The Star Group (4 page)

She was amused. “You know what I like about you, Danny?”

“What?” Revelation time, the sky could open.

“You are so full of it.”

I had hoped for better. “You know what I like about you?”

“Yeah.” She was quick.

I frowned. “What?”

“My ass.”

I struggled. “Why do you say that?”

She was cocky. “I caught you looking at it once.”

I was the apple she had yet to take from her bag. I don't know how I spoke.

“Well, you do have a nice ass.”

She was interested. “Do you like anything else about me?”

I managed to stay cool. “Your breasts.”

Sly smile from Goddess Gale. “You can only imagine.”

From terror to boldness. “I have, believe me.”

She hit me; I loved being beaten by her. “Don't give me that crap that you've been dreaming about me for four years. I won't believe you.”

It was going pretty well, I realized. I tried to sound sincere.

“That's true, you're not an obsession or anything like that. But I have wanted to get to know you better.”

“Then why didn't you just talk to me?”

I shrugged. “Because you're pretty and popular and I'm just a nerd with a large brain and small muscles.”

She stared at me, all innocence. “I thought you were going to say that you had a large something else. That you would try to impress me, you know.”

She was a smooth operator, she was one step ahead of me.

“I am trying to impress you,” I said.

She seemed genuinely puzzled. “Why?”

I don't know where the words came from. God or the devil.

“Because I like your ass,” I said.

She laughed. “I am not my ass, at least I hope not. Don't you like me as a person?”

So cool, way. “No.”

She threw her orange peels at me. “Then I'm not going to cut your hair, Danny Boy.”

I absorbed her punishment. I spoke quietly.

“Would you go out with me?” I asked.

She softened. She was surprised. “You want to go out with me?”

“Yes.”

Very soft. “Why?”

“Because I like you. A lot, actually.”

She considered. “I like you.”

I swallowed. “Really?”

“Yeah. I was going to write my phone number in your yearbook. I was hoping you might call me this summer.”

These were truly amazing sentences. “No.”

She nodded solemnly. “Yeah. You want to go to Disneyland together tonight?”

I had to lower my head, I was overcome.

“Yeah, sure, Gale. I think that would be fun.”

Her words were a kiss. “I think so, too, Daniel.”

CHAPTER FIVE

AFTER MY LAST CLASS, I FLOATED HOME. I didn't need a ride. Really, I walked home a foot off the ground, all two miles. I needed the time to be alone, to savor the moment. I had never felt so happy, nothing in my life had even come close to the high I was experiencing. Before saying goodbye to me, Gale had asked if she could sit next to me during the graduation ceremony, which was strictly against the rules. We were supposed to sit in alphabetical order. But I told her no problem, I could receive someone else's diploma, they were all the same to me. Life was an amazing and miraculous creation of God's love. I mean, I was having a great day. Gale Schrater liked me!

And on the way home I passed a used bookstore.

Touched Books – I had been in the place many times. I read as much as I wrote, and used books were cheaper than those at Barnes & Noble or library fines. Sometimes I was able to buy a box of assorted titles for ten bucks. Lately I had been reading a lot of fantasy and murder mysteries. I was a big J.R.R. Tolkien and Elmore Leonard fan. I had also developed a fascination with the occult and New Age books. Still thinking of Gale—her face not her ass—I wandered into the store.

The owner was Mr. Barnes, sixty going on ninety. He drank a bottle of Maalox for an after-lunch snack. He had lines on his face as deep as trenches. His glasses were magnifying reading glasses. Each time he greeted me I felt like a fish in a bowl inside his brain. He nodded at me as I came in before going back to his crossword puzzle. He had a dictionary for a head, but I liked him just the same.

I went straight to the New Age section and without looking picked up a book entitled
The Magnetic Reality
. There was a magnet on the cover, streams of colored force lines radiated from pole to pole, red and black etchings of unseen powers. There was also a huge glass eye, poorly drawn, which appeared to be on the verge of shattering. I had never seen the book before. I bought it without glancing at the inside, gave Mr. Barnes a wrinkled dollar, and left the store.

I had never done that before.

My house was empty. Both my parents worked full title, my mother as a nanny for rich snobs, my father at a local warehouse. We didn't have a lot, but my mom and dad were fine people, honest and unpretentious. They both planned to attend my graduation ceremony, which was scheduled for six sharp. My mother was very proud of me. My dad never said anything, but I think he thought I was OK. I hoped they hadn't bothered to get me a present; I hated it when they spent money on me that they didn't have. I really did wear secondhand clothes.

Inside my bedroom, under a poster of Hemingway and a blowup of the cover of
Fahrenheit 451
, I plopped down on my bed and opened my new book. The first chapter explained how a magnet could be used to obtain readings on practically any subject. All one had to do was tie it to the end of a string and ask yes or no questions. If the answer was yes, it would swing one way, either clockwise, counterclockwise, or from side to side. If the answer was no it would do the opposite of whatever the yes response was. To establish what was the right direction, it was necessary to ask questions one definitely knew to have yes answers. It all sound pretty simple and totally unbelievable.

Still, I had a small magnet in my desk drawer. I took it out and tied a short string to one end – as stipulated, the south pole. Then I held it above a blank piece of paper on my desk and tried to steady my hand.

“Am I a male?” I asked.

There was a long pause. But slowly, very slowly, it began to swing in a clockwise direction—from my perspective directly above it. For a moment I was sure I must be making it swing, but it seemed to have a lift of its own.

“Am I female?” I asked.

It swung counterclockwise.

“Wow,” I mumbled.

Of course I knew about the subconscious, how I could be moving it without realizing it. In fact, that was the only explanation. Certainly the magnet itself didn't understand my questions. I set my new toy down and read more of the book. The author talked about how the magnet allowed one to tap into layers of the mind ordinarily blocked. But then he took it a step further and spoke of unlocking the mystery of Universal Consciousness. I didn't understand what that was, except it sounded cool. Gale was going out with me, and now I was able to talk to the universe, all in the same day.

I grabbed the magnet again.

“Do I love Gale?” I asked.

Yes.
It swung clockwise. Smart magnet.

“Does Gale love me?”

Sort of.
It went clockwise but without enthusiasm. I was annoyed.

“Is someone answering these questions besides me?”

Yes
and
no
. It swung clockwise, then counterclockwise. I didn't understand the response. It seemed it should be one way or the other.

“Are you a human being?” I asked.

Yes
and
no
. The
no
was stronger.

“Are you more than my subconscious?”

Yes.

“Are you more than me but connected to me?”

Yes.
Very strong.

“Are you a spirit?”

Sort of.

“Are you from this planet?”

No.

“Do you like talking to me?”

Yes.

“Are you friendly to me?”

Yes.

“Are you extraterrestrial?”

Yes.
Very strong.

“Cool,” I whispered.

Yes.

“Do you like this method of communication?”

No.

“Is it too limiting?”

Yes.

“Can we communicate another way?”

Yes.

“Can you tell me how?”

Yes.

“How? I mean, I have to make suggestions?”

Yes
.

“Can I talk to you on an Ouija board?”

Yes
and
no
.

“Can I use the magnet in another way to communicate with you?”

Yes
.

I couldn't think of another way.

“Is it important we communicate?”

Yes.

“Are you real?”

Yes.

“Could I be deluding myself?”

Yes.

That last answer made me pause. Once again, it seemed contradictory. But it did give me an idea of another method of communication, which was related to the Ouija board, but also different.

“Can I use the magnet to seek out letters rather than your just responding yes or no?”

Yes.

“If I get a large piece of paper, and print out each letter of the alphabet, can I use the magnet to seek out each letter you want?”

Sort of.

My question had been fuzzy.

“Will
you
seek out the appropriate letters you need to spell certain words?”

Yes.
Very strong.

“The magnet will only react when it comes to the correct letter?”

Yes.

“Should I do this now?”

Yes.

I set the magnet down and went to my father's den, where he was fond of painting and drawing in the evening. He was a fan of fine paper, and collected it, his only indulgence. He wouldn't mind if I stole a piece, he was always trying to teach me to draw. But I had the hand-mind coordination of a surfer bum; I could only manage happy faces with halos.

I used a black marker pen to carefully print out the letters of the alphabet and arrange them in three neat rows. I also put in periods and commas. By now I was getting excited, and not just because the magnet was swinging. There was a strange energy prickling at the back of my head and the base of my spine. I could have been imagining, it but I didn't think so. The charge was the same as that generated by a coming storm only much stronger and obviously much more localized.

It felt as if someone were really there.

Something.
An energy being.

I returned to my bedroom and picked up my magnet. The sheet I placed directly in front of my crossed legs. Dangling the magnet by the string, I hung it over the alphabet, moving slowly through the letters, staring from
A
. It reacted sharply when it came to
H
, spinning clockwise.

“You want an
H
?” I asked.

Yes.

I wrote down
H
and started again from
A
. When I reached
I
it reacted.

“Hi?” I asked.

Yes.

“You are saying hi to me?”

Yes.

“Hi there,” I said. “Should I continue?”

Yes.

“Should I ask questions first?”

Yes.

“Who are you?”

The answer was long and slow in coming. But finally I had it and my heart was pounding. I capitalized what words I thought appropriate. The magnet did make use of my comma and period.

You may call me Mentor. I am you and I am not you. I am a higher aspect of you. I reside in what you would call a subtle body on a world six hundred and forty-two light-years from you. This world is called Ortee. We are advanced beyond the inhabitants of your planet, both materially and spiritually. Eighteen of your years ago, a portion of my consciousness left here and incarnated on your planet. That portion you call the soul.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I blurted out.

I had to work the magnet to get the answer.

I am serious, Daniel. I contact you at this time to make you and your friends aware of your mission.

“Which friends?”

You know the ones, the six of you.

“You mean Jimmy? Sal? Teri? Shena?”

And Gale.

“I hardly know Gale.”

But she is one of the six.

I was giddy. Cool, I knew her from the stars. Not that I really believed what was being spelled out, not in any absolute sense.

“Then she does love me?”

It is a mystery.

“What is our mission?”

To help humanity.

“Why us?”

All are born to help. But being from a higher world, you are especially qualified.

“What are our special qualifications?”

When you all awake to your true identity, they will manifest.

“How do we awaken ourselves?”

As a group, I will direct you.

“When?”

Soon.

“Will the others believe in you?”

Not at first. But they know me. I am their true friend.

“But exactly how will you awaken us?”

When you are all together, I will speak through you. There is a great power in your group consciousness. We will go to on isolated place.

Something odd occurred to me.

“Was Teri's dream accurate?”

There was truth in it. I placed the dream in her mind, many times.

“Did I get the idea for my story from you?”

You are writing your own story.

“We are the Star Group?”

Yes.

“When you say you will speak through me, will it be like this New Age channeling?”

No. Channeling is dangerous. We communicate through a high form of telepathy. You will be aware at all times of who you are and what you are saying.