Manifest (14 page)

Then Jake chimes in, “You’ve been to the cemetery to see his grave?”

I shake my head. “It was in my dream. I ah—” Not really wanting to go into the part of the dream where I’m reliving the way my mother snatched me from New York and dropped me here, I stall for a few seconds. “It’s like I’m running, either from something or toward something. I never figure it out. And then I fall. When I get up I’m right in front of Ricky’s grave. I try to get away and I run into…that same black fog,” I say. “Like that’s where I’m supposed to be and what I’m supposed to see. Odd.”

“Not odd. Maybe it’s just a clue.”

I agree with Jake because it is safer to do so than to explain why I was having the whacky dream in the first place.

“You know how he died?”

“I think he was shot,” Sasha says.

Jake nods. “Yeah. I think I remember something like that. They found his body in that alley behind the school.”

“So he was shot here in school?”

“It was, like, after school hours so I don’t really remember if he was shot during schooltime or what, but I think that’s where they found his body.”

“Do you think you could get more information? More clues to kind of figure out which direction we should be looking?” Sasha asks and I want to pick up on the sarcasm in her voice. I want to have a reason to snap back at her, but I really don’t. Because in a way she is right. If I am the medium and we are supposed to be finding out what really happened to the spirit, then I should have more clues. After all, Jake and Sasha can’t ask him what the hell happened. Only I can do that. And if I am going to be in this Mystyx thing for the long haul, I should definitely do my part. And I planned to do just that, only I don’t think I have to tell them everything right at this minute. Aside from that, I usually just waited for Ricky to appear and start talking to me. I’m not sure if I can actually call him and talk to him, like if there is some sort of ghost GPS I can use to get in touch with him.

“I’ll ask,” I say finally. “And I’ll get back to you guys.”

Sasha nods. “We need some sort of meeting place.”

“You mean like a clubhouse?” Jake asks.

“We’re not elementary schoolers,” Sasha says, rolling her eyes. Then as if she finally realizes how bitchy she’s being today, Sasha takes a deep breath. Using her fingers she rubs her temples and puts her head down like she is just too through. I am so tempted to ask her what else is going
on because in that moment I know there has to be something above and beyond this Mystyx thing or even the fact that a skuzzy guy was trying to get with her. I don’t know how I know, I just do.

“We can meet at my house,” she says. Her voice sounds all grumbly because her head’s down on the table.

Now it’s me and Jake’s turn to just look at each other. Then I presume that he’s too nervous to say something so I say it.

“What did you say?”

Sasha lifts her head slowly. “We can meet at my house. I mean, at my pool house. That way my parents won’t be all in our business. Say, tonight around six-thirty. I’ve got somewhere to go right after school but I’ll be back home by then.”

Well, it is obvious that she isn’t going to tell us where she has to go after school. And I guess I really shouldn’t care. So I just shrug. “Sure, that sounds fine.”

Jake asks, “You think you’ll talk to Ricky by then?”

I don’t know. Unlike what is called a necromancer, I don’t have the power to actually wake or call the dead—or at least I don’t think so. I just figure they can talk to me and I can hear them. But maybe…maybe if I go to Ricky’s home (so to speak), knock on the door and ask for him, he’ll appear. Huh, it can’t be that easy.

Then again, maybe it isn’t that hard.

Dreaming
about being in the cemetery is one thing. Actually purposefully creeping into the cemetery, walking past the different sized and designed headstones, searching for someone in particular, is a whole other realm of freakiness.

Lincoln Memorial Gardens is located a couple blocks from Main Street, right on the corner of the United Presbyterian Church. It’s not as big as some cemeteries I’ve seen, but it’s big enough. Walking through the cast-iron gates is a little different from the last time I think I was here. In the dream I’d just appeared in front of Ricky’s grave. Now, I’ll have to walk through the maze of headstones to find it.

Or do I?

I am already through the gates and heading in the direction I think I should start when I stop. I have the power to see, hear and communicate with spirits of the afterlife. Could there be something more? What if I could call to other beings, somehow communicate in their realm? Well, there is certainly no harm in trying.

Searching my mind for all the stuff I’d read online about mediums and the afterlife, I begin to relax myself. Standing perfectly still, I close my eyes and think about Ricky. He’s
the spirit I want to contact, the one I need to speak to, so I figure he should be the one to think about.

For endless moments I stand there in the fading sunlight and breezeless afternoon. Actually, it had looked a little cloudy as I’d approached the cemetery…but that is getting off track. I need to concentrate for this to work. I think.

I picture Ricky again, his chocolate-brown complexion and dark pensive eyes. I think about his long arms that more often than not are folded across his chest and those heavy boots he wears that never seem to be tied tightly. My heart stumbles as I hear his laughter as clearly as if he’s standing right beside me. But I don’t open my eyes to see if that’s true, something inside tells me not to. To keep the link open and alive.

So I keep my breaths steady, in and out, in and out.

Krystal.

The sound of my name interrupts Ricky’s laughter and then a soft breeze sweeps across my face. At my sides my fingers are clenching and unclenching. I want to run because the voice calling my name doesn’t sound like Ricky. But again, something keeps me still, keeps my eyes closed and my mind focused. Something that I don’t think I’m controlling.

Come to me, Krystal.

The voice is calling me, asking me to come. I guess I should listen since I am trying to contact a spirit and it seems as though I have. Only this isn’t the spirit I want.

Opening my eyes slowly, I see that the clouds that had only begun coming in as I entered the cemetery now occupy the entire sky. The once sunny day is now gray and overcast. I had been walking toward the right side of the cemetery but instinct tells me the voice calling is coming from the left. So I take a step in that direction. Then another and another and then I see him.

As if he dropped right out of the sky, Ricky appears in
front of me. I jump back, screaming and holding a hand over my thumping heart.

“Jeez! You scared the hell out of me.”

He laughs.
I doubt that, Krystal. You don’t seem like you have a lot of hell in you to start with.

I’m trying to calm my racing heart and shaking my head at him at the same time. “Whatever. Where’ve you been? I’ve been calling you.”

He shakes his head.
You can’t call me.

“I did. I focused on you and I felt you answer,” I say, all proud of myself for learning how to use a part of this power I had. “But then—” I start to say but he’s still shaking his head, cutting me off.

I’m not there yet so I can’t hear you calling me.

I blink, clearly confused. “Then how did you know I was here?”

You’re my connection to the living world. I can always find you.

Okay, that makes sense. “I just can’t call you?”

Not until I cross over. That’s what Trina says.

“So, I could call Trina if I want?”

He shrugs.
I guess, but why would you want to call her?

I think about the picture on my phone and wonder if I should call her to ask her why she was crazy enough to take a naked photo of herself. Or why she’d let somebody else take it. Either way, I don’t know anybody who would send it to me.

Maybe Ricky knows.

How’d your visit with your shrink go?

He’d started walking and I just fell into step behind him, not real sure where we’re going. Since we are in a cemetery, where the dead and probably undead hang out, anywhere we go isn’t going to be very exciting.

“I don’t need a shrink,” I say, instantly defensive.

Nah, I don’t think you do either. I just think you need
to snap out of this doom-and-gloom world you’re determined to walk in. But that can be done without your mother kickin’ out a bunch of money to some crazy doctor.

“I agree,” I say and surprise myself by really believing what he’d just said. Then I look at him, I mean really look at him, and realize something—he’s transparent, like Trina and the crying girl at school, but he doesn’t have that glow around him that they do. “So, where’ve you been? I thought you needed my help, but then you go and disappear. And why were you in the library spying on me and Franklin? That was so uncool. Plus, were you at the school today?”

He turns and then chuckles a bit.
Hold up, what’s this, like fifty questions or something? First off, no, I wasn’t at the school today. Did you see me there? And second, why are you hanging out with that clown Franklin? You wanna talk about “uncool,” he’s definitely it.

“Franklin’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s none of your business who I hang out with.” I guess that could go both ways, so my little jealous tiffs about him and Trina should be dismissed.

Like I said, he’s a clown. Plus he doesn’t even know how to step to you right.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, then wave my hand to dismiss the question. “Never mind. Me and Franklin are none of your business.”

He shrugs again.
Whatever you say. So what, you were looking for me?

“Yeah, I guess I was.”

And you thought you’d find me in the graveyard because I’m supposed to be dead.

“No, actually I remember reading that spirits frequent the cemetery. It’s one of the few places they’re totally comfortable. It made sense, so I came. And here you are.”

Because I was looking for you.

“Really? Why?”

But before he can answer me my cell phone chirps. I have a text message. Digging it out of my purse, I press the button and gasp as the pictures immediately appear. It’s not just one this time, but a couple of them, saved one after another. I’m using the little ball on my phone to scroll down and down and down until finally the last picture is revealed. One of Trina and another girl. It takes me a second or so—during which time Ricky is calling my name like he thinks I can’t hear. I’m staring at the final picture not only because Trina is once again naked, lying on a bed with a really sleepy look on her face, but because of the girl. The one sprawled on the bed next to Trina, just as naked as Trina, her white skin a stark contrast to Trina’s cocoa brown. Both of them have a similar glazed look in their eyes and slack look of the mouth, but that’s where the similarities end. Not that I am searching for similarities, more like recognition I’d say. And damn if I don’t find it.

The other girl in the picture with Trina is crying girl from the equipment room in school.

“Are you doing this?” I blurt out. “Did you take these pictures? Why are you sending them to me?” I take a step and thrust the phone toward Ricky. Obviously he can’t take it into his hands but he does look down at the screen so I start to move the scroll ball upward so he can see all of them.

“I got one yesterday, too, and wondered who could be sending it. Is it you?”

He snaps,
Last I checked there were no cell phones in the afterlife
.

I start to respond with a similarly smart remark but the look on his face has me pausing. He looks mad. No, he looks pissed the hell off! His thick brows have kind of knotted across his forehead, his semi-thick lips are smoothed to a thin line and at his sides his fists are
clenched, looking like something I wouldn’t want to run across in a dark alley.

“Why would she take these pictures?” I ask quietly.

She didn’t.

“So she posed for them?”

Ricky turns away.

“Did you know about them? I mean, she is your girlfriend.”

She’s not my girlfriend,
he says quickly. Almost too quickly.

“She said she was.”

She was, as in past tense. As in when we were both still walking, living, breathing and talking.

“As in when she disappeared?”

He pauses, looking at me like he is surprised that I know.

I guess this means you’ve decided to help me.

I hunch my shoulders. “I figure something has to be done.”

You figure, or you and your friends figure?

“I guess you could say all three of us.”

It’s Ricky’s turn to nod his head. I think he’s trying to figure out what to say next, so I decide to help him along.

“What happened to Trina? Were you involved in her disappearance?”

He doesn’t hesitate.
No. I wasn’t involved. And I don’t know what happened to her. And even at this point she’s not tryin’ to tell me.

“I heard you were the last person to see her alive.”

Some people have said that. I don’t necessarily know how true that is.

“I don’t understand. Now that you’re both…um…”

He fills in the word for me.
Dead.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Now that you’re both dead, why doesn’t she just go ahead and tell you what happened to her?”

Because I didn’t ask her.

“You don’t want to know?”

Listen, things between Trina and I were different and I don’t want to go back through them again. After I was shot up she showed up trying to help me, trying to ease the passage she said. But it didn’t work. So right now, she’s not a big concern of mine.

“So what about these pictures? Why am I receiving them now if they aren’t related to what happened to you?”

I don’t know.

I hadn’t even noticed that when we’d stopped walking we’d ended up right in front of Ricky’s headstone. Looking down at his name, I bend and smooth away some of the leaves and debris that have fallen on it. Then suddenly, I’m really tired so I sit down. We stay quiet for a while. I would say we are enjoying the serenity but we’re in the middle of the cemetery so I don’t really know how much enjoyment you can get from sitting there. Still, I’ve made a spot right next to Ricky’s stone. I’m sitting with my knees pulled up, my chin resting on my knees. Ricky finally leans against the stone, his back partially facing me.

“How come you hung out with those guys at school? They’re troublemakers and you don’t strike me as their type,” I ask finally. After all, that was my reason for coming here. To call him and ask him more questions to help us figure out what is going on.

Because Twan hung out with them.

“Oh, come on, you’re the oldest. Don’t tell me you follow your kid brother’s directions.”

If it meant protecting him, then yeah, I guess I did.

“How were you going to protect him by joining them?”

I figured if I was on the inside I could watch out for him better. Make sure any stupid mistakes he might have made were covered up or kept him from getting hurt.

“Well, isn’t getting mixed up with that type of group stupid mistake number one?”

He gives a little chuckle that doesn’t quite seem like a laugh.
Yeah, I guess you could say that. But, you know, things aren’t always what they seem, Krystal.

“It seems like you and your brother both got hooked up in the wrong crowd. They’re known for their violence and rudeness and I even heard they’d robbed some place before. Maybe you could explain what good could come from being mixed up with a bunch like that, because it doesn’t seem all that appealing to me.”

You’re really naive, aren’t you?

“What?” I’m quickly offended. “I’m trying to help you and you’re calling me names.”

I’m not calling you names, just making a statement. You’re really naive. I kind of got that impression when I first saw you.

I turn so I can see him fully. “When did you first see me?”

It was during that snowstorm at the end of February. You came outside your house and just kept walking around, stomping in the snow like your footprints would somehow change the world.

It is mid-April so he’s been watching me for about three months now, but I don’t recall him saying anything to me. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

I don’t know. Waiting, I guess.

“Waiting to see if there was anybody else who could help you?”

He turns and looks directly at me.
No. Waiting to see when you’d be ready to hear what I had to say.

His gaze is so intent on mine that those butterflies in my stomach start twirling around again. I notice I get this feeling a lot when I am around Ricky. At first it made me think I had a crush on him. Then I started talking to
Franklin. I like him, too, though the feeling is not quite the same.

“So what is it you have to say?”

Are you ready to hear it?

“Yeah.”

I mean, are you really ready to listen? Not try to answer questions that you don’t have answers to, but to really listen to my story, to what happened to me and to maybe do whatever you can in your power to help.

I nod my head once, but Ricky looks back like he doesn’t believe me. And just as I’m about to nod my head again, my cell phone starts chirping. I’m almost afraid to answer it.

I don’t want it to be Janet but since I’m almost an hour late coming home there’s a good chance that’s who it is on the other end.