Bethanny gasped, and a smile spread across her face as she went from page to page. Lucy couldn’'t help but put her mania aside for a moment and steal a peek at what Bethanny was flipping through. It looked like a catalog, filled with images of clothing and costuming for just about any era, style, or role.
“"Oooooh,”" Bethanny cooed as she pointed to a pretty woman in flowing robes, looking almost like a Greek goddess. “"‘'The Ethereal White Lady.’' Oh, I like that one a lot. It looks very comfortable and could be rather formfitting, too, if need be.”"
“"Very popular.”" Ruby nodded at the selection. “"We do a lot of White Ladies. It’'s probably the closest to Angel Wear you’'ll find of all the choices. And just think of how lovely that’'s going to look underwater. I mean, I think we’'re talking legendary.”"
Lucy couldn’'t peel her eyes away. There were grand Civil War-era ball gowns, several different Victorian dresses boasting bustles of black silk and long ebony veils of netting, several pages of wedding gowns for every century and decade, offerings made of basic fabrics for Viking maidens, a whole section for royal court wear from Elizabeth I to Victoria, waitress and nurse uniforms, what seemed like a whole section of the costuming from Oliver Twist, and even the most basic selection of simply a loincloth and a string of lumpy beads.
“"Is this a catalog of morgue wear?”" Lucy asked unbelievingly. “"This whole thing is for ghost fashion?”"
“"Not everyone dies in the most appropriate outfit, Lucy,”" Ruby reminded her. Then she slyly shot her eyes over to Mrs. Wootig, whose lips barely rested above the collar of her puffy ski jacket. “"In fact, some would look completely ridiculous attempting to spirit in what they were wearing during expiration. Appearance is ninety percent of this job, and if you don’'t look the part, you’'re wasting everyone’'s time. Don’'t dress as the ghost you are; dress for the ghost you want to be.”"
“"I like this one, too,”" Bethanny said, tapping another image with her finger. “"‘'The Titanic.’' The beading on it is fantastic, and it looks like there’'s a Wonderbra built right in. This is a knockoff of Kate Winslet’'s dress, isn’'t it?”"
Ruby shrugged and gave a mischievous smile.
“"Aha! I thought so. I could haunt in this. I could really haunt in this!”" Bethanny said excitedly. “"Does Celtic flute background music come with this dress? Please say yes.”"
“"May I—--”" Mr. Marks, the bicyclist, said quietly. “"May I see that when you’'re done?”"
“"Do we have to pick an outfit from the dead catalog?”" Lucy asked as she raised her hand. “"I’'d really rather not spend my time as an apparition looking like I’'m trick-or-treating.”"
“"Certainly not,”" Ruby reassured Lucy. “"It would be ridiculous to have an assignment, for example, in a Las Vegas casino and have an operative dressed like Scarlett O’'Hara. It’'s not realistic, and no one would believe it. The locale, purpose, and attire all need to go hand in hand. Otherwise, you should just throw a sheet over your head and rattle some chains. You can stay exactly as you are, Lucy—--after all, you are haunting as yourself. None of you are going to be character ghosts. If you feel comfortable in what you are wearing, so be it. It’'s completely up to you.”"
“"Maybe I should come back as a mermaid,”" Bethanny murmured to herself.
“"You keep mentioning these ‘'assignments,’'”" Lucy said. “"When are we going to find out what they are? And when do we go? And how long do they last? And what happens after that?”"
“"In due time, dear,”" Ruby informed her. “"You’'ve already had a lot to process so far. Today’'s only the first day of the rest of your death. There is plenty of time to walk through everything. However, time isn’'t the same measurement here as it is in earthly terms, and you need to understand that. A day here isn’'t necessarily a day there. That’'s important to keep in mind, because beginning tomorrow, you’'re all going to take your own field trips. You’'ll all be going back to observe your funerals, memorial services, wakes, whatever it is that your families and friends have arranged. Hopefully, this will bring you some necessary closure, which is essential if you’'re going to move on to the next level. You don’'t need to worry about being spotted; you’'ll be able to observe everything unnoticed, but you don’'t have the required skills or training to make yourself known. If you’'ve ever wished you were invisible, this is your dream come true. After your trips, you’'ll all come back here and I can answer any questions you may have.”"
Lucy suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over her, and her uneasiness settled somewhat. She was going back. She would see everyone. Familiar faces, familiar ground. There had to be a way to figure out how to get back there for real, right?
“"We’'ll meet here first thing in the morning, and then I’'ll escort each of you to your destinations. Then I’'ll return to bring you back. And tonight, if anyone is interested, we have several activities scheduled, as there always are. There’'s bingo, karaoke, Rollerblading, dance lessons, and there are several theaters in the Transition Center. I know one of them is playing Topper this week, which, although it’'s cute, is not what I would call accurate. I hate to be a stickler for those sorts of things, but ghosts are not born. They are made! Cary Grant made it look so easy! And between you and me, he is even more charming in spirit. The other theaters are playing all the new releases in case you didn’'t get to see something you wanted to prior to meeting your hideous and mostly gruesome deaths. There is also a video game arcade if you are so interested, Mr. Morse. Luckily for you, it does not serve alcohol, but as an ethereal being, you no longer have body functions anyway. See? That’'s another plus to no longer having a pulse! No need for pit stops! There are coffee shops and a couple of restaurants, but to be honest, they’'re just for show. Is anybody hungry?”"
Everyone shook their heads, just noticing for the first time that they weren’'t hungry or thirsty, and no one even had the inclination to want anything of sustenance.
“"Another plus! One more thing you don’'t have to bother with! However, we understand that it may be hard to break the rituals and habits of eating, so the cafées and bistros are there just to make you feel more comfortable and at home. You’'ll even be able to taste the food, but it’'s really nothing more than an illusion of sorts. Finally, I’'m going to hand out your room assignments along with a Transition manual that provides most of the basic information you’'ll need.”"
Ruby stepped down off the platform and handed each of her pupils a silver binder thick with pages.
“"Read Section One before we meet again as a group, the day after your funerals,”" she said as she passed the last one to the hunter. “"And we’'ll be ready to move on to our first exercises. I’'m going to let you all go a little early so you can explore your new surroundings—--there’'s a map included in the manual that makes it very easy to find your way around the Transition campus.”"
Bethanny leaned over and peeked at Lucy’'s room number, which was written on a sheet of paper on top of her manual.
“"You’'re in 895!”" she squealed. “"Look! I’'m in 897! Thank goodness we’'ll be close! I’'ll find it on the map!”"
While Bethanny scoured the hallways and landmarks of the Transition Center diagram, Lucy halfheartedly flipped through the pages of the binder without really looking at them. Would it be possible to escape from this place and get her life back? Slip back in, right where she left off? If so, she had some choice words for a couple of people, namely Martin and Dr. Meadows. She had more than a piece of her mind to hand to both of them. Wouldn’'t it be amazing to suddenly appear at her own funeral while they were mourning and weeping, march right up to each asshole, and tell them exactly what she thought of them? A broad, full smile spread across Lucy’'s face, and she chuckled aloud at the thought. Oh, I get to see Martin tomorrow, all sobby and guilty. Baby. He should feel guilty, she reassured herself. Throwing all my shit out on the lawn. Who does that? Who does that and then refuses to even provide a
reason? I bet Nola will be there, too. Maybe I can pinch her. I would loooooove to pinch Nola, right on the soft, fleshy back part of her arm where it’'s the most tender and leaves a nice, smug bruise. Had I known that that day at the office would be the last time I saw Nola, I would have told her to get a life and some other choice things, something witty and wicked.
But then she would see Alice, too, and her nasty pinching thoughts immediately melted away. I didn’'t spend enough time with her, she thought. She was a wondeful sister. Alice was definitely the better of the two sisters, she knew, but she had always known that. Alice, just a year older than Lucy, was always cleaning up Lucy’'s messes when they were kids, covering for Lucy when she would stay out late as a teenager and drive Naunie nuts, and then, later, when they became grown-ups and Lucy spent too much time with a beer in her hand and never had enough money to pay rent, while at the same time Alice was getting ready to settle down and start her own family.
Jilly and Warren would be at the funeral, she was sure, and probably Marianne, too. Maybe she would even get to see some people from high school. People from high school always find a way to show up at funerals; word spreads like wildfire. I wonder who’'s gotten fat, who’'s gone bald, and who has squeezed out a litter of kids already. Maybe even some patients would show up, but only, Lucy hoped, the ones who flossed regularly and didn’'t have plaque caked around their teeth like mud on boots. This will be great. It will be just like “"This Is Your Life, Lucy Fisher”" without having to talk to anyone I want to avoid. And, actually, most of all, she wanted to see Tulip. Sweet Tulip, she thought. Lucy was sure that upon hearing the news, Martin would have brought the dog up to Alice’'s. Jared and Tulip would become best friends instantly, she had a feeling. It would be great for all of them to have each other, especially now.
I wonder what I’'ll be wearing, she went on to ponder. I wonder what Alice picked out. I had better not be in some sort of prom dress or—--Lucy wilted with horror—-- that wedding dress. Thank God it was stuffed in a box in the back of Jilly’'s garage where Alice couldn’'t find it, unless Jilly offered to dig it up. I have to admit, I am a little excited at seeing myself. I can’'t wait to see what my makeup and hair look like. It’'s done by a professional, so it better look good. Better than good, I had better look great. This is my last public appearance. I have got to make an impression!
I hope they play decent music—--but honestly, if they play “"Wind Beneath My Wings”" I don’'t know if I’'ll be ecstatic or furious. Such a toss-up there. I hope they play some Allman Brothers. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God! she thought, getting instantly excited. The EULOGY I forgot about the EULOGY! Oh! This is so fantastic! I wonder who it will be. Who will write the Lucy eulogy? This is just delightful! Maybe it won’'t be just one person. Maybe they’'ll take turns. I’'ve been to funerals like that, where almost every person there got up and said how giving and selfless and beautiful and wonderful the dead person was and how the world is a bleaker, sadder, less lovely place now. Oh, I really hope that’'s on the agenda, Lucy thought. I could sure use a little pick-me-up right now. Nothing like a eulogy to kick-start your self-esteem.
Oh, Lucy said to herself, I think I am really looking forward to tomorrow. I am very excited about my funeral.
Lucy heard a resounding thud as Bethanny slapped her binder shut and turned toward her neighbor.
“"Our rooms are right by a bowling alley and a nail salon,”" she quipped cheerfully. “"This is going to be just like going on a cruise, but with no stops.”"
And with that, the two freshly dead girls got up and went in search of their new homes.
chapter six Shake and Bake
The moment after Lucy’'s eyes snapped open, she met the morning with a rushed sense of anticipation. At first, she was puzzled by the excitement, but it only took a small pause for her to remember, and she was invigorated.
It was the day of her funeral.
She pushed off the motel-issue blankets and jumped out of bed. She ran to the mirror tacked on the wall above the dresser and peeked at herself; Ruby was right. No need for a shower. Her hair wasn’'t a nest of tumbled curls and stray strands the way it usually was in the morning, giving her a homeless “"I hear voices”" look. In fact, her coiffure looked exactly the way it had last night before she’'d gone to bed. Her teeth didn’'t beg to be brushed, and her mouth lacked that mucky feeling that normally drove her nuts when she woke up. As soon as she changed out of the plain pair of soft white pajamas she’'d found in the dresser, into her regular clothes and she was ready to go, which was good, because her assigned dorm room didn’'t come equipped with a shower, bathroom, or even a sink. It was just a simple room, Super 8 motel style, with a twin bed, a small desk, a dresser, and a couple of light fixtures. Nearly monastery-like in its simplicity, the room wasn’'t decorated for Lucy to fall in love with it; it was there to provide some necessities and a place to get some peace and quiet.
Next door, Lucy could hear Bethanny in number 897 rustling about, opening and closing drawers, and then a rap-tap-tap on the wall.
“"Lucy!”" she called in a muffled voice. “"Are you ready?”"
“"Almost,”" Lucy called back. “"I just need to get my boots on.”"
Lucy had just pulled her left boot on and had smoothed her jeans down over the shaft when Bethanny knocked on the door and then let herself in. Lucy stopped, looked at Bethanny.
“"Aren’'t you getting dressed?”" she asked her neighbor, who was standing in the doorway in her pair of white pajamas and white slippers.
“"I’'m not spending one more day in that wet suit,”" Bethanny declared. “"Do you know that if I was alive, I would have been chafed all over! This is the only other thing I have, and it’'s far more comfortable.”"
“"Have you decided on anything from the catalog?”" Lucy asked, stepping into the hallway and closing the door to number 895 behind her.
Bethanny shook her head. “"I am torn between the White Lady and the ballerina from Swan Lake,”" she said, clearly flustered. “"And then there’'s a great Cleopatra outfit that I am drooling over, but it looks kind of hard to sit down in, unless there’'s some sort of Lycra involved. What do you think? Do you think they’'d make a stretch Cleopatra dress? You’'re so lucky that you died in your own clothes.”"
“"I’'m just so happy I didn’'t perish in heels,”" Lucy commented as they walked to SD1118. “"I can’'t imagine. I’'m so glad I died with my boots on.”"
Bethanny gasped, as if suddenly struck by even more tragedy. “"Oh, no! If I go with Swan Lake, I’'ll have to go around on tiptoe, and I’'ll just end up cramping,”" she said sadly. “"And if I go with Cleopatra, the outfit comes with sandals made out of grass, which is just ridiculous. I don’'t know why a nice pair of ballet flats or espadrilles wouldn’'t work. But Swan Lake has the crown, and I really wanted the crown. Maybe I should just do Dead Bride. I don’'t know. I’'m so confused.”"
“"Bethanny, can I ask you something?”" Lucy ventured.
“"Sure,”" the girl in pajamas replied.
Lucy hesitated for a moment. She wasn’'t quite sure how to say it.
“"Do you believe we’'re really dead?”" Lucy finally said. “"I mean, this is all so unbelievable. One minute, we’'re living, and the next minute, we’'re getting ready to crash our funerals. Doesn’'t that seem weird to you?”"
Bethanny looked at Lucy, then shook her head of shoulder-length blond curls, now freed and bouncy since she had ditched her wet suit. She looked much younger than Lucy had first thought, her skin a glowing peachy-pink, her teeth perfect and white, and not a single wrinkle gathered around her eyes. Lucy guessed that the poor thing couldn’'t be more than in her very early twenties. She was little, barely rose above Lucy’'s shoulder, and had tiny crushable little bones. That shark was a bastard, Lucy thought. That was in no way a fair fight.
“"I don’'t know,”" Bethanny said honestly. “"How else would it feel to be dead but weird. I’'ve neve
r been dead before. I guess I wouldn’'t expect it to be any other way but kinda freaky.”"
Lucy nodded in affirmation. “"Yeah,”" she agreed. “"It’'s an experience like no other. I’'ll say that much. Are you looking forward to your funeral?”"
“"Not really,”" Bethanny said with a wince. “"I mean, we’'ve only been dead for a day. What kind of party can you organize in that amount of time? I’'m afraid it will be kind of lame.”"
“"You know, I don’'t think we’'ve been dead for just a day,”" Lucy replied. “"Remember Ruby said that time is different here than it is there? Who knows how long we were ‘'asleep’' in the big dorm? I have a feeling we might have been there for a while, kind of like in a dead sleep. There were only a couple of other people who were awake. The rest were still snoring away.”"
“"Yeah, I wondered about that, too.”" The little blond girl nodded. “"So maybe there was time to plan a big party after all? I hope they got a DJ! Are you looking forward to yours?”"
“"Like you can’'t imagine. I hope they bury me on a hill, under a tree. Someplace green with grass. Phoenix has some cemeteries that are nothing but dirt and headstones. No, thank you. I’'d really like something by a lake. I’'d like a view; that would be great. Wouldn’'t a view be great?”"
Bethanny looked at Lucy a bit puzzled. “"But you’'re not there,”" she said as she looked up. “"You’'re here. You’'d never get to see the view except for today.”"
Lucy took it in for a moment and then laughed. “"You’'re absolutely right,”" she said just as they approached the door of SD1118. “"What do I care about a view I will never see? Unless I’'m haunting my grave …...”"
“"Hello, ladies,”" Ruby said jovially, clapping her gnarled hands together as both girls walked into the classroom. “"Who’'s ready for a funeral, huh? I wanna see you girls get excited! You typically only get one of these, you know, unless you’'re Abe Lincoln or you get exhumed during a trial.”"
Spooky Little Girl Page 7
