Taking Risks (3 page)

             
“I can admit that that was…
strange
, but I just can’t believe that what you’re seeing is real. It just isn’t possible.” She said with a defeated look and then went back to flipping pancakes. I ate quickly and then left for school without another word from her.

             
When I got to my English class I noticed that Risks seat was empty.
Good. At least I dodged that bullet today.
When Gray noticed the vacant seat he made himself comfortable there. Gray had always liked to go to school with me. He came with me almost every day since I was in preschool, but he had declared high school to be his favorite. He said that the atmosphere made him feel like he was in his element.

             
The school day passed slowly, but no one noticed me, which was a good thing. When I was noticed I was a target for torture. Gray skipped the car ride home from school and did his teleportation thing instead. When I got there I found him reading a note.

             
“Your mom is gone to L.A. She said that she would be back in a week.” Gray relayed the message.

             
“Guess we should throw a party!” I giggled and ran to the couch to jump on it like a trampoline. Gray tried to act like he was too cool to jump with me, but he couldn’t watch me have
all
of the fun, so he started to jump and it made him as giddy as a school girl. With each passing year Gray seemed to try harder to keep up with his “coolness” but he was my best friend. I knew him inside and out and I already thought that he was the coolest person in the world.

             
After Gray and I were done acting like little kids we went to the old town square to talk to the little dirty boy again. The last time that we were there we had made small talk, but no real progress in his moving on. He didn’t tell me anything about his life and I didn’t even know if
he
knew any of his story. All I knew about him were the basics; he knew that he was lonely, sad, and dead. After making our way through the woods, I was glad that I had decided to wear a jacket. It was unseasonably cold for our little southern town that time of year. It was the middle of September and it was already feeling like Christmas time.

             
When we made the rest of the walk, and the old town square came into view, I spotted my little dirty boy. He was sitting on an old park bench with his head in his hands, crying. When I walked up to him he looked up at me with puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks. The dirt on his face had been streaked with tears. I wanted to throw my arms around him to offer him a little comfort, but I knew very well that my arms would pass right through him. He was an image in the air just like all of the other Lost Ones. They could walk right through me and I wouldn’t feel a thing, and as far as Gray told me, they couldn’t either.

             
Gray plopped down beside the boy wearing the cocky smile that he had perfected and said, “What’s up chump?”

             
“Is that my name?” Little Dirty Boy asked.

             
“No, it’s just a figure of speech.” Gray said as he realized that he was being a little insensitive. “I don’t know my real name either, but my friends call me Gray. Well my
friend
calls me Gray. I guess that she’s my only one.

             
Gray started to chuckle and Little Dirty Boys face brightened, so I took Grays less serious approach.

             
“Don’t bother pretending that you have any friends at all Gray. You’re more of a stalker.” I laughed and Gray stuck his finger in his mouth to simulate gagging himself. Little Dirty Boy cracked a smile and then wiped the rest of his tears away with his dirty sleeve.

             
“I never had very many friends either. My mom said that I was…unique.” The boy said. I looked at him in shock and he returned a look of confusion. “What? Do I have something on my face?” He said.

             
I shook my head no and told him, “I’ve never met a soul who couldn’t remember his name but could remember other things from his life.” The boy smiled a small smile and said, “I remember my parents. My mom was the best mom ever.” He looked back down towards his shoes and frowned at something.

             
“Could you tell me where you used to live or where your mom lives now?” I asked and he started to sniffle as his tears began to fall again.

             
“After I died she shot herself. I was there. I used to follow her around and try to make sure she was okay. She was so sad. The last memory I have from my life is fishing with my dad. I don’t know how I died.” He said and took another wipe at his tears with his sleeve. I was so curious to know his story, and I also wanted to help the poor lost boy, so I pushed a little harder than normal.

             
“What’s your mom’s name? Do you know if she crossed over? Is your dad still alive?”

             
“My dad is in a place with a bunch of other old people. He got old really
really
fast, and I haven’t seen my mom since she shot herself.”

             
I understood then why he was crying. His soul, even in the afterlife, had a lot to bear. I couldn’t help but wonder where his mother might have gone. Most ghosts wanted to be around others like them, even though they never talked to one another, and they liked to be secluded. The old town square was a perfect spot for them and I couldn’t help but wonder why his mom wouldn’t go there to be around the others, or to even look and see if her son was still wandering around somewhere. If she had been around, Little Dirty Boy would have seen her. As a mother, I would hope that if my child died that they would not bear the burden of being stuck in this world alone. I would want them to pass on and see divine beauty and peace. I would always look out for their soul just to make sure that they weren’t lost and scared.

             
“Did you live around here?” I said while trying not to probe too hard.

             
“Yeah. My house is gone now though. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but my dad was young when I was alive, and now he’s really old. I go visit him sometimes. Sometimes I even think he knows that I’m there.”

             
I searched my brain for an idea of somewhere else where Little Dirty Boys mom might have gone to look for him. I could only think that maybe she stuck around where their house used to be. Gray raised an eyebrow at me like he was thinking the same thing.

             
Gray put an arm around the boy in a loving way. “I would love to see where you used to live, buddy, if you would like to show us.”

             
“Sure! It’s not too far, let’s go!” Little Dirty Boy said excitedly and then disappeared. I stood still for a moment in shock having realized that he didn’t know that I was still living. Gray burst out laughing and said, “I’ll get him. Be right back.”

             
After Gray retrieved the boy and explained that I was human I loaded up the Delray with my ghost posse and we headed to the north side of town, following Little Dirty Boys directions. It didn’t take long until he told me to turn onto a long gravel driveway. Hidden from the road was an old bungalow style house that was mostly burnt to the ground. I remembered the story of the fire. The house had been abandoned and some hooligan kids had gotten probation after they sheepishly admitted to having started the fire out of boredom. Surrounding the house were woods and in the back yard was the pond from Little Dirty Boys memory.

             
As we drove down the driveway and the house came into full view, Little Dirty Boys face fell and he was staring down at his shoes again. We all got out of the Delray to inspect the place in hopes that we would find his mother’s spirit there. We looked around the property for about an hour and peered into the side of the house that had crumbled to the ground. It was too dangerous for me to go inside to look and Gray told me that he didn’t want to go in and see the broken home.

             
Gray moseyed over to the pond and motioned the boy to stand by him. “Is this where you remember fishing with your dad?”

             
“Yeah, that’s it.” Little Dirty Boy said as he joined Gray.

             
Gray looked into the water with a smile, “Looks like a really good place to catch some big fish!”

             
As the boy looked into the water his face grew pale, well pale for a ghost anyway. He started to shake and motioned like he couldn’t breathe. I didn’t understand what was going on. Obviously ghosts don’t need to breathe, they certainly don’t have
lungs
. I rushed over to him and tried to sooth him out of his panic.

             
“What’s wrong? Everything’s okay. Nothing’s wrong with you. You don’t need to breathe, you’re a ghost. You don’t need to breathe.”

             
He looked at me with panic in his eyes and I cast a troubled glance Grays way. All of the sudden Little Dirty Boy vanished.

             
“What the hell!” I probably looked as shocked as Gray did. “He acted like he couldn’t breathe!” Gray shook his head as he said, “I don’t know. Maybe something bad happened here. Maybe he remembers more than what he’s telling us.”

             
Ghosts were not generally so hard to crack. I’ve helped several over the years but mostly all they ever wanted was for me to tell someone that they loved them or to find something precious to them that they’d lost. The souls of the children were always harder than the adults. They were more confused and I always had to convince them that moving on without Mommy and Daddy was okay. There are angry ghosts too. They are the ones that die violently or let the anger, guilt, or loneliness consume them. Gray made sure that I stayed clear of them, as did he. You could always tell them apart from the regular ghosts. They had red eyes and scrunched up angry faces. There are even some that look more like gory zombies than souls. There were a few instances when I had seen them shouting at unsuspecting people on the street. Yeah those guys creep me out.

             
On our drive home Gray and I decided that we should leave Little Dirty Boy alone for a few days and get him a chance to deal before we questioned him about his episode. However, when I walked through my bedroom door, Little Dirty Boy was sitting at the foot of my bed and twiddling his thumbs. He looked more shocked than sad as he looked up at me. His brown eyes held the burden of a secret, and if I was going to be of any help, he was going to have to spill it.

             
Instead of starting in on the questioning first thing, I sat to his right on the bed and Gray sat to his left. The boy watched me and I watched him, neither one of us wanting to speak first. Of course, Gray couldn’t stand the silence. “What was the deal with you back there, man? You had us scared to death!” I tried my hardest not to laugh at the “scared to death” part, but I couldn’t help it. After it dawned on them what Gray had just said they started to laugh too. It helped with the ambiance of the room tremendously. When the laughter stopped Little Dirty Boy began to speak.

             
“I remembered something, When I looked into the pond…I remembered my death.”

             
I wanted to ask him a million questions. I wanted to help him, but I was also extremely curious about how that could happen. It went against everything I knew about ghosts. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn’t ready to talk, though. Gray must’ve not noticed his solemn look as I did because he blurted out, “Well…tell us what happened!” He was just excited about the tale, but Little Dirty Boy whipped his head around to Gray and his face fell into a startled look. After a murderous glare to Gray, and a pained one to me, the boy vanished.

             
“Uh oh…” Gray said worried.

             
“What?”

             
“I’ve seen this pattern before.” He said, and I was confused.

             
“If he continues down this path, he’ll become one of them. One of the crazy, angry, red eyed things.”

             
“Uh oh.” I repeated Gray’s words. We had seen this before. There was a ghost that stayed here to be with her son. She stayed with him his entire life until he died of cancer at age 32. She was pissed at the universe and we couldn’t do anything to bring her back from her downward spiral. If a ghost let’s an awful feeling eat at them for too long their eyes turn red and they seem to be in a constant state of pain and anger.

             
“We have to do something. He’s just a little boy.” I whispered.

             
“All we can do is try and help, but if we can’t get through to him than you can’t beat yourself up about it. You’ve helped so many of us.”

             
I just shook my head and laid down on my soft bed. I was exhausted and the lack of sleep was really starting to catch up with me. Gray laid down next to me and softly sang “Every Rose has its Thorn” by Poison.

             
“Why’s it always 80’s songs?” I mumbled as I drifted to sleep.