Manifest (21 page)

The
windows in my room have been rattling since I got out of the tub and sat on the bed, putting lotion on my legs. I try to ignore it.

Turning off the light and slipping under the covers, I take a deep breath and attempt to clear my mind. Tonight has been more than eventful. Jake battered Mr. Lyle badly enough and then that new girl, the one Jake had been trying to get away from at the dance, just appeared. I don’t know how long she’d been standing in the doorway; hopefully not long enough to have seen the spirit that left Mr. Lyle’s body. But anyway, she used her cell phone to dial 911. Then we all kind of stood in the hallway waiting for the cops to arrive. I don’t know how word made it to the dance. I’m thinking the sound of windows breaking and desks slamming against the floor alerted someone. Then a few school staffers had come to see what was going on. At first it looked like they weren’t going to believe us. Like for an instant they were going to haul all of us down to the office for beating up a teacher. But then Camy stepped up, crying and ranting about how Mr. Lyle said he was going to make her a big star. That sort of validated our explanation that
he was taking pornographic pictures of girls and posting them online. The rest was for the cops to work through.

Then all our parents were called and we had to sit in the teacher’s lounge while the police talked to each one of us. My mother and Gerald showed up, both of them flanking me like guardian angels. Although I didn’t say it, I was grateful they were there. Both of them.

“How did you know about Mr. Lyle?” the cops asked me.

“He called my cell phone and told me to meet him here. He’s been sending me texts and instant messages for a few weeks now.”

“And you went, just like that?” Gerald asked, the sound of exasperation in his voice. “Don’t you know how dangerous that is? That bastard could’ve killed you.”

“Let her talk, Gerald.”

“Mr. Lyle was my teacher. But I didn’t know that he was the one calling me. The instant messages were innocent enough. But then the texts came and the pictures. If I would have known all along it was him I would have said something sooner.”

After another grueling hour of questioning and explaining, I still wasn’t sure the adults believed me. I felt good knowing that Ricky’s murderer was being arrested and hopefully given a long jail sentence. Twan and his crew were no longer suspects in his murder. And now Ricky is free to cross over to where he truly belongs.

That brings me to the here and now and these freakin’ dead people who insist on coming into my room at night for private conversations. This is going to make keeping the Mystyx secret much harder.

The clacking sound against the window that I’d dismissed as the wind isn’t the wind. It’s the spirits, knocking, so to speak. I knew this because the room has suddenly grown very chilly. I flip around like a seal until I am lying
flat on my back with my hands on my stomach. I probably look like I am playing dead myself when I’m actually trying to concentrate.

I’d read online that one who had the ability to communicate with the dead could also control those communications. So I’m lying here with my eyes closed trying my hardest to communicate.

How do you say
get the hell out
to dead people?

You hear me, I know you do.
That’s the first time he spoke. I don’t know who he is, sounds old. I won’t even open up my eyes to look at him because I’m not tryin’ to do his bidding right now. If I’m going to do this medium thing then they are going to have to work on my time. I mean, I do have a life—at least now I do.

Over and over I repeat that mantra in my mind—convincing myself that this is how it will be. My breathing is slowing to a steady even rhythm, my mind melding with my body.

It sounds like something’s shuffling across the floor, then my bed shakes. He’s trying to get my attention.

Drumming my fingers once, I just keep focusing—breathing in deeply, breathing out slowly—in deep, out slow.

Get up, you lazy twit!

In deep, out slow.

I need you to tell Gladys something. That witch is spending my money like it’s water. You’ve got to stop her!

In deep, out slow. In deep, out slow.

Fine!
he finally yells.
I’ll wait until you call but you’d better not take too long.

The bed shakes again, so hard my cheeks jiggle. And then there’s nothing. The room is quiet and the frigid air seems to have been sucked right out. Cautiously I open one eye, peeking into the darkness to make sure nobody’s there.

I don’t feel him so it’s no big deal that I can’t really see
anything anyway. Then I smile, right there in my bed, in my dark room all by myself, I smile. I did it!

The spirit is gone, resigned to come back when I call him, when I’m ready to deal with him. I controlled him. He didn’t scare me and he didn’t tell me what to do. I was the boss.

Flipping back onto my stomach I’m still smiling as I burrow deeper into my pillow and search for sleep.

First, let me just say it’s not the infamous walk into the light that everybody likes to describe it as. The actual crossing over from here to eternity involves a lot less fanfare and a lot more emotion than I ever expected.

We’re at the cemetery again.

I sure hope I’m not going to spend too much of my time here, but I had to see Ricky off. I’d never feel completely satisfied if I didn’t. He has the aura of a spirit now, but he said he still hadn’t taken a walk down that path. He hadn’t taken that turn in the road like Trina had explained to me.

Ricky said he wanted to do that with me.

His hands are in his pockets and his legs are spread apart—his favorite stance. I smile because I know I’m going to miss seeing that, seeing him, talking to him. I’m going to miss Ricky, period.

I remember the day I met him, the way he looked so confident and arrogant asking for my help. And after all these weeks, when I thought all I wanted to do was ignore these spirits harassing me, I’m wondering if there’s any way we can keep in touch. It’s weird, I know, but he’s become so much more than just a spirit, more than just someone I need to help. I know there’s a name for what he is to me, I just can’t pinpoint it right now.

“So this is it, huh?” I say, hoping I sound real casual-like. My hands are shaking. I keep trying to make them be still but it’s not working.

Yeah, it is.

“Are you scared?”

He shrugs.
Nah. Can’t be any worse than living in a world where teachers prey on young girls, mess with them, take pictures of them and then kill them.

“Well, when you put it like that, I’d have to agree with you.”

You’re a real cool girl, Krystal.

“Thanks.”

I meant what I said about some dude being happy to get you. I’ve seen you hanging with that weather boy and even though he’s not your type, I guess it’s okay if you kick it with him for a while.

“Oh, you guess it’s okay. Like I need your permission.”

Our conversation is light, like we’re just standing at the bus stop or something. Nobody would ever guess I’m alive and he’s dead and that in a few minutes I’d be heading home to have dinner with my mother and stepfather and he’d be on his way to eternity.

He’s laughing and that makes me feel better about letting him go.

I’m a still keep an eye you.

“Please don’t.” I’m touched that Ricky would even consider watching over me. Thinking back, I shouldn’t have gotten attached to a spirit. But emotions are deeper and more persuasive than reason. I liked having Ricky around and I’m trying real hard not to cry because I’ll never see him again.

Um, Trina says she’s sorry.

That seems out of the blue, but then again it doesn’t. It figures that guilt was driving Trina’s involvement in what I was doing for Ricky. Actually, I wouldn’t have been able to figure that out except for my visits with Dr. Whack Quack. He actually did make some good points sometimes.

“Why didn’t she just tell you about Mr. Lyle?”

I guess she was afraid or something. She said she felt like dirt after he posted those pictures. So this is it,
he says and kind of looks over his shoulder.

I look, too, because I want to see where he’s going. But all I see is the rest of the cemetery. The weather seems to be cooperating today, no heavy winds, no rain, no anything else. The sky is clear, the sun shining. A good day to go home, I guess.

Thanks, Krystal. I really appreciate all you did. Nobody’s ever helped me before so I’m not used to this. But I’m glad it was you.

I’m feeling real proud of myself as I clench my hands together in front of me. “I’m glad it was me, too.”

And I’ll tell the others to cut you some slack, you’re new to this ghost whisperer thing and you need time to get adjusted.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

And then he turns, I see him take a couple steps and then I don’t see him anymore. The sensation I’ve come to relate to Ricky’s presence has left me. Ricky has left me.

Alone.

In the cemetery looking like a goofball.

I smile, then I chuckle, then I laugh so hard I have to sit down. My back is against his stone once again and I let my head loll back. I’m in the cemetery and I’m not afraid of ghosts. Instead I’m almost anticipating my next spiritual assignment.

Yeah, and I’ll be keeping that little tidbit to myself. Don’t want to see Dr. Whack Quack any more than I have to.

It
is finally here. The wind howls like a chorus of banshees outside the windows. The temperature has dropped from a seasonable sixty degrees to a bone-chilling thirty-four. And it is snowing.

Yep, it’s May 1 and snow is falling from the sky like it was December 1. So far, six inches have already fallen.

I am absolutely amazed. The natives aren’t.

Weather anomalies, Franklin has explained. As we, the Mystyx, sit at our lunch table waiting for the school principal to make the decision to close schools early, we wonder what will happen next.

“It’s gotta be a sign,” Sasha says, taking a bite of her apple. “Pops said every time there’s an unexplained weather event in Lincoln, there’s a surge in the supernatural power source, a surge in our Power.” Sasha has taken to calling Jake’s grandfather “Pops,” probably because nobody else calls him that. Still I think it is a little presumptuous of her to be that familiar with a member of someone else’s family.

I consider what she’s just said. The last thing I need is another power surge. I’ve already accepted my powers as a medium and have even developed some control over my afterlife acquaintances. Then there are the visions. I think
I’ve had them all along but just dismissed them as elaborate dreams. Now, I can recognize the cold chill and slightly nauseous feeling when I’m about to have one. All of this I’ve accepted as part of my nature. I’m not all that sure I’m ready for any more just yet.

“Franklin’s dad said it seems like a Nor’easter coming down from Canada, except that it normally happens in February, not May. All I know is, I don’t want any more power,” I say adamantly.

Jake is already shaking his head. He’d gotten a haircut but I don’t think he likes it. He keeps rubbing his hand over his forehead like he’s missing something there. Using our power on Mr. Lyle sort of brought about a change in all of us.

Sasha seems happier and her mood swings are a little less volatile. She enjoys her new powers, says they make her feel strong and beautiful. I just go along with her because mine don’t really make me feel that way.

Jake is still quiet and still looks down at the floor or the table a lot. He’s still a Tracker and he’s still struggling academically, but when he smiles he looks genuinely happy. When he talks to us he says things about his future that show optimism. He has plans, wants to become a veterinarian.

As for me, well, I’m still me. Only now, instead of wondering how it’ll feel to be kissed by a ghost, I like how it feels to be kissed by Franklin.

“Hey, did ya hear they’re closing school early?”

She seems to suddenly appear at the table quietly, but her presence always seems to bring something else. Jake looks up at the sound of her voice. Sasha continues to eat but stares at her. I stuff my trash into my lunch bag and wait because we all know she has more to say. She is like that, talkative, all the time.

“So, I was thinking that if you guys aren’t doing anything
we could go hang out at my place. Maybe have a snowball fight or something. I’ve got a killer arm that I can’t wait to try out. Plus, it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop snowing anytime soon so we’ll probably be off school tomorrow, too. Why not get a head start on the weekend?”

Her name is Lindsey Yi; she just transferred to Settlemans from out of state. She’s the girl from the dance, the one that just about pulled Jake onto the dance floor and the one who appeared after the incident with Mr. Lyle. She hasn’t said a word about what happened that night, so I am taking that as a sign that she didn’t see anything unusual. I’m sure not going to ask her if she did. Anyway, it is obvious that Jake doesn’t like her.

He groans at the sight of her or the rapid-fire words that seem to practically pour from her mouth at any given moment. I don’t know which, but it makes me laugh. Then the cafeteria goes into a state of pandemonium. Lindsey has brought us some news and it looks like the rest of the students have just gotten the same announcement.

Before anybody can say another word, we are up and out of the cafeteria, heading straight to our lockers. I’ve just stepped out of the double doors when Sasha grabs my arm.

“Come on, you’re riding with us.”

I know enough now not to even argue with her. The bus lets me off at the corner where my house is, Sasha lived in the opposite direction, as does Jake. But I guess since we are now connected by the Power, it makes sense that we stick together all the time.

It’s absolutely bone-chilling out here, the wind’s blowing snowflakes all over the place. I remember when I was younger I used to like watching the snow fall from the window in our apartment. But that was always so pretty and orderly. This, what is going on right now in Lincoln, is not a neat, pretty snowfall. It seems more like an angry, defiant blizzard.

I can barely see Sasha in front of me and even stumble a few times as the snow is getting deeper. Beside me, Jake takes my elbow, helping to keep me steady. That is something else I am getting used to, Jake always being there to help me out.

I turn to smile at him but can barely see anything besides his tall physique covered in coat, hat, gloves and scarf. We keep walking but I am starting to wonder if we’d passed the car. The parking lot never seemed this far away before. Sasha must have been thinking the same thing because she gasps as I bump into her.

“Sorry,” I grumble and think she probably should have said something before simply stopping like that.

“I thought the car was right over here,” she says, her voice muffled by the thick purple scarf she wears over her lavender wool coat.

My coat is nice, not quite as nice as Sasha’s. It’s from Lands’ End, and it’s wool, too, just not in that cute, form-fitting style. Actually Gerald bought the coat for me and it is a nice charcoal-gray color, very warm inside and very practical. The boxy shape doesn’t really matter much as I wasn’t going for the fashionista look this morning when I left the house, but the keep-my-body-as-warm-as-possible look instead.

Anyway, the three of us just kind of stand there looking around. I doubt they can see anything other than snow and blinding white, just like me.

“Where’s Mouse?” I ask. “Can’t you call him on your cell phone?”

“There’s no signal,” Jake offers. “I tried to call Pop Pop to let him know I was on my way before we left the building. A couple other students said they didn’t have any signal either.”

“That’s great,” I huff.

“I think it’s that way,” Sasha says and we try to stay huddled as close together as possible while following her.

My knees start to hurt and lifting each boot-shod foot to take a step is becoming a chore. The snow is almost up to my knees and it looks like it is actually coming down faster. Jake is close behind me. I can hear his heavy breathing over the whistle of the wind. Sasha is right in front of me, wobbling with each step she takes. She’s shorter than me so I figure the snow has to be past her knees, making walking almost impossible.

Squinting, I look up ahead and feel a little jolt in my chest because there’s nothing in front of us. Turning my head to look over my shoulder, I notice there’s nothing behind us. My heart beats a little faster as I take another step. I can’t catch my breath. I try to inhale deeply and a gust of wind comes along and snatches it away. My free hand flies to my chest and my feet stay rooted to the spot. Jake’s hand tightens on my arm and I can hear him calling my name, but it’s too late.

I might have thought I was just cold, sans the howling wind and whipping snowflakes. But I know better. Like tiny little feet marching up my spine, the chill climbs and climbs before settling at the base of my neck, right over my
M.
My stomach twists and I pitch forward, leaning over just in case the nausea turns into a full-fledged heaving.

My temples ache for like a split second and then I see it.

The sky is pitch-dark. No stars, no nothing. The air is chilly and it’s quiet, eerily so. No car sounds, no animal sounds, just nothing. I look in front of me, spin around and look behind me. Nothing. There’s no one outside but I think I’m standing in the middle of a street. Not the street I live on and not any one that I’ve ever seen before. Still it feels familiar. I look up at the houses on the street, not mine exactly but again, familiar. I get the feeling the scene represents anywhere, any town, anyplace.

Fear centers in my belly, bubbling like boiling stew.

The ground sort of shakes and I immediately look down. At first there’s nothing there. Just my feet and the asphalt. Then the waves begin, swirling and curling around my boots, up to my ankles. It’s back again, that black fog that tried to choke me. Now it’s reaching up at me, like fingers clawing their way up my body. I try to move but it’s useless. Suddenly the black fog is everywhere, tangling around me, floating over the street, drifting up to the doors of the houses. Overhead I hear the birds. I don’t see them but then I don’t have to. I know them and I know what they’re going to do. I still can’t run so I open my mouth to scream but the dark fog jumps down my throat, stealing my voice and entering my body.

I’m shaking like I’m having a seizure, all the while the black fog covers everything. Everywhere.

Another gust of wind hits me and I fall straight back, landing in the snow like I’d intended to make a snow angel. Jake is immediately beside me, Sasha falling to her knees, like, an instant later. Both of them have one of my hands and are looking down at me like I died and came back to life.

I blink once. Twice. Then swallow hard.

“It’s coming for us,” I finally manage to croak.

Sasha is first to reply. “What? What’s coming? Did you have a vision?”

Jake sucks his teeth. “Of course she did. Don’t ask stupid questions. What was it, Krys? What did you see?”

I close my eyes even though I much prefer the bright snowfall to what I’d seen the last time I closed them. “It’s dark and it’s coming. It will kill us all.”

“Kill the Mystyx?” Sasha says.

I shake my head, choking back a sob—I so don’t want to cry in front of them. But it scared me, the finality of it, the cold, creepy, calculation of its plan. It did more than
scare me, it terrified me, and I don’t quite know how to convey that to them without completely breaking down.

Jake takes off one of his gloves and rubs his bare hand over my cheek. The skin-to-skin contact feels good, reminds me I’m alive. I find a little courage to say, “Not just the Mystyx. Everybody. Everywhere. It’s coming for us all.”