DEAD GOOD (14 page)

The pain in his eyes is even more visible than all his blurry bodyparts put together. This is one sad ghost-boy. My heart lurches. Okay, so I may moan and swear about my mum and dad but I’ve never really given much thought to how I’d feel if they weren’t here. I mean, they’re always here. Even through this whole shitty mess we’re in right now. Which – okay, could probably be blamed on my parents… well, parent…Okay then – Gordon Brown if we want to be accurate. But how would Davey and I feel if we were Leo and Mia? What if we’d died somehow tragically – even nicely - IS there a nice way to die? I’ll ponder that later. But what if Davey and I were left drifting aimlessly through a land called Limbo and weren’t able to touch or talk to or in any way communicate with mum and dad and we had to spend all our time seeing how sad they were and how much they missed us? God, that would make me so unhappy I’d want to die.

‘Like in Dante’s Inferno?,’ Leo helps, ‘Purgatory was supposed to be a place or state of temporary punishment meant to cleanse those destined for heaven but not quite ready for it.’

My mouth is open and my eyebrows are high above my eyes which feel like they may fall out. I am not a classic beauty right now but his words send a chill right through me and all the hairs are standing up on my arms and from my neck down my back. The fact I never realised I have hairs on my back I’ll address later. They’re not important right now. What is important I realise, is that I have to do something to help this boy and his sister. And more importantly, to help their parents who probably still think of them as charred lumps of human-charcoal in a burnt-out shell that used to be their home.

‘Nice image,’ Leo says sarcastically.

seventeen

I need an ally. I need someone on side who can help me sort this whole horrible situation out. And by ‘situation’ of course I’m referring to Leo’s awful state of limbo. And his sisters’ and grandparents’. Which reminds me I still haven’t properly met Leo’s Nonno apart from when I leapt over his body on the landing that night. And I can certainly get through the day without encountering four ghosts in the house at once, that’s for sure.

After witnessing Leo’s pain last night it’s made me realise that something has to be done to help either Leo and his ghostly associates or his still-living parents and their extended relatives. Or both. In fact it’d be great if everyone benefited from my endeavours. I can’t hold out too much hope of that happening, though, I mean I’m not exactly a fully-qualified ghost-aid worker, am I? I didn’t even believe they really existed until a few days ago either. So you could actually call me a complete novice.

Which is where I hope Amber comes in.

‘I knew you weren’t telling me everything!’ she squeals as we’re walking to school this morning. Thankfully we’re not in the process of stalking two fitties this time so we can pretty much focus on the discussion in hand.

‘I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t tell everyone I was some kind of headcase,’ I try explaining. ‘- and I’d end up labelled a total jerk with all the other freaks at school… sorry,’ I add as I notice her face fall a bit.

‘S’okay,’ she dismisses my apology. ‘I know what you mean. It’s scary how stuff gets around school so fast sometimes. That time Sadie Harpur had her abortion was the worst… I think I’d have changed schools. Or died….this is so not going any further than here, I’m promising you!’ she slaps a hand sensationally at her chest and I almost expect her to launch into an “all for one!” salute but it doesn’t happen.

‘Good,’ I tell her. ‘I need your complete vow of silence and I know that’s a lot to ask!’

She smiles which I’m very glad about and nods her understanding. ‘You have my word of honour!’ she says, crossing her heart to make her point.

We meet as usual at lunch on the, now drier, grassy knoll and open our pack-ups. Amber’s is always so extravagant - sometimes I wonder if her mother doesn’t employ Jamie Oliver as their in-house Chef – packed lunches a speciality.

‘Any smoked salmon parcels in there today?’ I tease as I watch her unwrap two of a million little packaged goodies from inside her box.

‘Aha…caviar enchiladas with a delicate raspberry jus,’ she giggles, brandishing a very normal looking sandwich and a plastic tub of salad at me. I laugh back. I’m glad she thinks her mum is as over-the top as I do and this kind of connection we have makes me feel that much better about telling her all about Leo and asking for her expert advice in helping him move on.

‘So!, I say brightly. ‘Tell me…’

She’s just put a forkful of greenery in her mouth so she signals a “hang on” wave of her hand.

‘You see, the thing about Limbo is this,’ she says swallowing the mouthful of wilted spinach and ricotta side-salad with a sprinkling of pine nuts (see what I mean about the Jamie Oliver touch?) ‘Limbo isn’t a particularly nice place to be in. I know it sounds great and groovy and like a funky little dance under a pole that people do at Tropical-themed parties, but it just isn’t a nice place.’ She takes another forkful whilst I digest this piece of information.

‘How d’you mean?’ I’m puzzled, ‘ I thought Limbo was supposed to be like a waiting room - a place between earth and heaven. Are you saying it isn’t?’

‘Well,’ Amber swallows, ‘it is a kind of in-between place but the balance is more between earth and… well not so much heaven as.. um.. hell.’

Yup. Leo’s decided to join us. Thank goodness. He’s actually stretched out on the grass beside us and if I didn’t know it wasn’t possible, I’d swear he was trying to catch some sun.

‘Vitamin D’s good for you,’ he says, shielding his eyes with one hand and peering up at me. ‘Dead or alive.’ I have to laugh.

‘What?’ Amber says noticing me. And without even waiting for a reply, she twigs. ‘Oh…My-God. He’s here, isn’t he?’ she whispers loudly, turning her head from right to left trying to get a sense of where exactly he has materialised. ‘Where is he? Is he floating above us? Is he leaning against that tree? Is he sitting on a cloud? What? Where is he?’

I laugh a bit more and place my hand through Leo’s chest and pat the grass where his body is stretched. ‘Hey!’ he admonishes, ‘careful!’

Amber’s eyes are on stalks. She points at my hand. ‘There?’ she peers upwards imagining him to be standing. ‘Are you sure?’ I nod. ‘Are you serious?’ I nod again. ‘Why the hell can’t I see him then?’ she scowls. ‘I’m supposed to be genetically predisposed to this sort of thing for chrissake! Why the hell can’t I see him?’

‘Tell her only the pure of heart and mind can see me,’ Leo says grinning, his almost-transparent face still angled up at the sun.

‘Yeah right!’ I scoff.

‘What?’ Amber says laying her raffia lunch box away from her so she can get a proper sense of occasion. ‘Why did you say “yeah right”? Did he speak to you? What did he say?

‘Oh nothing sensible. He was speaking in tongue,’ I lie.

I think I’m going to have to choose exactly how much I tell Amber for fear of her getting the right hump at some of the stuff he comes out with. She might not actually believe that a ghost could have a wicked sense of humour.

‘Glad you think so,’ Leo says, lifting his head briefly and before I have a chance to tell him that was definitely not a compliment he sits up, folds his arms around his knees and says ‘Now let’s get on with the task in hand, shall we?’

‘Yeah, but….what about the stuff I read…?’ Amber looks a bit confused. Either she’s going to start an argument up with a ghost or she’s going to shut up and see what he has to say. She shuts up. Bravo Amber. Then she opens her mouth again and whispers ‘So where does he think he is then?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whisper back.

Amber nearly falls onto her face, she’s so close to mine and whispering so secretively. I stifle the urge to laugh at her. This must look so ridiculous to anyone watching. There’s nobody else within earshot so we shouldn’t really have a need to be so mysterious. And I’ll bet that everyone else thinks we’re discussing boys. Ah, let them. We are, in a way, I suppose.

‘What? What?’ Amber is falling over herself to try and hear what she knows I’m hearing and a very small part of me feels sorry for her. Bless her. I’m going to start translating for her soon.

‘He asked if you’ve heard of “Intelligent Spirits”?’ I air-quote and take one of Amber’s bread sticks out of her box to nibble on. She looks deep in thought and takes one for herself, still staring at the spot on the grass where I patted.

‘Is he still here?’ she hisses. I nod in confirmation. ‘So… Intelligent spirits…intelligent spirits…’ she mutters and nibbles. ‘Wait a minute, aren’t they the ones that don’t realise they’ve died and don’t know they have to move on? Or are they the ones who constantly re-play the events of their death and don’t want to move on? Oh, there’re so many different kinds of hauntings… it’s difficult to keep up with them all… Intelligent spirits…intelligent spirits….’ She repeats to fade.

‘Tell her to Google it,’ Leo helps, watching three Year Nine girls giggling under another tree a bit further away. ‘That’s what the last family who lived there did – before they ran screaming to the hills I mean. Then let me know what you think, yeah?’ he says. I nod slowly and notice that he’s fading away.

‘Hey!’ I scold as quietly as I can. He turns to me and frowns. ‘What?’ he says. ‘Somebody’s got to make sure your parents are still in one piece!’ he winks and then he’s gone.

‘Ah… now… tell him –‘ Amber points at the place Leo has just vacated. ‘- tell him I think that an Intelligent Spirit is one that…’

‘He’s gone,’ I tell her, pulling out a bag of crisps and tearing it open.

‘Ah…’ she looks a little crestfallen. ‘Ah well… I’ve just remembered that I think what he means is a spirit that, because of the way in which it died – in his case quite dramatically – he’s kind of in denial and doesn’t actually want to move on because of the strong emotional ties that still remain here. His parents, I suppose.’

Amber is silent and sits back on her elbows to reflect and mull and I’m quite happy for her to do this. It gives me some time to consider my own problems – back home. I wonder what Leo’s found on his return? I look at my watch. Hopefully they might even be having a nice, adult lunch together and cultivating some plans for the future? Mum might be typing out enquiring letters for dad and he might be ticking all the boxes on application forms or surfing the web for other local jobs and they might together be getting a really positive vibe about this whole situation. Hell, they might even have found the solution to all our money troubles and bought back our old house in Juniper Gardens! This could very well turn out to be the start of a wonderful new beginning for all of us. I sigh with the prospect of renewed happiness… right up until Leo re-appears and says: