Five Days of the Ghost

by William Bell

  “Hear my words, what I’m sayin’,” he began. His voice sounded firm and very formal, and there was rhythm in his talk, like when he told us about his family. The S’s in his words whispered and whistled.

  “Your peoples, the Whites, they think, somethin’s real, they got to be able to touch it, hold it in their hands. But lotta things—love, joy, hope—you can’t hold them things in your hand. But them things, they’re alive, they’re real, like the red and gold on the hills in the autumn and the sound of the breeze when it sings in the marsh grasses.

  “You kids, you thought Kenny was gone ‘cause he got kilt out there on the road. You figured, couldn’t see him no more, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t hear him laugh, he was gone forever. Now you know, that’s the wrong thinkin’. Spirit world is all around us, like the air. I tol’ you that. I tell you again, now. Hear my words, what I’m sayin’. Spirit world is alive.”

  Chief Copegog looked directly at me. His eyes weren’t fierce now, but they sure were serious.

  “Karen, you let that wrong thinkin’ hurt you bad. You thought Kenny, he was gone forever. That’s why your mind ran away from his dyin’. You hid your face from his dyin’, tried to pretend it never happened. That wrong thinkin’, it tore you down, made you small inside. Now you got to believe in Kenny. You got to let your dead brother help you, make you strong. Because he’s real. He’s still livin’ in your memory”—he touched his forehead, then his chest with the flat of his hand—”in your heart. He ain’t never goin’ to leave them places. Let him make you strong.”

  Chief Copegog crossed his arms again.

  “That’s what I wanted to say.”

  Chief Copegog stopped talking. I could hear John behind me. He was making that sniffling noise he made when he cried but tried to hide it. I looked at Noah. He swallowed hard. Me, I was crying too, quietly. I didn’t think I’d have any tears left after what had happened in the last few days, but I could feel them hot on my cheeks. They itched a little.

  I knew, I knew what Chief Copegog was saying was true. I had been selfish. But …

  “It’s just that … that there’s a big empty hole inside me since Kenny … went away.”

  I felt an arm around my shoulder. It was John.” Didn’t you listen to what he said, Karen? Kenny didn’t go away. Not really.”

  I turned to my brother and pressed my face to his bony chest. “But it hurts!” I cried. “I miss him!”

  I heard Chief Copegog’s voice behind me. “You got to let Kenny help you,” he said again. “You got to let him make you strong.”

  I lifted my head up. John’s arms were still around me. I nodded, and tried to wipe the tears away from my face.

  “I wish I could talk to him, or at least see him,” I whispered.

  “You can,” said Chief Copegog. “He’s down there.”

  He turned and pointed out the window, down into the yard. I burst from John’s arms and ran to look through the glass, knowing all of a sudden where he would be.

  I was right. Although it was sunny the yard, the willow tree glowed as if it was a lampshade and inside it was a million-watt bulb.

  Tuesday Afternoon:

  The Willow

  “Come on!” I shouted as I shot to the bedroom door.

  I ran down the back stairs and through the kitchen and out the back door. John and Noah stumbled and banged along right behind me. I dashed across the back lawn to the willow tree, but when I got there I stopped short.

  It was hot in the yard, even though the sun was behind the house. It was still too, not even a hint of a breeze. The willow branches hung straight and quiet. Behind them, I could see—feel—the bright white light.

  And I could see the shape of someone in there, sitting on the big branch.

  “Wow,” breathed John when he caught up to me.

  “Is he in there?” asked Noah, puffing.

  “Yes,” I answered. My heart was pounding so hard I could hardly squeeze the word out. I swallowed on a dry throat.

  “Are you coming in with me, John?” I asked, not taking my eyes from the tree.

  “Uh, I don’t think so,” John said quietly. “I think it’s you he wants to see, Karen.”

  “Besides,” he said, his voice breaking, “to tell you the truth, I don’t think I could take it.”

  “Okay, John, I know what you mean.”

  I looked at Noah. “Wish me luck,” I said.

  “Luck, Karen. And listen, remember what Chief Copegog said, okay?”

  I stepped forward slowly. As I got close to the willow everything seemed to magnify—I mean, all my senses seemed to magnify what was coming in. The grass whispered around the soles of my shoes. The air grew cold, and seemed to lie against my skin like a damp cloth. I reached out and parted the willow branches like a curtain. The leaves scraped my skin as I stepped into the special place that Kenny and I always thought of as our very own.

  The light was terrifically bright, but it didn’t hurt my eyes and I could still see everything—every leaf, every twist of the old tree’s bark—clearer than I ever saw it before.

  It was Kenny all right. You couldn’t miss the wild red hair, the freckles, the devilish look in his eyes. He sat on the branch, legs dangling like he’d been resting there relaxed until I showed up. He was wearing his skating clothes. His helmet was gone, one knee pad was missing and his shirt was torn a little.

  He doesn’t look bad for a kid who’s been run over, I thought. In fact, he’s just about the sweetest looking little boy there is.

  And that’s when it hit me.

  Little boy.

  It hit me so hard I sucked in my breath and my knees got watery and I had to lean on the trunk of the willow to steady myself.

  Little boy. Kenny didn’t look exactly like me anymore! He was a—a child! His face and his arms were plump. I knew that if he got down from the branch and stood in front of me he’d only come up to my shoulder.

  Little boy. He was two years younger than I was! I had kept growing in the past two years, but Kenny had stopped. Ever since, I thought.

  Ever since he died.

  Everything that Chief Copegog had tried to tell me suddenly became clear. Like when I looked through Dad’s binoculars and things were blurry at first. Everything was there—I could tell what I was looking at. The shapes were there. But when I turned the eye pieces all of a sudden the shapes became things—clear and bright.

  Little boy.

  I could feel the tears coming again, cool on my cheeks. It was me. I had been keeping Kenny between the two worlds for two whole years. I knew what Chief Copegog had meant now. And I knew what Kenny wanted to tell me.

  Kenny smiled then. I’m okay.

  The thought slipped into my mind and I knew that it came from him.

  I could feel a big weight slowly lifting from me. I understand, now, Kenny, I thought to him. I’m sorry, I added. I didn’t realize.

  He shook his head the way he used to do to say, that’s okay. No problem.

  I took a deep breath. I’ll be all right, I thought to him. I want you to go to the Other Side.

  I felt a question in my mind.

  Yes, I mean it, Kenny. It’s time. I know that now.

  Kenny grinned again, making his freckles dance. He nodded.

  I didn’t want to go back out from under the willow to the yard, but I had to. Kenny would stay as long as I wanted. So I had to leave fist.

  Goodbye, Kenny, I thought to him. I—we all—love you.

  My twin brother raised his hand in farewell. There was a scrape on his palm, and a smudge of dirt.

  I turned and parted the branches and stepped into the yard.

  Tuesday Afternoon:

  Ending

  The warm air of the yard closed around me.

  “Well?” John said, his voice trembling.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “Everything is okay.”

  “Yep, thought you’d say that.”

  Chief Copegog! He was standing on the lawn
by the kitchen door. There was a big smile on his face—a smile with black squares where the teeth were missing. The three of us walked up to him. I didn’t know what to say. John didn’t either, I guess, although that was hard to believe. Anyway, he kept quiet.

  “What a day this has been!” Noah said, shaking his head. “Unbelievable!”

  “Might be I better go now,” Chief Copegog said, pulling his earlobe.

  “Hey, wait a minute!” I jumped in.

  Then I shut up. You’re doing it again, Karen, I thought to myself. Selfish. You don’t want him to go, so you think he has to stay.

  “Are you, are you going there now?” John said in a low voice.

  We all knew what he meant. To the Other Side.

  “Yep. I want to see my peoples, my wife and kids. I bin away from them long time. Might be I’ll see you kids again some time.”

  He didn’t say anything else. He just started walking down the lawn toward the lake.

  “Goodbye,” we said in unison.

  “Thanks,” I added. And in my mind I said, I’ll never forget you.

  I stared out past Kenny’s tree and the boathouse and the dock to Chiefs’ Island. It floated out there on the calm green water, like a vision. It seemed like ages since John got that goofy idea of going there in the middle of the night to look at an old graveyard. I wondered how he’d define the word “preternatural” now.

  “Look!” Noah’s voice cut in on my thoughts. He was pointing toward the dock.

  “Yeah, I see them!” John cried.

  Chief Copegog and Kenny were walking hand in hand toward the end of the dock. They looked strange. An old man in skin clothes, with long hair and a headband and moccasins. And a little boy, two years younger than me, wearing pink running shoes, jammers, a green T-shirt and one knee pad.

  They walked away from us toward the island.

  “They’re free now,” said Noah. “They’re both free.”

  They walked on. When they reached the end of the dock, they sort of floated out over the green water, then dissolved.

  The three of us stood there for a long time, silent, staring at the spot where they had disappeared.

  Finally I turned and looked back at our house. It seemed quiet and peaceful. Resting. I looked up to my room, the place where most of the unbelievable things of the past five days had happened.

  “Hey!” I cried out. “Look!”

  In my window, on the sill, something glowed faintly.

  Before I knew it I was running to the kitchen door.

  “What now?” I heard John shout behind me.

  “Stay with her,” Noah yelled.

  Our feet thundered on the stairs.

  I ran into my room and stopped.

  On my desk, the brass box stood with the lid open. I went over to it and began lifting Kenny’s stuff out. It was all there, the watch with no hands, the picture of Kenny with the big pike—even the missing ball and plastic airplane.

  But that wasn’t what made the soft light at the window.

  “Look, Noah, on the windowsill!” John cried.

  “Yeah, I see it!”

  In the glass candy bowl was Chief Copegog’s deerskin medicine bag.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to Megan Bell and Dylan Bell for reading the manuscript and offering suggestions.

  I am grateful to Cathy Edney at The Chippewas of Rama First Nation for her assistance on cultural matters.

  W.B.

  William Bell is the author of Crabbe, Metal Head, Absolutely Invincible!, Death Wind, and Forbidden City, several of which have also been published in the United States and overseas. He taught in China for two years, and is now a high school teacher of English and history in Orillia, Ontario. When he isn’t writing or teaching, Bell enjoys camping, jogging, cross-country skiing, going to movies, plays and musical performances, reading and studying. Although he claims to “especially like being indolent,” it’s hard to see where he finds the time.

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  Five Days of the Ghost

  Copyright © 1989 by William Bell

  This format published by Fitzhenry & Whiteside in 2015

  First published in 1989 as an Irwin Young Adult by Stoddart Publishing

  Published in 1992 by Stoddart Publishing Co. Limited

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews and articles. All inquiries should be addressed to:

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  Fitzhenry & Whiteside acknowledges with thanks the Canada Council for the Arts, and the Ontario Arts Council for their support of our publishing program. We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program (BPIDP) for our publishing activities.

  National Library of Canada Cataloguing-in-Publication

  Bell, William, author

  Five days of the ghost / William Bell.

  ISBN 978-1-55455-778-3 (epub)

  Data available on file

  United States Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Bell, William, author

  Five days of the ghost / William Bell.

  ISBN 978-1-55455-778-3 (epub)

  Data available on file

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