Spooky Little Girl (13 page)

Before that destination was reached, however, it was clear to Lucy that there was a long road ahead of her, according to the manual from which Ruby read out loud. There was the duration of her spectral training, and then her assignment, which the book informed her would “last a length of time depending on your deployment of skills and the dedication infused into the mission.”

“What if I fail?” Bethanny suddenly cried out loud. “What if I fail my mission? Will I go to Hell? Have people failed and gone to Hell?”

“You won’t fail,” Ruby assured all of them. “I make good ghosts. Plus, the devil is on sabbatical right now, anyway. He’s got a gig on AM radio, and I heard he got tangled up with triplets known as OxyContin, Lorcet, and Vicodin. He’s not coming back for a while. There is no failing. You’re stuck down there until you finish, like Anne and Mary.”

To be blunt, Lucy didn’t get it. She was left confused and puzzled after covering this information, and wondered what sort of mission she could possibly be sent on. Maybe American ghosts went to the offices of the KGB to eavesdrop on secret meetings and plans, and Russian ghosts dropped plutonium tablets into the teacups of English spies, and English ghosts were dispersed all through the countryside to castles and manors to keep tourism thriving, as Ruby had said. But surely there were infinite numbers of the dead, as new ones were arriving every day and old ones, like every executed member of royalty from the Middle Ages on, were still hanging around. One thing was for sure—if Lucy had to put on a little ghost white shirt and black tie and ride a little ghost bike trying to convince people that seagulls were magic, she’d rather do her time on AM radio next to Beelzebub.

Lucy couldn’t imagine an existence as a hapless ghost stuck in the rut of incompetence; it sounded repetitive, dull, and boring,
particularly after centuries. She hoped with all of her might that she would receive a nice assignment, perhaps in a fancy New York hotel where she could be witness to juicy trysts, high-stake deals, celebrities on vacation, and who knows what else, spending her days wreaking havoc with the hot and cold shower knobs and her nights ripping comforters off sleeping supermodels.

Without even thinking, Lucy raised her hand.

“Is it possible to put in a request for where you would like to serve on a mission?” she asked Ruby, who immediately chuckled and smiled.

“Heavens, no,” her instructor replied. “Remember, I told you that you were going back to your own life.”

“Yes, but I thought that meant I’m going back as me, as Lucy Fisher and not, like, Liza Minnelli. So as long as I’m me, can I pick where I go?” she continued. “I mean, as long as I’m just shaking beds and moaning here and there, what’s the difference where I do it?”

Ruby looked utterly insulted. “First of all,” she began a little harshly, “paranormality is not just rattling chains and moaning in the middle of the night, you know. It is an
art form
. And we’ll see how much of a master you are once we start your training. Who knows? You may only be able to manifest yourself to the level of a shadow person, and let me tell you, once a shadow, always a shadow. That’s the bottom rung for ghosts, my friends. What kind of hereafter is that, skulking around in hallways and never being able to fully project? Is there anything sadder than a forlorn mist that looks like a petrified fart?”

Kirk and Chuck both emitted hearty laughs.

“I don’t want to be a shadow person,” Bethanny said, and pouted. “I think I’ve finally settled on an outfit, and I really want people to see it.”

“Don’t worry, Bethanny,” Ruby said, trying to console her. “You
just need to pay attention and focus. And, Lucy, when I say back to your old life, I mean you are really going back to some facet of your previous existence. I don’t know what it will be, but there’s a role for you to play in setting something right that is undone.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Lucy admitted. “Can you give me an example of a mission? I’m trying to wrap my head around this thing, and I’m having kind of a hard time.”

“Me, too,” Bethanny admitted, and the rest of the class followed suit with various murmurs and nods.

“I think you are missing the whole point of why you are all here,” Ruby continued. “You’re here because you did not reach your full potential in life when you had the chance. You missed opportunities, maybe left things unsaid, or didn’t come through on promises you made. Everyone who gets to The State had reached those objectives in life; they were successful in making a difference. They had left a good mark on the world when their time was up. It wouldn’t be fair or just to let those who didn’t leave a good mark slide on in without doing the necessary work. This is your second chance. Do you understand what that means?”

Lucy, in fact, did understand. She understood immediately, and it shocked her. She nodded her head slightly at Ruby.

“Atonement,” she said quietly. “I sucked as a person. I was a disappointment, a failure, a flake. This is judgment day, right?”

There was a pause in the room, a pause that was filled with every person in it understanding the scope of what it was that had delivered them to SD1118.

“Hey,” Ruby finally said, breaking the heavy silence. “Everybody. Listen. I didn’t make it to The State, either. You can each think of your time as a specter however you wish, but for me, I just prefer to consider it as doing extra credit.”

All of the Surprise Demisers, even Bethanny, looked horribly solemn.

“Even I don’t know what or where you’ll be going. That’s not up to me. You’re here to do in death what you didn’t do in life,” Ruby said, and shrugged. “And you’re stuck down here until you get it right.”

Lucy’s hand hovered tentatively over the lightbulb, which glowed brilliantly bright, white, and, quite clearly, very hot.

“Go on,” Ruby urged as she looked on with the rest of the class.
“Grab it.”

Lucy’s hand didn’t move. It remained still and steady as Lucy’s eyes were transfixed on the burning, shining bulb.

“Grab it!” Ruby insisted again, this time nearly spitting with impatience.

Under Ruby’s careful tutelage, Lucy and the rest of her Surprise Demise class had worked their way through the first chapter of the ghost school binder while trying to fathom the work before them. Today they were taking theory and putting it into motion. The culling of energy—the cornerstone of every ghostly skill—was the first exercise all the students needed to master, combining the forces of focus, concentration, and pure will. It was Lucy who Ruby had called onto the stage first to test her skill.

The objective of today’s lesson was to transfer the power of the lightbulb into themselves, or, in other words, to suck the power up like a spectral vacuum. “Think of your hand as a magnet,” Ruby instructed, “a strong magnet pulling up a thread of paper clips.”

As soon as Lucy leveled her hand over the shining bulb that was screwed into a lamp sitting on a table at the front of the class, she could feel it immediately, but it was not the sensation simply of heat that she felt. It contained much more than that. In fact, it was everything but that. The palm of her hand tingled at first, but that lasted only a few seconds, and then she began to feel the power draw, almost like her hand really did have the pull of a magnet. It seemed to her as if she was filling up like a balloon, bit by bit, slowly, increasing her strength and reserve, almost like getting warm with the heat of a campfire.

“Can you feel that?” Ruby asked, and Lucy nodded quickly. “All right, then, grab it!”

Lucy still hesitated. She had foolishly burned her hands on lightbulbs before, and this one burned brighter than any one she had ever seen. She was perfectly fine with her hand skimming the surface of it.

“Lucy,” Ruby said firmly. “Are you afraid it’s going to hurt you?”

“Hurt me?” Lucy nearly laughed. “If I put my hand on that thing, I know for a fact I’ll hear the sound of a steak hitting the grill at Sizzler.”

“Lucy, you’re a sweet girl, but,” Ruby said as she raised her cloaked arm and swung it toward Lucy, slapping her hard and fast across the face with a crack that rang as sharply as a boxing bell, at the precise moment when Lucy looked up at her.

Lucy gasped, as did everyone else in the room. Then Lucy took several steps backward, her mouth hanging open. She tried to say something, but the stun of being hit left her speechless.

It was Elliot, safely tucked inside his bike helmet, who ventured the first reaction.

“Pardon me, but I don’t see why that was absolutely necessary,” he said quietly, lest Ruby turn and charge after him. “I’m sure with a little coaxing, you could have forced Lucy to burn all the flesh off her hand had you been kinder and more pragmatic.”

Ruby did indeed spin toward the poor bicyclist, her finger pointed directly at his shiny little body.

“See?” she proclaimed. “See? That’s the point! That’s the point I’m trying to make. Lucy, I just slapped you very hard, and I’m sorry, but did I hurt you? Are you in pain?”

Lucy stopped for a moment and assessed the degree of the sting, then burst out into a full chuckle. “No,” she said, shaking her slapped head. “I actually don’t feel a thing. It didn’t hurt. I guess you just scared me.”

“No pain,” Ruby said, throwing up her hands. “No active nerve endings, no pain. Get it? Now, will you please grab the damn bulb? You can’t swim if you don’t jump off the pier, and you can’t materialize if you don’t have enough energy.”

Lucy laughed and nodded, then stepped forward, opened her palm, and wrapped her hand completely around the illuminated ball.

The rush was instant. Whatever pull Lucy had felt simply by holding her hand over the source was compounded a hundred, maybe a thousand, times. She felt nearly electric herself, as if she had been swallowed by an incredible light and now had become part of it. She even felt as if she glowed. It felt like the first time she’d taken a drag off a cigarette, that charge that becomes all encompassing and hits you like a wave.

Then, as quickly as she had felt that intensity, it began to dissipate, the force of it diminishing, becoming weaker. Ruby looked at her and smiled.

“What Lucy felt was the absorption of an initial force of energy, which is almost overwhelming, but after a few seconds, it begins to ease and trickle off,” the teacher explained. “Lucy, what you need to do now is draw up as much energy as you possibly can. Concentrate on the power. Pull it up.”

Lucy centered her mind on the bulb, imagining that she was pulling the light from the bulb right up into her palm, then her hand, and then her arm. She felt the charge become stronger, and the more intensely she focused, the greater it became.

“Wow,” Bethanny said from her chair. “Lucy, there’s a light all around you!”

Lucy looked at Ruby and smiled.

“That is how you harness energy,” Ruby explained. “Now, we can see the light around Lucy, which is a shine, but on a mortal plane, the effects would be different. In the physical realm, Lucy would be forming a mist right about now, which is the first phase of materializing. In order to project a true image, she’s going to need a bigger energy source, especially with those ecologically friendly bulbs everybody has that have about a watt apiece in them. Worthless, I’m telling you. I don’t know who calls that progress. You could eat one and not get a decent shine.”

Elliot, still fearful of having the old woman lunge at him, simply cleared his throat and looked the other way.

Wanting to be a good example, Lucy collected all of her concentration and aimed it directly at the light that shone through her fingertips. She felt herself begin to almost buzz, as if she was plugged directly into an electrical outlet.

“She’s getting brighter,” Bethanny whispered.

Lucy bore her eyes into the lightbulb, drawing the energy out, out, out. She could feel it becoming the strongest yet, when suddenly, she heard a loud
POP!
and saw her hand go dark as she
instinctively drew it quickly back. The bulb had exploded, sending minuscule shards of glass all over the stage.

“Did I do that?” Lucy asked, taken completely aback.

Ruby nodded. “I believe you did,” she confirmed. “I guess I’m just glad I didn’t use a spotlight for our first lesson. As a ghost, though, you really don’t want to be blowing lightbulbs out all over the place. If you’re haunting lazy people who never change lightbulbs, you’ve lost a great power source. Besides, you want to haunt, not menace. Being a menace will bring you more trouble than it’s worth.”

“We can only get energy from lightbulbs?” Chuck asked dismally. “I guess I’m going to spend a lot of time massaging lamps, considering my size.”

“No, no, no,” Ruby corrected him. “Size does not matter. You’ll use as much energy as someone Bethanny’s size. Remember, you no longer exist in the physical sense, you have no weight. You’re energy; you’re light. You exist in the sense that those things do.”

“This is getting too heavy for me, man,” Danny quipped, shaking his head. “I’m totally into the ghost thing, but I’m not getting this whole ‘how I exist’ thing. I can see everybody. I can touch everybody. And I really want to grab that lightbulb.”

“The lightbulb is not your only source of energy, quite the contrary,” Ruby went on. “It’s just the simplest and most common form. You can draw energy from almost anything—an appliance, radiator, anything with a battery, an electric substation, a dog’s shock collar, even the atmosphere, especially if the weather is right and a thunderstorm is ionizing the air. Why do you think people associate dark and stormy nights with the spooky things and ghosts?”

“Ahhhhhh,” the students said in chorus.

“You can even take energy from the living,” their teacher explained. “You don’t need much; they won’t notice it. Look at what Lucy was able to do with just forty watts.”

“I refuse to touch strange living people,” the countess declared. “They might be wearing Walmart clothes.”

“It does seem a little vampirish,” Lucy added.

“Not at all. You’re drawing so little that they truly won’t even notice, and the chubby ones have extra, anyway,” Ruby said plainly. “And honestly, if you can draw some energy from a menopausal woman, you’d be doing her a favor. Mrs. Wootig, you don’t have to touch them. Once you’ve sharpened your skills a bit, you’ll easily be able to siphon the energy with some focused concentration. You probably won’t have to touch any poor people. Ever hear of a cold spot? That’s exactly what that is. That’s simply one of us gathering enough resources to interact in that physical world.”