I shrugged, taking a moment to look him over before I said, “Well, if it makes you feel any better, at first I clearly was. I mean, you saw the way I almost took off. And then with that whole killer clown thing with the drills and the picks—” I shuddered at the memory of it. “Well, you nearly did me in! But when you started with all the scary monster stuff, well, let’s just say it was pretty much a dead giveaway.” I smiled, adding, “Pun intended,” really cracking myself up. But when they didn’t join in, I was quick to add, “Anyway, that’s pretty much what did it. I mean, most of those movies were way before my time, and that’s pretty much the moment I knew.”
“Knew what?” He pressed his lips together, looking me over in that creepy way that only a ten-year-old can.
“Knew that you were counting on the fact that I’d be too scared to realize I’m in control—that I’m the one who allows the fear to win. And that my refusal to feed it, to let it take over, would diminish its power over me—your power over me.” I nodded, and, even though I tried not to, I couldn’t help it, a triumphant smile crept across my face. Which only seemed to annoy him even more. “Not to mention the fact that I’m already just as dead as you, so there’s really not much else you could do to hurt me, now is there?” I added.
“Oh, we could do plenty! We could—” The blond one on the left piped up, rushing forward and shaking his small fist in the air, until straw
berry head turned and flashed his palm, sending him slinking right back to his place again.
“We’re not leaving if that’s what you’re here for. Plenty of others have tried, you know. And trust me, I mean plenty. But we’re still here. Have been for hundreds of years. So, maybe you’re the one who should move on, because we’ve no plans to stop. And if you continue to insist, well, it’ll just end up being a big fat waste of your time.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, my fingers picking at a loose thread on one of the blue cushions, acting as though I was only mildly invested in this, as though I had nothing important riding on it. “But then again, maybe not.” I raised my gaze until it met his. “I mean, did it ever occur to you that maybe you guys are the ones wasting your time? Seriously, think about it. Hundreds of years spent running around in outdated little short sets just so you could get your jollies by scaring the beejeemums out of ghost-seeking tourists.” I shook my head. “Hundreds of years of the same lame routine.” I sighed, making a point to look at each of them. Just the thought of it seemed exhausting and pointless. “And for what may I ask? What could possibly be the point of all that? And just what exactly do you get out of it, anyway? I mean, really? Don’t you ever feel like taking a little vay-kay, or even a week-long break?”
“We do take breaks! We work in shifts I’ll have you know!” shouted the other blondie.
But shifts or no shifts, they weren’t getting it, weren’t getting it at all. I’d spent twelve full years bugging my older sister to the point of, well, complete and total ridiculousness. But still, that was nothing compared to the colossal waste of the last few centuries they’d committed to. Talk about a time suck.
“My point is—” I clutched the cushion to my chest for a moment before tossing it aside. Making sure I had their full attention before I went on to add, “What’s the payoff? Seriously. Why bother with the flaming red eyes, gaping black holes, and—and all of this?” I motioned toward them, drawing an invisible line from the top of their curly heads all the way down to their immaculately shined shoes.
And that’s when the other one finally spoke, standing just to the right of strawberry head when he said, “What’s the payoff?” His bright blue eyes met mine, looking at his friends as they snickered and laughed amongst themselves. “Fame. That’s what. Worldwide fame is the payoff.” They shook their heads and rolled their eyes, smirking at me as though I was a grade-A moron.
I squinted, unsure I’d heard right. I mean, there was no way they could be serious about that.
“We’re famous,” he repeated, his voice as determined as the expression on his face. “We have name recognition. People come from all over the world just to try to get a glimpse of us—a chance to photograph us—to catch a voice recording of us—to have an encounter with us—to tell their friends back home they lasted through the night with us—” He glanced at his buddies as they all burst out laughing, his eyes back on mine when he said, “Which, by the way, is a big fat lie since no one’s ever made it through the entire night in this room. No one. No exceptions.” His face grew stern. “And, let’s not forget about all the books, and articles, and TV shows about us. We’re famous. International superstars! And we have been for years. We’re like—we’re like the Backstreet Boys in a way—only dead.”
Oh boy. Suddenly, I couldn’t help but feel bad for them for not only being completely delusional, but tragically outdated as well. I mean, the Backstreet Boys—could they have picked a more ancient reference? I shook my head and looked them over. They reminded me so much of some of the kids I used to go to school with, whose sole ambition was to be famous. For what? They hadn’t a clue. All they knew is they were destined for the spotlight.
And their first stop was YouTube.
My eyes grazed over them. They were so indignant, so sure that what they were saying was true, and I knew I had to find a way to break it to them.
I cleared my throat, taking a deep breath purely out of habit before I went on to say, “Um, I hate to break it to you, but you’re nothing like the Backstreet Boys. Not to mention, how do you even know about the Backstreet Boys anyway? You live in a castle in the middle of nowhere.”
They stared at me, a united front of white suits, white kneesocks, and outraged red cheeks.
“You’re not the first to look through people’s belongings, you know. We have access to computers, we’ve checked out an iPod or two,” said the smallest blond kid, as his buddies all snickered and laughed, taking a moment to shake their heads at me.
“Just because we live in a castle in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean we don’t know the same stuff you do,” strawberry head added.
I nodded. I didn’t see that coming, I’ll give them that. To think that any ghost would be in touch enough to know about boy bands of the last decade and yet still choose to dress like that was beyond me. But then again, look at Bodhi—an almost-pro skater dude who for whatever reason chose to dress like a dork. People were complicated—both the living and the dead, of that I was sure.
“Okay, fine. My bad. I’m sorry I misjudged your knowledge of pop music. Still, I’m sorry to say, but you’re nothing like the Backstreet Boys. Because the truth is, millions of people all around the world loved them, but—well—how many people love you?”
I watched as they exchanged bewildered gazes, their thoughts of confusion and despair like a vibrating rumble that flowed through the room.
Then strawberry head shook his head firmly, determined to take charge and regain control once again, saying, “Do not listen to her. None of it’s true! She’s messing with us. It’s part of her mission or whatever agenda she has.” He shot me a scathing look that was almost as bad as when the flames shot from his eyes. “The point is, maybe they don’t exactly love us—but they love to fear us. People come from all over the world just because of us! Without us, Warmington Castle would be ruined! Nobody would bother to visit. It couldn’t continue and would shut down for sure.” The blonds both nodded, two sets of bobbing heads flanking him on either side.
“Maybe—maybe not.” I frowned, knowing that could very well be true though it was pretty much irrelevant here. “But what’s it to you either way? I mean, are you getting a cut of the share? Is anyone actually thanking you for volunteering to work here? All that time you spend, all the long hours you put in—what’s the payoff? Seriously, did it ever occur to you that you’re totally being used? Taken advantage of in the very worst way? You guys give a whole new meaning to the term graveyard shift. And really, other than your questionable claim to fame, what’s in it for you?”
They looked at each other, thoughts murmuring back and forth in a swirl of static and sound.
“Look,” I said, smoothing my skirt as I stood from my seat and approached them. “Here’s the deal. I know you’re afraid of being nobodies, of being invisible—of no one even remembering that you ever did exist. And trust me, I know exactly how you feel because back when I was still alive, I was afraid of the same exact thing. And I wasted so much time—my whole entire life really—just following my older sister around, trying to be just like her. To me, she was important, hugely important. She was pretty and popular and, well, she was somebody special. And I was sure that if I could be just like her, mimic her in just the right way, then I could be somebody special too. But the truth is, trying to be like Ever didn’t make me important or special—it just made me an annoying tagalong. And maybe even a little bit of a brat.”
I looked at each of them, hoping my words were beginning to penetrate in some way. “What I’m trying to tell you is that you have a choice. You can either stay here and continue to scare the beejeemums out of people, or you can move on to someplace that’s—well—” I hesitated, not wanting to lie and say it was better, since I pretty much knew that wasn’t entirely true. But still, needing to say something, I said, “Someplace that’s new. And—different. And far more exciting than anything you have going on here.” I motioned around a room so upended it looked like a rugby match had just taken place, remembering the manifesting, the beaches, the everchanging, glorious Here & Now scenery, and knowing that much was true. “I really think you’ll like it there. You just need to give it a chance, that’s all.” Stopping just after the words were spoken, and wondering if maybe that last bit of advice applied to me too.
“But what if we don’t like it there? What if we get there and decide that we hate it and we’d rather be here?”
I looked at them, tempted to lie to get this thing over with. To tell them they wouldn’t miss the earth plane, not even the slightest, tiniest, most minute bit.