May Bird and the Ever After (18 page)

May's gut sank. “You mean, there's a water demon?”

Pumpkin shook his head, his large, droopy eyes earnest and solemn. “Oh, no. Much more powerful than that. Anyone who touches a drop of the Dead Sea will be immediately transported to South Place. Way down under the water.”

“South Place?” It sounded like some kind of pretty beach. Like in Florida. But she remembered that Arista had said it was where the Dark Spirits came from.

“South Place is a terrible realm. Very bad. The worst.” Pumpkin shivered.

“Whoa,” May breathed, glancing out toward the water.

“Actually,” Pumpkin began sheepishly, tugging at May's finger to get her attention again. “You shouldn't even look at it.” A blush crept up his cheeks. “Arista told me to tell you.”

May frowned. It made sense now. How enticing the water had looked. How she had felt drawn to it.

May walked over to the spot where her sack lay, and she began packing up.

“I'm sorry, May.”

“That's all right.”

Pumpkin pressed a palm up against his lips and spoke through the cracks between the fingers. “Are you mad at me for forgetting?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” May sighed. “Yes.”

“Can I have a hug?”

May had never hugged anyone but her cat and her mother. She didn't know what to say. “Um, I guess so.”

Pumpkin threw his arms around her and hugged her tight. She accepted it stiffly, trying not to flinch at his strange, cold touch. As soon as he let go, she hefted her pack and smoothed out her bangs with her index fingers, moving them apart.

Pumpkin, who didn't have much in the way of bangs, brushed at his tuft.

When they started walking down the beach again, they stayed close to the cliffs as the Undertaker had advised.

“Hey, look,” May said, pointing to a gaping black hole at the base of the cliff up ahead. “The Undertaker told me about those. They're the Catacombs. What do you know about them?”

Pumpkin shook his head. “It looks like a good place to have a sleepover. And tell Live One stories.”

“Live One stories?”

“You know, when you sit around with your friends and tell stories about Live Ones coming to the realm and exorcising you. Oh”—Pumpkin blushed—“I mean . . . never mind.”

May didn't reply.

“It's just, I think, most Live Ones are scary. But not you.”

“I think most ghosts are scary.”

Pumpkin shrugged. “Well, anyway, I never really did that. Sitting around telling Live One stories. But I always wanted to.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I don't really have any friends besides Arista.” Pumpkin sounded like he wanted to sound cheerful. “And he says Live One stories are for ghosts that don't know ectoplasm from their elbow.” Pumpkin hunched his shoulders slightly. “Sometimes he says I don't know my ectoplasm from my elbow.”

“I'm sure that's not true,” May said, after a moment, shyly.

“I suppose you don't have any friends either,” Pumpkin said airily.

May shut her lips tight.

A few hours later May made sure they settled far from any cave entrances but still under the cliffs, using their sacks as pillows. They were lying on their backs, May with a full belly and heavy, drooping eyelids. It had been a full day of walking, and her muscles ached. But she kept looking around, scared to go to sleep in case someone happened upon them in the night. She shifted a little closer to Pumpkin.

“I miss my grave,” he said wistfully. “I can't sleep when I'm away from it.”

May rolled onto her side. “You sleep in one?”

Pumpkin nodded. May was silent, trying to imagine that. “All spirits get one,” Pumpkin offered. “Even if you haven't lived. Of course, everybody needs one to get to Earth for haunting.”

“What do you mean?”

“That's how I always get to your house. The graves are doors to the spirit pathways. You have your portals, for the spirits of the newly deceased to get to the Ever After. That's what you came through. They only go one way. But each spirit gets a grave in the afterworld, to go back and forth.”

May shot up. “But couldn't I just go through one of those pathways to get home?”

Pumpkin was shaking his head.

“But—”

“The grave paths are very complicated. Each spirit can only find his way through his own. If you tried someone else's, you'd
never find your way out. You'd be lost forever. A bunch of spirits have tried it. That's why we have Lost Souls Day. To remind us of the golden rule of haunting.”

“What's that?”

“Hopping grave-ys is for babies.”

“Oh.” May tried to absorb this, thinking that maybe the spirits in charge could have done better. She rolled herself up into a ball on her side. Pumpkin did the same. Then she flopped over onto her back and watched the stars.

“Pumpkin?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pumpkin nod.

“How long have you been my . . . house spirit?”

“Mmmm, don't remember. I moved in when the first house was built there—it was a tepee, actually”

May's mouth dropped open. “That must have been years ago!”

“I don't know. But it was very cramped. Smelled like . . . hmm . . .”—he tapped his lips, thinking—“venison.” May pictured Pumpkin cramped into a tent and stifled a chuckle.

“What about our house? Where did you stay?”

“All over. Mostly the attic, but I spent a lot of time in the kitchen. I liked watching you and your mom eat and talk. But sometimes it made me too sad.”

May swallowed. “Why?”

Pumpkin shrugged. “Just a feeling. I don't know. You make each other sad sometimes.” May picked at her fingernails, her throat tight.

Pumpkin cleared his throat. “And then . . .”

“And then?”

“I spent a lot of time with you. In your room.”

Now it was May's turn to blush. She thought of all the times she'd changed in her room. And all the times she'd picked her nose.

“I loved watching you do your little projects—your drawings and your inventions and all the beautiful pictures you hung up on your walls. You kept the sight for a long while.” Pumpkin smiled, looking at May but past her. “We were such friends when you had it. You used to lie in your crib, waving at me.

“But then when you got it again, you looked
so
scared. And that made me scared. You don't get the sight back unless something serious happens. You have to be touched by a powerful spirit. I really didn't know what to make of it.”

“You followed me to the lake that night.”

Pumpkin was quiet for a long time. “I saw you going into the woods. And I knew the portal was back there. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Pumpkin frowned. “I'm sorry I didn't get there sooner. Then you wouldn't be here at all.”

“Well,” May hesitated. “Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't thank you for saving me.”

Pumpkin was silent for a few moments. “Welcome.” They both shifted awkwardly.

“Pumpkin, Arista said you ghosts come to haunt at midnight. But all the stuff you're saying means you were there before then.”

Pumpkin shrugged.

“Aren't you supposed to be at my house now?” May asked.

Pumpkin's gash of a mouth straightened into its crooked line. “Yes.”

“And you're breaking the rules, for me?”

Pumpkin didn't answer. He blushed. “Are you gonna get in trouble?”

“A spirit who doesn't show up for work can get fired.”

“What does that mean? They don't pay you?”

“They can revoke your Earth privileges.”

“You mean you'd never be able to come back to Briery Swamp?”

“I don't know.”

May nestled into her sack. Pumpkin did the same. And soon he let out a snore. May, on the other hand, was far from sleep.

She was thinking of all the times she'd holed up in her room, making her art, coming up with her strange ideas, dreaming of faraway places in pictures. All that time she'd thought she'd been alone. She looked over at Pumpkin. He was lying on his back, his skinny arms flung out to the side, long and gangly. And delicate.

Then she closed her eyes. She tried to see her big white farmhouse back in Briery Swamp. Maybe if she concentrated hard enough, she could really see it across all the miles, using mental telepathy. Where was her mom? What was she doing now? She concentrated, but only the backs of her eyelids stared back at her. No farmhouse, no Mom, no Somber Kitty.

She could imagine though. Her mom was probably hunched over the kitchen table with worry, waiting by the phone. Or talking to the police. Somber Kitty was probably snoozing. Maybe he was glad after how she'd treated him. Glad not to get dressed up like a warrior cat anymore or dragged into school for dance shows. Glad not to be underappreciated anymore.

May wished more than anything that she could show them both how much she loved them. She felt very sorry. Her whole heart was sorry for everything she had ever done to worry them. She closed her eyes and tried to send her love all the way to Earth. She didn't know if it could travel that far.

I
always wanted to go to the beach,” May said. She and Pumpkin had been walking in silence for two days, only I talking when it was time to stop and eat, and even then, only exchanging a few words.

May scanned the sky as they walked, then looked down the beach behind her to make sure there was no one in sight. “I like the woods a lot better.”

Pumpkin nodded agreeably.

“Once I get home, I'm never going to the beach again.”

Pumpkin nodded again.

May sighed. She'd never wanted so much to talk to someone. In school she'd always kept her mouth closed as much as possible. But Pumpkin was losing his scariness. In fact he was starting to seem less scary than some of her classmates.

“So how do you like being Arista's house servant?”

Pumpkin shrugged. “It's okay.”

“You don't like it?”

Pumpkin shrugged. May didn't understand how sometimes he could be so chatty, and then make it so impossible to pull out two words.

They walked in silence some more, May searching her brain for another subject. “Well, what would you do if you could do anything?”

Pumpkin looked at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Well, just imagine you could do anything you wanted to do. What would it be?”

Pumpkin stuck a finger in his mouth, thinking. “Have you ever heard of William Shakespeare?”

May nodded eagerly. “Sure.”

“Well, he runs a song and dance revue, out in the Nothing Platte—it's very famous.”

“Really?”

“I want to work there. As a singer.”

“Wow, really?” May knew she must have looked shocked, because Pumpkin turned crimson.

“I . . . I'm sorry, I just had no idea you could sing. And you seem kind of . . . timid.”

“I don't feel timid when I sing.”

May smiled. She knew what he meant. She wasn't timid when she was running through the forest being an Amazon. “Can I hear some?”

“What? Oh, nooo . . .”

“Oh, please? Let me hear you sing.”

Pumpkin was shaking his head, but in that way that people do when they really want you to talk them into something.

“Please!” May was practically hopping up and down. “Just not too loud, okay?” she added, peering over her shoulder again.

Pumpkin stopped in his tracks. “Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Okay,” he said again, getting up his nerve. “I like to imagine that there's a whole bunch of specters who've been in horrible accidents in the audience. And they're missing arms and legs and things and really needing to be cheered up, right?”

May nodded. “Okay.”

“I get up on stage, make a few jokes, and then . . .” He thrust a hand out into the air and opened his mouth.