I sat with Frolics for a few minutes longer and then retired to my room. I went through the routine of getting ready for bed, closed the door, flipped off the light, and crawled under the covers. I lay awake looking at the ceiling while my eyes adjusted to the serene darkness. The hum of my fan helped quiet the chatter in my head. It was hard to make sense of all that was going on. I forced myself not to think about it, not to dwell on it, and attempted to turn my brain off for a while. Maybe then I could sleep, and maybe tomorrow would be a better day. But it was in that moment of getting quiet that my friend returned.
“I know where Jeremy is,” he said, almost in a whisper.
I sprang up to a seated position on the bed. Was he actually talking to me? It took me a moment to find him. He was a mere shadow in the corner of my room, above and sinking into my desk.
“TJ?”
“I know where Jeremy is. And I know how you can find him.”
“How?”
“All you have to do is see him. He’s there, and he’s trying to get back to you. But there are barriers—barriers he hasn’t quite mastered yet. You can see him just as you see me. You can hear him just as you hear me. You’ll be amazed at what you can see when you just look around.”
“I don’t understand.”
But the shadowy figure in the corner of my room vanished before responding. I remained seated, waiting for him to return. But he didn’t.
I was so startled and amazed that I couldn’t go to sleep now. I had finally made actual contact with my ghost and all of my misplaced fear from the haunting seemed so long ago. The poltergeist actions of moving my furniture and writing on the wall almost seemed funny now. It was like neither of us knew how to communicate with the other. Perhaps we had to build a relationship over time in order for us to communicate properly. Now the door was open. I wanted to find him again, talk to him again, learn more about the ghost—the boy—I was so afraid of during these past few months.
My mind was racing and continued on the same track through my dreams. When I awoke to a bright room with the sun trying to peer in through my curtains, I tried to distinguish whether my conversation with TJ was real or imagined. It seemed so surreal in the light.
“You didn’t call,” Anna said, sitting in the grass with her best pouty face. As usual, I got there before Desiree and Eli.
“I’m sorry. We got home really late, and I went straight to bed.”
She knew she couldn’t stay mad at me because it would reflect badly on her. “So what happened? How’s he doing?”
“Richard was in a car accident. He’s in a coma.” My voice trailed off. It was still hard to believe and hard to think about, let alone say aloud.
“Oh my God! That’s awful! How are you doing? How’s your mom?”
“What’s awful?” Desiree asked as she came up behind me. Eli trailed closely behind her.
I coughed to clear my throat. Desiree still didn’t know about Richard; I hadn’t told her this morning in chemistry. Anna retold Desiree what I had told her. Desiree looked genuinely empathetic and didn’t reveal any hurt feelings of me not telling her earlier. “I’m so sorry, Oliver. That’s terrible. What about Jeremy? Is there any word on him?”
“No. It’s kinda a lot to deal with right now.”
“I can imagine,” Desiree said and began eating her lunch. We all ate quietly, not sure which subject would be appropriate to bring up next, in light of all my family tragedy. When Anna finished her lunch, she threw her trash away and sat next to me, closer than before.
“What is it you guys do on Tuesday afternoons?” Eli asked me, seemingly out of the blue. Obviously Desiree had made up a story about regular study sessions, and he was testing to see if our stories matched. That was probably something we should have collaborated on earlier.
“Our history teacher, Mr. Gordon, holds a weekly study group. It’s a tough class, so it seemed like a good idea to go,” I said, desperately hoping my story would suffice.
“I guess he’s a pretty good teacher, ’cause not many do that,” Eli said.
“He is.”
“Mr. Gordon’s the best,” Desiree cheerfully blurted out between bites.
I guess it worked, but I could never quite figure out what Eli was really thinking. He had been acting friendlier toward me, but it didn’t feel natural.
“Speaking of history, it’s about that time,” Desiree said as she finished her lunch.
After a parting embrace from our significant others, Desiree and I headed toward the humanities building. As soon as Eli and Anna were out of sight, Desiree slapped me across the arm.
“How could you not tell me!”
“Tell you what?” I asked out of reflex. I knew what she meant.
“Really? About your stepdad being in an accident, that’s what! I thought we were good friends. Are you and Anna closer than we are now?”
“No—I mean—it’s different. I’m just having trouble dealing with it. I didn’t want to talk about it more. It’s not like I wasn’t gonna tell you. I just needed some time.”
Desiree stopped walking, and I waited in wonderment of what she would say next. “But you were going to tell me, right?” she asked shyly. I could tell she wanted to stay mad at me, but, like Anna, she had to let it go.
“Of course I was. How could I not? You’re so crafty, you would’ve found out even if I hadn’t wanted you to.”
“I am pretty crafty. Crafty like a fox.”
I began walking ahead of her. “What does that even mean?” I said and opened the door to the humanities building, and held it open for her, but walked through first.
“Foxes are crafty,” she said as she followed me into Mr. Gordon’s classroom.
Mr. Gordon glanced my way often throughout the class. It obviously showed on my face that I was under additional stress. I tried to concentrate on the lecture, but continuously wandered off into my head, consumed by my crumbling world.
In art, I drew without passion. I wasn’t really there, either. I was a zombie going through the motions, waiting to get back home so I could hopefully find some answers. Desiree supported me by leaving me alone. Mr. Gordon would not let me off the hook so easily, so I tried to escape our after school meeting, but Desiree wouldn’t hear of it.
“You can’t shut out the one person with the ability to help you the most,” Desiree said on our way to Mr. Gordon’s classroom.
“But his meetings are all about concentration and focus. I can’t do either one right now.”
“You can. Come on, Oliver. I need you to come with me. You can’t shut yourself off and pretend to be alone. You’re not alone. You have friends who want to help.”
When we entered Mr. Gordon’s classroom, there was no door to the Room of Enlightenment. There was just a wall and a whiteboard. Mr. Gordon sat at his desk reading papers and looked up with a welcoming smile when we walked in.
“Please, take a seat,” Mr. Gordon said as he stood up from his desk. The door to the classroom closed under its own power. “Oliver, what’s wrong? There’s obviously no word from Jeremy yet, but there’s something more.”
“My stepdad was in a car accident yesterday and he’s in the hospital right now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How’s he doing?”
“He’s in a coma. So I don’t know. I don’t know about anything anymore. I know you want us to be positive and all, but there’re so many bad things happening. I don’t know how to grasp how all that’s for the best.”
Mr. Gordon pulled a desk from the row beside me and dragged it over so he could sit facing Desiree and me.
“Now is the most important time to remain positive, keep the faith, and remain confident in your direction. Don’t believe in accidents. Because if you believe in accidents, then everything is random and there’s no point in trying to change anything. Everything that’s happened was supposed to happen. All you need for proof is the fact that it did. Every event in your life is getting you one step closer to where you
’re supposed to be,” he said.
“One step closer to my destiny. I know, I know. But how can you say that everything works out for the best when I feel like my life is crumbling around me?” I asked.
“Because maybe you need the negative to see the positive. Maybe you need to see what you don’t want in your life to appreciate what you already have. Maybe you need dire circumstances and seemingly hopeless situations to prove to yourself what you’re really made of. Maybe you need to crumble so you can rebuild.”
“And maybe some lives were just meant to be tragic,” I said.
“Just because they were tragic doesn’t mean they were meant to be tragic.”
“But if everything happens the way it’s supposed to happen, then their destinies were to be tragic. How’s that helpful?”
“Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be helpful for them,” Mr. Gordon said. “Maybe it was supposed to be helpful for you. Maybe those people signed up to have tragic lives so you might learn something. Or maybe those people never realized their destinies. No one can force you to realize your own destiny. That’s what free will is. There can be signs and guides to steer you in the right direction, but if you refuse over and over, then that’s your choice. You weren’t destined to be tragic.”
“What did you mean by someone signing up to have a tragic life?” Desiree asked.
“There is a belief with reincarnation that each life you have has a different purpose or assignment, and some of those assignments may not be focused on you at all. Some of those assignments may be focused on teaching others through tragedy of your own, tragedy you signed up for before you were reborn.”
“Do you believe that?” Desiree asked further.
“I do.”
“So do you know your assignment?”
“Not exactly. But I do believe I am a catalyst to ignite a sequence of events that will bring about great change.”
“What kind of change?”
“I don’t know yet. I can’t see the future, but I know it’s coming.” Mr. Gordon stopped for a moment.
Desiree and I sat quietly, waiting for Mr. Gordon to pick the conversation back up. I was still distracted and frustrated, so I wasn’t too eager to continue. But I wanted the sense of peace that Mr. Gordon continuously spoke of—that seemed to be continuously one step out of reach for me.
“Hey, you could help my stepdad, couldn’t you?” I said, breaking the silence.
“I think it might disconcert some doctors if he was miraculously healed. Give him some time. I’m sure he’ll come around. Keep in mind that no matter how senseless and random it may seem, there is a reason.”
“What if you just heal him a little? Just wake him up. It wouldn’t seem so miraculous, would it?” I asked, half-jokingly, but hoping for a serious response.
“What if you heal him?”
“Me? I don’t know. I don’t see how I can do that?”
“Fine, don’t do anything. Let nature take its course. There’s no shame in that. But what would it mean to you if you could?”
“It would be amazing!” Desiree said.
“Think of what it would do for you, knowing you could do something so miraculous. Picture perfect health and make it your reality,” Mr. Gordon said.
“That’s it? That’s all you do? How can it be so easy?”
“It may sound easy, but you have to do it with absolutely no doubt and in total faith and knowing. That’s where it gets tricky. But try it, experiment with it. Your stepdad is in a state of waiting. It can’t hurt.”
“We should go to the hospital!” Desiree said with a sudden burst of excitement.
“I don’t know. What about Jeremy?” I asked. “Is there anything we can do to help find him? The police aren’t doing anything but waiting for tips to come in.”
“I’ll continue to look for him, and you two continue to keep your eyes open.”
“You’ve been looking for him?”
“A few times. But I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
“Well, thanks for doing that, Mr. Gordon. You don’t know how much it means to me,” I said.
Desiree was right. Mr. Gordon was the one person who could help—and lift my spirits. As Desiree asked him more about the power and ability to heal, I sat back and looked around the room and saw the door to the Room of Enlightenment sitting wide open.
“When did the door come back?” I interrupted.
“What?” Mr. Gordon asked and saw me pointing. He looked over his shoulder.
“I didn’t see it when I came in.”
“I did,” Desiree said.
“You should have,” Mr. Gordon said. “The door’s always there now. I keep it out of sight from the average person, but with the skills you’ve acquired you should be able to see it anytime.”
“Even in class?”
“Even then. The door doesn’t go anywhere, it’s just on a slightly different plane, which you now have the ability to see both. When I write on the whiteboard you can focus on what everyone else is seeing, and when you want to see the door you can focus on that.”
“That’s so trippy. I’m going back and forth now,” I said. “Now I see the whiteboard—now I see the door. Whiteboard. Door. Desiree, how do you keep seeing things so clearly?”
“I don’t know. I just do.”
“It’s not a competition,” Mr. Gordon said, directed more toward me, the one losing.
“Hold on, Anna, someone’s texting me,” I said, and took a look at the incoming message.
I want to come over, Desiree texted.
I looked at my alarm clock and saw it was 10:30 p.m. Mom was still at the hospital watching over Richard. She sometimes didn’t come home until well after midnight. I’ve had to do more stuff for myself lately since she spent so much time at the hospital. She wanted to be there when he awoke.
“Anna, I have to go. Desiree needs help with her history homework. I’ll call you back later.”
She wasn’t thrilled, but she agreed.
Now? I texted back to Desiree.
Is your mom still up?
She’s not home yet.
Perfect.
There was a tap on my window and I jumped in alarm. I was getting used to there being strange occurrences in my room, but was still jumpy when they actually happened. Yet I had a feeling this tapping wasn’t supernatural.
I sprang from my bed and threw open the curtains. There was Desiree, standing outside my window, trampling the bushes in the courtyard. She tapped again in an attempt to be funny. I shook my head and opened the window.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“I didn’t want to come over uninvited, but I was already here. Are you gonna let me in?”
“Yeah. Go to the front door,” I said, closed the window, and went to meet her.
“I’m ready,” Desiree said as I let her in the house. She slipped off the furry hood of her serious winter coat.
“Ready for what?”
Desiree unzipped her coat, took it off, and folded it over her arm. “I’m ready to speak to him. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’m ready.”
15
Help from a Friend
“Are you sure? I know this must be hard,” I said. “I didn’t tell you yet, but I made progress with him.”
“Am I always the last to know?” Desiree asked.
“No, the first. He spoke to me, and more than just a few words. We had an actual conversation...well, sort of.”
“That’s amazing. What did you guys talk about?”
“He said he knew where Jeremy was.”
“That’s great news! Where is he?”
“Well, his answer wasn’t quite so straightforward,” I said.
“Do you think he’ll talk to me?”
“I’m sure he’s been waiting to.”
I led Desiree back to my room and closed the door. While I closed the curtains, she laid her padded winter coat on my computer chair.
“Hey, that�
��s my drawing,” Desiree said, looking at the wall above my computer where I had pinned her gargoyle sketch.
“He watches over me when TJ isn’t here.”
Instead of responding, she rummaged through my desk drawers—removed the fateful screwdriver from one of them and then carefully placed it back where she’d found it—and grabbed a pencil. She leaned over my desk and outlined a brick ledge for her gargoyle to be perched upon. “There, now she won’t fall.”
“It just went up in value,” I said.
“As do all Desiree Behring originals,” she said and shaded in a few bricks.
I sat cross-legged on my bed, backed up against the wall. Desiree joined me after a few more edits to her picture, her extended legs crossed at the ankles, with her idle hands in her lap.
“What time does your mom usually get home?” she asked.
“It varies. Are you ready?”
“I think so.” She didn’t sound or look as confident as before. It was now a pivotal moment.
I paused, debating what my first words should be. In the end I decided to keep it simple. “TJ, are you here?”
We waited.
“TJ, Desiree and I were hoping to speak with you.”
We waited longer. Desiree gulped hard.
“Should the lights be off?” Desiree whispered.
Desiree was closer to the light switch. But instead of asking her to turn it off, I leaned over her to do it myself. She leaned with me so our bodies wouldn’t touch too much.
Then we waited.
“TJ, please talk to us,” Desiree finally said. “There are so many things I’d like to say to you. But if you have information to help find Oliver’s brother, then please tell us. Please. Please, say something.”
“I swear I talked to him,” I said.
“I believe you. I guess he’s just not here all the time.”
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