“What do you think you’re doing with that lighter? Come here, young man.”
I imagined a small amphibian scolding me, and I laughed as I walked up to him.
“Oh, you think it’s funny, do you?”
“No, Mr. Connell, I’m sorry, it’s all a misunderstanding.”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “I saw you hold your lighter close to your face. You know there’s no smoking allowed on school property, not to mention the fact that you’re only thirteen! I’m going to have to search your belongings.”
I thought about my mom’s words as I’d left the house: Stay out of trouble. Clearly, she was still mad at me, and the last thing I needed was for the school to call her and get me into more trouble.
“Mr. Connell, you read the newspaper, right?”
“What?”
“Did you happen to see that article about me the other day?”
His whole body reacted to my words. His face scrunched, his arms stiffened, and his feet shuffled several times.
“I don’t like all that funny business,” he said. “Go to class and don’t let me catch you doing anything like that again.”
I pressed my lips together to smile unpleasantly at him and then slipped past the doors, thankful it hadn’t escalated into something further. It always amused me to see how people reacted to my gift. Even after hearing all the rumors and reading the occasional article on it, some people couldn’t help but feel skeptical.
As I was walking between first and second periods with one of my band friends, my arm got pulled backward, and I swung around to see J holding on to me with a death grip.
“Hey,” I said, rubbing my shoulder. “Everything all right?”
“No, everything’s not all right,” she said. “Do you know who Andrew Vallario is?”
The name brought a blurry image of a preppy-looking guy who looked like he brushed his hair a thousand times every night before going to bed.
“I think I’ve heard of him,” I said. “Isn’t he almost as smart as you?”
“Yes,” she said. “And do you know what he did this morning? He asked me to go to the Fall Ball with him.”
My eyes widened for a second as I thought of Aiden’s unrequited love for J, then I realized I wasn’t playing it cool and regained my composure. But it was too late.
“I knew it!” she said, bouncing on her toes. “Your eyes just gave it all away! Aiden wants to ask me, right?”
“I—I—I can’t say,” I stuttered.
“You’re his best friend! Of course you can!”
“I think it could possibly be something he might have thought about considering?”
“Oh, really helpful, Baylor,” she said. “I know Aiden wants to go with me. We spent so much time with each other this weekend, and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop before I wind up accidentally asking him myself.”
For a second I wondered whether she should just ask him herself. It would save Aiden a lot of awkwardness, and he wouldn’t have to panic anymore about whether or not she liked him. But J obviously wasn’t going to do that. She might be scarily smart, but she was still a girl who wanted to get asked on a date to the dance.
“Listen, I’ll say something to him,” I said. “Things are just sort of crazy right now.”
“I know, I know,” she said. “And I feel bad about even mentioning this to you after what happened on Saturday.” She looked at me sadly. “I just don’t want to hurt Aiden.”
She walked away, her short hair bobbing up and down with every step.
* * *
When I recounted the story to Aiden at lunch, he looked like he was about to cry.
“Baylor,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and his face a sickly pallor. “I did something really stupid.”
“What is it?” I said, thrilled to have something other than Kristina to think about.
“Well, so, after your accident in the band room, Cassie could see I was pretty shaken up about the whole thing. She talked with me for a while after you’d gone to the hospital.”
“Cassie who plays the clarinet? Okay. Why does that matter?”
“Well, we kept talking, and we started texting, and I mean, it was stupid stuff, I thought we were just being friendly. . . .”
“Oh, no, Aiden, please don’t say what you’re about to say,” I said, my hands squeezing my skull.
“She brought the dance up first! And I said it would be fun to go, but I didn’t mean with her, I was thinking of J the entire time. But then she must have thought I meant with her, and she said yes and that she couldn’t wait to go with me, and it all happened before I knew what was even happening!”
“And you didn’t immediately tell me?”
“It just happened yesterday,” he said, looking forlornly at his sandwich. “I’m still processing it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “Clarinet Cassie? What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t!” Tears were actually welling up in his eyes. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Well, you’ve got to get out of it,” I said. “Tell her your phone was stolen and some jerk’s been pranking her.”
“I can’t do that,” he said. “I saw her this morning. She was skipping, Baylor. Skipping. You can’t reject a girl after you made her so happy that she skips.”
“Demon dung,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re right.”
“What’d you just say?” His eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Nothing!” I sputtered, alarmed I’d said Kristina’s favorite phrase so casually. “I just feel bad for you.” He shrugged, and I could tell he was genuinely distraught. He hadn’t even touched his pepperoni sandwich.
“What am I going to do? Once J finds out about Cassie, she’s going to hate me and say yes to Andrew and my life will officially be over.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “Don’t panic yet. There’s got to be a way out of this.”
I wished Kristina were there to help. She would’ve been the perfect person—uh, ghost—to construct a plan.
Aiden spent the rest of the school day texting me stressed messages.
AIDEN: How could I have been so dumb?
AIDEN: What if j finds out?
AIDEN: I ruined my 1 shot at love!!!! :’(
I felt bad for the kid, but no good ideas had sprung to mind, and all my mental energy was focused on finding some way to rescue Kristina.
* * *
After band practice I walked the thirty minutes to Woodland Cemetery and went straight to Tommy’s grave. I leaned against it, staring at the swaying spruce overhead.
“Tommy?” I called out. “Are you around?”
“Right here,” said a voice to my left. He was leaning against his mom’s tombstone, his hair brushing the stone, and staring at the spruce just like I was. “Nice of you to let me through this time.”
Someone was a little bitter about being blocked on Halloween.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I was a little freaked out that night.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know.” Tommy mainly spent his time in the Beyond, but he came back every now and then to deliver a message or just to talk to me.
“Thanks for visiting me last night,” I said. “I guess you knew I needed it.”
“I could sense your angst. I thought maybe Kristina hadn’t been around to help you for a few days.”
“She got taken, Tommy,” I said. “The Sheet Man who attacked me on Halloween night somehow took her. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get her back, but I have no idea how. She’s trapped in some sort of weird limbo dimension.”
“That explains why I haven’t seen her,” he said.
“You guys see each other?”
“Usually, yeah,” he said. “Whenever she’s in the Beyond.”
“What have the ghosts been saying in the Beyond?” I asked, trying not to sound too anxious. “Why haven’t they come back to this side to help me out?”
“But you cross back and forth just fine.”
“I’m not one of your spirit guides, though,” he said. “Just a friend.”
“So the spirit guides have some kind of target on their backs?”
“It’s possible, Baylor, but then again, you and Kristina are a special duo. Kristina may be dead, but she’s not exactly your average ghost, either.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “She’s just . . . a ghost.”
“I’m not permitted to say too much,” he said, pushing his hair out of his face. Was that some kind of phrase all ghosts were required to learn? “But come on, haven’t you ever noticed that Kristina ages with you, while the other ghosts stay the age they died?”
It felt like he’d slapped me. How could I have missed something so obvious? The ghost children running through my dreams that stayed children. The dead grandparents that always stayed grandparents. And even Tommy, the skinny ghost with the cool hair, was still the permanent epitome of cool at age eleven.
But Kristina had been a baby with me, then a toddler, then a walking and talking little kid, and now a teenager. How had I never thought to ask about that?
“You should see your face right now,” Tommy said.
“I can’t believe I never realized it,” I said. “It just seemed . . . natural.”
“Of course it did,” he said, shrugging.
“So Kristina’s special in the Beyond just like I’m special in the physical world?”
He nodded.
“And because of that I’m on my own now?”
“You’re never on your own, Baylor,” he said, chuckling. “You just can’t see or hear how you’re being helped like you usually can, which means you’re just like everyone else in the physical world.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
“Maybe you should try something different, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you can’t cross into the Beyond because you’re still alive, but it seems like you can enter whatever dimension the Sheet Man exists in, right?”
“Right?”
“Well, then . . . enter it.”
“You’re making it sound so easy, Tommy. How can I get there?”
“Visit another one of your kind and have them help you.”
“You think another gifted person could help me?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
* * *
I didn’t think Tommy’s advice was bad, but I wasn’t exactly friends with any other gifted people around town. To be honest, I wasn’t sure if there were any other legit ones. Kristina had never spoken of any, so I didn’t know whether or not to believe in them.
I searched the Internet for a few suggestions, and nearly all the results for Keene turned up with my name somewhere in them. My cheeks burned as I skipped past the Baylievers’ fan boards (“Has boy wonder Baylor Bosco helped you somehow? Share your story here!”).
But there were a few businesses listed in the area—in Keene, Winchester, some of the surrounding towns, and the mother ship in Boston—and as I perused the websites featuring shiny crystal balls and bloody tarot cards and floating feathers, I couldn’t help but understand why people didn’t believe in my ability. These people seemed ridiculous. I didn’t need any special items to communicate. Sure, a candle helped me with my focus, but I didn’t need it for my gift to work.
I wrote down the addresses for the two closest shops, both located in downtown Keene, and stuffed the paper into my backpack, next to my talisman. A flash of panic hit me about how I was going to get there. My parents would eviscerate me if they found out I’d gone to visit these shops. I’d just have to skip band practice tomorrow, and as long as I was home in time for dinner, and as long as I evaded any run-ins with the hospital or the police, they’d never need to know.
TIP
18
Grandpa knows best.
THE NEXT DAY SCHOOL PASSED by in a flurry of awkward exchanges and glances.
J pointedly glared at me as she walked down the hall with her would-be date, Andrew. He was taller than I remembered, but every bit as preppy. He was wearing a pink button-down and a blue winter vest, and based on his hair, he most likely owned several hundred shares of stock in his favorite pomade company.
Mr. Connell seemed to be following me around the halls, looking for any trace of another lighter. The third time I spotted him staring at me, I waved at him, and he turned the other direction and marched away like nothing had happened.
Aiden looked like a toddler lost in the mall. First I saw him staring helplessly at me while Cassie chatted merrily to him, and then during lunch he picked at his sandwich and formed sad pepperoni faces with the globs of mustard.
“What happened to the pepperoni?” Bobby asked as he sat down. “They know they’re about to be in your stomach or something? Oh, maybe they’re thinking about what happens next.”
Aiden scowled. “These pepperoni slices are going through a hard time, Bobby.”
Bobby blinked at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
When school ended, I grabbed Aiden and told him to cover for me in band practice, since I needed to sneak off to downtown.
“Is it for a plan to kill Cassie or something?”
“No, Aiden!” I said, gasping. “Don’t say things like that! An evil spirit could latch on to you when you put out that kind of bad energy!”
“Sorry, sorry, I take it back,” he said. “But is it?”
“No, it’s not,” I said, launching into my plan to find another gifted person to help me get to wherever the Sheet Man resided.
“Wow,” he said, shaking his head. “If I don’t hear from you by ten tonight, I’m going to assume your soul is lost forever in some other dimension, and no, I’m not going to be the one to tell your mom.”
* * *
Entering the city center of Keene was like traveling into the eighteenth century. Tall trees lined every road, and the buildings were mostly original brick construction occupied by small businesses that sported signs like YE GOODIE SHOPPE or WALPOLE CREAMERY ICE CREAM PARLOUR. A couple of church steeples soared into the sky, the only things in the city taller than the tree line.
I locked my bike up at Central Square and tuned in the spirits I’d been desperately attempting to block out during my ride so I wouldn’t crash. I immediately spotted some Plegians casually hanging around the giant structure that held up all the jack-o’-lanterns during the annual pumpkin festival, comfortably reclining on it. Plegians are at once the most innocuous and the most terrifyingly destructive of demons: They don’t latch onto people the way other kinds do, but they still cause needless harm. Whenever a freak accident happens—a building collapses, a car’s brakes stop working, a sinkhole swallows a house—the Plegians are usually at play.
I veered far away from the structure, in case they decided to send it toppling down on me, and headed to the first address, just behind the square on Winter Street, less than two minutes away.
Downtown was looking very pleasant this time of year. The tree branches were grasping to the last stubborn, colorful leaves, and the occasional crisp breeze would sail through and wrest the leaves from the trees’ grip, sending them tumbling through the air, spinning and spiraling in all directions. Lights were already strung around some of the trees, and it made the whole square look charming and welcoming.
I turned onto Winter Street and stopped dead in my tracks, inching back to hide behind the corner. Someone was exiting the tarot card shop, followed closely by a winged creature called a Bruton.
I’d seen that kind of demon only a couple of times before, but its image was seared into my brain. The face of a Bruton isn’t well defined; when it moves, it blurs, so you’re never sure exactly where it is or what it looks like. The wings seem too barbaric and jagged to actually fly, but they can expand as wide as a house and are extremely powerful. But
the worst part, as usual, is the eyes—they’re made of fire, and not the good kind of fire that I flock to, but the menacing kind that burns down houses and destroys forests.
Brutons latch onto people like other demons do, but in a more sinister way. Instead of sucking away a person’s energy, they use their own negative energy to manipulate and deceive. People occasionally tell me that they have nightmares featuring scary creatures with flames for eyes and batlike wings, and I immediately hand them a candle, tell them to close their mind to negative energy, and then run far away from them. If a Bruton is passing through your dreams, you’re in trouble.
The human and the demon didn’t seem to notice me as they walked away, and I stayed hidden behind the corner until they were out of sight. I debated whether I should even enter the shop. If it was where Brutons regularly hung out, I didn’t want to mix with that energy. But after I decided it’d be highly unlikely to have two Brutons in a small tarot card shop, I sucked up my courage and walked toward the door.
When I entered, annoying wind chimes sounded from above. “Oh, did you forget something, Miss Ti—” The clerk looked up from papers on the counter and realized I wasn’t the customer who’d just left. “I’m sorry. How can I help you?”
He was a guy, probably in his early thirties, with limbs as thin as ski poles. He’d been shuffling papers together, and I was amazed he had the strength to lift even a few pieces of them.
“Who was just in here?”
“I’m afraid my customer information is confidential.”
“Well, whoever it was is in grave danger.” I studied the object hanging around his neck: a pentagram, the symbol of a Wiccan.
“I see,” he said curtly. “Can I help you with something?”
I hadn’t asked Tommy what I should be on the lookout for. I assumed I’d know it when I saw it. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. Do you have anything that deals with, uh, other spiritual dimensions?”
A Guide to the Other Side Page 13