by Mintie Das
Now it’s me who needs air. Suddenly, the heavy branches that surround me and the lack of light make me feel as though I’m suffocating in a tiny foxhole. I crawl out from under the sycamore as fast as I can.
“It’s okay,” Meryl whispers as she wraps her arms around me.
I don’t know when I started to cry but now that the stored tears are flowing, it feels as though I can’t stop. My body shakes uncontrollably. I lean against Meryl for support because I don’t trust my legs to hold me.
“Oh God, Meryl,” I sob. I force my words through the lump in my throat. “We killed one of our own.”
Ten
AS FAR AS I’M CONCERNED, everyone is a suspect. After we got the shocking news that Naomi was murdered, we didn’t hear any more information, so I am clueless about Naomi’s killer. It could be a friend, a family member, or just some random stranger.
I steady myself against the front door and eye the buttons on the keypad, trying to remember the code to unlock it.
My head is woozy from the shots of whatever liquor Brian Monaghan gave me. Once we heard that someone had killed Naomi, the unofficial memorial turned into a full-on shit-show. Everyone got wasted, everyone cried even more, and then pretty much everyone puked. I managed to avoid one out of the three. My eyes sting from all the sobbing I’ve done, but Meryl and I made sure we were both still standing at the end of the night.
Now all I want to do is to pass out in my bed or on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, whichever option is more convenient and makes my head stop spinning. Meryl’s mother insisted she spend the night at home because, like just about every other parent in town, she’s freaking out that a kid has been murdered.
I’d like to believe that Dede is just as worried about my safety although all the lights are off inside my house, which means that she’s already asleep. I remember the four-digit code, punch it in, and tiptoe inside. The moment I close the door behind me, a chill runs down my spine. It’s pitch-dark except for a hall light that Dede left on for me.
All of the mirrors in the house are draped in bed sheets. Dede covers all the mirrors every night because she believes that if you sleepwalk and wake up suddenly, you’ll be startled by your own reflection, possibly so startled that you’ll mistake the image for a ghost, which will cause you to have a heart attack and die.
It’s eerie in the classic haunted-house way, and God knows that I’ve been teased mercilessly for it by every friend who’s ever spent the night here. My pleas to Dede to stop fall on deaf ears. Of course, what makes this nightly ritual so uniquely Dede is that she uses our old sheets, so tonight, for instance, the massive front-hall mirror is covered in my worn-out My Little Pony bedding.
Rainbow Dash’s and Minty’s smiling faces aren’t exactly on the same level of frightening as The Others, but a house filled with covered mirrors is creepy nonetheless.
I hold on to the banister for balance and begin climbing up the stairs. Another chill runs down my body. I try to pick up the pace but my legs aren’t exactly cooperating. I focus on walking toward the lamp turned on in the upstairs hallway.
I used to psych myself out like this when I was a child. We lived in a house where the bathroom was down the hall from my bedroom, and I dreaded those midnight pee runs, convinced that something was waiting for me in the dark.
The truth is, after I turned ten, there usually was something out there. It was an Aiedeo ready to train me.
I stop suddenly. I think I see something move out of the corner of my eye. More chills radiate throughout my body. I start debating my next move. If I turn, who knows what I’ll see. But if I ignore it, I won’t know if something really is there. I am way too buzzed and too sleepy to think properly.
Since my personal motto is “When in trouble, lie and deny,” I decide to keep on moving until I am forced to stop. This time, I can’t ignore that something is definitely here with me. I hear a low, soft whistling come out of nowhere.
“Boo,” Naomi says as she stares down at me from the top landing. A slow smile creeps across her face, exposing a row of small pointy teeth. “Miss me?”
I do a double take. Visits from dead people have been an all-too-common occurrence in my life. This does not make them any less terrifying. However, Naomi seems to have gone through some ghostly Pretty Woman makeover. She’s wearing her legendary white jeans, and her lush honey-blond hair falls past her shoulders in a perfect salon blowout. The right side of her face is still bashed in, and her feet are still backwards. Plus, now she’s sporting a gnarly set of sharp, crooked talons that go beyond any manicure. Naomi looks as shocking and grotesque as her previous Japanese ghoul incarnation, except now she is more like a macabre hot girl.
“No, I don’t miss you,” I answer. “Now get out before Dede sees you and blasts you into hell. Or is that where you’re coming from?”
I am pretty sure this is straight-up liquid courage that is making me so bold but I’ll take whatever I can right now.
Naomi rolls her eyes. “Why did they send me to you? Ever since I’ve been dead, no one can hear or see me. Except for weirdoes like you. Keeping secrets, huh, Violet?”
I strengthen my grip on the banister to keep from falling over. “Lucky me. I get the exclusive to your mean-girl wrath.”
“Boo-hoo, Violet. Lucky me that I get to die and only you can see me.”
I take a deep breath. “What do you mean by ‘they’ sent you?”
“Here’s the thing about Ghost World—it’s not exactly the friendliest.” Her voice still has the same superior tone but it’s thinner now with a slightly crooked lilt to it. It doesn’t feel or sound alive anymore. “So it’s not like they hosted a brunch in my honor and welcomed me in. I don’t know who they were—they failed to introduce themselves. And my memory feels more blotto than you look. I just remember them being a bunch of frightening bitches.”
“The Aiedeo.” My head does a total spin. What do the Aiedeo have to do with Naomi? “My dead relatives.”
Naomi raises an eyebrow, which makes the dent on the right side of her face move along with it. I look away.
“I thought that you people were all about embracing differences—#Diversity,” Naomi spits as she pulls some of her hair down to cover the gash.
I ignore her. I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to stand upright and I need some answers. “Why did the Aiedeo send you to me?”
“Again, they aren’t exactly the chattiest gals. You’re the one who watches all those horror movies. Why do you think I’m here?”
I’d spent most of my life devouring ghost stories. Not as in Aiedeo stories, because they were just my dead relatives and didn’t count. But classic ghost-story films like The Haunting of Hill House, The Woman in Black, The Grudge, The Ring, Poltergeist, Paranormal Activity—I could probably think of a couple of dozen more, but almost all of them shared a common plot device. “If you go by movie history, which I almost always do, I know it’s a bit of a trope but—”
“Oh my God! I’m not asking you to nerd out like we’re in some Intro to Film class, Violet! Just tell me why you think I’m here.”
I take a deep breath and spit it out. “Because your soul isn’t at peace.”
“Why? Because I died so young?”
“Well, yeah.” I nod. “And because you were murdered.”
“I was murdered?” Her eyes turn cloudy and her shoulders slump. She isn’t as assured as she was just a second ago.
“You don’t remember?”
I see she’s trying to stay composed but she can’t. Naomi sits down on the landing and buries her face in her hands. When she speaks, her voice is shaky. “I feel like I’m at a never-ending rave. Everything is a dazed blur. The last thing I remember is Saturday in the gym.”
My heart sinks. The bitch-out is Naomi’s last memory alive. I go sit by her. Now that I’m closer, the stench of rotten meat fills my nostrils.
“Naomi, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I really am. It’s n
ot fair at all.” I can feel my tears begin to well up. I’m surprised I have any left in me.
“No shit it’s not fair!” Naomi takes a deep breath. “Did your relatives—the Idea, Adeo, whatever—murder me?”
“The Aiedeo.” I can’t think of any reason why they would have done this to Naomi, but I wouldn’t put anything past them. They’ve come close to taking my life and I’m supposed to be one of them. But why Naomi? I shake my head. She has very little to do with me and nothing to do with my legacy. “I don’t know. They’re fierce bitches, for sure, but I’ve never seen them kill anyone. And it just makes no sense that they would off you.” I shrug. “You really don’t remember anything about what happened to you?”
“As soon as I saw this”—Naomi points to her backwards feet—“I started racking my brain trying to figure out what happened, but I keep coming up blank.”
“No recollection about the text you sent me on Sunday evening threatening to kill me?”
“What?” Naomi’s brow furrows. “That’s cray.”
“And what about dropping by to see me last night?” I point to her jeans. “You weren’t exactly looking so hair-metal vixen and you were hanging from the ceiling but I’m pretty sure you were already dead.”
“WTF? I don’t remember that either. But have you always been able to do this? I mean, you can really see dead people?” Naomi’s brows shoot up and her mouth drops open. Now she’s the one who is afraid. I’m the freak, even to a ghost.
“Yes.” After all, now that Naomi is dead, who is she gonna tell? “I don’t see, like, random ghosts flying around. Just the Aiedeo. I don’t know, I’ve spent so much time trying to forget about it that I kinda don’t know what’s real and what’s not anymore.”
Naomi nods knowingly. “We invented that game, didn’t we? Lie and deny.”
Lie and deny. I forgot that it wasn’t just my motto; it had been ours back in elementary school. I glance at Naomi. I learned from the best. Or did she learn from me?
“Wait! You’re a random ghost, Naomi, and I can see you,” I cry out as it dawns on me. Granted, my brain is working slowly, but I can’t believe it took me this long to figure it out. “You’re my shama!”
“What?”
“Shamas are these tests the Aiedeo used to make me do. And the other night, they forced one with Dr. Jenkins on me. And then when it was finished, this Aiedeo showed up and spewed all the usual Aiedeo garbage, but at the end, she said that I had no idea what was waiting for me.” I definitely sound like a rambling drunk right now and I can see from Naomi’s annoyed expression that I’m not making much sense.
“If I’m your shama or whatever you call it, then what are you supposed to do with me?”
I shrug. “I don’t know for sure but I’m probably supposed to help you find eternal peace or something. But it doesn’t really matter because I’m not an Aiedeo and I’m not doing any more of their shamas.”
“Then screw the Aiedeo! But what about helping me find out what happened because you can?”
“What can I do?” I hug my knees.
Naomi arches her eyebrow. “You can talk to dead people.”
“What’s the good in that if you’ve forgotten everything about what happened to you?” Then I remember the video. That was recorded before the bitch-out so maybe Naomi can recall something there that may be helpful. “What about the tape with you and the two guys? Who are they?”
I realize I could have been more tactful in bringing up the sex tape or at least not been so direct about it. For a few seconds, there is nothing but dead silence. Then I can almost hear the swoosh in the air as Naomi whips around and clasps her bony fingers around my neck. I feel the razor-sharp point of her talons on my skin, eager to slit my throat. My heart skips several beats. I don’t know how we went from our heart-to-heart to Naomi seriously holding my life in her hands.
“You better figure this all out,” Naomi whispers. Her mouth is black with a hot, pulsing tongue inside. She drags one of her claws across my neck like a knife. “Or I’ll haunt you for every single day of your worthless life. You think just ’cause I’m dead, I’ll keep your dirty little secrets? I’ll make sure everyone knows about you. I’ll expose you for the freak that you are. And you’ll be such a miserable, lonely outcast that you’ll wish you were dead like me.”
All of my liquid courage evaporates. I can do nothing but silently nod. Naomi looks me straight in the eyes, and when she sees the terror in them, she seems satisfied. She unhooks her talons but I can feel them still burning into my skin. Naomi stands up slowly and I don’t dare move.
Then she floats down the stairs and turns toward the hall mirror. When she is standing directly in front of it, Naomi takes a step inside and disappears.
Eleven
Day 6: Alive
THE ENTIRE SCHOOL is suffering from a collective hangover. At least, that’s what it feels like to me. It isn’t just the physical effect of all the grief-drinking we did the night before. There’s more to it. It’s this sense of melancholy like the Sunday-night blues that hits me practically every week and on the first day of school after a long break.
In order to deal with everyone’s anxiety, Meadowdale High administrators decided to host yet another miserable assembly. It’s already well into its first hour and I still can’t quite determine what it’s about. It seems like an unsettling mash-up of an extended public-service announcement and an open casting call for a really pathetic TV talent show. I checked out after Dean Shimansky, a.k.a. MC Shuga Boi and Dena Willis, a.k.a. Dimple$, rapped/sang “Amazing Grace.”
“Holy water?” Meryl scrunches her face. “Seriously?”
Even with my head in a fog, I’m clear on one point. There’s no way I’m helping the Aiedeo or Naomi. Naomi is vicious and I have little doubt that she’ll do all the things she threatened to do. And I learned not to trust the Aiedeo a long time ago. Therefore, I need to put a stop to all of it. Like in the movies when someone refuses to pay blackmailers because then they’ll always return. If I don’t find a way to shut both Naomi and the Aiedeo down, they’ll be after me for the rest of my life.
I’m still way more frightened than I am brave but I like how my temper is fueling my courage. Or maybe I’m still drunk. In any case, I have a plan. I need to get rid of Naomi.
“You know I haven’t been to Mass since I was like eleven years old. But the last time I was at St. Joseph’s, the holy water was kept in the font right where you enter the church,” Meryl says.
I’d filled Meryl in on Naomi’s latest visit in a quick before-school meet-up but there wasn’t enough time for me to let her in on my game plan, so I was catching her up now.
“Then it’s pretty easy access?”
“The trick isn’t getting the holy water—it’s believing that it’s actually holy, Violet.”
I nod. I’m putting an end to my Naomi-ghost problem old-school-style à la The Exorcist. Obviously, I’m not a priest. But maybe with some holy water, a wooden stake, and the discarded Ouija board stored away in the attic, I can pull off a DIY exorcism.
“V, I’ll do whatever it takes, but do you really think an exorcism is going to work?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “Got a better plan? ’Cause I don’t.”
“Violet, get down here now!”
My scheming is abruptly interrupted by Collette, who arranged for the Squad to perform during the assembly. “We’ll talk more later.” I stand up reluctantly. “Duty calls.”
“Break a leg,” Meryl says with a wicked little grin. I join the rest of my teammates on the gym floor.
“You need to wear this in honor of Naomi. RIP,” says Collette as she pins a ribbon on my cheerleading uniform.
“Why is it blue?”
“It’s not just any blue, Violet. It’s Carolina blue, and it matches Naomi’s eyes. My mom worked straight off of Naomi’s pics to make sure she got just the right shade.”
Apparently, Collette is already auditioning pretty hard for the no
w-vacant role of co-captain.
“Guys, I think we should say something before we begin.”
I almost jump back. I didn’t even notice Tessa standing among us. The girl looks like she stepped straight out of a Tim Burton flick. Her already gaunt frame is almost emaciated and her eyes pop out of her bony face like big, empty saucers. “Are you sure you should be here, Tess?” I ask with genuine concern.
She shrugs. “Probably not. I’m still hopped up on a bunch of the meds the doctors gave me. But Pioneer Poms was in Naomi’s heart. She would want me up here with you guys.”
I doubt that. Naomi liked poms only because she could boss all of us around and she looked way hotter in her uniform than anyone else.
Tessa does a dazed zombie walk to the microphone while the rest of us find our places. We are going to start off with the infamous pyramid that we screwed up last Friday, much to Naomi’s ire. I drop down on all fours and scan the blank faces of the crowd. Does anyone want to be here right now? It’s strange to think that this gym is the last memory that Naomi has of her life.
“We’ll always love you, Nay Nay,” Tessa cries out. “RIP, Naomi.” She wipes the tears from her eyes, then turns around to face the rest of the Squad.
Sarah McLachlan’s “Angel” starts blaring through our worn-out speakers. People hold up their phones and start singing along while Collette’s mother jumps up and begins taking photos. I wonder if Collette and her mom have secretly been waiting for one of us to die just so they could orchestrate this ridiculous tribute. Because clearly, they had started planning this way before yesterday.
I shake my head. The sound of the crowd singing off-key quickly fills the gym.
“Lara, your knee is wedged right in my spine,” I whisper as I wriggle around, trying to find a bearable position.
“Well, I can’t exactly move it with fat-ass Becca on top of me,” Lara hisses. “Are you, like, one of those secret eaters? ’Cause you are crushing me!”
“Go eat a dick, Lara,” Becca says, fuming.
