by Abigail Boyd
As I neared the entrance, I heard hammers and drills resonating from inside. The ballroom had been popular at one time for dancing lessons and occasional bingo meets. It seemed like a lovely old place, but also an old-timer hangout.
The tinted windows were filthy, but I could still make out the people inside. I peered in through the grime. Henry stood next to his tall, intimidating father, who was deep in discussion with one of the construction workers.
Henry had apparently inherited everything but Phillip Rhode's height; even their posture was the same. Phillip was handsome, but in a more severe way than Henry, and he obviously knew he could use it to his advantage.
Turning his head suddenly, it was as though Henry could feel me spying. I felt caught, but didn't budge. He held up one pointer finger to his father and the man they were talking to, and excused himself outside. As he began walking towards me, I prepared myself for my usual run. But I was tired of the games, and the urge fled before I could.
He eyed me unsteadily as he walked out, his hands shoved into his pockets. He was wearing a suit, something I'd never seen him dressed in before, and looked weirdly formal. Complete with a shiny red tie that looked like a blood smear. A bruise was fading beneath his right eye.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi. I saw your dad's car," I said, gesturing meekly to the Lexus. "Did you walk into a doorknob?"
"Just wasn't paying attention," he said.
"Oh. I was just wondering what you two were doing in this part of town."
"Thornhill is renovating this place to be their central office," Henry explained with a shrug, unaware that I was already informed and just looking for an excuse. He looked uncomfortable, like he was sweating.
I'd never realized that Henry's dad was so involved with Thornhill, although it made perfect sense. He was one of the richest men in town, a successful criminal lawyer.
"You mean an evil lair?"
"Same difference," Henry said, the phantom of a grin passing his lips. After a pause, he said, "So you changed your phone number, huh?."
"No. It's the same. I just didn't know what to say." My own hands found my pockets, and I rocked up on the balls of my feet. "You kind of started talking to me out of the blue."
"I know. After the past few months, cutting off ties like that. I didn't know how else to try and get a hold of you."
"Why are you suddenly talking to me?" I blurted out bluntly. I couldn't take wondering anymore. "After all the tie-cutting and ignoring and oh, telling me to pretend you didn't exist, and to go back to my side of the trailer park."
He kicked a split chip of wood on the ground and it scuttled into the rain gutter. "I don't want you to hate me. You have every reason to, I know. But I don't want that to be the end of our story."
I tried resisting the emotions that were flooding me. I hated the fact that his words filled me with hope, like I could just throw myself into his arms. Being a girl sucked. "Well, unless my dreams came true and Lainey got hit by a bus, I think that was the end."
I was going to turn and walk away, but my body was immobilized by the fact that he laughed. He ran his hand through his carefully coiffed hair, looking almost shy and incredibly handsome, his features having matured in the months since I'd been close enough to pay attention.
"There's so much I want to tell you," he said with a sigh, looking up at the cloudless sky. His voice was low, almost mesmerizing. It had had that effect on me before, at our study sessions. "But I don't know how, or where to begin."
Phillip had noticed us talking. He was glaring at us — well, mostly me — from the other side of the tinted window. He called to Henry from inside Thornhill's lair in progress. Henry bobbed his head quickly in my direction and rushed back inside, as if he would get in trouble if he didn't run. I sighed, shutting my eyes briefly, and walked back towards Erasmus, back to my side of the block.
My phone vibrated just as I reached the gallery's doorway.
Can you meet up with me at the library next week? he'd written. After a moment of hesitation, I finally wrote yes.
CHAPTER 10
I DIDN'T GET a chance to go to the library until the next Wednesday. Theo was glued to my hip after her debut at the gallery, and I didn't mind, as we made up for missed time. Jenna was still around too, coming in when I went to bed, cheerful as always.
It was strange to have them both in my life, yet unable to interact with each other. I couldn't even bring up their names with each other. Jenna wouldn't understand who Theo was, and Theo didn't know I saw ghosts.
I thought Henry would decline, or change his mind since I only gave him notice by texting him the night before. But he quickly agreed to meet up with me Wednesday afternoon. I had no idea what I was doing, and I tried not to think about it too much.
As soon as I went inside the library, I saw Nurse Callie talking to a well-dressed, handsome woman in front of the checkout desk. Her hair was the color of well-aged wine, wrapped in a bun so tight it looked painful. Her face appeared equally as tight, from fillers and the severity of her personality. If one were so inclined, they could have bounced a quarter off her forehead.
"Why was that paint color used on the back wall?" the woman asked. Her voice sounded so snobby and cartoonish, I couldn't imagine anyone really talked like that.
"I believe that's what the painters were instructed to use," Callie said cheerfully. Her good attitude only seemed to irritate the lady with the twisted undergarments further.
"Well, it's not taupe. I specifically said taupe. It's light beige. Far too pale. It's supposed to convey a three-dimensional sense to the space, you see what I mean?" The woman walked behind the counter, making a frame out of her arms. I had no idea what she was going on about, but I was riveted. Callie just continued to smile, although it appeared more and more forced, and nodded.
"Sure! Yeah, of course," Callie said.
"Well, make sure you call the painters to schedule a repair," the woman said. "It's your responsibility." She departed out the front door, her stiletto heels clicking loudly, probably to stomp on kittens in her free time.
"Who was that?" I asked Callie in a gossipy tone, depositing my returns in the drop slot.
Callie rolled her eyes and started laughing softly. "Cheryl Rhodes. The pickiest woman on earth. She's running her own beautifying subsection of Thornhill now, apparently. First our flowers were too "common", so we have to bring in Moccasin Orchids, which are going to die because the soil is completely wrong..."
She seemed to realize she was ranting, and smiled apologetically, bending to retrieve my books and checking them in with her hand scanner. "Sorry. She drives me bat crazy. But she and her husband have put so much of their own money into the library, we have to abide by every little nitpick she has. It doesn't help that they're both attorneys."
My mouth had gone dry. Cheryl Rhodes. Henry's mom. I'd never met her before, but I had heard enough to know she would dislike me. I'd had the strong suspicion that Phillip Rhodes had.
Callie leaned back so I could get a good look at the wall behind me. "Does that look like taupe or beige to you?" she asked, in a mimic of Cheryl's voice. I giggled.
"I can't tell. I must be colorblind," I said.
"You and me both, hon," Callie said, and went to the back.
I navigated to the paranormal section. Other Worlds was back in its hiding place on the top shelf. The library was busy as it always was during the week, but I found a comfy corner with a small table.
Outside, it was raining steadily, car tires sloshing in the streets and the echoing drops tapping on the roof. The lamp on my table made a little star of light on the wood. The aquarium look was in full effect again, and I could imagine colorful fish swimming just outside the glass, like the tank at Blind Devil.
I wondered if Henry would come, or ditch me. He'd been there even when I didn't want him. I tried very hard to concentrate on the book instead, at least to get my mind off of the boy.
The text was in some decorat
ive font that looked like handwriting. It was full of cheesy, Aunt Corinne-approved words, like a unicorn care manual or a cult handbook. Any text with astral several times in one page made me suspicious.
The first few chapters just introduced the reader to the idea of life after death, as if they'd never heard of such a thing. Or more like what sounded like death after death. Either you passed on and were basically put to rest with no consciousness, or your "essence" lingered behind, if you were one of the unlucky ones.
At any moment, I assumed the book would start informing me about the importance of chakra cleansing. I settled on chapter three, titled Limbo, getting comfortable.
The world that is closest to our ring of consciousness is referred to in knowledgeable terms as Limbo. Limbo intersects our world from time to time, and those who have The Sight are able to see it. In Limbo's ring of existence, the Essence is caught in the state it was in before the human expired. The energy is unable to progress, or move forward, or change.
This was getting useful. I'd never read anything about ghosts that made much sense to my experience before, having never encountered moaning sheets or floating orbs. All of the traditional ghost information struck me as being false now, the product of fear or ignorance.
What ancient texts have referred to as Purgatory is the ring of Limbo. It is not an unpleasant existence, but it is never-changing, a flimsy replica of the main world. A world of swirling fog and hazy sleep. In this state, it can be nightmarish for any spirit that has the urge to move on. It is a state of forced denial.
I thought about everything Jenna had told me. Was that where she resided now, Limbo?
"That must be the world's most interesting book," Henry said. I jumped, startled. I hadn’t even heard him approach, and now he was sitting across from me, watching me curiously. "What's it about?"
"Girly things," I said, shutting the cover and sliding it away, as if disavowing knowledge of the book. "Makeup application, PMS remedies."
He chuckled, looking at the mystical cover, the swirling silver letters. "Uh huh. Getting in touch with the moon goddess, huh?" He took a deep breath, his broad shoulders rising and falling. "So. You're here."
My heart beat erratically again. I couldn't believe it, either. "Apparently I am."
"And you're not going to run away?" he asked.
"I'm not promising anything. Especially not that I won't run," I warned. I was very guarded, and didn't want to sound too casual. The problem was, it was easy to slip into casual mode with him, to let my guard down, even with everything that had passed between us. It was like time had stopped. I would have never thought it would be that way.
I fidgeted in the chair, with no idea what to do with myself or my hands.
"So where's your girlfriend this afternoon?" I asked, looking out of the window beside me onto the slushy street. As cars passed through the muddle puddles, waves of muddy water spurted up onto their undercarriages.
"Let's not talk about that right now," Henry said.
"Okay. So what do you need to talk about with me so urgently?" I pried.
"I told you I don't know where to start. I still don't." He leaned back in his own chair, which creaked against his back as he put his hands behind his head and stretched. I tried to ignore the way the pose elongated his stomach beneath his polo shirt, and focus on the ridiculousness of him wearing a polo shirt instead.
"How about this...why did Thornhill buy up that old ballroom?"
"They've been buying up property all over the place. Part of it seems to be having free access to Hell. They donated a bunch of money to this library, for example, and now my mother" — his lips twisted upon saying that — "comes here all the time and harasses them about drapes and furniture."
"I just first-hand witnessed a display of said harassment," I muttered.
"Oh, you met mom?"
"Uh, no. I don't think she noticed me, the pee-on."
"Remember that orphanage we went to last year?" he asked. "I'm sure you do, since it was your idea. Anyway, they bought that up, and they're fixing that to be some kind of historical museum."
"They bought Dexter?" I asked incredulously. "Why?" It explained the SOLD sign I'd seen on my last visit.
Henry shrugged. "Like I said, a historical place. It's a pretty huge old building. And there are five acres of property; I guess it stretches back a lot farther than we saw, through the trees. It used to be a farm, or something. Back in the woods is the wreck of an old crop barn."
"Dexter put the orphans to work farming," I recited, remembering. "Warwick told us that." Saying his name gave me chills, and I shuddered. Henry's hand shot out to take mine across the table, but I pulled it back into my lap.
"How are you doing now?" Henry asked gently. "I'm sorry I never got a chance to give you my condolences about your friend. Life was such a mess after what we found in the basement."
"It looked pretty simple to me," I said, the tone of my voice hard and unforgiving. There was still a lot of hurt lurking just below the surface.
"Nothing about it was simple," Henry said, equally as stubborn. I could sense whatever he wanted to tell me, words lingering silently at the back of his throat. But I didn't want to hear them. I changed the subject.
"Do you remember seeing graffiti back when we went for our seance?" I asked.
He looked confused. "That's random."
"I know. But I'd really like to find out. And my memory is a little faulty."
"Truthfully, I don't remember much about that night."
"I remember it saying Hell is closer than you think. But..." I didn't want to tell him I'd been trespassing, especially now that I knew it was partly his dad's property. Not to mention it just sounded crazy. "I can't recall."
Henry looked thoughtful for a moment, still leaning back, watching a teacher and her pupil struggling through worksheets at the next table. I was getting frequent, achingly pleasant wafts of his cologne again, and tried to breathe out my mouth instead.
"I remember that, actually," he said. "Not from that night. But we went to the place a few months ago, when the real estate company was assessing the property. Dad dragged me along. I remember thinking well, yeah, we live in Hell. It was just somebody failing to be clever, I think."
"So I didn't imagine it," I said.
"What do you think it means?" he asked. "Because obviously you don't think it means nothing."
I shook my head, looking out at the rain sheeting down the glass again. Down on the street, a woman was standing with an umbrella above her. Her daughter was running in circles around her. She was laughing, which is why, even though she was still wearing her blue raincoat, I didn't recognize her at first.
But it was Alyssa Chapman. I wasn't mistaken this time. Her mother peered down lovingly, then shut her eyes and seemed to come to her senses. Her face fell, and she meandered towards the bus stop. Alyssa stood alone, watching her mother curiously, then scurried after her.
Theo, Ms. Vore and I were together in their kitchen the next day. Theo sat on the Formica counter, rifling through a cookbook and tapping the occasional page with a wooden spoon. Ms. Vore had gotten home earlier; she was teaching summer school, after all. Collage making for hoodlums, she said jokingly.
"They want to bake me brownies, but I wouldn't trust eating one," she'd informed us earlier.
The cluttered kitchen had a definite farm theme. There was a huge clock with a cow's face, a bunch of wooden roosters on the wall, and salt and pepper shakers in the shape of barns on the windowsills. Plastic Autumn corn hung in the window from a ribbon.
I was standing beside her. Ms. Vore was cutting up vegetables on a barn-shaped cutting board, to go with the tofu sizzling on the stove. Theo kicked the cupboards gently with her pink Converse. The patterns on the laces didn't match.
"I've never eaten tofu before," I admitted, eying the white, slimy-looking brick. "It always sounded like something out of a Goosebumps book to me, attack of the giant bean curd."
"The
blob that ate Detroit," Theo offered.
Ms. Vore, or Lucy as she had told me I could call her out of school, chuckled.
"Well, it doesn't have much flavor in itself," Lucy explained. "It's all about how you cook it and what you cook it with. The way I'm making it now, it'll taste a little like chicken. And not like just like people always say. The texture is pretty close."
"Can I help you with anything?" I offered.
"You can get the red pepper out of the fridge. In the bottom drawer. Thanks, Ariel. Theo never wants to help with cooking."
"Because I like raw meat," Theo said cheerfully. As I retrieved the pepper, Theo tore the top of a bag of bacon bits with her teeth and ate them like raisins. I set the pepper down in a bowl next to Lucy, already brimming with vegetables.
"You won't love it when your cholesterol skyrockets," Lucy muttered, continuing to chop up the huge, purple-skinned red onion in front of her.
"My cholesterol is just fine," Theo said. "I don't want to live over 50, anyway. Gray hair would be hard to dye this color."
"Never have daughters," Lucy said to me, circling the chef's knife. "They will drive you nuts."
"Love you too, mommy," Theo said.
Lucy scraped the chopped up onions into the skillet and stirred them around with the tip of the knife. She joined me back at the kitchen island. "So what have you been doing with your summer, Ariel?"
"Oh, not much. Watching a lot of TV," I said. I couldn't vocalize how it really was, like my life had split in two — the time I had with Jenna, and "real" life with other people. Too bad being with Jenna sometimes felt the most real.
"She was waiting for me to stop being spastic," Theo said, a touch of forlornness in her voice. She pushed her glasses up. "But now that I'm rich, I think I'm okay."
"You know that money is going in your college fund," Lucy said sternly.
"Yeah, how dare you invest my money in higher education and not let me waste it all on candy and gadgets?" Theo said, rolling her eyes. Her phone buzzed, indicating a text. She peered at it and scoffed, shutting it. She then smacked me in the chest. "Hey, did you hear about this Hell Day crap?"
