Shimmer

by Alyson Noel

  I felt embarrassed.

  Humiliated.

  And fearful, and stupid, and completely insecure.

  But worst of all, I felt angry.

  Angry at my classmates for making fun of me.

  Angry at my teacher for joining in.

  Angry at myself for my inability to blend in, for not being like all the other girls, for not trying a little harder to fit in.

  Surrounded by a chorus of laughter that threatened to swallow me completely, I railed against the walls, the doors, pounding harder and harder, until one laugh in particular stood out from the rest.

  One, single, tinkly laugh that raised above all the others and lured me right out of that mess.

  The classroom dissolved.

  The teacher and students disappeared.

  While the surrounding space continued to shimmer and shine as thick squares of ash rained down all around—drifting lazily as they made their descent, clinging briefly to my shoulders and feet before getting stirred up again. Transforming the scene into some kind of darkly glistening, sinister snow globe of sorts.

  She stared at me, her face solemn, unforgiving, as her long slim fingers traipsed down the front of her ridiculous dress. Plucking at the folds of the big, wide, yellow bow that slashed right across her middle, she looked at me and said, “Hmmm, that seemed most unpleasant for you.” And before I had enough time to react, she added, “In fact, that must’ve left you feeling really awful and angry now didn’t it?”

  I lowered my head, gazing down past the swimsuit and cover-up I’d been wearing ever since I’d arrived on the island, gazing all the way down to my ash-smudged toes and bare feet. Struggling to compose myself, to regain my balance, my bearings, but the truth was that whole scene she’d just manifested on my behalf had left me miles past shaken.

  While I had no doubt she was baiting me, trying to upset me, get me all riled up and angry, I had no idea why.

  All I knew was that despite the abundance of sparkles and bows and curls, this was one little ghost girl who wasn’t made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

  On the contrary, I was pretty darn sure she was made of something much worse.

  Rebecca had a dark side.

  Possibly even a secret of some sort.

  She’d been hanging around the earth plane for too long. So long she’d grown jaded and bored and, let’s face it, mean in a way that proved just how much she desperately needed to be crossed over before she could get any worse.

  But even though I knew all of that, when my eyes met hers, I also knew there was no way I could go it alone.

  I’d stumbled in where I clearly didn’t belong, and I had no idea how to get out of that mess.

  6

  Just as she had appeared, she disappeared.

  In a flash of shimmering light that flitted its way across the graves until it vanished from sight.

  Leaving me right back where I’d started, alone in that creepy graveyard with no sign of the psycho dog, no sign of the psycho girl, no sign of anything other than the long-forgotten memory she’d so effectively unearthed.

  The impression lingering, clinging, refusing to let go—stubbornly growing and stretching until that one isolated incident became so big, took up so much space in my head, it easily trumped everything else.

  Including the version I knew to be true.

  While my more logical mind should’ve easily reminded me that the embarrassing scene I’d relived was just a single brief episode that only occurred that one time, a single brief episode that certainly didn’t mark me as an outcast forever—while it should’ve reminded me how I’d managed to rise above it soon after, to the point where just a few days later, two of my classmates, Sara and Emma, each took a pair of scissors to their own hair in an attempt to mimic my look (much to their parents’ horror)—my logical mind didn’t seem to be working that day.

  My logical mind was taking a little vacay of its own, leaving me alone, defenseless, swarmed by those long-buried feelings of embarrassment, confusion, and deep seething anger. And as I made my way out of that graveyard, I couldn’t help but gaze all about, couldn’t help but wish there was some kind of place in which to deposit those feelings—a sort of emotional dumping ground, if you will—so that I could leave them behind and spare myself the burden of having to lug them around.

  My thoughts were soon interrupted by the sight of Bodhi pushing his way through the fog that continued to hover and pulse its way around the perimeter. Approaching me with a glaring gaze that served as a perfect match for his steely tone when he said, “Okay, Riley. Now that you’ve had your fun, now that you’ve enjoyed your little act of rebellion, I’m ordering you to come with me.” He leaned forward, peering at me in a way that made it seem as though his face and voice were in a heated competition to see which could come off as the sternest.

  I glanced between Buttercup and him, wincing at the way my dog, feeding off Bodhi’s energy, gazed at me with a look that could only be read as pity.

  “Because in case you’ve forgotten, this was supposed to be a vacation. A nice little time-out so we could both relax, have some fun, and, yeah, maybe even get to know each other a little better so that I’ll be able to guide you more effectively in the future. But the only thing I’ve learned so far is that you are even more stubborn than I first thought. I mean, when I tell you to—”

  I stopped him right there, flashed a palm in surrender and said, “Okay, okay,” as I quickly moved past him. More than a little eager to get out of that dark and creepy graveyard and back into the fog—desperate to leave it all behind, both literally and figuratively, and get on with the rest of the day. “I’m ready to hit it, ready to check out the town now. I’m no longer interested in that psycho dog. Seriously,” I added, still moving forward, mistaking his silence for skepticism, and wanting to convince him that my sudden change of heart was for real. Knowing all too well that the price for not convincing him would be a never-ending string of questions I had no intention of answering.

  For more reasons than one, I wasn’t about to reveal what I’d been through—or at least not quite so soon anyway. Not while I was still trying to make sense of it in my own head.

  “You were right.” I nodded, a little too vigorously, probably overdoing it, overstating it, but it’s not like that stopped me. I’d made a mistake—a terrible, impulsive mistake. I’d misjudged my abilities and, even worse, I’d misjudged the seriousness of upsetting the Council. It was like a moment of temporary insanity, but I was over it. Completely over it. From this point on, I was determined to listen and do as I was told. I’d already put it behind me. I hoped Bodhi would too. “So what do you say we walk or fly our way out of here? Either way, it’s up to you. It’s all good as far as I’m concerned.”

  I stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped walking. Just stood there with my back turned toward him, reluctant to glance behind me and see where I’d been. But when my words were met by nothing more than a long, lingering silence, I whirled around to face him. Ready to say or do whatever it took to get out of that place, only to realize he hadn’t heard a single thing I’d said.

  Bodhi was preoccupied.

  Paying me no attention whatsoever.

  In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. He’d gotten all turned around and was headed off in an entirely different direction.

  Moving away from me in order to race toward a really pretty dark-haired girl, with the traitorous Buttercup keeping sharp at his heels.

  And though I called out Bodhi’s name, over and over again, it bore no effect. Either he couldn’t hear me, or he didn’t want to hear me. All of his attention was claimed by the slim, petite figure crisscrossing through the snarl of trees.

  All of his attention claimed by the swiftly moving girl whose long dark hair lifted and bounced and whirled all around her like a shiny black cape.

  The girl whose lovely dark eyes glinted and flashed, whose gleaming smooth cheeks brightened and flushed, whose entire face lit up
in a blend of joy and love and delighted expectation as she turned and smiled and beckoned him closer with a curl of her fingers.

  He called out to her, the words soft, breezy, just barely a whisper, but there was no mistaking it. No mistaking the tone, no mistaking the allusion of longing, of yearning, when Bodhi haltingly cried, “Nicole—please—don’t go. Wait for me!”

  His feet moving quickly, racing past clumps of dead grass, pressing through clusters of graves. Gaining on her, getting closer still, until she stopped beside a particularly gnarled old tree and shifted her gaze from Bodhi to me.

  And that’s when I saw it.

  Saw what lay behind the petite and pretty facade.

  Though I was the only one who saw it.

  The reveal was meant solely for me.

  Bodhi continued to see what he’d always seen, which was something else entirely.

  And before I could call out to him, before I could catch up or warn him in some way, he was gone. Leaving me with no choice but to just stand there and watch as she lifted one delicate finger, and smiled as she tapped Bodhi’s shoulder.

  Only once.

  Light and quick.

  But that’s all it took for the barrier to slam down all around him.

  Slam down around—everything.

  Leaving me with nothing but the wail of Buttercup’s plaintive howls, the fading whisper of Bodhi’s yearning pleas, and the horrible truth of what really just happened before me.

  Rebecca.

  Horrible, horrid, ghost-girl Rebecca.

  With her glowing-eyed hellhound beside her—had tricked both my guide and my dog and stolen them from me.

  7

  I stood there, gaping at a space that looked nothing like it had just a moment ago—nothing like the space I’d just vacated.

  Other than a few of the outlying trees and rocks and patchy clumps of dying sea grass, the rest of it, the inside bits, were now encased in a sort of glimmering glow.

  It shimmered.

  Not unlike the shimmer I saw before—the shimmer that had turned from a small bouncing ball of light into Rebecca the over-accessorized, mean little ghost girl.

  Only this shimmer was bigger.

  Much bigger.

  Like a big, shiny bubble that reached its way around until it had nearly encased the entire graveyard. The bottom part blending flush with the earth, while the walls and sides were so smooth and round and glossy, it was nearly impossible to look without squinting.

  Like a mirror, it reflected everything outside of it, while obscuring the secrets inside.

  Although I couldn’t see past my own glaring reflection, I knew my guide and my dog were both trapped in the same way I’d been. And, if their experience was anything like mine—well, then they were both about to find themselves reliving their own personal version of hell.

  I squinched my eyes till they were nearly shut and continued to stare at the bubble, searching my brain for answers, clues, anything Bodhi might’ve mentioned about a pretty, dark-haired girl named Nicole, but came up empty.

  The truth was, I didn’t know much about Bodhi’s time on the earth plane. Aside from when and how he’d died, aside from his claim that he was on his way to being a professional skateboarder, I was ashamed to admit I didn’t know much of anything.

  I knew nothing about where he came from, nothing about where he lived, who his parents were, his friends, if he had any siblings, and if he ever really missed his old life as much as I sometimes missed mine.

  Though, I guess the amount of longing he held in his voice as he called out her name pretty much answered that last part.

  He did miss her. A lot. That much was clear. But what I didn’t know was why he missed her—who she was—what she might’ve meant to him.

  I slumped down to the ground and continued to squint at the shiny globe before me. Wavering between feelings of deep-seated shame at being so self-centered I’d never even bothered to learn my guide’s personal history—never even showed the slightest bit of interest in learning—and wondering just what it was I could do to break them out of that place.

  How I could free them from Rebecca’s world of pain.

  What my next move might logically be.

  The longer I pondered, the worse it got, as I allowed my imagination to take over. Running amok with visions of Bodhi undergoing all manner of humiliation and emotional torture (our being dead may have left us well past the point of physical torture, but it did nothing to boost our immunity against things like fear and dread, and other forms of self-induced psychological warfare), while Buttercup … well, I couldn’t imagine him ever experiencing a bad day in what had amounted to an overly cushy, almost ridiculously indulgent, well-fed, well-cared-for, former life. But knowing Rebecca, she’d dig up something, and I had no doubt it would involve her laser-gazed, razor-toothed Hell Beast companion.

  Call it intuition, call it what you will: Even though I had no sure way of knowing what might’ve been going on in there, I knew it was wrong.

  Terribly, tragically wrong.

  I also knew that I’d brought it on.

  If I hadn’t decided to go snooping around, if I hadn’t decided to go against Bodhi’s warnings and track down that stupid Snarly Yow, none of us would be in this predicament now.

  I’d decided to exercise my free will by sticking my stubby nose where it clearly didn’t belong.

  And now my guide and my dog were both trapped as a result.

  I felt awful, guilty, and, truth be told, more than a little worried about how all of this would go over with the Council. I had no idea how they’d punish me, though I’d no doubt they would. And while Bodhi had tried to warn me against it, tried to warn me against doing the very thing I was so determined to do, I’d failed to listen. Making me solely responsible for getting us into this mess, which also made me solely responsible for getting us out.

  But as worried as I was about what I might face once I returned to the Here & Now, at that moment, I had to push it aside for more pressing concerns. My guide and my dog were trapped, and I could no longer allow myself to sit there and do nothing about it. So I sprang to my feet, rushed toward that gleaming bubble, and hurled my body against it. Pounding my fists into the sides, railing at it with all of my might—but it was no use.

  It was impenetrable.

  Despite my best efforts, I hadn’t left even the slightest sign of a dent.

  Only one thing was sure:

  Absolutely no one was allowed in or out without Rebecca’s consent.

  8

  I shrank back, shrank away from it all. Feeling anxious, helpless, and woefully inadequate as I gazed all around. Wondering if there was something else I could do that wouldn’t make it any worse than I already had.

  I’d already called out their names—already alternately pleaded with and threatened Rebecca—and was quickly nearing the point of losing it to complete and total hysteria.

  Was well on my way to becoming so desperate, I was actually considering making a trip back to the Here & Now so I could try to recruit some kind of backup team that might be willing to help out—when I heard it.

  A slight, barely there, rustling kind of sound that seemed to emanate from everywhere and nowhere.

  I turned, my face wary as I searched for the source. Watching as it slowly emerged from the shrubbery—a foot, a leg, a torso, a head—all of it coming forth to say, “You are Riley?”

  His eyes bore into mine in a way that, well, had I still been required to breathe, let’s just say that would’ve been the exact moment I held my breath until it swelled up into my cheeks.

  Would’ve been the exact moment I held it for so long my face would’ve turned blue as my eyes threatened to pop from their sockets.

  But, as it was, I just met his stare with one of my own. Trying to decipher the truth from fiction—unable to tell if what I was seeing before me was actually real.

  Even though he wasn’t the least bit familiar, even though the words that fo
llowed meant nothing to me, that didn’t mean Rebecca wasn’t in on it, or somehow behind it.

  That didn’t mean she hadn’t sent him forth for the sole purpose of terrorizing me.

  “How do you know my name?” I narrowed my eyes until they were slits.

  “I am Kanta. Prince Kanta,” he said, keeping his face soft and still. “And you, Riley Bloom, have nothing to fear. Or at least not from me anyway.”

  I pulled my shoulders back, straightened my spine, and tilted my chin in a way that I hoped would come off as far more confident and commanding than I might’ve seemed at first. Steadfastly holding his gaze as I said, “While that doesn’t really answer my question, just so you know, I have nothing to fear from anyone. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m dead.”

  He half smiled. Hinting at what could have been a dazzling display of large, slightly crooked, boxy white teeth, pink-tinged lips, and two very deep dimples that marked his smooth, dark skin—if only he hadn’t dropped it so quickly. “As am I.” He nodded, presenting the words in a manner that was regal, kind, and serious all at once. Then he bowed low before me, his shiny bald head dipping and lifting, as those deep, ebony eyes settled on mine. “Normally, I would allow time for a more formal introduction, but I’m hoping we can move past all of that and get down to the business at hand.”

  “What business?” My brow rose as I took note of the details: the impossibly high cheekbones, the wide nose, the full lips, the strong chin, and the well-muscled body with the ultra-broad shoulders clad in what clearly amounted to a disgusting pile of rags.

  My eyes grazing over a stained and battered white shirt that was neatly tucked into a pair of dark, severely torn, threadbare trousers cut off and frayed at the knees, I couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of prince would go around looking like that. Why someone of nobility, royalty even, would possibly choose to dress so … shabbily.