by Marilyn Kaye
What about?
Stupid stuff. I kept talking about the cute girls on the beach in California, and she got jealous.
What do you want me to do?
Could you give her the bracelet? It’s in the top drawer of my desk, in my bedroom. And . . . and tell her I’m sorry about the fight. She’ll understand. Will you do that for me?
Yeah, OK. Hey, Jack . . .
What?
What’s it like, where you are?
It’s OK. I can’t really describe it – you wouldn’t understand. I’ll check with you tomorrow and find out what Lucy said, OK?
Tomorrow? Ken thought in alarm. I have to do it by tomorrow?
But there was no response. Jack was gone. Ken sank back on his pillow and wished he could make some sense out of this. He’d always been a pretty down-to-earth guy. Sure, he enjoyed psycho-thriller movies as much as any of his friends did, but he’d never been really scared by them because he didn’t believe in that spooky stuff.
He still didn’t believe in it. So how could he explain hearing Jack’s voice? Was he just imagining these conversations? Had his brain been damaged in the accident? The doctor had said all the tests and scans were fine, but doctors could make mistakes.
Only he felt fine too except for the pain in his ribs and his ankle. His head didn’t hurt at all. And he couldn’t have been imagining Jack’s voice. It was just too real.
So now what? He had to find the bracelet Jack told him about. Deliver it to Lucy. And tell her Jack was sorry.
Would Lucy think he’d lost his mind? Possibly. He didn’t really care though. He’d never told Jack this, but Lucy wasn’t one of his favourite people in the world. He’d always thought she was kind of shallow – one of those girls who only thinks about herself. The kind of girl who was accustomed to always getting what she wanted. Having seen her flirt with other guys at school, he’d wondered how much she really cared about Jack. But Jack liked her, so Ken had to be nice to her.
The truth of it was, he had to do this for Jack, whether he wanted to or not. He got off his bed and went to the door.
‘Mom? When you and Dad go to the Farrells’ – could you let me know? I’d like to go with you.’
As Ken had expected, the scene at the Farrell house was pretty grim. There was a black wreath on the door. Jack’s mother, her eyes red, hugged him, and Jack’s father put an arm around him. Neither of them acted like Ken was responsible for Jack’s death, and Ken was ashamed for even thinking they might.
There were other people at the house too – Jack’s friends from school and other adults who were neighbours and friends. A lot of people brought food, and the big dining room table was covered with cakes and pies. It could have been a party, except that there was no music, no laughing. And no one was having a good time.
Ken chatted quietly with a couple of friends, but all the time he was thinking about how and when he could get into Jack’s bedroom. Should he come up with an excuse? He could say he wanted to get the tennis racket he’d loaned to Jack. But that would sound kind of cruel, like he was afraid he’d never get the racket back now that Jack was dead. Maybe he could say he wanted to borrow a book, but that didn’t seem right either. Jack wasn’t much of a reader.
It might be best just to sneak into the room. There were plenty of other people there – no one would notice if he went missing for a little while. And there was a bathroom right next to Jack’s bedroom – he could say he was going there if anyone asked.
In the end, he didn’t have to invent an excuse. Jack’s father took him aside.
‘Ken, you were Jack’s best friend, and we’d like you to have something to remember him by. When you have a chance, go into his room and choose something – anything. His jacket, maybe. Or the karate trophy. Whatever you want.’
Ken nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Farrell.’
On his crutches, he hobbled down the hall to Jack’s room. Once inside, he closed the door, and went over to Jack’s desk. Just as Jack had told him, the seashell bracelet was in the top drawer. He shoved it into his pocket.
But what if Mr Farrell wanted to see the souvenir he’d chosen? He looked around the room. There was a stack of old comic books on a shelf. He and Jack had been Spider-Man fanatics when they were little kids. He took an issue off the pile, and left the room.
When he returned to the living room, he saw that some people had left and others had arrived. And among the new arrivals was Lucy. He stood back and watched her for a while.
He had to admit, for a pretty girl she looked pretty awful. Her normally pale face was even paler than usual, and there were dark shadows under her red eyes. Clearly, she’d been crying a lot and hadn’t had much sleep. So maybe he’d been wrong about her feelings for Jack. She certainly looked grief-stricken, like someone who’d lost the love of her life, and his heart ached for her.
He adjusted his crutches and limped over to her.
‘Hi, Lucy.’
She managed a small, woebegone smile. ‘Hi, Ken. How are you feeling?’
‘OK. How are you?’
She shrugged. ‘Well, you know . . .’
‘Yeah. I know. Look, Lucy, I need to talk to you. It’s kind of personal.’ He glanced around. The room was getting crowded, and he didn’t want anyone else hearing what he had to say. ‘Um, do you want to go outside for a minute? Get some air?’
She followed him through the kitchen and out the back door. Fortunately, there was no one else in the back garden.
But how to begin? How was he going to tell this unbelievable tale?
‘I know how awful this must be for you,’ he said.
‘Tell me about it,’ Lucy said. ‘You know, Ken, this was going to be the best year of my life. Jack was the coolest guy I ever went out with. I mean, he was cute, he was vice-captain of the soccer team . . . all my girlfriends were jealous. I’d already bought a dress to wear for the eighth-grade dance . . .’ A tear trickled down her cheek. ‘I can’t believe this happened to me.’
‘You could still go to the dance,’ he said, and immediately wanted to bite his tongue. What a lame thing to say.
She sighed. ‘With who?’
He thought she probably meant something like she wouldn’t want to go with anyone but Jack.
‘I still don’t understand how he died,’ she murmured. ‘He just fell down.’ She looked up. ‘You crashed into him, right?’
‘Well, we sort of crashed into each other,’ Ken said.
‘But you’re not dead.’
He bit his lower lip. ‘I’m really sorry, Lucy.’
‘Sorry you’re not dead?’
‘Well, no, but . . .’
‘Sorry you didn’t look where you were going?’
Ken felt sick. ‘Lucy, I don’t think it was my fault. The coach, the doctor – everyone said it was an accident.’
She shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘Jack doesn’t blame me,’ he blurted out, needing to convince her he wasn’t in the wrong.
‘How do you know?’ she asked sharply.
This wasn’t how he’d wanted to bring it up. But he had to tell her sooner or later. ‘Because . . . because he told me.’
Her eye brows went up. ‘Before he died?’
‘No. After.’
She stared at him for a moment. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I,’ Ken admitted. He took a deep breath. ‘Lucy, I know this is going to sound pretty bizarre, but . . . Jack’s been talking to me.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You mean – you’ve seen his ghost?’
‘No, it’s not like that. I hear his voice. In my head.’
She blinked. ‘He – he contacted you from beyond the grave?’
Ken nodded. ‘He started talking to me while I was in the hospital. I don’t understand it – maybe it’s because we collided, but . . . he’s able to talk with me. I know this sounds totally crazy . . .’
Lucy gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘Not really. Lots of people believe in stuff like
that. My mother went to a medium once. Do you know what a medium is?’
‘No.’
‘It’s someone who’s in contact with the spirit world. My mother said the medium put her in touch with her great-great-grandfather.’ She smiled. ‘There’d always been a rumour in the family that he’d buried some treasure during the Civil War. She wanted to know where it was.’
‘Did she find out?’
Lucy shook her head. ‘It turned out to be a legend. Too bad, huh?’
‘That’s . . . interesting,’ Ken said.
‘What did Jack tell you?’ she asked. ‘Did he say anything about me?’
‘Yeah. He wanted me to give you this.’ He reached in his pocket and pulled out the bracelet. ‘He got it for you in California.’
‘Oh, wow!’ Lucy exclaimed. ‘It’s really cute.’ She put the bracelet on. ‘How does it look?’
‘Fine,’ Ken said quickly. ‘And he wanted me to tell you he was sorry about that argument you guys had just after he came back from California.’
‘OK.’ She admired the bracelet on her arm. ‘At least now I have something to remember him by. Thanks, Ken.’
‘You’re welcome.’
‘And if you talk to Jack again, tell him . . . tell him I forgive him. About the fight.’
‘OK, I will.’
‘I want to go and show off the bracelet to my friends,’ she said, and turned to go back to the house.
‘Lucy, wait!’
She turned back. ‘What?’
‘Um, listen, you can’t tell anyone how I knew about the bracelet. How Jack’s been talking to me. Everyone will think I’m nuts.’
Lucy nodded. ‘You’re probably right. I mean, people just aren’t very open-minded about this kind of thing. Don’t worry, I’ll say Jack mailed it to me from California and it just arrived today.’
‘Thanks a lot,’ Ken said fervently.
She smiled, cocked her head to one side and gazed at him oddly, like she was scrutinizing him or judging him. Which wasn’t surprising, Ken thought, considering what she’d just learned about him. Then, without saying anything else, she ran back into the house.
When Ken went back inside, he was grateful to find his parents ready to leave. He said his goodbyes to the Farrells, and once he was in the car he told his parents he was really tired so they wouldn’t talk to him.
What a relief to have that over with! Now he could give Jack an honest report. He’d given Lucy the bracelet, apologized on Jack’s behalf, and Lucy had seemed pleased with the gift. Maybe . . . maybe this would put an end to Jack’s communication.
And then he felt terrible. Jack was dead. The least Ken could do for him was listen. Maybe he’d get used to it. He’d have to get used to it. He could never tell his best friend to stop talking to him.
He really was tired, he realized when he got home. Once in bed he considered taking a sleeping pill, but he figured he was so wiped out he’d fall asleep without one.
Ken?
Oh, no. Jack wasn’t supposed to contact him till tomorrow.
I’m kind of tired right now, Jack.
What did you call me? My name isn’t Jack.
Ken frowned.
Who is this?
I’m Arthur. Arthur Penfield. I’m dead. And I was wondering if you could get a message to my brother.
Ken sat up, his heart pounding furiously.
Wait a minute – you’ve got the wrong guy. I don’t know anyone named Arthur Penfield.
No, we’ve never met. I died before you were born.
Then – why are you contacting me? Talk to one of your own friends!
None of my friends have your gift. You’re one in a million, son. You’re going to be hearing from a lot of us.
Suddenly, Ken didn’t feel very well. What was this Arthur guy talking about? What gift?
‘Leave me alone!’
He didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until his door opened.
‘What’s wrong, Ken?’ his mother asked. ‘Darling, you’re sweating! We shouldn’t have let you come with us tonight. It was too soon for you to be out and about.’ Worriedly, she put a hand on his forehead.
Oh, if only he could blame this on a fever! If only he could tell her what was happening. Yeah, right. He’d be back in a hospital before dawn. And possibly in a straitjacket.
‘I’m not feeling so great, Mom,’ was all he could say. ‘Could I have one of those pills now?’
He wasn’t actually in any pain. He was just hoping the pill might put him to sleep immediately. Because he didn’t really want to hear from any more dead people tonight. Or ever again.
But he had a very, very bad feeling about this. He didn’t think there was any kind of pill that was going to put an end to these strange communications.
CHAPTER FIVE
IN THE MONTHS THAT followed the accident and Jack’s death, Ken didn’t see much of Lucy. She was a year younger, in the eighth grade, so they didn’t have any classes together. And fortunately, since Meadowbrook was a pretty big school, you didn’t run into the same people every day in the hallways. If he did run into her and they made eye contact, they just mumbled vague greetings. She never asked him any more questions about Jack, and he suspected that she didn’t think much about her late boyfriend.
But she was the only one, outside of his gifted classmates, who had been told about his ‘gift’. And so, after getting his thoughts together, he went in search of her.
He remembered that Lucy was a cheerleader and he knew that the cheerleaders practised almost every day after classes were finished, so he headed to the gym. When he got there, the cheerleaders had just started to gather. He spotted Lucy outside the gym entrance, talking to Simon Dowell. Simon was on the soccer team, but Ken had never known him very well.
He ambled towards them. ‘Hi, guys.’
‘Yo, Preston,’ Simon muttered. He didn’t look too thrilled to see Ken. But Lucy didn’t seem to mind the interruption.
‘Hi, Ken!’
He tried to sound casual. ‘Lucy, can I talk to you for a second?’
‘Sure!’
Ken glanced at Simon. ‘Um, it’s kind of personal.’ He hated saying that – he knew it made him sound secretive and mysterious – but he couldn’t talk about Jack in front of Simon.
Lucy looked surprised and Simon was clearly annoyed. Ken realized Simon must have been flirting with Lucy, and he groaned inwardly. Now Simon would think Ken was trying to make a play for her.
‘It’s about a class,’ he added quickly, which was another stupid thing to say since he had no classes with Lucy. But Lucy actually smiled.
‘Excuse me, Simon,’ she said, and moved away. Ken followed her to a relatively private corner of the gym.
Lucy smiled prettily. ‘What’s up, Ken?’
Ken took the crumpled paper from his pocket, and unfolded it. ‘I was wondering if you know anything about this.’
Lucy took the paper. ‘Seance,’ she read out loud.
‘Shh!’ Ken hissed. He glanced around nervously. ‘Just read it to yourself, OK?’
She did. From the way her brow furrowed as she read, Ken knew this was the first time she’d seen the announcement.
‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘Why are you showing me this?’
‘Well, you’re the only one I ever told about Jack talking to me. So I thought, maybe, well . . . you might have put this in my locker. Because you thought I’d be interested.’
She looked at him blankly for a second, and then her expression cleared. ‘Oh, right. You told me Jack talked to you after he died, didn’t you?’
‘He told me to give you the bracelet, remember?’
‘I remember. Do you still talk to Jack?’
‘Once in a while.’
‘How’ she doing?’
‘He’s all right. I mean, considering the fact that he’s dead.’
Lucy nodded. ‘It’s funny – back when you first told me about that, I thought you’d just imagined Jack talk
ing to you. I mean, you’d had a concussion, hadn’t you?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But it’s for real,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘What do you and Jack talk about?’
He was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable. ‘Stuff. So, you didn’t give me this announcement about the seance?’
She shook her head. ‘Sounds cool though. Can I come?’
‘Um, I don’t even know if I’m going.’ He crumpled the paper and stuck it back in his pocket. ‘See ya, Lucy.’
‘Wait!’ Lucy called.
‘What?’
‘Tell Jack I said “hi”, OK?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
Ken hurried off, feeling frustrated. So Lucy hadn’t slipped this note in his locker. Then who? At home in his room, he put the crumpled paper on his desk and smoothed it out.
SEANCE.
Could someone from his gifted class have put it in his locker? But why wouldn’t that person just tell him?
Ken, are you one of us? Would you like to meet others who have your gift?
Madame was always saying there were other people who knew about them. Bad people. But maybe they weren’t all bad. And maybe, just maybe, there really were other people out there who had this ability to communicate with the dead.
He had to wonder – did it bother them as much as it bothered him? How did they deal with it? Could they offer any advice on how to control it? He was pretty sure by now that he’d never be able to get rid of it, but maybe there was a way to turn it on and off.
He wouldn’t have any problem getting out of the house tonight. It was a Friday, and it wasn’t unusual for him to go out, joining some friends who went to the bowling alley practically every Friday night. He glanced at the address on the announcement. This place wasn’t far from the bowling alley. He wouldn’t even have to lie to his parents really – he could stop by the alley on his way back from the seance.
His mobile phone rang. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi Ken, this is Amanda.’
For reasons of safety, in case they got into trouble, Madame had insisted that all members of the gifted class exchange phone numbers. But he’d never had a call from Amanda before.
