02 Awaken-The Soulkeepers

by Adams, Lori

  “And just how long have you been at this?”

  “Ridin’ waves? Uh, for about—”

  “Oh my God! Not riding waves!” I yell. “Training! How long have you been training spirit walkers?”

  He leans back with his hands up like he’s being attacked. “Whoa, wahine. Don’t beat the pahu. Here, have a seat.” He gets up and guides me into Dad’s chair like I’m delirious. I suppose I am. I ask what pahu means, and he says “drum.”

  When he returns to his seat, he rests forward on his elbows and speaks slowly, calmly. “I dig your concerns, really. It’s cool if you wanna know my pedigree. Hey, I leave everything on the board.” He explains that he ascended around the turn of the century. His soul is “totally enlightened,” so I should have no worries about his “level of wisdom.”

  I don’t know what any of this means, so I ask how many spirit walkers he has trained, and he says “twenty.” I look at Bailey. She shrugs. We have no measuring stick to go by.

  “Who was your first?” Bailey asks, and he relaxes back on the sofa to contemplate.

  “Probably shouldn’t say but dude’s honorable; he wouldn’t mind.” He smiles nostalgically at some memory. “Brah’s name is Duke. Duke Kahanamoku.”

  The name sounds familiar, and I strain to remember where I’ve heard it. A memory comes to me as a vision; I see Huntington Beach, my old stomping grounds. There is a restaurant at the pier named Dukes, in honor of the famous Hawaiian surfer. My face lights up and I spring forward.

  “That Duke! You’re saying the most famous surfer in the history of surfing is a spirit walker?” Rama Kuan grins and I get it. “Okay, that’s pretty cool. But you have to stop the surfer speak.”

  “Dude!” he wails, overly offended.

  “Dude!” Bailey laughs, pretending to be overly offended.

  “Seriously, I can’t be trained by someone who sounds like the guys I used to hang with at the Wedge.”

  “Ah, the Wedge.” Rama Kuan sighs with longing, and Bailey asks, “What’s the Wedge?”

  I shake my head impatiently. “This surfing place … Balboa peninsula … Newport Beach. Never mind. Point is, we need ground rules. No surfer speak.”

  He looks doubtful. “Well, my first Awakening was in Hawaii and it was totally righteous. It kinda solidified me, cha? ’Sides, I make the ground rules at this clambake and … the speak is what it is.”

  “The speak is what it is?” Are you freakin’ kidding me?

  I slump back in my chair and consider the turn of events. I can’t help being disappointed. Especially after Michael described his Halo Masters as elite warriors. I don’t know what that makes my Ascended Master but I’m feeling supremely gypped. Dude.

  “We cool?” he asks, and I shrug like I don’t have a choice. Then he stands and fills his lungs. Once he has emptied them, he turns to Bailey. “Sorry, sister, private party for the next hour. And we gotta kick-start it before the Pops gets home.”

  The realization hits me; I am finally going to start my training! I’m suddenly awash with excitement, like I just remembered that I’ve been waiting weeks for this day.

  I walk Bailey to the door, and she whispers, “You think he’s got a girlfriend?” and we look back at him. He’s shaking sand out of his sandals and laughing.

  “Not in this realm,” I mutter, and we giggle. She wants me to find out, and I say, “Nope. This one’s off limits.” We say good-bye and then she gives me the look and I know; I have to call the moment we’re done. Honestly, I’m more excited to tell Michael and his family that I’m finally beginning my training. I wonder what Michael’s reaction will be. He’s got to be excited now that it’s finally happening, right?

  We head upstairs for privacy because Rama Kuan says it’s best if Dad doesn’t know about my training. I agree. Dad is happy now, and I don’t want him to worry about anything. As I change into comfy sweats behind the closet door, Rama Kuan says that I’m to call him Rama, or Ra if I’m in the mood to “totally nick his name.”

  Once ready, I ponytail my hair and start limbering up. “I’ve been doing some pilates and running on the treadmill at the gym,” I say. I want to be clear that I’m taking this seriously. He cocks his head and gives me a goofy smile.

  “Uh, that’s cool.” It sounds like a question.

  I jog in place and punch the air, ready for some serious kick-ass fighting pointers. Michael said his first day of training was grueling and painful, and I’m gearing up. Rama frowns.

  “What?” I ask, stopping. “I can do the downward-facing do, if you wanna start there.”

  He laughs and says, “Take a load off,” and we arrange ourselves on the floor. He sits in the lotus style so I do, too. “Listen, I don’t wanna eighty-six your enthusiasm. I dig it, truly. But you can’t expect to barrel roll the first time out. You’d go aerial and rag doll it, yeah?” I give him a perturbed look that says I would hardly lose control of myself and flop around. He holds up a hand. “Hey, no worries. The lesson is this: baby steps. Dig the philosophy and the rest will follow, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I grumble.

  “Sweet, now let’s angle off the attitude and clear your mind. Accept the speak, and the path will be revealed. It’s like blasting the pylons; you’ll get shredded if you’re not prepared. So now, dig this: There are three trials you gotta pass to get you there. First: Purification of the Soul. Gotta get your head right, dude, or it stops there. Second: Illuminative Way. Once the mind is stoked, you’ll see the way, seriously. Your vision goes off the Richter. And Third: Empowerment of the Physical Form. Kinda like that barrel roll you were trying to ride. It comes in time; when the mind is ready, the body will follow.”

  I nod and clasp my hands in my lap. I’m so excited. I want it to all happen now, at once. Instant gratification is my new addiction.

  “Naw, dude, you gotta chill.” He reaches over and opens my hands, placing them on my knees, palms up. “Don’t hang on to what you think you know. Open up. Receive your gifts.” I relax my hands and leave them open. He sits back and copies my posture. He tells me to close my eyes and breathe evenly. He tells me there is an individual mystery inside me, that we can unravel the mystery only with a clear mind. I am to let go, to move past all definitions I have given myself or that have been given to me. I have to touch the deepest level of purity within myself, to recognize the truth within me.

  There are things not made for words; there is knowing, the feeling of certainty. When my mind is clear of all distractions and labels and expectations, I will face the light within.

  I inhale with my eyes closed and concentrate. This is hard. There is always something in my mind. I can’t clean my slate without something else taking its place. Without realizing it, my fingers have curled again, and I feel Rama’s warm hands opening them. I refocus and listen to his deep, smooth voice.

  “Hear the sound of water rushing through your mind. The water takes with it all the loose thoughts and fragments left behind. Let them go … let them go … let them wash through the channels of your mind until the walls are bare. Let them go … let them go …”

  It doesn’t sound like him anymore, no surfer lingo or annoying Valley twang to distract me. It seems to be the voice of another, as though he has gone somewhere inside himself and pulled out his inner guru.

  I frown, distracted by the change in his voice and my analysis of it. I hear him sigh and I open my eyes. He shakes his head and I close them again, trying hard to focus.

  “Stop trying so hard,” he says. “Unclench your thoughts. Concentrate on each inhalation and each exhalation. Listen only to the rhythm of your breathing. Place yourself in the direct center of your being. Feel the love that lives in the center of you. Visualize a ball of white light, the light of love that lives within yourself; feel the love spread throughout your body, filling up the empty places; but always, the ball of white light pulsating within you.

  “Now, touch each finger to your thumbs and breathe evenly. Visualize the ball of white
light; it grows stronger as you touch each finger to your thumb and breathe through the mouth, not the nose. Breathe through the mouth, accessing the spine. Move the fingers, one by one, and breathe. Move the oxygen up and down the spine. Watch the ball of white light.”

  I do as I’m told, visualizing a ball of white light, breathing through my mouth, feeling the oxygen up and down my spine. I’m shocked to discover that I can feel it. I can see the light as clearly as if my eyes were open. But the light is pale blue now and reconfigures as though wanting to take shape. I hear a faint ringing in my ears.

  “Your spine will reveal your destiny,” Rama says, his voice so soft I can barely hear it. “You must access your own soul, Sophia. It’s there, within the light. Do not look for it but feel for it. It’s the flower of life within you: formless, free, glowing with emotion. Feel for it …” His voice trails off into a chant that I can’t discern.

  My mind is numb and active at the same time. I feel something swelling inside me. The ringing is louder and the light is no longer pale blue but swirling with every shade of blue imaginable. I sense that it’s a powerful energy force, and its movement is making my heart race. My arms are trembling and my hands have curled into fists.

  My head snaps back and my mouth opens as I exhale a strange breath that seems to come from the deepest part of me, well beyond my lungs. “Ahhhh!” A rush of sound comes out without my permission, and my eyes fly open. My chest is pumping furiously. My body is shaking and I am staring at the ceiling.

  It takes a moment to regain my senses, but eventually I close my mouth and lower my chin. I look at Rama. He has scooted back and is gaping in dumbfounded silence. We stare until my breathing returns to normal.

  “Wow,” I say, forcing a dry swallow. “Hope that was normal. Was that normal?” I’m starting to feel concerned. Rama is flushed and his eyes are huge. He looks a bit confused, like he was on a bender and doesn’t know where he woke up.

  “Uh, yeah for sure, dude. I mean, no … not really. It’s like you jumped ahead fifty steps. How ya feel?”

  I consider and shrug. “Okay.” I have a dull headache but nothing worth complaining about.

  He seems a bit flustered and scratches his head. “You ever, I mean, um … how’s your heart?”

  “How’s my heart?” It’s my head that aches.

  “Yeah, I mean, for sure your heart’s normal, right? You’ve never had any funky business with your heart? Transplant or anything?”

  Uh-oh. I think of Michael and my two heartbeats. No, that’s definitely not normal. I don’t want to explain things and risk Rama telling me we can’t continue.

  “I’m cool,” I lie, and he gives me a skeptical look.

  Luckily, he moves on and we discuss everything I felt. He listens patiently. I can’t tell if he’s impressed or alarmed. He tells me that I’m on a good path, that I’m headed to the natural state of being, that once I find the soul within myself, I will experience a feeling of great perfection. I will reach the highest path.

  “And what’s the highest path?”

  “Definitive enlightenment,” he says, nodding as though it’s the newest thing all the cool kids are doing.

  “So how am I doing so far?” I ask, stretching my legs. They ache something awful, like I’ve been sitting in the funky flower position for days. I glance at the clock. “Holy crap! It’s seven o’clock! I thought you said it would only take an hour!”

  We climb to our feet, and he says, “Dude, you were totally immersed. I’ve never had anybody go three hours the first time out. Usually my grimmies can sustain an hour at the most. Your concentration skills are off the Richter.”

  “Grimmies?”

  “First timers.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve had plenty of time to sharpen my concentration skills thanks to the SATs and college essays. That being said, I don’t wanna sound too normal here but … I do have a ton of homework so …”

  “Naw, man, it’s cool. I dig it. You have to keep up the normality. And the Pops just got home, so I gotta bail. But listen, hate to add to your load and whatnot, but you got some home schooling for me, too.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Azright, but don’t freak. I’m keeping you in the shallows for a while. First off, you gotta find a word, you know, your mantra word. Then you gotta repeat this word when you hoof it to school. Do it over and over till your breathing matches your word. You dig?”

  “I dig,” I mumble. Already, I’m imagining what everyone will think, hearing me talking to myself.

  “Cool. Then you gotta name your days. Say, like, tomorrow. You’re gonna say tomorrow is your day of happiness, or tolerance, or whatever. Make that day true to the word. See, we gotta build up your spiritual maturity, cha?”

  “Will we train again tomorrow?” I ask, but he becomes harried, looking around and checking pockets he doesn’t have.

  “Aznuts! The Pops is coming up the stairs. I gotta bail but I’ll be in touch.” He backs into the closet and shuts the door. I roll my eyes. I have an Ascended Master hiding in the closet, and it should be funny but I’m still feeling slightly gypped.

  “Sophia?” Dad calls from the hallway. “I got takeout.”

  “Be down in a minute,” I holler. I wait a beat or two and then open the closet door. Rama Kuan is gone.

  * * *

  It’s a school day like any other of late. I play subway salmon against the current; hand in assignments at the last minute; download an empty memory card for the school paper; which prompts a sternly worded lecture from Mrs. Cooley; gobble down food I barely taste, while staring across the table at Michael’s empty seat; race back to my last class where I’ve left my jump drive, then rush into astronomy and throw myself into a seat just as the bell rings. Only nobody is here and I’m now officially confused. Then I see the note written across the grease board in Mr. Cummings’s scrawl: If you can read this, you’re too close … to being a moron. You have forgotten that we are meeting in the gym today. See you there, Sophia.

  “Son de la bitch!”

  I haul my assets back out of the chair and remind myself, This is a day of tolerance, this is a day of tolerance, this is a day—

  Christmas music crackles over the intercom system. It’s Lynyrd Skynyrd’s rendition of “Run Run Rudolph,” so I take his advice and make a mad dash back out the door.

  As I head down the hall, Willa Brown, the principal’s secretary, makes an announcement over the music. She asks that whoever has parked their snowmobile on top of Principal Davis’s car to kindly remove it. Her voice is slurred, and I’m guessing the guys have spiked her afternoon tea, again. I think it also might explain why her elf shoes are on the wrong feet.

  I crash to a stop at my locker, dump my armload of books, and then run to the double doors at the end of the hall. I walk into mass confusion and stop at the top of the stairs to locate my class somewhere in the gym below. Because our next basketball game has been cancelled due to bad weather, every conceivable committee, club, or anything resembling a group has claimed eminent domain on the gym. Aside from cheerleaders getting tossed around in a corner, everyone is working on decorations for the Winter Carnival. The chess club is constructing life-size chess pieces donned in turn-of-the-century Russian uniforms, which look more like angry military nutcrackers. The art club is painting Russian nesting dolls with celluloid smiles that give me the creeps. Up on the stage, Duffy has taken over the glee club and now has them singing “I Won’t Be Home for Christmas” by Blink 182. It’s very un-Christmasy, and people are staring and slowing down production. Principal Davis and Mr. Cummings are yelling and pushing their way toward the stage.

  I feel eyes on me so I turn back to the right. There is Michael, the only one standing perfectly still among the bustling crowd. He is farther than thirty feet away so I’m lacking the necessary second heartbeat that makes me feel whole. Sometimes I wish I were one of those autonomous girls who excel in their oneness, who don’t need anyone else to fill their void. Ind
ependent and free and without the nutritional value of love and the nourishment it provides. And then I see Michael and everything inside me yearns for him. He is my heart’s mate. Definitely the whipped cream in my hot chocolate.

  He’s wearing jeans and an ice blue shirt that makes his eyes glow without effort. He has just come from outside, and his hair is windblown and sexy as hell. He smiles and lifts his chin, wanting me to come down and join him. I make a quick sweep of the room and then look back at him. He is shaking his head. He knows I’m looking for anyone from his family. By his seductive grin, I gather that we are alone in the crowd.

  Excitement builds in me because I’ve been waiting all day to tell Michael about Rama Kuan. I know he’s been against the idea of my Awakening but I’m sure he’ll change his tune now that my training has finally begun. He’ll see how happy I am.

  Principal Davis has chased Duffy from the stage, and Mr. Cummings has switched the sound system to the school’s holiday playlist. The sultry, jazz vibe of “Stay a Little Longer, Santa” by Shemekia Copeland puts the student body in a trance, and everybody nods and grooves while they work. I lock eyes with Michael and casually descend the stairs, one … slow … step … at a time. The song is cool and sophisticated and sparks an idea, so I pause on the bottom step. I give Michael my version of bedroom eyes, and he gives me that sexy sideways grin. Then I wiggle my eyebrows and turn in the opposite direction, laughing as his grin falls. I ease into the crowd, sashaying to the music in a wide circle around him. I catch glimpses of his tan face and blond hair. He is tracking me, measure for measure, throughout the gym. I tap out the beat on my thighs, leisurely strolling without a care in the world. Fifty feet away, Michael is walking parallel to me, watching my every move. I peek around the tallest nesting doll. Michael hesitates and then comes at me, but I turn and look over my shoulder, giving him a Catch me if you can grin. He flashes a salacious smile, and I feel a tug in my heart. It’s sharp and knocks me back. I fall into the geek squad working on remote control snowflakes and tiny sleighs flitting overhead. Michael is making it clear that he can control me any way he chooses. I laugh an apology to the guys and saunter away. My second heartbeat strikes, and I know Michael is closing in so I move out of range. I won’t make this easy for him.