Ghost Bully

by Brian Corley

  Seph asked.

  “Like Jonah and his friends?” Willard asked.

  “No, they’re charging for it, and I’m still on the fence as to whether that’s slightly unethical, or entertaining. Look, I just think you might be able to reach some spirits that may not respond to Jonah, George, or Ramona.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never been very good with people.”

  “I know,” Seph responded. “That’s alright. Believe it or not, there are a lot of people like you out there. Just consider it, OK?”

  “I will,” Willard said as though it were a solemn oath.

  We were back in the neighborhood before long, and I was more than a little relieved to see the pecan trees over the rooftops indicating we were almost home. Willard pulled back to a stop about a street away.

  “I’m sorry, Jonah. I just want you to know that I am truly sorry for everything. I don’t know why I let myself become what I did, continuing to fall prey to every negative feeling that crossed my mind—jealousy, selfishness, rage … murder. I hate what I’ve become. I want to be better. I just—I’m sorry.”

  “Willard,” I replied, “I accept your apology.” And I meant it.

  I accepted the apology of the man who killed me in cold blood. The man that went on to threaten my friends and delivered me into the clutches of a freaking demon army. I was of two minds—I couldn’t believe that I was actually accepting his apology, and I thought it would be harder for me to do.

  On the other hand, I could let go of a constant source of conflict in my life—routine, whatever we’re calling this. Anyway, I preferred to have him as a friend than an enemy. After all, my death may have been the best thing about my life so far. I was practically a superhero.

  I gave Willard a hug. “It’s OK,” I said, “really.”

  “Thank you,” he replied, and we floated down to the house—our house.

  Chapter 38

  We hovered over where the front walk used to be, or still was … Willard and I just couldn’t see it.

  “So, I guess I’ll leave you to it,” Seph said.

  “Wait—one more question before you go,” I said.

  “Yeah, what’s that?” Seph replied.

  “Why does your son have an English accent? He’s thousands of years old and probably isn’t from there.”

  Seph smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, probably thinks it makes him sound smarter.”

  “Makes sense, it kinda works,” I said.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he replied.

  He smiled and looked away like he didn’t want me to see his eyes. I’d been thinking of Masephson as some ancient monster the past few days, and maybe he was, but he was also his son.

  Seph turned to Willard and spoke gently, “Remember what we talked about—everything counts. There’s a good guy in there, Willard, but there’s an asshole in you too. Ignore what I just said—you’re a good guy, Willard. Focus on being a good guy. Try to help some people while you can, alright?”

  Willard nodded, and Seph clapped him on the shoulder.

  “Be good, boys,” he said. “I’ll see you around.”

  Seph took off and was out of sight within a fraction of a second. The house was still disguised as a vacant lot with piles of dirt, a dumpster, and two big pieces of equipment, but I knew the pile that marked the front door.

  I invited Willard to be the first into the house.

  He bounced off the front door, and I felt bad. It was funny, but I felt bad.

  “Oh, right,” I muttered. “Let’s try another way. Follow me.”

  I took him by the arm and blinked into the house. We could hear Max’s one-sided Xbox conversation.

  “That’s right, Timmy. That’s what you get for camping there every damn time! What’s that? No. No, it’s not weird that I play these games as an adult. It’s weird that you’re so bad at them. What’s that, Timmy? No, your mom is here … yeah, she is … she’s dirty, Timmy … she’s so dirty.”

  “Max, why are you always so rough on that kid?” I crackled through the speakers.

  “Gotta go, Timmy. Stay in school! What’s that? Oh damn, that was a good one. See, you’re learning—stay in school. What’s that? Yeah, I said stay in school—stay in school, Timmy! I said stay in school! Oh dammit, I see what you did there. Bye!” Max threw off his headset.

  “Jonah, thank God!” He stood up and held his arms out wide like he was looking for a hug. I went ahead and mimed a ghostly embrace.

  “I’m ghost-hugging you right now,” I said.

  “This is a ghost hug,” Max repeated. “We’re having a ghost hug.”

  Zoe padded in from the other room.

  “Did I just hear Jonah?” she asked.

  “Yes! He’s back. Quinton! Lin!” Max replied and called for the two Psy-kicks.

  “Did Max say he was getting a ghost hug?” Zoe asked.

  “Yeah, you want one?” I replied.

  “Well … yeah,” she said.

  “This is a ghost hug,” I crackled through the speakers. “You’re getting a ghost hug.”

  “It’s kind of cold,” she said. “How are you? Where’ve you been?”

  Quinton and Lin joined us from the kitchen, and I filled them in on what went down over the past few days. Zoe and the Psy-kicks had been staying with Max since I’d left to protect him and to see if I’d come back. Max had come to his wit’s end and decided to put the house on the market.

  “Max, why are you selling the house?” I asked.

  “To clarify—you’re asking me why I’m selling the house where my best friend died, came back, and was attacked by a ghost and a demon? Why would I want to leave such a place? Is that your question, Jonah? Huh? Is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, because of all that, and I’m making a butt load of money. Time to upgrade,” he said, prancing around the room in a weird high-kneed walk with his arms outstretched, palms down. “Meme in my Coffee is straight killin’ it—no offense, Jonah. The door business has taken off. We’re making money hand over fist with the Psy-kicks—everything I touch turns to money!”

  “I need to talk to you about the Willard memes, Max,” I said and immediately felt an electric shock branch throughout my body. I was still wearing the Willard meme’d shirt I’d blinked into during our battle. I changed into a regular navy T-shirt and prayed Willard wasn’t thinking about it. “I need you to stop—please, for me?” I asked.

  “Willard memes? Oh yeah, Willard memes are over—no problem. We’re diversifying! Politicians as cats doing crazy things? Check. Vultures invading basketball clips whenever someone is fouled hard on a dunk? Check. Clips of football players tripped up by hermit crabs as they fall in an open field? Check.

  “We have a new face to the company—Captain Trash. He’s a grackle. We just add him onto any hot meme, and boom—gold. People love him. They buy T-shirts, mugs—everything. Oh, and the peach-wood door thing has really taken off too. People love them. We’re seeing orders outside the Psy-kicks business just because they look great. We’re trending, Jonah!”

  “Good, Max, good,” I replied.

  “Good? Great! Jonah, I’ll probably sell this house the same day I put it on the market for forty percent more than I paid for it. Real estate is insane right now.”

  “Cool, cool,” I said. “Max, I have Willard with me. Say hi, Willard.”

  “Hi, Max,” Willard responded.

  “The fuck—you have who now?” Max replied, bewildered. “You brought who into my house?”

  “Jonah … why?” Zoe said.

  “Easy buddy,” I said. “You’re starting to sound like the old Willard—or Gollum.”

  “My precious,” he wheezed, “my precious.”

  It was an old trick. We both loved The Lord of the Rings movies, and The Hobbit was o
ne of our favorite books. I was always able to distract him with a reference.

  “Seriously though, why is Willard here?” Quinton asked.

  “Look, I know it probably seems weird, but he and I have been through a lot now, and I invited him back—it was his house too.”

  “I just want you to know that I’m sorry for everything I did,” Willard interjected, crackling through the speakers. “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

  “No, no,” Max said, “if Jonah says you’re OK, I’ll trust him. I’m not going to be here much longer anyway.”

  Willard looked to me with his eyes wide.

  I looked back at him.

  “Will you tell him I’m OK?” Willard asked.

  Max started to say, “I didn’t mean literally—”

  “He’s OK, Max. Willard is OK,” I said.

  Willard looked relieved for a moment, then tensed.

  “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m worried about who moves in next. What if they’re even louder than both of you? What if they’re the type to be on trend?”

  “What if you actually like them?” Max interjected.

  “I have an idea,” I said. “Wait here. Max, bond with Willard. Tell him the story about that barista who called you out in front of the entire coffee shop. Oh, and can you take that peach sword down over the front door? Would be nice to come and go that way if we need to.”

  “Oooh, I want to hear a barista story,” said Zoe.

  “I love a good public-shaming tale,” said Lin.

  “I’m going to go … do something else,” said Quinton as he walked away, looking at his phone.

  Max walked over and reached above the front door to grab the sword, twirled it in his hand admiring it, then jumped over the back of the couch and fell into a reclined position.

  “He doesn’t want to hear about that. Will, can I call you Will?”

  “No, it’s Willard.”

  “OK, so I was at this coffee shop by campus—”

  I blinked over to Tarrytown to pay a visit to my favorite architects. Their front lawn was now a veritable maze of raised steel retaining walls with plantings hanging over. Looked like Jeremy had been busy landscaping. I floated up the front walk, rang the doorbell, and knocked twice for good measure.

  “Coming,” I heard Jeremy say from behind the door. He opened it wide with a welcoming smile that dropped as soon as he saw it was me. “Oh, hi, Jonah.”

  “Hi Jeremy,” I replied. “Wait, I thought I was the only one that came over.”

  “You used to be, but word started getting out that we build and remodel, and now we have people showing up here all the time,” he replied, then shouted up to the second floor. “Deeds? Jonah’s here!” He looked back at me with a flat expression. “What have you been up to? How did everything work out with you and the demon?”

  “Oh, I lead Satan’s army now, thank you for asking. I’ve come to collect both your souls.” I paused, sizing up Jeremy. “Maybe just DeeDee’s.”

  “Come up to the office,” I heard DeeDee yell from upstairs.

  “Glad you found a hobby, Jonah. Come back anytime,” he said and floated away to his favorite spot on the couch.

  I floated up to her office where she sat, dressed in business attire complete with dark-framed glasses, in front of a drafting board.

  “Jonah, hi, so good to see you!” she said, floating to meet me with a big ghostly hug. “We were so worried when we didn’t hear back from you.”

  “Jeremy was worried?” I asked.

  “I was so worried when I didn’t hear back from you.” She laughed.

  “What’s this?” I asked, hinting toward the drafting board that was holding an incomplete design.

  “Oh, we started taking on clients,” she said. “I told Jeremy that people found us, but I’ve been spreading the word. It feels good to work, although, it has been taking more time to build again for some reason. I really thought I figured out a process that sped things along—anyway,” she waved her hand. “I’m working on a design for a cute couple over on West Campus. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I need your help—again. I wanted to do something with my house.”

  “Oh, of course, you’re probably tired of the deconstruction-meets-piles-of-dirt vibe. What would you like to see?”

  “It’s not exactly for me …”

  I filled her in on everything that had gone on between now and the last time I’d seen her.

  “That’s so funny that one guy was so interested in taxonomic rank,” she said.

  “Isn’t it though?” I replied.

  “Also, you really need to have a talk with Max about what he says to kids,” she added. “Well, let’s get Jeremy and head back over to your place.”

  She grabbed a sketchbook and pen off her desk opposite the drafting board, and we floated back down the stairs to find Jeremy in his regular place on the couch. He looked up as though the very motion was a task of Sisyphean proportion.

  “What now?” he said.

  “Oh, come on, cheer up. We have work to do.”

  Jeremy jumped off the couch with the speed of a young sloth assigned the task of cleaning his room. We met in the middle like the world’s worst basketball team and put our hands together to blink back to the house.

  We returned to Max wrapping up the coffee-shop story—damn, he really made a meal out of that one.

  “So, she like broadcasts to the entire place—selfish Max, selfish Max—your pretzel is ready.”

  “Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” said Lin.

  “Ha, dumb,” Zoe said.

  Willard surprisingly cracked up and couldn’t stop laughing. We gave him a few seconds to collect himself before he noticed we were there.

  “Willard,” I crackled through the speakers as well as clearly through the ghostly plane, “I’d like you to meet DeeDee and Jeremy. DeeDee and Jeremy, this is Willard.”

  They exchanged pleasantries, and the living among us took that as a cue to head out. They didn’t say it, and they wouldn’t, but they were all exhausted after the last few days and were probably ready to go home.

  “Jonah, so glad you’re alright. Willard, watch yourself. We’re here a lot,” Zoe said as she heaved her oversized canvas bag over her shoulder.

  “Bye, Jonah. Bye, Max,” Lin said as she opened the door for Zoe. “Quinton! Let’s go.”

  “Bye, y’all,” Quinton said on his way out.

  “Thanks, everyone, I appreciate it. Be at the dojo first thing, Quinton. We have a shipment coming in,” Max said.

  “Bye, Max,” said Zoe, giving him a hug. “Bye, Jonah.”

  Max closed the door behind them and locked it.

  “Well, I’m off to bed. Hi and bye, DeeDee and Jeremy. Good night, Jonah and Willard. Jonah, let’s catch up tomorrow night.”

  Max received a round of good nights from the group through the speakers, and he waved over his head as he ambled off toward his room.

  DeeDee set to work acquainting herself with Willard, asking him about what he liked about the house, things he didn’t like, what he could change now that he didn’t have to worry about a budget.

  Willard’s face beamed over the course of the conversation, and he lit up in excited chatter, frantically using his hands to describe his perfect house.

  “—and I won’t be able to see or hear them, and vice versa?” he finally asked.

  “Yes, you will be completely separated,” DeeDee

  confirmed.

  “Now about the yard, I was thinking—” Jeremy continued.

  Once plans were agreed upon, DeeDee and Jeremy exited the house to work on the exterior, coming back in after an hour or so and asking us to close our eyes while they finished up the living room as the final piece. Both DeeDee and Jeremy remarked
at how much faster they were able to work again that night, but I decided to keep quiet.

  “OK, Willard, are you ready to see your house?” she asked in a fashion worthy of a show on the home-improvement channel.

  Willard and I opened our eyes to a black-and-white-velvet wallpapered, wood-floored Victorian sitting room. Round-framed, curved-glass portraits and photographs hung around the room. A settee and two sitting chairs were placed in a semicircle in the middle facing a lit fireplace. Willard floated around the furniture, running a hand across the upholstery, smiling with his eyes closed. A large clearing opened up on the far side of the room along with a sturdy, steel spiral staircase. DeeDee took us upstairs, through a wood-lined hallway, and showed us a candle-lit bedroom with lush, deep-red velvet curtains, a four-post bed, and a small writing desk next to another fireplace.

  She took us to a reading room that led to a library, which led to another staircase that spiraled up to an observatory complete with a large brass telescope. We floated out of the observatory and down to the street in front of the house to take in the view.

  Jeremy had landscaped the front yard in the Victorian style as well with several sections of flower gardens coming together to make one large design. Outside, the house itself was a gorgeous black Victorian masterpiece—macabre, but not creepy, kind of like the house from The Munsters or The Addams Family.

  Willard hugged his arms close and bit down on his bottom lip.

  “I love it,” he said over and over. “I love it. Thank you so much. I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me—do anything this nice for me—ever.” He turned to me. “Jonah, I promise, I am going to turn things around. I want to help people. I want them to feel like this, or move on. I want to start to make a difference.”

  “OK,” I said. “Good. I’m glad.” I awkwardly patted him on the back and gave him a hug. Damn, I sucked at these types of things.

  “Thank you,” he said, choking back ghostly tears as he hugged DeeDee and then Jeremy.

  Jeremy hugged him back. Jeremy hugged him back. What just happened?