The Guidance (8 page)

And with that, Courtney Langdon, head cheerleader, my nemesis, and school beeyotch, slices down the middle of the pig and then looks up at me ... and smiles.

"It's Friday night. Can I get a big woohoo?"

Emily sits across the room from me in the rocking chair—literally sitting on my stuffed bear, Sonoma—and watches as I Snoopy-dance next to my bed.

"I've got the football game tonight and then a date with Jason, which I haven't had in a really, really long time," I tell her. I don't necessarily have to talk out loud to Emily, since she can hear my thoughts and I can hear hers. Sometimes, though, I just like talking to her as if she's a regular—
i.e., alive
—person.

"Are you and Jason going to be kissing a lot?" Emily asks.

My face burns, knowing that Emily has witnessed most of the make-out sessions between Jason and me. "Umm ... duh," I say with a laugh.

"I think you two kiss too much."

I roll my eyes at her and then dab mascara on the tips of my lashes. "You know, my mother is
downstairs
, thank you very-much."

"I'm only looking out for you, Kendall."

I spin around to sort of glare at her. "I appreciate it, Emily, but it's not like Jason and I are getting married tomorrow. We're in high school and simply having a good time."

She frowns, as much as a ghost can. "I worry."

"About what?"

"That you're too close," she says quietly.

I don't understand. "Too close how?"

Her eyes are distant, as if caught up in a memory. "I was close to a boy like that once."

Intrigued, I say, "Oh yeah? When was that?"

"Before your time."

I have so little to go on about Emily's past. She wears something resembling a patient's gown, which makes me think she passed away in a hospital. What did she die of? It's so foggy around her, and I'm unable to pick up anything. She's so pretty ... so young. How tragic that she died when her life was only beginning. "Was he your boyfriend?"

Emily nods, her flowing hair shifting around her face.

"What was his name?"

"It doesn't matter," she says dismissively. "We're talking about you. You and Jason. All that kissing. Things are moving too fast with him, and it worries me."

I run my fingers through my long, wavy brown hair that's looking pretty stylish tonight, if I do say so myself. "You don't have to worry."

A sigh escapes from her. The doorbell rings throughout the house.

"Keeeeeeeeeeeendall!" Kaitlin screams up the stairs. "Jason's here!"

I grab the black military jacket off the bed and layer it over my Kill City gray hoodie. Then, I snag my Betsey Johnson shoulder bag. (A score off
SmartBargains.com
.) Emily watches me and I can almost hear the
tsk, tsk
in my head. Stopping at the door, I say, "Can you please give me some alone time tonight with Jason, Em?"

She stands in front of me with her hands on her hips.

"Seriously," I insist. "I appreciate everything, I really do. I just want to be as normal as possible tonight, hanging with my friends and going out with my boyfriend. Please promise?"

After what seems like three years, Emily nods, blows me a kiss, and then quietly disappears.

Tonight's all about having a good time. Fun and friends and some semblance of
normal
. Tomorrow, Mom and I head to the ATL for my appointment with the shrink, who'll be ready to analyze me to death and possibly diagnose me with all sorts of afflictions.

Go be with your friends
, Emily says, although I can't see her anymore. Yet somehow I know she's with me, like she has been my whole life.

Jason shuffles me out the door of my house and toward his Jeep, where Taylor's waiting for us.

"Your sister's coming on our date?"

He shrugs. "She's just riding with us to the football game and then she'll hook up with Ryan and go with him in his car to the bowling alley later. You know, once he's showered and stuff after the game."

Ryan MacKenzie has been Taylor's steady for these past couple of months. He plays on the RHS football team, so I shouldn't be too bent to have her tailing along with us. Besides, it's not like I'm going to attack Jason on the way to the stadium, whether Taylor's in the back seat or not. Puuuuuhleeeeze!

At the stadium, we meet up with Celia and Clay, as well as Becca and her boyfriend, Brent "Dragon" Dragisich, a kind of biker dude who runs with the rougher crowd at school. More of Becca's rebellion from whatever's eating her. We all get along swimmingly though, and we enjoy watching our team kick a little ass on the gridiron.

RHS wins a rollicking defensive game of matching field goals, and then we all head off to Radisson Lanes to bowl some balls. It doesn't hurt that they have
the best
local attempt at Chicago pizza. The owner, Brendan McDonough, is a transplant from Chicago himself and knows how to make a mean pie.

We order a pitcher of Coke Zero (for the boys) and Diet Coke (for the girls) and a large pizza with sausage, pepperoni, mushrooms, and extra cheese. Jason and Clay secure two side-by-side lanes, and we all slip on the ever-so-attractive (not!) bowling shoes that have been sprayed with that alleged sanitizing spray.

Taylor holds her black, red, and white loafer and scrunches up her face. "I always wonder what kind of possible diseases reside in these."

"I had a buddy get a plantar wart from 'em once," Dragon says with a crooked grin.

Taylor's mouth drops open in horror.

Becca smacks him on the forearm. "You're such a liar." She turns to Taylor. "Ignore him. He's an ass."

Ryan slips into the seat next to Taylor. "No bacteria would dare attach itself to you, Tay."

She melts into his hug and smiles in the most ridiculously cute and contented way. Next to me, I can sense Jason relaxing, knowing his sister is relatively happy for the first time since their dad walked out the door. I can't exactly pick up on his thoughts like I can other people's, but I know what a relief it is for him to just be himself and not constantly worry and watch over her. Like Emily does for me.

Celia stands up and wipes her hands on her jeans. "Who's on what team?"

"Guys against girls?" Jason suggests.

"Not a chance," Becca chimes in, although she's a ringer when it comes to bowling. The girl has a left hook that would make professional bowlers blush. "Me, Dragon, Clay, and Celia against y'all," she says, pointing at Ryan, the Tillsons, and me.

Jason keys all of our names into the computer system while Celia and Becca polish off the pizza. The place is really jumping tonight with RHSers and older kids hanging out by the pool tables. The energy inside the building crackles in a static-filled way. Laughter floats in the air above the zooming of the balls on the hardwood floor and the eventual
kkk-whacccck
against the pins.

I sense a pair of eyes on me, so I scan the crowd, not knowing what to expect. Cold, steely gray orbs glare at me from nine lanes over, where Courtney Langdon, Stephanie Crawford, Farah Lewis, and Megan Bremer are with Jim Roach, Kyle Kadish, Sean Carmickle, and some other guys from the football team. Stephanie sees me and waves. Courtney turns her nose up at me like I've just committed a mortal sin. I wave back and smile. No reason to be rude or lower myself to her level. I can't believe that after my concerted effort to get on her good side, she still disses me. I don't get this girl. Maybe I never will. Maybe she's destined to be my sworn enemy from now through eternity. Wow ... dramatic much?

Jason's warm hand slides over my waist, and he pulls me against his chest. "The hell with her," he whispers in my ear, and then kisses my hair. It's the sexiest thing ever and I feel loved and protected. With Jason around—choosing me over
her
—nothing can hurt me.

"You're up, Kendall!" Celia yells.

I nab a seven-pound swirly-design emerald green ball and jam my fingers into the holes. Something's not right though. A tingling sensation pulsates under my palm. Sweat rolls down my neck, making my hair feel heavy. My breathing deepens, and my head begins to hurt. It's the psychic headache I've been experiencing on and off since moving to Radisson. The same one that makes my mother lose sleep, worrying that I have a brain tumor or worse. Searing pain crawls up my right arm, and I can barely hold on to the marble ball. Blood courses through my veins, making them bulge and roll. It's like I'm fighting off something ... an infection? An injury?

"You gonna throw it or not, Moorehead?" Becca teases.

I take two steps and make a valiant effort to toss the ball down the lane. However, it slips right off my hand, bounces hard three times, and then slides gracelessly into the groove.

"Gutter ball!" Dragon yells triumphantly.

His laughter is swallowed up by the ringing sound in my head. I fall to my knees, unable to bear the immense hurt in my right arm, or the pounding of my temples as a terrible scream rips through my brain. Not mine. Someone's.

The lights in the alley flicker and go out. The '80s Hall and Oates tune playing overhead comes to a slow stop. The electronic boards controlling everyone's score suddenly sputter and then wipe clean.

Clay pounds his fist on the seat. "Oh, man! There goes my perfect score."

Jason's at my side, ever my rescuer. "What's going on with you, Kendall?"

"I'm not sure," I say and accept his hand up.

Mr. McDonough yells to get everyone's attention and apologizes for the power outage. "Sorry about that. We've got a computer glitch up here. I'll comp everyone one game to make up for it."

"That'll cost him a pretty penny," Celia mutters.

There's more to it, though. It's not simply a computer glitch. "There's a spirit here," I tell her and Jason.

His face falls. "Come on, Kendall. Not tonight. You promised."

I search his eyes, trying to find understanding. "It's not something I can turn off, Jason. I can
feel
him. He's here." I stare down the lane, toward where the pins are swept away. "He's back there."

Celia's smile hikes to one side. "And me without my ghost-hunting equipment."

"Are you okay, Kendall?" Mr. McDonough asks. "You didn't fall down, did you?"

"No, sir," I say. "I just ... Mr. McDonough, do you know if anyone ever died here at the bowling alley?"

He scratches his head for a moment and then bobs it. "That's right. You're those ghost huntresses everyone's been talking about."

Celia gives a thumbs-up.

"You think I got a ghost?" Mr. McDonough asks.

"Did anyone die here?" I press.

"Actually, the guy who owned the place before me was killed in a freak accident. Saddest story too. The feller was trying to reset the pins, and he crawled up underneath the mechanism at the end of the alley to work loose the jam. Edgar Moncrief, who works over at the firehouse, told me the machine clicked on and crushed the guy's arm, then ripped it clear out of the socket."

"Gnarly!" Dragon shouts out. Becca smacks him in the stomach.

Mr. McDonough finishes up. "Poor bastard died of blood loss before the paramedics could get to him."

I grip my upper arm, acknowledging the red-hot pain in my joints. "That would explain it." My whole body involuntarily convulses, just thinking of the guy caught up in the pin resetter and losing a limb like that. And he's still here. I know it.

I ask, "May I take a look?"

"Well, sure thing, little lady."

The six of us follow Mr. McDonough down the lane. He crawls into the gutter and slips behind the pins into the rear pathway. I follow him, as does Celia and Taylor. Taylor pulls out her BlackBerry and starts snapping pictures as I walk around getting a feel for the place. I breathe in deeply, smelling the musty dustiness coupled with the dank smell of a cleaning mop. Closing my eyes, I zero in on the spirit that's been teasing me with a
tap, tap, tap
on my brain. I see him clear as a bell. Curly hair. Crooked smile. Small scar between his eyes. An old sailboat injury, when the jib hit him. His name is...

I look at Mr. McDonough. "Was the man's name Rob Breslin?"

He chortles. "Damn, you're good! That was his name."

And just like that, Rob Breslin appears before me, as vivid as Celia, Taylor, and Mr. McDonough. He's wearing dirty khaki pants with a bit of green paint smudged on the left leg. A Grateful Dead T-shirt adorns his chest, and he's missing his right arm. Dried blood is encrusted on the sleeve of the shirt.

"Do you see my arm?" he asks me. "I can't find it anywhere."

I flick my eyes over to Celia and nod that the spirit is here. She stretches her hand out to feel for any changes in the temperature. Goose bumps dance up and down her arm as she comes in contact with the area where Rob Breslin is standing. She's found a cold spot! Celia cocks her head to the side, indicating to Taylor that she should take some pictures.

I focus on Rob though. He can't be over forty. What a disastrous way to die—having a limb jerked from your body.

"I've got to find my arm," he says.

"I don't know where it is," I say to him.

He runs his remaining hand through his hair with great frustration. "I've been looking for it since the accident. It's got to be here. I mean, you don't just leave an arm lying around."

His smile is heartbreaking, and I want nothing more than to find his limb for him. It's impossible, though. Through my psychic vision, I see that the appendage was so badly damaged by the machinery that there was nothing really to bury with him. I've got to do everything in my power to help him cross into a better place.

"Rob, do you see the light?"

"Sure I do. It's been around for forever, but I gotta get my limb back."

"You need to cross over into the light, Rob."

"Not without my arm."

Celia and Taylor watch with great interest.

"He won't go into the light without his arm."

Celia turns to where I see Rob. "You know, if you go into the light, you'll be whole again," she says. Girl's damn smart.

"That's right," Taylor says, agreeing. "They say we're all healed up and whole and everything when we get to heaven. You should totally go."