by Lin Oliver
Relieved to be alone again, Billy turned back to the glass and moved from side to side, trying to make eye contact with Anacapa, but her eyes looked lifeless and dull.
“Hey, Anacapa … I’m over here,” he said, tapping on the glass softly so as not to attract the attention of anyone else in the hall. “The Hoove told me to tell you that he couldn’t make it here today. He had a problem with his leg. Or was it his hand? I forget, but that doesn’t matter. The important thing is that he really wants to see you again and he’s planning to come to our performance Friday night. You’re coming to that, right?”
No answer.
“Of course you are,” Billy went on. “You wouldn’t let an important Chumash celebration happen without you. So you’ll get to see the Hoove then, which is great because he’s really counting on becoming friends with you. It’s been a long time since he’s had another ghost friend his age, and he thinks you’re amazing.”
The statue in the glass case didn’t move. She just stood there next to the hairy buffalo, looking like she was made of wax. From the corner of his eye, he saw Bennett striding across the hall, heading toward him. It was now or never.
“Okay,” he whispered to the glass. “I’ve got to go. The Hoove asked if you’d meet him tomorrow at noon. The movie theatre in the mall. Outside the doors of Screen Three. He said for me to tell you he can’t wait to see you again because he has some big news to tell you, and he’s sure you guys are going to be best friends, which is so important to him, because between you and me … and he doesn’t like anyone to know this about him … but he’s really lonely. It’s been a long ninety-nine years.”
Billy looked at Anacapa, studying her face for a sign that she had understood him.
“Anything?” he asked. “Did you hear anything that I said?”
Bennett was by his side now, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry it took so long to find a parking space,” he said. “But I’m here now. Happy to share the few minutes we have remaining.”
Billy tried to get Bennett to leave him alone in front of the diorama by suggesting that he needed time to really concentrate on the architecture of the thatched dwelling, but Bennett never left his side. He stared at every detail in the diorama, talking on and on about how the buffalo is the first cousin of the domestic cow. When that subject wound down, he moved right on to how you can tell that the buffalo is an herbivore because it has flat teeth to grind its food whereas meat eaters have sharp teeth to rip up their meat or kill their prey. Throughout the whole tooth lecture, Billy kept trying to get Anacapa’s attention, but her eyes were unmoving.
After a few minutes, Bennett glanced at his watch.
“Hey, we have to go, Bill. I know it doesn’t seem like seventeen minutes — time flies when you’re talking about buffalo teeth. But I promised your mother I’d abide by her rules. And when Bennett Fielding makes a promise, you can take that to the bank.”
Billy could see in Bennett’s eyes that there was no choice. It was useless to argue. He sighed, then turned and followed his stepfather across the room, feeling that his mission had failed. How was he ever going to tell that to the Hoove, who was counting on him? As he craned his neck for one last backward glance toward the diorama, an amazing thing happened. So amazing that it made his heart almost jump out of his body.
She blinked.
Yes, Anacapa blinked at him. There was no mistaking it. She had heard him, and answered.
Billy assumed that when he arrived back home, he was going to find the Hoove exhausted from his busy day of doing good deeds, but instead, he found quite the opposite. The Hoove was full of energy, zipping around his room, hanging up Billy’s clothes and rearranging the socks in his sock drawer according to color. When he saw Billy, he lunged at him, wanting to know everything that happened at the museum. He must have asked Billy at least a thousand questions about his encounter with Anacapa.
“Did she say she was excited about seeing me tomorrow?” he asked.
“Um … not exactly,” Billy answered.
“Well, did she at least say that she was looking forward to going to the movies?”
“Um … not in so many words.”
“But I’ll bet she said that of all the ghosts she’s met, I’m the coolest. At least tell me she said that, Billy Boy.”
“Um … she didn’t exactly say that,” Billy said. “Actually, she was quiet. Very quiet. I mean, very, very quiet.”
“Yeah, I have that effect on the ladies. They see me, behold my good looks, and are stunned into silence. That’s okay. I’ll let her know that she doesn’t have to be intimidated by my perfection.”
“Hoove, maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Billy tried to say gently. “I mean, I think she’s going to be there tomorrow at the mall, but you can never be entirely sure.”
The Hoove shot Billy a suspicious look.
“Well, what exactly did she say?” he asked.
“It’s an amazing thing about Anacapa. She says so much with so little.”
“Billy Boy, will you stop making me play this guessing game? Tell me the exact words she said.”
“She spoke, but not with her mouth.”
“Are you telling me she talks through her nose? That’s weird, all right, but hey, I guess I could get used to it.”
“No, Hoove. She spoke with her eyes. When I told her to meet you outside Screen Three at noon, she blinked.”
“Blinked … you mean as in ‘eyelids up and down’? That’s it?”
“Yes … but it was a very meaningful blink. At least, I think it was.”
“I’ll take it,” the Hoove said. “That’s good enough for me. And now, moving on to the important part of my day tomorrow … my wardrobe. I have to dazzle those blinking eyes of hers.”
The Hoove zipped inside Billy’s closet and started rummaging around in his clothes, looking for something new to wear. He was thinking that maybe his knickers and plaid newsboy cap weren’t the right look for a Native American princess. He spent the next two hours trying on everything in Billy’s closet. A baseball jersey. A T-shirt with a surfer on the back. A fleece vest with a knit beanie. A navy-blue suit with a red polka-dot tie. Plaid Bermuda shorts with flip-flops. Finally, Billy convinced him to go with his original look, which had worked well for him for the last ninety-nine years. The Hoove agreed, probably because he had finally exhausted himself from his busy and nerve-wracking day.
As Billy settled down in bed that night, it occurred to him that the Hoove hadn’t told him if he had heard from the Higher-Ups.
“Hey, Hoove,” he whispered.
“Shhhh,” the Hoove answered from the closet. “I’m in the middle of my beauty rest.”
“Okay, just one question. Did you get the pass for Friday night from the Higher-Ups?”
“Not yet. I think maybe I took a few too many breaks today for them.”
“You took breaks? On an important day like today? How many?”
“Somewhere between one and a hundred. But don’t worry yourself about it. I’ll fix things. I’m planning to get to the mall early tomorrow, and seal the deal.”
“How?”
“Litter pickup,” the Hoove said. “That’s a deal closer if ever I heard of one. Once they see me tidying up in the halls and malls, those Higher-Ups will be so impressed, they will fall all over themselves to give me the pass.”
“You’re sure of that?”
“Yes. I feel it in my bones. At least, I would if I had bones. Now close your eyes and go off to dreamland. I have to get my beauty rest.”
The next morning, the Hoove woke up early and wasted no time getting to the mall, arriving well before it opened. The parking lot was empty and the doors were locked up tight. But walls were not a problem for Hoover Porterhouse III. He floated by the parking structure and passed through the solid brick wall of the movie theatre wing until he found himself in the empty theatre lobby. Determined to put his plan into effect right away, he looked around fo
r some litter to clean up, but someone had beaten him to it. There wasn’t so much as a kernel of popcorn on the carpet.
He floated down to Theatre Three and stopped in front of the entrance, knowing that this was as far as his boundary would allow him to go. He peeked inside the theatre and saw the janitor moving up and down the rows of seats, picking up popcorn boxes and candy wrappers that people had thoughtlessly tossed on the floor the night before.
“Other beings might see a mess in here,” the Hoove said to himself. “But not me. I see a mountain of brownie points.”
He entered the semidark theatre and immediately zipped into action, grabbing a garbage bag off the janitor’s cart and hypergliding up and down the rows. He scooped candy wrappers and trash into his transparent arms at breakneck speed. The janitor looked up, and from the corner of his eye, thought he saw an empty box of Red Vines flying through the air, finding its way into the green garbage bag.
“Man oh man,” he said to himself. “I have to lay off the pepperoni pizza before bed. It’s playing tricks with my mind.”
The Hoove stood absolutely still until the janitor was once again engaged in sweeping up the trash from under the seats into his dustbin. Then he turned his attention to picking up the soft drink cups and straws that had been left in the armrests, being careful to separate the plastic straws and lids so that they could be recycled.
“Check this out,” he called out to the invisible Higher-Ups, who he hoped were observing him. “Not only am I cleaning up the theatre, I’m cleaning up the environment. If you ask me, that’s definitely an extra credit kind of thing.”
The movie theatre looked spotless in no time. Just as the Hoove was about to leave, he noticed a man in a white shirt and tie come in and look around. He was obviously the manager.
“Excellent work, Clyde,” the manager said to the janitor. “You got this place looking tip-top in record time.”
“I did?” Clyde said, very surprised to see the Hoove’s overstuffed garbage bags hanging off his cart. “I mean, yes sir, I did.”
“Come see me later,” the manager said. “I’m very impressed with your work habits. I think perhaps it’s time for us to talk about a promotion for you.”
The janitor’s face lit up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I could certainly use a promotion. I got two kids almost ready for college.”
After the manager left, the janitor pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed a number.
“Anna,” he said. “Anna, honey. You’re not going to believe what just happened.”
The Hoove smiled and pumped his fist.
“Talk about extra credit,” he said, directing his voice skyward. “This little moment right here should be good enough to get me to any museum in the world.”
The Hoove left the movie theatre feeling confident that he had done enough to earn his museum pass, so instead of continuing to do good deeds, he decided to take a little break. He floated down the mall to the video game store that was next to the doughnut stand, taking a few minutes to float above the doughnut case and just enjoy the aroma of the dark chocolate frosting. Then he went into the video game store to check out the displays. Unable to resist, he picked up one controller after another and played every game that was sitting on top of the counter. The minutes flew by. Maybe even an hour. He lost all track of time. The Hoove had never really understood all the fuss about video games, since when he was alive, they didn’t exist. The most exciting game for kids then involved tossing horseshoes into a sandpit.
“Wow,” he said to himself, his hands glued to a controller and his eyes to the screen. “This beats bobbing for apples any day.”
The Hoove was so engrossed in one particular skateboarding game that he was totally caught off guard when the owner and his salesman opened up the shop and came bursting in.
“Hey,” the owner yelled, noticing that all the TVs were on. “Is anyone in here?”
The Hoove stood very still and stopped playing. The men looked around suspiciously.
“You better call the electrician, Kevin,” the owner said to his salesman. “We must have a short circuit somewhere. All the games seem to have turned on by themselves.”
The Hoove put down the controller and floated away from the screen, laughing a little to himself.
“Call an electrician!” he snickered. “People always want to come up with some logical solution for what us ghosts do. I don’t know why they can’t just understand that we share the world with them.”
Once outside the video game store, the Hoove glided around aimlessly for a while, trying to find something to amuse himself. Eventually, though, he looked up at the large clock above the doughnut stand. It was actually shaped like a doughnut, and the hands looked like they were decorated with chocolate sprinkles. It was exactly five to twelve, time to go meet Anacapa. He considered dipping behind the counter and taking a doughnut for her. As a ghost, she couldn’t eat, but she might enjoy the sweet smell. Then he thought better of it. Billy had told him that the Chumash ate ground acorns and nuts, so she probably wouldn’t appreciate a maple glazed doughnut with jelly filling. Not to mention the fact that the Higher-Ups would definitely not appreciate him swiping a doughnut without paying for it.
The Hoove hurried down the hall to the movie theatre entrance, taking a minute or two to spin around the turnstile in a series of flying somersaults. He didn’t like to admit it, but he was suddenly feeling pretty anxious about meeting Anacapa, and the somersaults helped him release some of his nervous energy.
He passed through the theatre lobby and went to the entrance to Screen Three — of course, being careful not to cross the line into Theatres Four through Nine. And then he waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Noon came and went, but Anacapa didn’t show up. Twelve fifteen came and went, but still no Anacapa. By twelve thirty, the Hoove was doing his version of pacing, zooming back and forth so fast that it created an unpleasant breeze for the moviegoers. Several of them asked the manager if he could turn down the air-conditioning. By twelve forty-five, the Hoove was so upset that he was emitting a tart orange smell, even more pungent than usual. He hadn’t admitted to himself how important this meeting with Anacapa was. He was really counting on getting to know her as a ghost friend, and the thought that she wasn’t showing up made him incredibly sad.
He waited until two o’clock before he finally made the difficult decision to leave. With one last look around to make sure Anacapa wasn’t hiding somewhere in the lobby, he sighed deeply and floated slowly out of the movie theatre into the mall. The smell of the chocolate doughnuts wafted toward him, but it was no longer pleasing to him. The noise of the video games didn’t sound fun anymore — they were nothing but annoying bleeps and peeps.
The Hoove left the mall, passing through the brick wall behind the theatres, and paused outside in the sunlight. He hoped the fresh air and warm California weather would cheer him up. That didn’t work, but something else did.
“Hoover!” he heard a breathless voice call. “Hoover Porterhouse the Third!”
He looked up, and there, hovering in the air above him, was Anacapa, her straight black hair and deerskin cape blowing in the breeze.
“Oh, look who decided to show up,” he said. “I guess being on time is not a Chumash tradition.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, floating down to be at eye level with him. “You have every right to be angry. But I hope my explanation will help you understand why I’m so late.”
“All right. I’ll listen with one ear and give you two minutes.”
“I was called into action very suddenly,” she said. “A brown pelican was in distress.”
“A pelican? As in those birds whose mouth can hold more than their belly-can?”
Anacapa giggled.
“That is very clever,” she said.
“The truth be known, I didn’t make that up. I heard it in a poem once.”<
br />
“Oh, you read poetry?”
“Me? I eat poetry for breakfast. So what about this pelican? You got my curiosity going.”
“It was awful, Hoover. The poor bird had gotten caught in those plastic rings that hold six-packs of soda cans together. He was floating in the ocean, completely entangled, and the plastic was around his beak, so he wasn’t able to catch fish or eat.”
“I didn’t know birds drank soda.”
“They don’t. People leave their plastic trash on the beach and it gets pulled into the water and floats all over the world. Did you know that there is something called the Great Pacific Garbage Patch that’s a huge island made up of plastic that floats in the ocean forever?”
“And your job is to get rid of these plastic rings?”
“My job is to protect the land and the oceans, like my people did. The pelican needed my help. I had no choice but to go.”
“So you flew in like Superwoman and saved him?”
Anacapa giggled again.
“I don’t know this Superwoman you speak of,” she said. “But she sounds very powerful.”
The Hoove took a minute to ponder everything that Anacapa had just told him. He had never been a huge fan of the bird world. The birds he knew were often messengers from the Higher-Ups. All their squawking and wing flapping rattled his nerves. He preferred animals of the cat family, like lions and tigers. He loved the way they crept around on graceful feet, their eyes darting everywhere. But still, birds had a right to live, free from getting caught in the trappings of modern human life.
“So, like, in bird society, you’re a pretty big deal?” he asked.
“I love all land and sea creatures,” she told him. “Last week I helped save a sea lion who was caught in a fishing net. I set him free and he swam away to rejoin his family.”
“Wait,” the Hoove said, his ears perking up at the word lion. “Are you telling me that lions swim in the ocean?”
“No, silly,” Anacapa laughed. “The California sea lion is like a seal, with ears. They’re very intelligent.”
