Crossing Over (12 page)

My mother said one final thing to him, and he turned abruptly and took several steps away. Then he simply blinked out, like
a television signal that had suddenly been switched off.

“Whoa,” said Ben very quietly.

We were both still sitting on the pavement.

My mother came over cautiously, giving me the chance to speak first.

But I was speechless. I’d never seen her do anything like that. I’d never seen a ghost do anything like that. I had so, so
much to learn.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

I nodded. Ben did too. She knelt down next to us.

“I’m sorry I busted in like that, but I saw him following you, and I could tell right away he had the potential to be a nasty
problem.”

“Do
not
apologize.” I said firmly. “That man… that ghost wanted to kill me. And I felt like maybe he could. Could he?”

“He could have hurt you. Maybe worse. He had elements of having been human once, but there was something more, too…”

She glanced over at Ben, and looked
pained. The look she gave me was downright empathetic.

She did know. Not just about the spirit stuff, but how I felt about Ben. She’d probably known from the very beginning, maybe
even before Jac had. She’d just chosen to leave the topic alone. And now she looked like she was about to say she was sorry
for embarrassing me in front of him. I didn’t want my mother to feel like she embarrassed me. Not ever. She was my mother
and I loved her, supernatural baggage and all.

“Ben’s clairaudient,” I said. “If he’s nearby, I can hear what he’s hearing. And if he… touches my arm or something, he can
see what I see.”

It only occurred to me after I said it that maybe Ben would have preferred to keep this information private.

“I have a lot of questions,” Ben said. “Maybe at some point, like after we get back home…”

My mother smiled.

“Anytime, Ben. Come for a dinner if you want. I don’t have all the answers, but I probably have a few. You’re not allergic
to dogs, are you? Max doesn’t shed much, but he’s a big boy.”

“I love dogs. Dinner would be really great,” Ben said. He shot me a sideways glance, and I turned beet red. How long was it
going to take to get used to this? It was tiring changing colors all the time.

I heard voices chattering and laughing on the square.

Shoshanna was pointing up at the old City Hall, surrounded by her girls. The Random Boys were attempting to scale a statue
like they were in a climbing gym. Mikuru
and Phil were comparing iPods, while Yoshi hovered nearby looking uncertain. Indira
and Alice were bent double laughing about something while Mrs. Redd waved her little hands at the Random Boys in an attempt
to get them down.

“Okay, guys, get off of there now,” Sid called, and two seconds later, his word had been obeyed.

Brooklyn stood off to one side, watching Ben, my mother, and me through narrowed eyes. I pretended not to see her. Let her
wonder what was going on—there was nowhere for her to spread her gossip at the moment. When we got back I’d worry about what
that would mean for me later.

Mrs. Gray was walking with Jac. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. They were talking about something. Jac seemed unaware of
anything else going on around her. She kept
looking away, and she was scowling. But they were talking. At least they were
talking. It was a start.

“Well, we have an opportunity here,” my mother said. “Should we take advantage of it?”

“An opportunity?” I asked.

“The bus is empty. Tim went off to get a sandwich. Maybe we should go do a little spirit housecleaning?” she asked with a
smile.

“Oh, definitely,” I said. “Are you in, Ben? If you want to learn, this is the best way to do it.”

I got to my feet. Ben was still sitting on the pavement looking a little stunned.

“I think I already have,” Ben said. “Learned a thing or two, that is.”

He was even more of a newbie at all this
than me. He had just looked to me for answers that I didn’t have. My mother had to
rescue us, for pity’s sake.

But there was something about Ben that made me feel safe, and comfortable. Like being home.

“And yes,” Ben added. “I’m in.”

I tackled Lady Velma first.

“I’d like to help you,” I told her.

Ben was standing right behind me—he had to in order to keep his hand on my shoulder so he could see what was going on. But
still, it made me nervous having him there. My mother was sitting a few aisles up, silently observing.

“I require no assistance, though if I may be so bold, young lady, I do believe you would benefit from a little attention to
your comportment.”

Oh. Thanks so much for calling my outfit schlubby with the boy of my dreams standing two feet away.

“You need to move on,” I said.

Lady Velma pinched her lips together and narrowed her eyes.

“The next stop on our tour is the site of the future Biodome. We will move on at the time the printed schedule indicates.”

“We’ve already been to the—Lady Vel—I mean, uh… ma’am, your work here has been enormously important.”

At least I had her attention now. I tried to pretend Ben was somewhere else. Italy, maybe.

“And that work has made a difference, and you’ve educated many young people about Montreal, and been a wonderful tour representative
for the city. But you’re needed somewhere else now. You need to cross over.”

“I will do no such thing,” Lady Velma declared. “I am a tour guide. That is my service.”

She sat down and crossed her legs primly, reaching up to pat her tortuous bun.

“She won’t go?” Ben whispered.

Ben’s first direct experience with me working as a medium was turning into a train wreck. I was filled with new resolve. I
was not going to let a dead tour guide embarrass me in front of my soul mate. I thought furiously, then something came to
me in a flash.

“Yes, that is exactly the point—you are a tour guide. You were needed in Montreal, but when you cross over, you’ll find they
need you much, much more over there.”

“How do you mean?” Lady Velma asked.

“This place where you’re supposed to be—a lot of people go there every day. But the thing is, some of them get lost. I try
to
help them from my end, to get them heading in the right direction. But when they get to the other side, sometimes they’re
really confused. They don’t know what to do, they don’t understand. If only there were someone like you on the other side—someone
who takes charge, who knows how to guide people and explain to them where they are and where they need to go next. It is a
very big job, I know, and probably more difficult than what you’ve been doing here. Maybe it’s a bit more than you’re willing
to take on.”

Lady Velma stood up.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I never shrink from a challenge. You say people need guiding?”

“They do,” I said.

“Where are they?” she asked.

I looked around. This was the trickiest part. It was different for every spirit, and I’d only guided a few over so far.

“There is a light,” I said. “When you have the intention of crossing over, you’ll see it. Like the sun, but it will speak
to you. Not with words—but directly into your heart. You’ll feel love coming from it, and intelligence.”

The sky was as bottle gray as it had been for the entire trip, but Lady Velma’s gaze fixed on a place in the front of the
bus, next to Tim’s special motor coach operator’s seat.

“Yes,” Lady Velma said. “I see it. You are quite right, young lady… it is a wise and gentle thing that…”

Her voice trailed off and she stood staring, mesmerized.

“Go toward it,” I said. “Let it flow all around you. There will be people there waiting for you.”

She took a step toward the light, then paused, and looked around the bus.

“It’s okay,” Ben said.

Lady Velma stood still, and I was afraid she was going to change her mind and we were going to have to start all over again.
But she reached up, unpinned her
VELMA
tour guide badge, and placed it on a seat. Then she turned and walked up the aisle.

When she reached Tim’s bus driver seat, the air around her seemed to shimmer and go out of focus.

“Oh my,” Lady Velma said.

Then she took a step forward, and she was gone. There was nothing where she had been standing except the windshield.

“You did it!” Ben exclaimed.

I blushed.

“She wanted to go,” I said. “On some level she knew—and she wanted to go.”

Ben squeezed my shoulder, and all the breath went out of my lungs.

“Well done, sweetie,” my mom chimed in.

Oh yeah. My, um, mom was on the bus too.
Pull yourself together
, I told myself.

“Now Britches,” I said, turning around and looking at him where he sat huddled in his seat. He was actually kind of hunky,
for a dead guy.

Britches stared at me gloomily. Unlike Lady Velma, I knew he wanted off the bus. But how could I make him understand about
crossing over? Especially when he seemed obsessed with this Hochelaga person?

My mother had stood up, and was staring at Britches with her arms folded across her chest. Britches looked from my mother
to Ben to me. Frustration was written all over his spectral face.

“He’s not looking to cross,” my mother said. “He seems very attached to this plane of existence. He wants to go somewhere
in our physical reality—he must have left others
like himself there. He’s attached to it and wants to return. I think he wandered
off with you two by mistake, like a moth following a flame.”

“But we don’t even know who he’s looking for,” I said.

“I might,” said Ben.

“Really?”

“I checked online, remember? And I found something. Hochelaga isn’t a person, it’s a place. It’s the Indian village where
Jacques Cartier and his men camped. It was located somewhere on Mont Royal.”

Britches stood up. You’ll never, ever guess what he said.

“
Hochelaga?
”

Maybe you did guess.

“
Oui, Hochelaga
,” Ben told him. “
Vous pouvez rentrer
. You can go back there.”

Wow, Ben’s French accent was great.
Really great. How terrifically disturbing was that?

“
Le mont
,” Ben said. “
Le mont. Hochelaga et sur le mont.
”

Ben was pointing at Mont Royal, visible in the distance. He was showing Britches how to get back.

“
La-bas
?” Britches asked.

“Yes,
oui
,” Ben said, nodding in an exaggerated way. He pointed again. “
Le mont
. The mountain or hill.
Hochelaga.
”

“
Ah, oui!
” Britches exclaimed.

“You can go right now,” my mother said to Britches. “Look—
regardez
. Close your eyes and see it here,” she tapped her head. “See Hochelaga.
Voyez
.”

Britches seemed to understand the half French, half pantomime. I really wanted Britches to get home. In fact, I was incredibly
eager to see the last of him. But I was
supposed to be the medium here, and yet it was my mother and Ben who had gotten through
to the ghost.

Or had they? Britches was still standing there, plain as day, with his eyes closed. I racked my brain for a word in French,
but I couldn’t come up with it. So I said it in English instead, but I didn’t just say it. I felt it. I conjured up the energy,
the feel of the word, and I broadcast it in Britches’s direction.

“Home,” I said.

He opened his eyes for a moment and gave me a quizzical look. Then an expression of understanding crossed his face. He closed
his eyes again. And just like that, he was gone.

“That’s it!” Ben exclaimed.

“Nice,” my mom said.

“What did he do?” Ben asked.

“In his dimension, given that he’s basically in an out-of-body state, he can more or less
focus on a place and be there. He
just has to be able to know that’s where he wants to go.”

Sounded like
Stargate.

“So why didn’t he just wish himself back to start with?” Ben asked, and I was glad he did, because it sounded better coming
from a newbie.

My mother looked thoughtful.

“Maybe he’d never left Hochelaga before. He attached himself to you two because you could sense him, and he followed you.
Before he knew it he was somewhere unfamiliar. He probably had no idea what was happening to him. He was probably quite confused
and disoriented and decided his safest bet was to stick with a couple of familiar faces.”

“Sounds like every day in the cafeteria,” I said, and Ben laughed.

The only thing better than making a cute
boy laugh is making a cute boy you are totally into laugh.

Even if your mother is right there.

“So that just leaves Beige Girl,” I said.

“Do you know her story at all?” my mother asked.

I shook my head. “I’ve never gotten so much as a peep out of her. She’ll look at me, so I know she can see me. But nothing
else.”

My mother scooted into the seat in front of Beige Girl, and leaned over the back.

“Hi,” she said.

Beige Girl looked at her with mild interest, but said nothing.

“Maybe in French?” Ben asked.

My mother shook her head.

“She’s holding a book. Did you see it?”

“No,” I said.

“A Montreal tour guide of some kind.
Title is in English. I don’t think language is the problem here.”

We stood around, trying not to stare at her. I don’t think Beige Girl cared. All she wanted to do was look out the window.

Through the same window, I could see our group was beginning to meander back toward the bus.

“I think we’re running out of time,” I said nervously.

“We may not be able to do anything,” Mom said.

“We can’t help her?” Ben asked.

“Not everybody wants to be helped. Sometimes, it’s better to just wait it out and see if an opportunity presents itself. Maybe
something will happen on the way back that triggers something in her. That would be the time to act.”