” I said, grabbing some M&M’S. I looked over his costume and decided it was okay. I hadn’t told him not to dress as anything negative, and I didn’t think a skeleton was too bad. I had one inside of me, after all. It was really a scientific diagram, I justified to myself. It totally wasn’t a deteriorated corpse. Nope. Nothing to be afraid of.
“Well, this is going to be awesome,” he said. “You got a bag?”
I frowned because I didn’t know what he meant, and then I slapped my forehead. A bag for the candy! I hadn’t been trick-or-treating in so long that I’d forgotten I needed something for my loot.
“Shoot!” I said. “Totally forgot. Do you have one I could borrow?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Baylor, all the kids use pillowcases,” Mrs. Kirkwood said as she wandered out of the kitchen. “I’ll grab you one.”
“So you’re okay, man?” Aiden asked. “Finally gonna face the ghosts out and about tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It was time.”
“What changed your mind?” He threw a handful of M&M’S into his mouth.
“My mom said something about how this might be the last chance I ever get to trick-or-treat, since we’re getting so old.”
Mrs. Kirkwood came back in at that moment and wore an expression like I’d just slapped her in the face.
“The last chance?” she said, her lips quivering. “Oh dear. I . . . I didn’t even think about—I guess you wouldn’t want to trick-or-treat next year as high schoolers. You’ll probably have some cool party to go to instead.”
“Cool? She knows she’s talking to you and Aiden, right?” Kristina chimed in. She was sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the big picture window into the dark woods behind the house.
“Yeah, probably,” Aiden said. “We’ll barely be able to get away with it tonight.”
Kristina snorted. “You’re an overgrown toddler, Aiden. You’ll be able to trick-or-treat until you’re forty!”
The doorbell rang, and Mrs. Kirkwood let in J and Bobby. Bobby, who was dressed as a girl, is one of our really good friends. He’s also in band, except he plays the drums. He’s one of those guys you can’t help but like, and I had a theory that Kristina secretly had a crush on him, not that she could do anything about it. When I looked over at her, she was fixing her hair.
“J” is short for “Janet,” and she’s one of the scariest people I’ve ever met. Not scary like a bully, but more like she will look at you and tell you her exact opinion on anything and why she’s correct. She’ll be going to Harvard or Yale one day; I think it just depends on which one offers her more money. She’s not in band with us, but we became friends after Aiden got to know her in Debate Club last year.
“Looking dapper,” J said to me as she gave me a hug. She was dressed up as a nurse, but she wasn’t wearing a skimpy outfit or even blue scrubs. She had on a long white dress and a floppy white cap, both emblazoned with giant red crosses. Her thick, purple cheetah-print glasses, though, gave her away as a thirteen-year-old girl and not an actual Civil War nurse pestering me to deliver a message.
Aiden was ogling her, and I was trying to catch his eye so he’d remember to close his mouth. He’d harbored a crush on her from the day they met, but he was, in his words, “too fat and goofy” to do anything about it. Instead, he just hung out with her all the time and did everything he could to make her happy, while very much not being her boyfriend. It was depressing to witness.
“Doesn’t he realize that she likes him, too?” Kristina said. “I don’t understand the logic of blinkers sometimes.”
I shrugged but didn’t say anything. It was pretty standard communication for the two of us when we were in front of people. She’d make a comment, and I’d find some way to respond. She’d told me that we might be able to communicate with our thoughts one day, but I didn’t like the sound of it. What if she accidentally caught some of my private thoughts? There’d be no coming back from that.
“Did they run out of the cute nurse costumes at the store, J?” I asked.
“What are you talking about? I’m Clara Barton.”
I blinked, not sure if I was supposed to know what that meant.
“The founder of the American Red Cross,” she said, as though it were immensely obvious. Then she pointed at Bobby. “Can you believe this idiot?” He was posing like a Cali girl in his short jean skirt and red top, complete with a stuffed bra, bright-blond wig, and atrocious makeup.
“I thought he was your patient, actually,” I joked, and I turned to glare at Aiden. He still hadn’t recovered from seeing his crush in her costume, and he needed to get it together. He caught my eye and jumped.
“You guys look great,” he managed to choke out. I shook my head while Kristina scoffed from her perch at the table.
“The haul’s going to be great this year,” Bobby said, his mouth doubled from its normal size thanks to the smeared lipstick covering it. “All the parents who usually hang out on the streets are going to be home, since it’s so cold, which means more houses to go to, which means”—he shook his hips excitedly—“more candy for us.”
“It’s not going to be good candy, though,” J said. “They’re just going to give us whatever they had lying around, since they didn’t have time to run to the store.”
“Where,” Bobby said, turning to her dramatically, “is your optimism?”
She laughed, and Aiden turned back and forth between them, smiling with a vague look of panic beaming from his eyes.
“Oh, wow, this is like watching a train wreck,” Kristina said, exasperated. “Pull it together, Aiden!”
I chuckled, but I didn’t know what to
do. I had already given Aiden as much advice as I could. I had dropped hints on his behalf to J. I wasn’t sure how to help them, and now it looked like a lost cause. He had wanted to ask her to the Back-to-School Bash in September, but she had been very vocal about wanting to go with a group of friends. When I told him to ask her to the Fall Ball coming up in November, the look on his face suggested that I’d just described a murder scene in gory detail.
“Let’s take a picture,” J said. She whipped out her cell phone and handed it to Mrs. Kirkwood, who’d been leaning against the fridge the whole time and grinning like a madwoman.
“You all are just so cute,” she said under her breath as she squinted at the screen and tapped it aimlessly, while we all pressed together in front of the table. I had specifically positioned myself between Bobby and J so that Aiden was on her other side. “There! I think it worked! I’m not sure, though.”
J took back the phone, giggled, and said, “I’m gonna post it right now.” She showed it to us, and even though we all looked like fools, the main thing I noticed was a strange light in the corner. Kristina had managed to find her way into the picture in her own special ghost way, and I winked at her. She smiled and nodded.
I wondered, sometimes, what it was like to have only one person to talk to. To be invisible your whole life—could you call what she was experiencing a “life,” even?—at the mercy of someone else. I had never asked her, but I wondered why she was the one who’d had to die and I was the one who’d gotten to live. And I wondered if she ever got sad about it. Whether or not she did, on nights like these, when I got to hang out with family and friends and she had to hang out in the corner, silent and unnoticed and effectively nonexistent, I felt sad for her.
* * *
“This candy sucks!” Bobby yelled as we walked to the next house. “Dum Dums and Tootsie Rolls? I mean, come on, they may as well have opened the door, flipped us off, and spit in our faces.”
A Guide to the Other Side Page 3