Shimmer

fit in.

Surrounded by a chorus of laughter that threatened to swallow me completely, I railed against the walls, the doors, pounding harder and harder, until one laugh in particular stood out from the rest.

One, single, tinkly laugh that raised above all the others and lured me right out of that mess.

The classroom dissolved.

The teacher and students disappeared.

While the surrounding space continued to shimmer and shine as thick squares of ash rained down all around—drifting lazily as they made their descent, clinging briefly to my shoulders and feet before getting stirred up again. Transforming the scene into some kind of darkly glistening, sinister snow globe of sorts.

She stared at me, her face solemn, unforgiving, as her long slim fingers traipsed down the front of her ridiculous dress. Plucking at the folds of the big, wide, yellow bow that slashed right across her middle, she looked at me and said, “Hmmm, that seemed most unpleasant for you.” And before I had enough time to react, she added, “In fact, that must’ve left you feeling really awful and angry now didn’t it?”

I lowered my head, gazing down past the swimsuit and cover-up I’d been wearing ever since I’d arrived on the island, gazing all the way down to my ash-smudged toes and bare feet. Struggling to compose myself, to regain my balance, my bearings, but the truth was that whole scene she’d just manifested on my behalf had left me miles past shaken.

While I had no doubt she was baiting me, trying to upset me, get me all riled up and angry, I had no idea why.

All I knew was that despite the abundance of sparkles and bows and curls, this was one little ghost girl who wasn’t made of sugar and spice and everything nice.

On the contrary, I was pretty darn sure she was made of something much worse.

Rebecca had a dark side.

Possibly even a secret of some sort.

She’d been hanging around the earth plane for too long. So long she’d grown jaded and bored and, let’s face it, mean in a way that proved just how much she desperately needed to be crossed over before she could get any worse.

But even though I knew all of that, when my eyes met hers, I also knew there was no way I could go it alone.

I’d stumbled in where I clearly didn’t belong, and I had no idea how to get out of that mess.

6

Just as she had appeared, she disappeared.

In a flash of shimmering light that flitted its way across the graves until it vanished from sight.

Leaving me right back where I’d started, alone in that creepy graveyard with no sign of the psycho dog, no sign of the psycho girl, no sign of anything other than the long-forgotten memory she’d so effectively unearthed.

The impression lingering, clinging, refusing to let go—stubbornly growing and stretching until that one isolated incident became so big, took up so much space in my head, it easily trumped everything else.

Including the version I knew to be true.

While my more logical mind should’ve easily reminded me that the embarrassing scene I’d relived was just a single brief episode that only occurred that one time, a single brief episode that certainly didn’t mark me as an outcast forever—while it should’ve reminded me how I’d managed to rise above it soon after, to the point where just a few days later, two of my classmates, Sara and Emma, each took a pair of scissors to their own hair in an attempt to mimic my look (much to their parents’ horror)—my logical mind didn’t seem to be working that day.

My logical mind was taking a little vacay of its own, leaving me alone, defenseless, swarmed by those long- buried feelings of embarrassment, confusion, and deep seething anger. And as I made my way out of that graveyard, I couldn’t help but gaze all about, couldn’t help but wish there was some kind of place in which to deposit those feelings—a sort of emotional dumping ground, if you will—so that I could leave them behind and spare myself the burden of having to lug them around.

My thoughts were soon interrupted by the sight of Bodhi pushing his way through the fog that continued to hover and pulse its way around the perimeter. Approaching me with a glaring gaze that served as a perfect match for his steely tone when he said, “Okay, Riley. Now that you’ve had your fun, now that you’ve enjoyed your little act of rebellion, I’m ordering you to come with me.” He leaned forward, peering at me in a way that made it seem as though his face and voice were in a heated competition to see which could come off as the sternest.

I glanced between Buttercup and him, wincing at the way my dog, feeding off Bodhi’s energy, gazed at me with a look that could only be read as pity.

“Because in case you’ve forgotten, this was supposed to be a vacation. A nice little time-out so we could both relax, have some fun, and, yeah, maybe even get to know each other a little better so that I’ll be able to guide you more effectively in the future. But the only thing I’ve learned so far is that you are even more stubborn than I first thought. I mean, when I tell you to—”

I stopped him right there, flashed a palm in surrender and said, “Okay, okay,” as I quickly moved past him. More than a little eager to get out of that dark and creepy graveyard and back into the fog—desperate to leave it all behind, both literally and figuratively, and get on with the rest of the day. “I’m ready to hit it, ready to check out the town now. I’m no longer interested in that psycho dog. Seriously,” I added, still moving forward, mistaking his silence for skepticism, and wanting to convince him that my sudden change of heart was for real. Knowing all too well that the price for not convincing him would be a never-ending string of questions I had no intention of answering.

For more reasons than one, I wasn’t about to reveal what I’d been through—or at least not quite so soon anyway. Not while I was still trying to make sense of it in my own head.

“You were right.” I nodded, a little too vigorously, probably overdoing it, overstating it, but it’s not like that stopped me. I’d made a mistake—a terrible, impulsive mistake. I’d misjudged my abilities and, even worse, I’d misjudged the seriousness of upsetting the Council. It was like a moment of temporary insanity, but I was over it. Completely over it. From this point on, I was determined to listen and do as I was told. I’d already put it behind me. I hoped Bodhi would too. “So what do you say we walk or fly our way out of here? Either way, it’s up to you. It’s all good as far as I’m concerned.”

I stopped. Stopped talking. Stopped walking. Just stood there with my back turned toward him, reluctant to glance behind me and see where I’d been. But when my words were met by nothing more than a long, lingering silence, I whirled around to face him. Ready to say or do whatever it took to get out of that place, only to realize he hadn’t heard a single thing I’d said.

Bodhi was preoccupied.

Paying me no attention whatsoever.

In fact, it was pretty much the opposite. He’d gotten all turned around and was headed off in an entirely different direction.

Moving away from me in order to race toward a really pretty dark-haired girl, with the traitorous Buttercup keeping sharp at his heels.

And though I called out Bodhi’s name, over and over again, it bore no effect. Either he couldn’t hear me, or he didn’t want to hear me. All of his attention was claimed by the slim, petite figure crisscrossing through the snarl of trees.

All of his attention claimed by the swiftly moving girl whose long dark hair lifted and bounced and whirled all around her like a shiny black cape.

The girl whose lovely dark eyes glinted and flashed, whose gleaming smooth cheeks brightened and flushed, whose entire face lit up in a blend of joy and love and delighted expectation as she turned and smiled and beckoned him closer with a curl of her fingers.