The Awakening (32 page)

Slightly out of breath, Clay says, "You left this in calculus. You might need it tonight ... you know, to do your homework."

Celia snags the notebook and her cheeks stain. "How did you know it was mine?"

Clay simply smiles. "Easy. I saw the illustrations in the back and I know you like to sketch, so I put two and two together." He steps closer. "That's a cool drawing you've got in the back."

I see Celia swallow noticeably, and I feel bad for her. It was hard enough for her to show me her picture of Jason. Now Clay's seen it?

Bravely though, Celia flips the spiral book open to share with him. I peer over her shoulder and gasp when I see, not the drawing of Jason, but one of Clay sitting in class listening to the teacher.

"What can I say?" Celia starts. "I was bored in class and you were in my line of sight."

Clay grins widely at her. "Glad you finally see me."

Taylor grabs my arm and mouths,
Awww
.

Clay continues. "You look great today, Celia. Did you change your hair?"

She ducks her chin a little. "Yeah. Thanks." Celia shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I can sense her hesitation, mixed with some uncharacteristic boldness. "Maybe you can come over after school and see our ghost-hunting equipment. You know, how we do everything. I can show you the evidence we got this weekend."

"That'd be cool," he says. "We can run over to Chick-fil-A afterward, you know ... if you want."

"Sure. Great."

After Clay's gone, Taylor and I both start squealing like sixth grade girls. "I knew you liked him!" I say.

Celia smirks and tries to shrug it off. "Yeah, whatever."

I can see right through her, though. Her features are so animated, it's like a Disney character about to burst forth in an Elton John song. Her eyes have an adorable twinkle to them as she takes an over-the-shoulder peek at Clay's retreating form. Ah yes ... gone is her crush on Jason Tillson. In my mind, I see her in her room, tearing the page of him out of her notebook, wadding it up, tossing it in the garbage can. Ironically, behind that page are other sketches of Clay, so he was in her thoughts all along too.

"Did I call that one or what?" I say, not caring that I'm gloating.

"Hey, bitches," Becca calls out. "On your way to the caf?"

"Yep!" Taylor says with a bubbly joy in her voice. "You wanna come sit with us today or do you have to spin?"

I lift my brow. "Put a CD on and come hang."

Becca thinks for a moment. No longer are we the Barbies who bother her. We're teammates in an honorable venture. She's one of us now. "Sure," she says with a smile. "Y'all a'ight, you know?"

I put my arm around her and hug her whether she likes it or not.

We buzz through the cafeteria line—a cheeseburger and fries for Becca, Celia, and me; a salad with no dressing and a hard-boiled egg for Taylor, who wants to look her best for her study date with Ryan MacKenzie—and head straight to our table. I feel the eyes of Courtney Langdon and her flock of followers on my back as we pass by. I've got bigger fish to fry than the likes of a junior girl so insecure in herself that she has to resort to bulimia. Course, once she finds out Jason and I are an item—
we are, aren't we?
—she'll totally hate me. I'll deal with that whenever we get to that bridge.

Speak of the devil! Jason is waiting at our table for us, a mischievous look in his eyes. He takes my tray and sets it down next to his. "Where've you been all day?"

"Duh. Class."

We all sit, and before I can attack my ooey-gooey cheeseburger that's calling out to me, Jason snags my hand under the table and weaves his fingers through mine. "I've been worried about you. Your mom wouldn't let me see you yesterday."

"I was in a low-grade coma."

His mouth curves into an infectious grin. "You're okay now, though?"

I smile back and squeeze his hand for reassurance. "Thanks for being there the other night for me. I know you don't totally believe what we're doing—"

"I'm starting to come around after everything I witnessed. Don't get me wrong. I'm still a skeptic to the core, but I am interested in what you do and what you think you see."

"Well, good. Because that wasn't our only ghost hunt. I have to keep doing it."

He grips my hand tighter. "Then you're going to have me around."

I knit my brows together. "For protection? Jason, I don't need—"

"—a protector, I know." His eyes move over my face. "No, it's because I just want to be where you are."

I hear Taylor clear her throat, so I glance over. Again, she mouths,
Awww
.

Becca takes a ginormous bite of her cheeseburger and talks with her mouth full. "You two need to get a room or something."

We all laugh and attack our lunches. We talk about the weekend and our success at city hall and what to do to move forward. Can't just ghost hunt once and be done with it. There's still the issue of Emily, the floaty lady, in my house. Celia's going to make us a website,
www.ghosthuntress.com
, where we can document all of our cases—and where people can contact us if they want us to come help them out. (And no, we won't take money because that would just be unethical. We're doing this because we have to.) Becca's going to keep recording files of all of our EVPs on her laptop and even mix some of the sounds into her DJing. How freaky-cool is that? Taylor's going to post some of our images on various websites, like Ghost Village and Darkness Radio, so others can share in our experiences and leave comments. Jason promises to continue to be our skeptic, but not be so forceful in his disbelief.

Me? Well, I'm going over to Loreen's after school to tell her all about the ghost hunt and to keep learning about my awakened psychic abilities. I'm fortunate to have her guidance in my life, and my mom will just have to get over it or get used to it. That's what I have to do.

I glance around at our table: Celia, the geek-turned-swan rich girl; Taylor, the ebullient beauty; Jason, her popular and gorgeous brother; Becca, the Goth DJ; and me, the girl from Chicago who's found some good friends who accept me the way I am. What a crazy group we make, the five of us. But we're on a mission to help the spirits of Radisson. Something tells me we're going to be very busy once word gets out.

Jason drains his Coke and wipes his mouth with a napkin. "I've gotta go. Playing hoops next period with some of the guys. You got a sec?" He motions with his head for me to come with him.

"Yeah, sure." I follow him as he buses his tray.

To my amazement, I can't pick up his thoughts right now. Not like I've heard his thoughts before, like I have Celia's or others'. A warm glow passes through me as I anticipate what he might say.

He turns, and those amazing blue eyes shine down on me. "Listen, I know ghost hunting is important to you. I just hope you'll make time for me. You know, only you and me. Like, going out on dates and stuff."

I like the "and stuff" part if that means making out with him some more. I smile so hard, I think my jaw might snap. "Jason Tillson! Are you asking me out on a real date?"

"Not just one, Kendall. A lot of dates. Starting Friday night. I'll pick you up at eight."

And with that, he heads off toward the gym.

I return to the table where three sets of very inquisitive eyes examine me with concentrated scrutiny. Taylor breaks the silence, asking what they all want to know. "What was that all about?"

I can't contain my squeal. "Jason just asked me out for Friday! Can you believe it? Holy crap! What will I wear?"

Celia rolls her eyes. "Oh my God. You are
such
a girlie girl."

To an outsider just trying to make her way and fit in, this is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me. I'm gonna do just fine here in Radisson.

A
FTER CHURCH ON
S
UNDAY
—Father Castellano was delighted to see me—I walk over to the cemetery to visit Charles Stogdon's grave. The sky above is brilliantly blue and bright, and there's a sense of peace and serenity in the air. The sun sleeks through the tree branches, painting the freshly cut grass with golden light and shadows. A cool breeze touches my arms and I know that autumn is definitely in full swing.

I never thought of a graveyard as a beautiful place, but as I look around now, I realize it's quite amazing. The final resting place for loved ones. Epitaphs of praise, appreciation, and sorrow. Obelisks that reach to the heavens. Simple stones that mark forgotten souls. Each magnificent and special in its own way.

I cross the small footbridge over the water that flows through the burial ground. No sounds of marching Union soldiers today, just birds twittering overhead in the trees. The babble of the brook adds to the tranquillity of the fall day; a few leaves lazily float down the stream.

Back in the farthest corner of the cemetery, I find a small wrought-iron fence around a simple white marble headstone that reads "Stogdon." I climb over the enclosure and bend down to clean some of the ivy and stray weeds off the marker. I lay down the small bundle of Shasta daisies and spray roses that I picked up at the grocery store for five bucks. It's the thought that counts, right?

"Charles? Are you here?"

I listen to the whistle of the wind, trying to get a sense of whether Charles Stogdon is here or not. I certainly hope he isn't, after all we went through the other night. I pause and listen for anything that tickles my psychicness. Silence in my mind. I don't pick up on him at all. He's at peace now, thanks to my group. And I helped him move on to the next realm, where he can hopefully rejoin treasured family members and his friend Thomas Edgars.

"Nope. You're not here, Charles." I cross myself and say a quick prayer of thanks.

I'm about to go when I determine I'm not alone.

The air is suddenly thick with the aroma of lilacs. Leaves shuffle behind me and I'm sure I'll see the caretaker—who'll want to know what I'm doing—when I turn around.

I take a deep, sharp breath and stare at the face before me in utter astonishment. Is my mouth hanging open? 'Cause it feels like it is. "Emily?"

Is the woman standing before me in a white gown seriously the spirit I've seen and experienced in my room? Only she seems to be in human form now.

"Is it you?"

A smile crosses her ethereal face. "Yes, Kendall. It's me. I'm glad you recognize me."

Do I? I mean, I've seen misty images of her in my room and in the infrared shots Taylor got as Emily took off in a bolt of energy. I don't think I've ever seen her in my life, like, this up close and personal. I inspect her appearance a little more. She's quite pretty. Young. Can't be much older than I am. Maybe nineteen, tops. Soft green eyes are surrounded by charcoal black eyelashes. Her cheeks are pale, but then again, she's dead...
hello!
Her white dress seems to be of the hospital-gown variety, although she wears it better than most. (No opening in the back that I can tell from here.) There's something vaguely familiar about her.

"Have we met before?" I ask.

Emily steps toward me, no longer merely floating. "I've been with you your whole life, Kendall."

I'm barely able to restrain my shock and surprise. "How? When?"

"You used to see me when you were a tiny little girl. We played with your dolls and stuffed animals. I helped you name most of your teddy bears, since you were calling them Bear, The Other Bear, Big Bear. I think we named the white polar bear Carlton and the brown one, oh, what was it ... Sonoma?"

I begin to shake. "T-t-that's right. I still have Sonoma sitting in a rocking chair in my room. I remember Mom always wondered how I would know how to name a bear after a very grown-up place in California."

Emily moves her long brown hair over her shoulder. "It's where I was born. Remember? We talked about it. We used to play a lot together. And we would sing songs all the time."

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to access the memories she's referring to that must be locked in my psyche. This all sounds so familiar. Didn't Dad say I used to have an imaginary friend? That I'd sing tunes they'd never heard before. I don't know. I was just a little kid. I do remember naming all of my stuffed animals and not knowing where the names came from. I thought it had merely been my creative imagination. Could it really have been Emily's help?

"Yes, Kendall. It was me."

I muster up all the energy I can and dive deep into my memory. There's a crib with a comforter that has pink and yellow lambs on it. A baby monitor sits on the polished dresser. The overhead mobile cranks out "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." And there's a young woman sitting in my rocking chair, holding Sonoma the bear, telling me about the rolling hills and grape fields in northern California. The recollections rush back in wordless wonder.

"I
do
remember you. I called you E."

She nods and smiles again.

My chest constricts with a warmth I haven't experienced ... ever. "Why did you go away?"

"Your parents told you that you couldn't have an imaginary friend anymore. So you quit talking to me. You ignored me for the most part, and soon, I just faded away. It was best that you obeyed your parents. You were a good girl. So full of life and spirit and spunk. I never left you, though, Kendall. I've been with you every day of your life, whether you could see me or not. When you broke your arm. When you had measles, followed by chicken pox. Your first day of school. Your first kiss." Her eyes tease me. "Your last kiss."

I flush all over, thinking about the make-out session with Jason last night in his Jeep. We totally steamed up the windows, let me tell you what!

Putting thoughts of Jason aside, I ask Emily, "Do you have something to do with my awakening?"

"I simply reached out to you again."

"So, with this awakening of my psychic abilities—which I must have had when I was little 'cause I could see you—you've decided to come back into my life?"

Emily places a hand on the fence surrounding Charles's grave. "You're open to seeing me again. Your friend Loreen was right. In the silence of this small town, you were able to sense me again. It's an amazing gift that you have. My mother had the gift, you know?"