The Guidance (17 page)

Over in the doorway, Loreen curls her index finger at me. "May I speak with you, Kendall?"

"Thanks for coming so quickly," I say, able to breathe easy for the first time in an hour. "I wasn't sure what to do."

Loreen's not amused though. "I can't believe you've allowed things to go this far in your feud with that girl."

My mouth drops open. "I had nothing to do with it, I swear. I was dancing and having a good time when I was told she had this séance going in the other room. Emily told me I had to stop her, and I did."

Her face softens. "Well, then ... I'm sorry."

Father Massimo comes into the room and goes to Miss Evelyn. They whisper with their heads bent together for a moment and then he checks on Courtney. She's more tired than anything else and doesn't seem to remember exactly what happened.

Crossing the room, Father Mass asks if I'm okay.

"Yeah. It was a little hairy there for a minute when I nearly got put in a headlock, but I managed. Emily told me I couldn't let Courtney continue because something bad was going to happen."

"Spirit possession?" he asks.

"Oppression," Loreen corrects. "It's when a spirit uses its powers in a cruel or unjust way, weighing down a human's body or mind for the spirit's own enjoyment or purpose."

"Do you normally sound like a dictionary?" Father Mass asks.

Loreen just levels her stare at him and almost dares him to doubt her.

"In any event," Father Mass says, turning away, "the young girl lost control of her own mind, body, and spirit."

"She invited it in," I say, although the adults seem to be more interested in duking it out between themselves.

"The girl has been trying to one-up Kendall by pretending to be psychic," Loreen explains to him. "I think the situation is more dire because there is now an entity involved who's using this girl as a tool for his enjoyment."

Father Mass's dark eyes settle on Loreen's face with curiosity. "And you are?"

Without faltering, she holds out her right hand. "Loreen Woods. I'm Kendall's mentor. And
you
are?"

Since he's wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans, it's hard to tell he's part of the clergy.

He takes her hand and shakes it politely. "I'm Father Massimo Castellano, from the Episcopal church."

Loreen seems slightly offended. "You brought your priest here too?" she asks me.

I have to literally choke back the snarky urge to say,
I need a young priest and an old priest
, á la
The Exorcist
. Not exactly the right time.

"I needed all the help I could get."

He continues, his eyes slicing up and down her. "Ahh ... so you're Loreen. I've heard a lot about you." Did he just check her out? I mean, I suppose she's cute in an older person way in her jeans and T-shirt, but now's not exactly the time for the adults to be playing Match.com. I need them to focus.

"All good, I hope," she says, now with a hint of a smile.

Oh. My. God. Are they flirting with each other? I have to stop this.

"Look, Courtney was an idiot. She brought this on herself by pretending she's got these supernatural powers. It's all an act to show me up and get attention." I shove my hands into my hair, messing up the lovely do Taylor styled for me. "I frickin' hate this. It's asinine. I don't know how to get her to quit competing with me over something I'm still trying to understand myself. Everyone here at the party thinks this was some sort of play we put on sheerly to entertain them for Halloween. This is serious shit though." I pause and cover my mouth. "Sorry, Father. Serious stuff, I meant."

He smiles at me. "No worries, Kendall. The word
shit
is in the Bible"

Loreen pulls me into a side hug. "Tell me what happened."

I relate the whole thing with the street ghost and what he said to me. He's doing this for fun and sport. He's got a chip on his shoulder the size of Stone Mountain, Georgia. I don't know exactly why, but it's there.

"Good, Kendall. You're really strengthening your gift. The time will come when you'll be able to help this soldier cross," Loreen says. "I believe that. And I believe in you."

Clearing his throat, Father Mass crosses his arms over his muscular chest and says, "Loreen, don't you think you need to be more responsible in your guidance of Kendall?"

She stabs her fists to her hips. "I guide her just fine, thank you. I always tell her to be smart and to protect herself through prayer, meditation, and holy water before she goes on a ghost investigation."

He furrows his brow. "This wasn't an investigation, though."

"What do you suggest she do,
Father?
Bathe in holy water every day in the event that she runs into a situation she can't handle? She's still a teenager trying to get through school and the social scene. It's hard enough on her as it is."

"Which I realize," he says. "It's a good thing that her faith is so strong and she has support from you, me, and her family."

"Exactly," Loreen says, seemingly proud that he recognizes her as a positive influence in my life.

Jason comes up behind me and wraps his arm around my waist. We're joined by Taylor and Ryan, Celia and Clay, and Becca and Dragon. Dragon's gotten a good kick out of all of this, but I also think he's a little buzzed off the flask inside his leather jacket he's been nipping from.

"So, everything okay now?" Celia asks.

"That's one way to stop a party," Jason teases.

"I'm fine," I say, although I am pooped by my contact with the soldier.

"Well, Stephanie, why don't you take Courtney upstairs and get her settled," Miss Evelyn says.

"Aren't you going to call the girl's parents?" Loreen asks.

"I already tried. They're out for the evening," Miss Evelyn notes. "I left them a voice mail saying Courtney's staying here."

"As if they'll care," Courtney mutters. I don't think anyone but me actually picks up on it.

"I guess my work here is done," Father Mass says. He ruffles my hair. "Next time, don't wait so long to call for help. I'm here anytime, Kendall."

"Me too," Loreen adds.

"I did the best I could, considering the situation."

Jason snuggles me to him. "You did perfectly fine, Kendall."

We watch as Stephanie escorts Courtney up the staircase to her room. Miss Evelyn claps her hands to get the attention of the onlookers in the adjoining rooms. "I'm sorry, everyone, but the party's over. Thanks for coming."

I stand gripping Jason's hand, getting strength from his touch, while I watch fellow students file out of the house. Over by the base of the grand staircase in the foyer, I see the Union soldier standing there, leaning against the banister with his ankles crossed. He's whittling something with a knife and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

Stephanie's party might be over, but this spirit's festivities have just begun.

After Holy Eucharist on Sunday morning, I borrow Mom's car, pick up Celia at the back of my driveway, and then head over to Stephanie's house. Miss Evelyn answers the door wearing a cheery yellow dress that contrasts with the leaves outside that have begun to change color and fall to the ground.

"Hello, girls," she says politely.

"Hey, Miss Evelyn," Celia says. "We thought we'd come check on Courtney."

I inwardly groan, knowing I'm the last person Courtney wants to see the "morning after."

Stephanie appears from behind her mother, her hair pulled to the left in a side ponytail. "Hey, y'all. Courtney blew out this morning with barely a word to me or Mom."

I frown. "What did her parents say?"

"They didn't seem fazed or worried at all," Stephanie reports. "Her mom brushed it off as her just trying to be the center of attention at the party."

Miss Evelyn waves us into the house. "Have y'all eaten lunch yet?"

"No, ma'am," Celia says.

"We're just about to sit down. Come join us."

After all the weirdness that happened here last night, I'm too tired to decline. I simply follow quietly down the hallway to the airy white kitchen in the back of the house, wondering if everything I saw last night was merely part of a dream. But no, something did try to push me out of my body, and something definitely knocked Courtney out of hers.

The kitchen is roomy and bright, big enough for a banquet. Cold baked chicken, potato salad, deviled eggs, and three-bean salad sit out on the table—quite a feast for just a mother and daughter. Miss Evelyn goes to get plates and silverware for us, and Celia, Stephanie, and I each take a seat.

"If you ask me the truth," Stephanie starts, "I think Courtney was faking it last night. She's always loved being a drama queen. I mean, if she was really attacked by some ghost or whatever, wouldn't she have been more shaken up? I would have peed my pants!"

Celia shrugs. "Different people react different ways to contact with entities. It also depends on how she'd opened up her mind to allow the spirit to use her."

"Yeah, whatever," Stephanie says with a smirk. She passes me the chicken. I hold on to it as I wait for my plate. "She was snoring in her sleep last night, which tells me she wasn't bothered by too much."

Celia snickers. "Wait'll every guy at RHS finds out she snores."

I scowl at my friend. "You wouldn't."

"Nah."

A flowery plate is placed in front of me. "Now eat up, girls. We have tons of food left over because of last night's early exodus," Miss Evelyn says.

Celia piles the chow on her plate like she hasn't eaten in a week—I don't know where she puts it in that skinny body of hers—and I stab a small chicken breast with my fork. I usually love good old-fashioned deviled eggs, but for some reason the smell is not appealing right now. I'm anything but hungry. Nausea coats my stomach, the sour response to a feeling of ill will. Is it residual energy left from last night's activities? I turn my head, seeking out the entity I encountered at the party, but he's not here at all. Something else hangs in the air.

While Miss Evelyn, Stephanie, and Celia chatter on, I zone out, glancing around the kitchen. The walls are pristine, and every pot and pan hangs neatly from an overhead rack. The windows sparkle with the midday sun, and the smell of fresh lemon is in the air. It's all window-dressing though. The warmth and glow of this room is a facade, masking the true pain captured in the walls and furniture. I've read in some of Loreen's books that houses have lives of their own. That they keep the energies of those who have lived within them. In my head, I see images of all sorts of people who have used this room, zooming up to reflections of Miss Evelyn and a tall dark-haired man with Stephanie's eyes. Mr. Crawford. I feel her parents' anger at each other. The tenseness of their relationship. The accusations and acid words over money, extramarital affairs, and long working hours. I see Stephanie—only a few years younger—run away from the kitchen up to her room, seeking refuge while her parents fussed, feuded, and bickered over the tiniest little thing, words slashed about between two people who were supposed to love each other until death parted them. That would never happen though, as the State of Georgia saw to their official separation two years ago.

Miss Evelyn reaches out to me, knocking me out of my vision. "Can I get you anything, Kendall? Perhaps some iced tea?"

"Y-y-yes, ma'am. That would be nice."

She rises from the table and disappears deep back in the steel-applianced kitchen. I breathe a sigh of relief and appreciation over the fact that my parents are still together. So many kids come from broken homes. I mean, I know I'm going through this whole awakening thing that Mom doesn't get, but at least both she and Dad—and Kaitlin, when she's not being a brat—are there supporting me, for the most part.

I take a bite of chicken and chew quickly. "So, Steph, where does your dad live now?" Geesh, I hope that's not too personal.

She doesn't seem bothered at all. "He moved to Nashville before the divorce was final. I spend Christmas and summers with him, which is pretty cool since Vanderbilt University is one of my college choices."

"That's cool," I say. "I'm glad you get to spend time with him."

"Me too." She pokes at her potato salad and then says, "I really miss having him around all the time. Their fights just got to be too much and he ... left."

"It happens," Celia says sadly. "People are mean to each other for some very odd reasons."

A sheen of tears appears in Stephanie's eyes, and her bottom lip begins to quiver. "Kendall, I'm, like, so sorry for how shitty Courtney and everyone's been to you. Farah, Mina, and Megan are actually nice girls, and if they weren't under Courtney's influence, they'd like you. I know they would." She wipes her hand under her eyes.

Miss Evelyn places a glass of iced tea in front of Celia and one in front of me. "Now, sweetie, you don't always have to do what the popular kids tell you to do."

Stephanie rolls her eyes. "Right, Mom. And there was no such thing as peer pressure back in your time of the Stone Age."

"Of course there was. I'm only saying that you and Kendall can be friends, and you and Courtney can be friends. It'll all work out. You're all getting older and wiser, and the games of childhood will fall off by the wayside."

Celia snorts, but then covers it with a deep sip of her tea.

"I promise to try and get Courtney to mellow out," Stephanie says. "You know, since she's sort of ridden this as far as she can now."

"I appreciate that," I say, even though, deep down inside, I know Courtney Langdon and I will never be anything in the vicinity of the neighborhood of BFFs.

And
I'm
the one in therapy.

Speaking of therapy, I soldier through almost a week of evil glares from Courtney across the lab table and our poor pickled pig and make it to Thursday, when Mom takes me out of school early for another visit to Atlanta and Dr. Kindberg's office. And more tests.

Perched in his large armchair (I won't do the couch!), I tell him all about Stephanie's party and how the Union soldier tried to take me over. He sits quietly in his chair, tapping a pen against his lip and listening.