The Spirit House (7 page)

I sat up. I was being crazy again. It
had
to be coincidence.

But it all fit together so neatly. I went over the events again, and the pattern held: everything had started to deteriorate as soon as Dominic had presented Bia with the spirit house.

What if I just imagined for a minute that spirits did exist—and that Dominic's little building had drawn a spirit from Thailand. A spirit who, for some unknown reason, was doing things to mess up my life. But a spirit who could also be bargained with, and bribed, to do good things for me.

I didn't believe in it, but what could I lose by testing it out?

I slowly got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom window. I stared out at the little brown building in the backyard, squatting on its pole like some ornate, sinister bird house—a house for carnivorous birds, raptors and scavengers, hawks and vultures, eaters of entrails. I didn't like the spirit house; I didn't want to get near it. But I felt powerfully compelled to do something. And I had to hurry. Whatever I was going to do, I wanted to be finished before Bia came home.

8

I already knew what I could give the spirit. What I didn't know was what to ask her to give me.

I was upset; I wanted to act quickly. The whole idea was crazy, I didn't really believe in it, nothing would come of it, so why not just do it on impulse? But another part of me was aware that if I rushed into this spirit business without thinking, I might make everything a lot worse.

But how could I make it worse? Why was I afraid? What was stopping me from just going down there and asking the spirit to make Bia my friend again? And to make it that he wasn't a criminal. And that he hadn't done anything bad to the real Thamrongsak. And that …

But could the spirit, if she existed at all, do all those things at once? What if some of them were mutually exclusive? And then I knew what was making me hesitate. It was all the stories in which people were granted wishes, and how those who wished rashly, or selfishly, or for too much, always brought on disaster.

So what could I ask for that would be effective, but also safe? What did the good people in the stories do? On the surface, it seemed that the people who benefited from wishes were those who asked for something simple and unpretentious, or something that would help another person. So all I had to do was frame my request in a way that was kindly and generous to others, and then I'd be okay too, right?

Wrong. Very quickly I remembered, with an unpleasant pang, that it
wasn't
only the nasty and grasping people who suffered as the result of a wish. Good people did too. In
Beauty and the Beast
, the selfish sisters asked their father for jewels and fancy clothes, but it was Beauty's simple request for a rose that caused all the trouble. She got through it in the end, but not Cordelia in Shakespeare's play, who was just as simple and honest with
her
father, King Lear, and they both suffered miserably because of that. Most horrible of all was
The Monkey's Paw
. The old man was a sweet and decent guy, and his innocent wish was granted—with unthinkably grisly and tragic results.

I tried not to dwell on
The Monkey's Paw
. But I couldn't help wondering if this spirit worked in the same manner: she gave you exactly what you asked for, but in an unexpectedly horrible way.

I was letting my emotions take over again. I tried to assure myself that this spirit was different, she had specific rules—you bargained with her, you paid her for your wish. And if you paid her
first
, wouldn't that protect you from any gruesome surprises? I hoped so.

But how could I be sure?

All I knew was that if there really were anything to this, it was a lot scarier than I had realized at first. Maybe I shouldn't ask for anything at all. If I did, I would have to be extremely careful, and consider all the options and ramifications. Well-meant wishes, like Dom's experiments, could backfire as easily as selfish ones.

Half an hour later I slipped out the back door, feeling self-conscious even though I knew nobody was there to see me. I approached the spirit house, my hands clenched at my sides, making an effort to maintain a steady pace. It was a beautiful day, the sun warm on my face, the yard green and bright and comfortingly familiar. I could see how small the spirit house was under the endless sky, I knew it was just a crude box hammered together by my little brother.

And I was trembling. In my mind, the shadow of the spirit house engulfed the yard, the street; its dark influence stretched all the way across the ocean from Asia.

I imagined the creature waiting inside, her head lolling upon its pulpy bed of intestines, her vacant eyes watching me approach. I paused. It was necessary to remind myself of how Bia had stolen the real Thamrongsak's rightful opportunity—and had also taken advantage of me. I plodded forward again. I stopped a foot in front of the spirit house; I pressed my palms together and deeply lowered my head.

I had thought very carefully about what to ask. I had practiced the wording. And I had not forgotten to be respectful—I had learned from Bia the Asian way of extreme politeness and deference to those of superior status. But I still made several false starts, my thoughts stumbling. Finally it dawned on me to imagine I was talking to someone who didn't speak much English—like Bia—and that helped me to keep it slow and precise. It was important to be very clear, to make sure the spirit understood who I was, and that she did not confuse me with anyone else.

I offer you most respectful greetings, honorable one, and sincerest wishes that you are comfortable in this house my brother Dominic made for you. My name is Julie Kamen, and I beg your kind permission to hear my small request. For your consideration, I offer you something very precious to me, more precious than anything else I have to give. I offer it to you now, in hopes of earning your trust, and so that you will know how seriously I honor my part of the bargain
.

What I ask you is to please let my brother Dominic learn the truth about Bia, the young man from Thailand who is staying with us, and the truth about a young man named Thamrongsak Tan-ngarmtrong. I ask that no harm come to Dominic as a result of this request or this knowledge. I ask you to ignore this request, rather than to let any harm come to Dominic
.

Please understand, the precious thing I am giving you once belonged to someone else, but it was freely given to me, and it is rightfully mine. Parting with it is a great sacrifice for me. And now I freely give it to you, for considering my request. I offer you my deepest gratitude for listening to me. Thank you
.

The hard part wasn't removing the chain from my neck—the loose clasp fell open at a touch. And although giving it away, now that I was really doing it, was painful enough to bring tears to my eyes, it was something I could do unflinchingly, because it made a kind of sense, and I knew that my intentions were good.

The hardest part was willing my hand to move past the miniature porch and actually reach inside the dark open doorway of the spirit house.

I heard laughter and splashing from the neighbors' pool, the inane happy bleating of a radio, the sounds of twentieth-century America on a balmy summer day. And I stood there, my hand just outside the spirit house doorway, shivering. It was like trying to stick my hand into an open fire, or a churning garbage disposal. Did that mean I really believed there was something powerful inside, something with the head of a woman and intestines dripping from her neck? And if I
did
believe in her, then what was I getting myself into?

But I had already promised. It was too late to back out now. I squeezed my eyes shut, groaned, and thrust my hand into the darkness inside the spirit house. I dropped the chain and pendant Bia had given me, whipped my hand back, and turned and hurried across the yard.

9

“I got trampled in football,” Dominic said as we were finishing the dishes that night. “The teachers treat me like an idiot. And all the girls are taller than me now, and they wear
tons
of makeup and act like they're years older. The computer room is the only good thing about junior high.” He sighed and thrust in the dishwasher rack with a jarring clatter of glassware.

“Do you have to make so much noise?” I snapped, still tense. “Anyway, you'll get used to junior high,” I told him, vigorously scrubbing the last pot.

“And the kids
did
think I was crazy when I told them about the spirit house. Even Harold said—”

“Dominic, you
didn't!
” I stopped suddenly, aware of the shrillness of my voice. Why shouldn't he talk about the spirit house with his own friends? “I mean, I don't want the kids to think you're weird. And right now isn't the time to, you know, tempt fate. I don't want … anything to happen to you.”

“Huh?” He looked at me, wide-eyed. “Tempt fate? What do you mean, you don't want anything to happen to me?”

I turned away to rinse the pot, accused by his innocent and earnest expression. How would he feel if he knew what I had asked the spirit, that I had involved him in it? Guilt gnawed at me. I pushed it away, telling myself I was overreacting. “Oh, I don't know, Dom. I guess I just didn't have a very good day myself.”

“Yeah? Something about Bia, right? I wondered why he was looking at you in that funny way all during supper.”

I almost dropped the pot. Bia had been watching me? I hadn't noticed, since I had been doing my best not to look at him. But maybe he had seen how nervous I was. Maybe he was suspicious. He
could
have seen me standing by the spirit house this afternoon; he and Dominic were both home, up in Dominic's room, when I had come inside.

“How did he
really
do at school, anyway?” Dominic asked me. “Couldn't tell anything from what he said.”

I tried to control my voice. “The kids liked him,” I said, thinking of the afternoon he had spent with Gloria. I had refused to ask him about it, carefully avoiding him. “And you'll do fine too, Dom,” I added. “As long as you don't turn people off by talking about … about weird things.”

“Yeah, well, the computer room
is
pretty cool. And as soon as I get access to the mainframe I might be able to have some fun. It shouldn't be too hard to get through. And you know what? The junior high and the high school both have the same mainframe, I'm pretty sure of it.”

“Really? You mean you could get access to high school files—classified data?”

“Uh-huh.” He nodded proudly. “I really think I could do it.”

“That's … interesting.” How could Bia take advantage of that—and of Dominic? The possibilities were endless, for someone unscrupulous like Bia.

But at least Dominic's practicality was beginning to nudge me into a more levelheaded state of mind. Suddenly I felt a little embarrassed at the stupidity of what I had done this afternoon. How could I worry that leaving Bia's pendant inside the spirit house would put me or Dominic in danger? The real danger to Dominic was that Bia might get him in trouble, by using Dominic's computer knowledge to fix his transcript here. “Hey, Dom.”

“Yeah?” he said, wiping off the counter.

“You better not say anything about—”

Bia appeared in the kitchen doorway.

I shut my mouth and squatted down to put the pot into the cupboard.

“What, Julie?” Dominic said.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I had been about to warn Dominic not to tell Bia about the computer connection to the high school. I hoped I would have another chance—it was just the kind of thing Dominic liked to brag about, and Bia was always encouraging him to talk about computers.

“Hey, Bia, you'll never guess what I found out today,” Dominic said. “The computers at my school are—”

“Dominic!”

They both turned and looked at me, surprised by my tone of voice.

I tried to laugh, cursing myself for not warning Dominic earlier. “I bet Bia's dying for a cigarette, Dom,” I said lightly. “You can talk later. Come on, Bia.” I hurried out of the kitchen before Dominic could say anything else, and Bia came with me.

Why wasn't he avoiding me, as he had done all weekend? What if he had seen me by the spirit house, and asked me about it? At least I wouldn't have to be confronted with the spirit house and Bia together, now that he had developed the habit of smoking on the front porch.

But Bia walked past me at the front door. “Hey,” I said. “Aren't you …”

“Something wrong, Julie?”

I swallowed. “No. Nothing.” I didn't want him to think I had any reason to avoid the backyard. I walked with him through the house, out the sliding doors at the back and down the steps into the night, my skin prickling, urging myself to
stop
being foolish, once and for all.

What was there to be afraid of? I didn't seriously believe in the spirit. And even if she did exist—unlikely as that was—I had wished safely. My request wasn't selfish; it was possible that it could be granted without any benefit to me at all. But unselfishness wasn't the only reason I had asked her to let Dominic be the one to learn the truth about Bia. I had done that because I knew Dominic would deal with it better than I could. I didn't want the knowledge in my hands alone. I had already lied to Mom and Dad to keep them from learning about Bia's room in Bangkok. If I knew more, I might also conceal it—either out of concern for Bia or because he might manipulate me again.

But Dominic was too young, and too bluntly honest, to play games with truth. Once he learned the truth, whatever it was, his only concern would be to do the fair and decent thing. And I didn't
think
I was using Dominic or putting him in danger. I had specified that no harm should come to him.

Still, I would have preferred to be on the front porch. Especially when I realized, as I walked with Bia across the lawn, what I had left out of the wish: I had forgotten to ask the spirit that no harm should come to me.