The Edge of Great

by Micol Ostow

  Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad that we couldn’t eat the post-show pizza Julie was devouring if we couldn’t smell it. But despite being ghosts, our sense of smell was still perfectly functioning. At least at Caleb’s club, we could eat food, just like the living. After watching Flynn go in for her third slice of pepperoni, we had to poof out. It was that or die of deprivation. And we were already dead, so.

  We hung in Julie’s driveway. I found a basketball and tossed it against the hoop a few times. My heart wasn’t in it. Honestly, it was all a little anticlimactic in the post-show adrenaline crash.

  “Feels like we should be celebrating,” Reggie said, reading my mind. “What do you guys want—”

  That was as far as we got before we were hit with another of those insane flickers. “Ahh!” This one was way worse than last time. We all doubled over, grabbing our chests and moaning.

  “Not that,” I said, once we’d recovered. I still felt shock waves running through my body, like little electric aftershocks in my bones.

  “I know they’ve been happening on and off all week. But that wasn’t like the other ones,” Luke said, stating aloud what we all already knew. He looked grim. “It’s getting worse.”

  “Why is this happening to us?” Reggie groaned.

  “Because you’re in serious trouble.”

  It was a voice I recognized. A voice I knew and missed. One I’d once trusted. I turned. “Willie?”

  He was somber. “We need to talk.”

  “So all these jolts we’re feeling are because Caleb put his stamp on us?” Luke asked. We’d walked to the Orpheum while we paced and listened to what Willie had to say. And—boy—it was a lot.

  “He’s threatened by you,” Willie said. “He needs you under his control. You’re the only ghosts we know who can be visible to Lifers without his help.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d never felt so betrayed. “And you let him do this to us?” I asked, choking back a sob.

  “I couldn’t stop him,” Willie said, looking racked with guilt. “He owns my soul. He owns everyone’s souls. If he knew I was here talking to you, he’d destroy me.”

  “So if we don’t join his club, we’ll keep having these weird power-outage things until we have no power left at all?”

  Willie looked away. “Yes.”

  “And what exactly happens when our power goes out?” Reggie asked.

  “That’s it,” Willie said, quiet. “You’re done. You just don’t exist anymore. Not anywhere.”

  We were silent for a moment, but then Luke broke the spell. “So we have no choice? We have to say goodbye to Julie and everything we’ve built together and work for Caleb?” He looked wrecked. I understood; I felt exactly the same way.

  “You have another option. That’s why I’m here,” Willie said.

  “Another option,” I scoffed, so over Willie and his extreme betrayal.

  “Please just hear me out. If you guys could figure out what your unfinished business is and do it in time, you could cross over and be free from Caleb and all of this.”

  Luke looked curious. “Okay. So what’s our unfinished business?”

  Willie looked stricken. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But since you all died at the same time, it might be something you need to do together.”

  I glared at him. “Why should we believe anything you say?”

  “Because …” He looked away, gathering himself. “Because I care about you, Alex. And I hate that I led you and your friends into this mess.”

  “Me too,” I snapped.

  “I can’t be away much longer,” he said. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

  I wanted to protest, but he vanished too quickly.

  “This is all my fault,” I said. “I met Willie, he led us to Caleb, and now we’re screwed.”

  “Our dream is being ripped away from us again,” Luke said.

  “We need to tell Julie,” Reggie said.

  “We can’t,” Luke snapped. “This just means more loss in her life. But if we don’t want Caleb to own our souls, we better figure out our unfinished business—fast.”

  My stomach sank. “Like that’s gonna be so easy. There’s so many things we wanted to do.”

  Luke pointed to the marquis we were standing beneath. “But the night we died, there was one thing we wanted to do. Together.”

  Reggie looked disappointed as he put it together. “Play the Orpheum. But getting that gig was impossible. It took us years, calling in every favor we had.”

  Another power surge flickered through us, sending us to our knees on the street. When it passed, Luke looked at us, completely defeated.

  “We don’t have years.”

  At Los Feliz High, you know you’ve hit the big time when random students are coming up to you at your locker, asking to take a selfie with you. Which was happening to me more and more these days, especially since the party performance. I was just taking a request between classes, with some freshman I’d never said three words to, when Nick showed up, amused by my recent “fame.”

  “Can I get a selfie, too?” he teased.

  “I’ll have to check with my security,” I joked.

  “You laugh, but after your performance last night, it’s pretty clear: You guys are going to blow up.”

  “It was just a garage party,” I reminded him.

  “An awesome garage party. Thanks for inviting me. So, listen, since we make such a great team—you know, with our dance and everything—and you’re getting an A in history, any chance we could be study partners?”

  This was surreal. I thought for a minute how many times I wished Nick would ask me this.

  “I’d love to,” I said gently. “But with the band, I’m not sure how much free time I’m going to have. Sorry.”

  He tried to shrug it off. “Naw, I get it. Then I’ll ask you this: Do you think you could find enough time to go on a date?”

  “Wow. Nick wants to go on a date with me.” Wait—had I said that out loud?

  I blushed. “Which, you know. Because you’re him.”

  He laughed. “I am.”

  I thought about it, really thought about it, for a moment. Part of me had almost blurted out yes on pure impulse. But then, Luke’s eyes flashed in my mind. It was all so confusing. No matter what my history was with Nick, this wasn’t the right time for us to be anything more than friends.

  “I am so flattered,” I said. “I mean, you’re great. Really great. But here’s the thing.”

  “You like someone else, don’t you?”

  I sighed. “Yeah, kinda.”

  “Guess I missed my chance,” he said, sounding disappointed but obviously trying to be cool about it. “Okay, then. Uh, still dance partners, though, right?”

  That, I could do. “Of course.”

  I should have known Flynn was waiting in the wings, watching the whole exchange with Nick go down. As soon as he was out of earshot, she swooped in. “That was more than a ‘what’s up.’”

  “He wanted to go on a date. And I said no.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You said it yourself. This Luke thing isn’t going away, so I figured, why waste Nick’s time?”

  Flynn’s expression softened. “Aww, my baby’s all grown up. She’s choosing to like someone who doesn’t really exist … But she’s all grown up.”

  “But he does exist. To me. I know he’s just air, or whatever. But we connect in so many other ways. The songs we write—we’re drawing from the same pain. We both know how it feels to lose our moms.” I paused. “It’s just, he’s hurting so much; I wish I could help him.”

  “Maybe you could write him a song that would make him feel better?”

  I thought about that, then threw my arms around her.

  “Flynn, you’re a genius!” I moved to leave, but she called to me.

  “You still have class!”

  “Like I said,” I repeated, changing course. “Genius!”

&nb
sp; Here goes nothing.

  I’d been standing on the doorstep of Luke’s parents’ house for almost ten minutes, frozen in place. It was time to make a move. I reached up to knock on the door—

  Which was when Luke poofed in, right in front of me.

  “What are you doing here?” He looked totally shocked.

  “Luke!” I was surprised, too, though maybe I shouldn’t have been. “Okay, I kind of wanted to know more about you, you know, just curious. So I came here last week. On your birthday.”

  His cheeks flushed with a combination of anger and embarrassment. “What happened to all those speeches about boundaries?”

  “I’m sorry. But I’ve been worried about you.” He looked away, but I pushed forward. “I get it. It’s hard when you want to talk to someone you love and you can’t. I feel that way every day.” Even talking about it now, I felt that dull ache in the center of my chest, thinking about Mom.

  Luke sighed. “I wouldn’t know what to say to her, even if I could.”

  “Yes, you do,” I told him. “And you already said it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  You will. “Trust me?”

  Luke took a beat, then reached out and rang the doorbell, pressing firmly so the chime echoed between us in the still air. I took a moment to appreciate how strong his ghost skills had grown since he first poofed into my life.

  The door swung open and I was face-to-face with Luke’s father. “Hi,” I said. “My name is Julie, and I believe you had a son named Luke.”

  He squinted, like he was trying to place me from somewhere and coming up short. “That’s right. Who are you again?”

  “Julie Molina. Your son’s band used to play in my family’s garage.” Technically not a lie. I pulled a piece of paper out of my backpack. “I came across one of his old songs, and I thought you might be interested.”

  Luke’s mother appeared at the door. “Did I hear the bell?”

  “This is Julie,” his father said, a little hitch in his voice giving away some emotion. “She lives in a house where Luke and the band used to rehearse. She was just telling me she found a song Luke wrote.”

  “It’s about a girl named Emily,” I said.

  Luke’s mom looked stunned. “I’m Emily.”

  I looked her in the eyes. “I think your son may have written this song for you.”

  I couldn’t change Luke’s past any more than I could change my own. No one could. But I could help him bring his mother some peace. And maybe himself, too.

  I couldn’t believe Julie helped me find exactly the right way to talk to my mom again. When she played them my song, I was able to tell my mom the things I never had the chance to say when I was alive.

  And I couldn’t believe I was going to have to leave her behind—again.

  “I … I didn’t mean to overstep,” Julie said, after we’d left my parents. We were sitting on her porch, an awkward silence hanging in the air.

  “No … that was …”

  “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “Yes, I do,” I said. “I didn’t really have any regrets in life, except for walking out on them. Especially my mom. What you did was perfect, thank you.”

  “You helped me feel more connected to my mom,” Julie said. “I wanted to do the same for you.”

  I put my hand next to hers and imagined—just for a second—that they were actually touching. “This is an interesting little relationship you and I have.”

  She blushed, and I felt my own cheeks get hot when she smiled back at me.

  “Oh my gosh!” Julie said, suddenly sitting up straight. “I forgot to tell you; Flynn said the video that my dad took of us playing the party is trending on YouTube!”

  I couldn’t look her in the eye. She was going to be so disappointed when she learned everything Willie had told us about Caleb.

  “That’s a good thing,” she prodded. “It means people love our music. I guarantee you we’ll get calls from managers now.”

  Time to face the music. Zero pun intended. I didn’t know how I was going to say this … “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.” Julie looked nervous.

  “We figured out that we’ve got some unfinished business, and that’s why we came back as ghosts. We have to play the show we never got to play.”

  “At the Orpheum? That makes sense.”

  “But we don’t have a lot of time.”

  Julie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” I told her. “We’re in trouble. We made a mistake, did some stuff we shouldn’t have. That night we missed the dance, we met a ghost who put some kind of curse on us. If we don’t do what he says, he’ll steal our souls, basically. Destroy us.”

  Concern flooded her face. “Then you gotta do what he says. What does he want?”

  “He wants us to be in his house band for eternity. But if we can play the Orpheum soon, we’ll avoid all that and cross over.”

  Realization dawned on Julie slowly. “ ‘Cross over’ as in what? Like, go to heaven?”

  I crossed my fingers. “That’s what we’re banking on.”

  She shook her head, holding back tears. “That’s just great.”

  She stood up and gave me a pleading look. I started to stand up and reach for her. But there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do, to make things better. So instead, I watched her go.

  “You can’t get rid of me. I’m like the Krazy Glue of best friends.”

  Flynn was organizing the trunk in my bedroom filled with my mother’s stuff. I had told her everything about the guys crossing over, how they had no choice or they’d end up cursed for eternity. There wasn’t much to say, so instead she was just here. That was enough.

  “Right when my life’s perfect. Awesome friend, awesome band, awesome guy … then bam!” I watched her fold up one of my mother’s sweaters to put it in the trunk. “You don’t have to do that.”

  She shrugged. “I know, but I get to check out all your mom’s cool stuff.” She gasped. “Whoa. Did you know this was in here?”

  I looked—she was holding up a Sunset Curve T-shirt. “What? The guys said they didn’t know my mom. Why would they lie?”

  “Maybe they didn’t.” A look of realization flitted across Flynn’s face. “Maybe she knew them. She could have been a fan.”

  “Sunset Curve was playing the Hollywood club scene around then,” I said, considering. My mom was a musician, and she’d been a regular at all the clubs. She loved watching the up-and-coming bands emerge. And that’s exactly what Sunset Curve had been.

  Flynn sat up straight. “Oh my gosh. What if you were right? What if the guys are connected to your mom? You know, through music or something?”

  “Because she bought a T-shirt?” That felt like a stretch.

  “Think about it—they were the ones who made you want to play music again. Maybe she knew they could help you!”

  I didn’t know how to process this. “So you’re telling me she’s out there somewhere planning all this? Why not just tell me to start singing again herself?”

  “Maybe she can’t,” Flynn said. “Maybe she has to do it another way. Like by sending you signs. Think about it—we’ve been through these clothes how many times and didn’t find this T-shirt until now. Why? This is another sign.”

  “Really? Signs?” Since when did we believe in signs?

  “You’re in a ghost band. It is a crazy world,” she pointed out. “Look, you’re gonna lose them no matter what. They helped bring you back to life; now it’s your turn to help them. They have to cross over.” She tilted her head. “Let them go.”

  I looked at the T-shirt, still in Flynn’s hands. I’d only just found them—found my music again.

  Could I let them go? Was I really ready?

  I found the guys in the garage, moping. Alex was draped on the couch and Luke and Reggie were slumped against the wall, Luke staring glumly into space and Reggie strumming the same chor
d on his guitar over and over again.

  “Snap out of it!” I shouted, sending Alex tumbling onto the floor.

  “Jeez, you broke Alex,” Reggie said as Alex got up and dusted himself off.

  “Do you guys want to cross over or what?”

  All three guys gave me dumbstruck expressions. “Get. It. Together,” I said slowly, enunciating.

  “But they’re never gonna let us play the Orpheum,” Luke said.

  “This isn’t over. There’s a reason we were brought together. To help each other.”

  “It’s like Luke said,” Alex protested. “People don’t just play the Orpheum because they want to.”

  I gave them a smile. “People don’t,” I agreed. “But ghosts do.”

  “How’d it go?”

  Reggie, Luke, and I were sitting on a bench in front of the Orpheum, just looking at the marquis that didn’t have our name on it. This was going to work, right? It had to.

  “When that opening band wakes up, they’re gonna find their bus two hundred miles outside Vegas with no chance of getting back on time.” Willie smiled. He’d been happy to help when we explained the plan to him—to try to make up for what he’d done.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “I know what you’re risking. Thank you.”

  “I’d do anything for you,” he said.

  I pulled him in for a quick hug. “You better get out of here before Caleb catches you with us.”

  He nodded. “I won’t forget you,” he said, before poofing out.

  Me, either.

  “You okay?” Reggie asked. I nodded.

  “Thanks to Willie, Panic! At The Disco needs a new opening band. And someone up there needs to know we’re available.”

  We were getting better at this ghost stuff. Our last poof had taken us right into the office of one angry club promoter, who was in the process of demanding to know how a tour bus drives itself into the desert. “Stop saying the bus drove itself!” he was shouting into his phone when we appeared.

  His unlucky assistant (her nameplate said TASHA) sat at a smaller desk in his office, trembling as she listened to him shout into the phone. With my smoothest dance move, I knocked a cup of pens off her desk. And when she turned to pick them up off the floor, it was just a few taps of her keyboard to call up the YouTube clip of the Phantoms performing. Tasha straightened in her seat, blinking at the screen in confusion.