Ghostgirl Read online

  Charlotte stayed behind, sitting in the dented, overheated car, wallowing in her disappointment. Not so much at what she did but at what she failed to do.

  As the banged-up tuba seesawed on the car and the girls scrambled, an announcement came over the school PA system.

  “Petula Kensington to the office,” the announcer said.

  10

  Last Writes

  Because I could not stop for Death—He kindly stopped for me—The Carriage held but just Ourselves—And Immortality.

  —Emily Dickinson

  Letting go, for anyone, at any time, can be the hardest thing to do.

  More than just depressing, for some people it is an admission of defeat, of failure. Charlotte was one of those people. Letting go meant that it was time to give up on everything she had hoped for and dreamed about. That everything she’d worked for was all for nothing. That life was more or less a crapshoot and she’d rolled a seven. This would never do. Her sole purpose became her soul purpose.

  The time for “patience with the new girl” was passing, and Charlotte knew she had to get with the program. But what, exactly, was the program? She’d been so focused on her own goals, she hadn’t a clue. Back in Dead Ed, Mr. Brain’s lesson had begun and Charlotte was late—again. She had sneaked in while Brain’s back was to her.

  “She was so young,” Mr. Brain said as he leaned over Silent Violet’s desk, looking her right in the eye. “He had his whole life ahead of him…” Brain continued, turning to Mike.

  “Huh?” Mike responded, unable to hear Brain’s lecture.

  “Life was just beginning for them,” he concluded, frowning at Simon and Simone.

  “Isn’t that how the eulogy always begins?” Brain asked, returning to the blackboard as Violet and the other kids nodded their heads slowly in agreement.

  “And whoever is doing the memorializing—priest, rabbi, minister, imam, parent, sibling, teacher, friend… whoever,” he said, “… is right, of course. Dying as a teen is more than sad. It is tragic. But not for the reasons they think.”

  Piccolo Pam gave the evil eye to Charlotte, who was snaking along the perimeter of the classroom, trying to avoid being caught by Mr. Brain. She knew Charlotte, above all, needed to hear this particular lesson.

  “Yeah. No one would believe you still have to go to school,” Jerry said, cracking himself up. Prue looked over at him angrily, and he shut up instantly.

  “Right, Jerry…,” Mr. Brain began as Jerry silently nah-nahed at Prue, who ignored him.

  “The reason you have to go to school, even after you die, is not only to learn about your life after death, as the orientation film describes,” Brain said to the confused students. “It is to learn the thing you never had a chance to learn in life.”

  “What ‘thing’?” Charlotte asked, just as she had deftly slid into the open seat next to Pam. Prue glared at her.

  “It is a different thing for each person, Ms. Usher,” Brain said, oblivious to her tardiness. Score one for Charlotte. “That is for each of you to figure out.

  “You see, infants and children are too young to have made serious mistakes, and older people live long enough to learn from and even correct theirs,” Mr. Brain intoned, sounding more like a preacher than a professor. “But teens, like you all, live only in the moment, often behaving selfishly, impulsively, and with horrible consequences for yourself or others.”

  “No kidding,” Pam said, the whistle sound from her throat becoming noticeably louder.

  To make his point more forcefully, Brain polled the class on what should have been a very sensitive topic.

  “Those of you who miss your family, please raise your hand,” he asked.

  Mike, Jerry, Kim, Pam, and the rest all looked around at each other and shook their heads no, arms dangling at their sides. Charlotte, come to think of it, had not given even a single thought to her family either.

  “This,” Brain said, “is a simply continuance of your natural state. You didn’t pay much attention to them or to their wishes when you were alive. It is the thing that… ‘undid’ you, as it were, that remains with you here and needs to be confronted.”

  Charlotte didn’t quite get it, but figured this familial blind spot could be as much a blessing as a curse. She really couldn’t handle any more attachment to her life than she already had.

  “So, we’re being punished by being here?” Charlotte asked. “Is that what this is really all about?”

  “Not at all,” Brain interjected. “You have been given an opportunity. Dead Ed is your second and, listen well, final chance to understand what has happened to you and why, and to learn to accept it,” Mr. Brain advised as he strolled back to the chalkboard. “To accept your death, but most of all, to accept yourself.

  “When you do achieve acceptance, you will have found resolution, and with that comes rest, peace, and…”

  “Graduation!” Mike screeched, thrusting both “rock hands” in the air.

  “Exactly,” Brain said.

  Graduation? Charlotte wondered. She didn’t even have a dress.

  “The most important part of all this is that you will need each other to succeed. It is why you are here in this class together. The chain will only be as strong as the weakest link,” Brain said.

  At Brain’s “weakest link” reference, Charlotte’s eyes darted around the room to see if she could catch anyone silently accusing her. Only Prue’s orbs were locked on hers.

  Brain yanked on a loop above the chalkboard, which was connected to a dingy string, and forced a map of Mesopotamia to hurl up to the top, revealing a list of what appeared to be instructions written on the board.

  “Now that you know what you need to do,” Brain continued, changing his tone from preacher to motivational speaker, “this is how.”

  He began reading the list, underscoring each word, each line, on the board with his pointer as he did.

  1. WE ADMITTED THAT WE WERE POWERLESS OVER OUR SELF-ABSORBED IMPULSES AND THAT, BECAUSE OF THIS, WE DIED.

  2. WE CAME TO BELIEVE THAT A POWER GREATER THAN OURSELVES COULD RESTORE US.

  3. WE MADE A DECISION TO TURN OUR WILL AND OUR LIVES OVER.

  4. WE MADE A SEARCHING AND FEARLESS MORAL INVENTORY OF OURSELVES.

  5. WE ADMITTED TO OURSELVES AND TO EVERYONE ELSE THE EXACT NATURE OF OUR WRONGDOINGS.

  6. WE WERE ENTIRELY READY TO HAVE ALL THESE DEFECTS OF CHARACTER REMOVED.

  7. WE HUMBLY ASKED TO REMOVE OUR SHORTCOMINGS.

  8. WE MADE A LIST OF ALL PERSONS WE HAD HARMED, AND BECAME WILLING TO MAKE AMENDS.

  9. WE MADE DIRECT AMENDS TO SUCH PEOPLE WHEREVER POSSIBLE, EXCEPT WHEN TO DO SO WOULD INJURE THEM OR OTHERS.

  10. WE CONTINUED TO TAKE PERSONAL INVENTORY AND WHEN WE WERE WRONG PROMPTLY ADMITTED IT.

  11. WE SOUGHT TO IMPROVE OUR CONSCIOUS CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER AND TO UNDERSTAND OUR SPECIAL ABILITIES.

  12. WE TRIED TO CARRY THIS MESSAGE AND TO PRACTICE THESE PRINCIPLES IN ALL OUR AFFAIRS, INCLUDING WORKING TOGETHER TO SAVE OUR HOUSE AND OURSELVES.

  Everyone looked at the twelve steps as if they were written in hieroglyphics. It reminded Charlotte of that sinking feeling you get when a pop quiz in Trig is passed back to you and the only words you recognize on it are “Name” and “Date.”

  “Oh, it’s not so bad, people! The main thing here is to admit the reason you died, eventually accept that it was your responsibility, and figure out what you could do to change yourself and to banish your personality flaws, or, as they say in the program, your addiction. If you could first admit your flaw to your classmates, and more importantly to yourself, then you could earn a one-way ticket to a Better Place! This class is essentially a rehab to resolution,” Brain said, trying to rally his team.

  None of this was striking a chord with Charlotte.

  “Why don’t you get out your personal ‘DIEaries’ and we can get started on our journey to a little place I like to call Success,” Brain enthused.

  It was hard enou
gh having to get up and admit your faults to the whole class, but reading your deepest, darkest thoughts from your own DIEary was particularly humiliating, even for a Dead kid.

  “Mike, why don’t you go first?” Brain suggested loudly, or more like insisted.

  Metal Mike took his DIEary out of his pocket and dragged himself up to the podium.

  “Hi, I’m Mike, Metal Mike, and I love music,” he said unenthusiastically, obviously just placating Brain.

  “Hi, Mike,” the class droned with equal excitement.

  “I would like to share with you with these inspirational words of wisdom that I carry with me wherever I go.” Mike cleared his throat, perused his DIEary briefly, looked up, and quoted the lyrics to “Back in Black” by AC/DC.

  “Mike. That’s a song,” DJ said. “Not a personal observation.”

  “Music is… was, my life,” he confided. “It is personal. It speaks to me.”

  “That’s the problem, Mike, you lived for it. We’re not alive anymore,” Simone said.

  “What’s the problem with wanting to hold on to something that you love? Something that you lived for?” Mike asked defensively.

  “And that you died for, Mike. Music killed you. Have you forgotten that?” Simon said.

  “Music is a murderer,” Deadhead Jerry said halfheartedly.

  “No, his love of music is the murderer,” Call Me Kim chimed in.

  “So? Why would I give up something I love so much that I died for it?” Mike asked.

  “Maybe it’s not about giving it up?” Charlotte asked rhetorically.

  “You’re damn right it’s not. I don’t give a crap about crossing over and getting any kind of resolution if it means giving up my music,” Mike said stubbornly.

  With the class in an open discussion, Pam took the opportunity to nudge Charlotte.

  “Where were you?” Pam whispered to Charlotte as Mike continued his rant.

  “Oh, my ride was late,” Charlotte said with a smirk.

  “Not again,” Pam moaned.

  “Care to share your conversation with the rest of us?” Mr. Brain, perturbed by Charlotte and Pam’s sideline conversation, asked the age-old question.

  “Why can’t I do any of this stuff?” Charlotte blurted out to everyone’s surprise, including her own. The Fall Ball was a few weeks away and the clock was ticking. She was feeling pressure.

  Mr. Brain turned around, a bit startled that Charlotte spoke up rather than shut up, which was what he’d intended.

  “What stuff?” he asked of Charlotte.

  “All the Deadiquette stuff. I’m totally failing,” she replied.

  “Breaking news,” Prue chortled sarcastically.

  “Quiet, Prudence,” Brain ordered with a seriousness of tone unexpected in such a touchy-feely session.

  “You’ve all had your period of adjustment, haven’t you? She hasn’t been afforded that yet,” Mr. Brain said, seriously ruminating over Charlotte’s point. “And speaking of ‘periods,’ perhaps that is the best way to explain,” he continued cryptically.

  Giggles erupted from Jerry, Mike, and DJ at the word “period.”

  “Mind and body mature at different rates. This is especially true of adolescents, isn’t that right, gentlemen?” Mr. Brain asked as Mike, Jerry, DJ, and the rest instantly choked back their laughter into embarrassed coughs. Having made his point, Brain continued.

  “Just because your body is hormonally programmed to begin your peri… ah, menses, that is, because you are physically capable of reproducing at a certain age, does not mean you are emotionally or psychologically prepared. In other words, yours is a woman’s body, still ruled by the mind of a girl.”

  Everyone was getting a little uncomfortable now at the depth and detail of Brain’s lesson.

  Pam unexpectedly piped up.

  “His point is,” Pam clarified, “that just because you’ve died doesn’t mean you’re ready to let go of your Life. You aren’t disconnected, mentally.”

  “And until you are,” Brain advised, “you will not be able to exercise each of your powers fully or correctly, which is essential to moving on. In fact, trying to do so may even be dangerous to yourself—and others.”

  “So I have to be ‘mentally dead’ to get something like possession to work?” Charlotte asked naively.

  The whole class gasped when Charlotte said the “p” word.

  “You think you’re too good to be dead, don’t you?” Prue railed, squinting her eyes like a bully about to start a fist-fight.

  “This isn’t film class, Charlotte,” Mr. Brain said, more than annoyed.

  Charlotte looked confused as Mr. Brain started writing on the board like a wild man.

  “Possession is not something I teach, because to take custody of a living person’s body defeats the whole purpose of acceptance, what we’re all trying to achieve together.” Brain continued pointing once again to the twelve steps on the board. “It is the ultimate act of selfishness.”

  She had clearly touched a nerve with Brain and even her classmates.

  “Besides, possession is impossible except under the most extraordinary circumstances,” Brain said, hoping to defuse Charlotte’s fascination with the topic much like an unprepared parent does when the subject of sex is raised.

  “Impossible?” Charlotte asked, the last flicker of hope leaving her eyes.

  “You need a willing participant, and none of us can be seen by anyone, so it’s not really an option. It has to be consensual,” he replied, trying to lay the topic to rest.

  “Consensual. Makes sense,” Charlotte mumbled, recalling her struggle with Petula in Driver’s Ed. “So, you have to be seen by someone in order for them to agree to be possessed?” Charlotte summed up.

  The bell rang not a minute too soon for Mr. Brain or her classmates, and everyone collected their belongings and started to leave.

  “Just a reminder, the house is going to be shown tonight. TONIGHT, PEOPLE. Just like a soul needs a body, you need that house,” Mr. Brain yelled as the class dispersed.

  Charlotte trailed behind, deep in thought, trying to figure everything out. As she passed by Brain’s desk, he stopped her.

  “Charlotte, are you visible to someone?” he asked.

  “You said we couldn’t be seen,” she replied.

  Charlotte, not really trusting that she should come clean just yet, tucked her DIEary under her arm, turned, and headed out of the room, the word “willing” still bouncing around in her mind.

  11

  So Alive

  My motto—sans limites.

  —Isadora Duncan

  Life support.

  Respirators, heart monitors, IV drips and resuscitators, though crucial to the sick and dying, are useless to the dead. The support Charlotte required was not the technological kind. She needed someone with enough faith in her to give herself over completely. Not just someone to stand behind her, but someone who would let Charlotte stand inside her, inhabit her, become her. A soul mate.

  You wanna do what??!!” Scarlet, flabbergasted, spit a mouthful of split pea soup all over the cafeteria table. She could not believe what she’d just heard.

  Charlotte flinched, closing her eyes as if she might be hit by Scarlet’s spew, and smiled for a second at the Exorcist moment.

  Piccolo Pam watched the tête-à-tête from the Dead table, feeling slightly left out.

  “So what do you think?” Charlotte asked once more, looking for a few wayward soup flecks to wipe from her dress and hoping for a more favorable answer this time.

  “I think you were a no-show this morning in the bathroom when I needed you and now you want to use me,” Scarlet said.

  “I’m sorry for not showing up. I was into something else,” Charlotte replied.

  “Or into someone else?” Scarlet quipped.

  “I do have a life… I mean, well, you know what I mean,” Charlotte responded defensively.

  “What do I get out of all this?” Scarlet asked.


  “Well, haven’t you ever wanted to be invisible?” Charlotte said.

  “Every day,” Scarlet replied.

  “Well, then, here’s your chance,” Charlotte said.

  Scarlet got a smirk on her face from ear to ear as Charlotte grabbed her hand and led her out of the cafeteria.

  “Wait, where are we going? I’m still hungry,” Scarlet said as Charlotte pulled her along.

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t you rather eat in the teacher’s lounge?” Charlotte said, hinting at the possibilities to an already curious Scarlet.

  As they made their way to an abandoned room, they continued their conversation. It appeared to the students they passed in the hallway that Scarlet was talking to her-self. Scarlet could give a shit. Charlotte loved this about Scarlet. This lack of shamelessness in public was worn as a badge of honor, definitely something Scarlet shared with her sister, although in a very different way. Petula was a leader, Scarlet an outcast. One got off on being idolized, the other on being isolated. Charlotte was too little of both: neither cool enough to be loved nor cool enough to be loathed.

  The girls came upon an abandoned room at the end of the hallway. Charlotte went in first to see if there were any students hiding in the corners and then signaled to Scarlet that the coast was clear. She came in and shut the door. The lights were off and the only light shining was from fluorescent chemicals bubbling blue, red, and violet in beakers on Bunsen burners. It was cool if you were lying on the floor, zoning, with your iPod cranking, but under these circumstances, it was unsettling.

  They both knew that what they were about to attempt was something that no one else had done. This was beyond the unknown—beyond life and death. Neither of them knew exactly what would happen or how they would end up, but they were both willing to try because, well, they could.

  “How long does a possession session last?” Scarlet asked.