CHAPTER FOURTEEN
~Returning to Earth~
Alisa
As time passes, I attend my classes, study the handbook, and have regular interviews with Raphael. I've managed, so far, not to have any with Anaita. But that success streak ends abruptly.
Shana comes running to our cottage with a vellum note clutched in her hand. She thrusts the note into my face while I sit on my bed reading boring educational material that is supposed to help me during my guardianship.
“Alisa! You have a letter from Anaita.” She watches me as I read. “She saw me on the path and asked me to give it to you. What does it say?”
I take the note and gently unfold it. It's made of thick paper that's almost scratchy in my hands. “She wants to see me.” My spirit has many of the same reactions as a physical body, except it's more about the emotion that is attached, so the moment I read the note, it feels like my heart races, and then drops into my stomach. A wave of anxiety plows over me, and I struggle to find an excuse to refuse. I come up with nothing.
“Just great.” With a sigh, I leave my cottage and plod down the path to the white marble building where my guardian classes are held. It sparkles in the light like a beacon, but does not beckon me forward. It is the last place I want to go.
Once I reach Anaita's office I hesitate, my fist ready to knock on her door. I can do this, I tell myself, my eyes closed. I rap on the solid wood. The door opens without a sound and there she stands—gleaming and golden.
“Hello, Alisa. Have a seat.” She gestures to a bright red couch to her right. A wide window gleams crystal clear, and I sit down, glancing through it to the small town of Idir Shaol. I won't miss this place when I leave.
“How are you?” she asks, pulling a chair close.
I shift uncomfortably and turn to face her. I'm pretty sure she could care less how I am. “I'm good.”
“Have you enjoyed your time here?”
That is a loaded question. She'll know if I lie, so I stick to the truth, trying not to sound like the surly teenager I am. “Not really.”
Her laugh resonates through the room, full and rich, but with a touch of sarcasm. “Yes. I know what you mean, but nothing happens by accident or chance.”
I nod, but in my head, I think the complete opposite. What kind of loving god would destine me to be molested, or to go through all the heartache I have? No. Even with everything I've seen here, I'm not sure I even believe in God, and if he is real, then he's cruel and uncaring.
Anaita leans back in her chair assessing me, her hands clasped before her, eyes narrowed. “Raphael has decided it's time for you to go.”
Because of the cold tone of her voice, my hope sinks. They've changed their minds. My thoughts fly to the prison I visited, automatically assuming that is my new destination. She smiles, but her expression is dark, sinister somehow, and I wonder how that's possible, considering her job and everything. “To Earth, Alisa. As a guardian.”
“Oh.” I breathe in relief. “You have no idea how good that sounds. I thought you meant that other place.”
“If you don't succeed, it will be that other place.”
“Right,” I say, nodding.
“I wanted you to come to my office for a specific reason before you discussed your new charge with Raphael.”
“Oh?”
“I understand you, Alisa. Whether you like the sound of that or not. I see a lot of myself in you. And although you rebel against authority, detest what you don't understand, and you take the easy road instead of the best road—”
“Hey!”
“I don't say this to hurt you, but you need to understand how serious this assignment is. It's your last chance. Your very last. Do you understand? You fail here and your soul will rest forever in the bowels of hell, screaming for a release that you will never leave. Never.” She pierces me with her iron gaze, her eyes smoldering with something I don’t understand. She's not the least bit heavenly like a teacher should be. She is nothing like Raphael, and it terrifies me.
Wanting to escape as quickly as I can, I say what she wants to hear. “Yes. I understand.”
“I hope so. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call... in your mind. You know how to do that I assume?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Now go to Raphael. He'll fill you in on the rest.”
I hurry to the door and reach for the handle as though it is a life preserver.
“And, Alisa?”
I turn, my hand trembling. “Yeah?”
“Don't ever forget what I've said.” She shows no emotion, and her words sounds more like a threat than advice.
Paralyzed by her stare, I don't answer. I feel no love, no compassion, and certainly no encouragement emanating from her. After a moment, I pull the door open and fly down the stairs past Raphael's office.
Though her actual words hadn’t been cruel, her intent behind them was. Even I am bright enough to see that. What I don't know is why. She wants me to fail. It radiates from every inch of her perfect, celestial body, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't intend to help me... even if I call. The hardness of her crystal-blue eyes, the tightness of her mouth, even the way she held her hands, suggested she'd rather reach out and choke me than come to my aid.
Raphael pulls the door open before I make it too far down the hall.
“Alisa!”
I slide to a stop.
“I thought I felt you passing by. Please, come in a moment.” He is all smiles and warmth. The complete opposite of Anaita, and I wonder if he knows what she's been up to. With a steady hand, he guides me to a chair, the love and concern in his eyes, a welcome respite.
He sits behind his desk and begins sorting through a small box of crystals that are no bigger than my pinky. The crystals glow in a rainbow of color, some bright and bold, others with pastel softness.
He takes one out, its hue blood red, and places it in a slot at the corner of his desk. He turns it to the right. Within seconds, a life-size movie, similar to the one I saw in the library, appears on the opposite wall, projected from some unknown location. “The boy is Brecken Shaefer. He is seventeen years old.”
He is of average height, muscular, and wears a black leather jacket with faded blue jeans. All I can do is stare at the face on the screen—my eyes drawn to his—as though I should recognize him somehow. I squint, trying to see him more clearly, but the picture doesn't change. I can already tell—just by looking at him—the kind of guy he is, and apart from being totally hot –I would have to be a total idiot not to notice-- he looks dangerous. From his mussed, dark hair to the way he stands, the dare in his dark blue eyes.
I don't like him.
Raphael drones on, but I only hear half of what he says. The first words to register are: arrest, fights, and suspended, but I've already made my judgment.
I can't guard this wild, angry, intimidating boy. He is too... something, and he frightens me.
“So what do you think?” Raphael asks, turning to study my horror-stricken face.
“Uh... I... well, he seems nice enough, but I wonder, is there anyone else to choose from? Not that this Brecken kid isn't great, but I kind of hoped to guard a girl. You know, for propriety's sake.”
A knowing smile spreads across Raphael's slender lips. I don't like the look at all, and I brace myself for his next words. “There's no one else. The board takes these assignments very seriously. Every guardian is placed with a certain charge for a particular reason. Brecken is the one for you. Take him or leave him.”
That's pretty cut and dry. No arguing allowed? No debating? And what are those specific reasons for why I've been placed with him? That is something I'd like to know. “So if I choose not to guard this Brecken boy, then I can't guard anyone at all?”
“He's not 'the Brecken boy,' and yes, that's pretty much it in a nutshell,” Raphael says, unblinking. I notice a touch of humor behind his eyes, so he must think this is funny. Maybe he is more like Anaita than I thought.
Humbled at my predicament, I shake my head at the hopelessness of it all. It's do or die, metaphorically speaking. “I guess I accept.”
“Great!” Raphael eyes are full of newfound excitement. “That's the spirit! Here's how it works. Brecken has a huge obstacle to overcome.”
“Yeah, I know that part.”
“Let me finish. It's important for you to realize the seriousness of your assignment. It's a life or death situation. Your job will be to help him overcome this immediate hurdle. If you succeed, you will be allowed to move on and continue your spiritual training, which will be more wonderful than you can imagine.”
More wonderful than I can imagine? I can imagine something pretty dang awesome. And I also think it's entirely unfair they won't give me a hint at what Brecken's problem is. How can they send me down there completely unprepared? How will I ever succeed without prior planning? It's like taking a final exam and not studying beforehand.
“Alisa, you'll do fine,” he says. “You have a brave heart. Follow it. Pray, meditate, call for help.”
This will never work. Why would anyone start listening to me now? I'm not sure I want to pray anyway. How has God ever helped me? All I can think of is how soon I'll be returning here humiliated, a permanent resident of the underworld.
Raphael motions for me to take his hand and looks into my troubled eyes. “It won't be as hard as you think. You can do this. Believe in yourself.” With a blink, we are gone from his office and standing outside a beige, brick building.
I recognize the look of it immediately.
A high school.
Ugh. High school wasn't that great of an experience the two years I attended before I died. Mainly because my grandmother and best friend had died, but also because I'd become so reclusive, had lived so deeply inside myself, that the other students had stopped even trying to befriend me. I'd become solitary. Invisible.
“Now that you've been assigned to Brecken, you will always be drawn to him,” Raphael explains, guiding me with his hand toward the front doors. “All you need to do is think of him, and you'll know where to find him. Oh, and don't forget about Brecken's special gifts. You need to be careful and be ready.”
“Special gifts?” What did that mean? He's telling me this now? At the last second? Is Brecken disabled in some way?
Raphael gazes at me with concern, his eyebrows pulled down in a frown. “You know. What I told you in my office? About his gifts?”
No, I don't remember. I hadn't really been listening. I'd been too shocked at Brecken's rugged, slightly beautiful, but scary appearance to hear anything. “Oh, right. Yeah, I remember,” I lie. “No problem. It will be fine.”
“Good. Well, this is where I leave you then. Good luck and Godspeed.” He takes one last look at me, and then shimmers from sight.
The world dims, seeming dark after being in Raphael's presence. Even Idir Shaol radiates with brighter light than Earth does. Shaking my head—because it doesn't really matter—I slip through the doors, not even needing to open them.
Being a ghost has its perks.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
~The Presence~
Brecken
Math is boring as usual. Brecken sits with his legs stretched out, the laces on his boots untied, and a scowl on his face. He surveys the other kids in the room, not caring one bit what they think of him. He's past bullying. Anyone who dares comment on his black boots, black clothes, or black expression will live to regret it.
His tough-guy exterior serves his purpose, and most people leave him alone. The only “normal” guys he's friends with are ones on the lacrosse team, and he only socializes with them at practice once a week on Saturdays. He can't afford to be on the team anymore, but they still include him even though he can't play in the actual games. That almost hurt more than anything else did.
In that moment a strange feeling comes over him, making the hairs rise on the back of his neck and chills run down his spine. Someone's in the room. A presence. He hasn't felt one for a long time. It tingles around him like jungle mist, warm and humid. He smells cinnamon, suddenly and clearly. It's not the same scent as last time, but he knows what it means.
He sits up, searching the room and gripping his desk. This can't be happening. Not again. Not now. He can't measure the amount of misery he's been through because of his curse. A curse that has plagued him his whole life. They won't leave him alone. They kept coming and coming.
He knew this hiatus from all things spooky and psycho was too good to last. Glancing at the clock, he prays for the last five minutes of class to zoom by.
They don't.
He hears every tick of the clock, every scuffle of feet, and every droning word from the teacher. On and on the class proceeds. His armpits grow sticky, the room stifling. Perspiration beads on his forehead and his heart races. He can't breathe as he cradles his head in his hands. He has to get out of here, away from the suffocating presence.
Brecken wonders if he really is crazy. Maybe it really is all in his head. Maybe none of it is real.
No.
He can't believe that.
The bell will ring... any second... he has to hang on until the bell...
The room grows dark, and he begins to feel dizzy. He scrunches his eyes closed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
~First Touch~
Alisa
Just like Raphael said, I feel drawn to this mysterious boy. Who is he really? What kind of mess is he involved in? What are his feelings, his desires? What will I experience being with him all the time?
I could have been at his side with a blink of my eyes, but I take the long way. Why hurry after all? I float through the familiar-looking halls, amazed that all high schools are built exactly alike—from the painted brick walls, to the hard, glossy floors.
I let the unpleasant sensation of being in school again wash over me. It prickles the back of my mind, making me feel anxious and unprepared, like I have a missing assignment or something.
I stop at a puce-painted door halfway down the hall. Brecken is inside. I can feel it, and the sensation paralyzes me. I place my fingertips on the door and close my eyes, leaning my head forward. The room will be filled with at least twenty students. They can't see me, and won't know I'm there, but I imagine the pressure of their gazes, as though I am walking in with a real body.
This is it. This is my moment, and I'm not going to let some stupid boy and a bunch of his idiotic friends scare me into failing. Closing my eyes, I float through the closed door, letting myself enjoy that slight pull on my soul as I meld with the wood for one second, feeling its aliveness, its purpose. This is one part of being a spirit that is genuinely cool. Everything is alive.
Once through, the brightness in the room surprises me. As unexpected as that is, what amazes me even more is that the glow radiates around one person in particular.
Brecken.
He sits sprawled at his desk, his feet clad in heavy black combat books, his ankles crossed. A thick, ratty sweatshirt stretches over his wide shoulders, and even though his hair is a mess, it fits him, making him much sexier than is healthy for a seventeen-year-old boy.
I stare.
Brecken sits up straight looking terrified. His hands grip the edge of his desk and his head swivels back and forth, searching the room.
I search too. What is he looking for? Maybe he belongs in a loony bin rather than public school. The students sitting closest to him look nervous and scoot further away. I sit down in an empty seat and watch him.
“Dude, what's your problem?” a boy to Brecken's right asks, scowling.
“Shut up,” is Brecken's terse reply.
The teacher at the front of the room explains the story of Romeo and Juliet, their fated love, and how they were doomed from the beginning. I studied that story when I was alive and thought it unrealistic. If two people want each other that much, they should be smart enough to figure it out instead of pretending suicide, but who am I to judge? I've never even had a s
teady boyfriend.
Brecken doesn't seem the least bit interested in the discussion. He's back to slouching in his desk, carving a deep crevasse into the top with a sharp object I can’t identify.
Turning to the rest of the class, my gaze falls upon a girl who watches Brecken. Her short, spiky hair and black leather clothes narrow down which crowd she hangs out with.
He doesn't give her the time of day or even glance in her direction. It's as though she doesn't exist for him at all. Poor girl. I know that feeling—liking a guy who doesn't give a crap if you are dead or alive.
I sigh. What do I care? I'll never get the chance to be with a guy ever again. At least this girl still has time.
As soon as the bell rings, Brecken explodes from his seat, practically flying from the room. I actually have to hurry to catch up. The first thing I do is smack straight into a tall, well-muscled jock, who is also hurrying to leave the room. We meld together, my soul filling his body, his heartbeat becoming mine, his muscles filling me with strength, his thoughts becoming clear to me. With a yelp of surprise, I pull away, a humid substance clinging to me. Not unlike the muck in Soul Prison. Yuck.
The boy freezes, a frown appearing on his tanned face. He turns and searches behind him, then stands there for a moment shaking his head. He finally continues on to his locker.
Making my way carefully, I avoid every other person before me. Even though it was a strange and slightly exciting experience to meld with another living being, it slowed me down and coated me with residue, making me feel sullied and wanting a bath.
Staying focused on Brecken turns out to be tricky, until I float to the ceiling to follow him. He escapes outside, and flees around the corner of the school. When I catch up, he's bent over, his hands on his knees, practically hyperventilating.
“Who are you?” he says in a venomous whisper.
I search the surrounding area trying to figure out who he's talking to. I shake my head, thinking he really is crazy, but then he stands up and seems to look right into my eyes. We're almost the same height. He's only a few of inches taller.
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