Revived Spirits (18 page)

“I tried to discourage John Henry from resorting to personal harm,” Abigail says. “But as you can see, he’s quite hard to control.”

John Henry lobs a plate at the TV screen, causing it to shatter and spray sparks.

“Obviously,” Abigail says, her tone as sweet and smooth as custard, “I can’t guarantee your physical safety.”

I don’t know if it’s the bloody nose or the broken TV, but Daryl is on his feet, his face red with rage and blood. He charges at John Henry, hands outstretched to choke him, yelling words so foul that Abigail mutters, “My, my, such language.”

But to choke a person, you’ve got to catch him first, and John Henry would give a greased pig a run for his money. After all, a greased pig can’t float out of reach or disappear and then reappear in another part of the room. At one point, Daryl lunges toward John Henry, and John Henry disappears, then reappears behind Daryl and kicks him in the rear end. It’s such a cartoonish moment that I forget I’m supposed to be scary and laugh.

This is a bad idea. “Don’t you ever laugh at me, little girl,” Daryl hisses. “You was the one that
brung
all this on.”

Before I can say anything, Abigail and John Henry are in front of me, blocking Daryl. They link hands, and a burst of white light slings Daryl backward until he crashes into the wall.

“Oh, that was splendid! Thank you for teaching me that, John Henry,” Abigail says.

Of course, I remember the blast of white light trick myself. It was what hit me the first time I tried to step into Minnie’s cabin. If it hits Daryl the same way it hit me, he’ll be out cold for a few minutes.

“Let’s gather around him,” Abigail says, “so we’ll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up.”

As we wait, I say, “You know, Abigail, you’re really good at this whole interrogation thing.”

She smiles. “I always wished I could be a lawyer when I grew up, though such careers were impossible for women when I was alive. And then I never got to grow up.”

“You would’ve been a great lawyer,” I say.

When Daryl’s eyes open we chant, “We know you did it, now admit it. We know you did it, now admit it.”

John Henry can’t chant, but he stomps his little feet in time with our words, and the effect is terrifying.

For a while Daryl yells, but then his yells turn to sobs. We keep chanting. The sobs get more and more muffled until he starts whispering so low I can’t tell if he’s cursing or praying.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Something crashes against the front door, and I’m so startled that if I were wearing my skin, I would jump right out of it. We pick back up on the chanting until the banging happens again. “Somebody’s at the door,” I say.

On the next bam, the door flies open, and two police officers—one tall, one short—are standing in the doorway. “We received a call about a disturbance,” the tall one yells to anyone who might be listening.

Between John Henry’s flying plates and Daryl’s yelling, it’s no wonder somebody complained.

“I don’t see anybody,” the short one says.

“Wait—over there in the corner,” Tall says, pointing to where Daryl is slumped.

We’re still standing around him chanting, but, of course, the police can’t see or hear us. For a second I hop into the tall cop’s mind:
Crazy meth head decided to smash some plates, I reckon. Cut himself up some too, from the looks of him.

“Sir?” the short cop says. “We’re going to approach you now. You look like you might need some medical attention.”

“We know you did it, now admit it,” we chant.

It’s the first time I’ve ever heard a man scream, and it’s a horrible sound, like it’s being ripped from his guts. He lurches forward and grabs onto the tall cop’s pants leg, babbling, “I did it, I did it. I set her up. The shake ’n bake...I hid it in her car.”

Tall cop looks at short cop, and I hear him think,
Seems like we’ve got something here other than just a noise complaint
.

I smile at Abigail, then at John Henry. We clasp hands and soon we’ve left Daryl
Chumley
behind and are soaring over the trees.

“After he threw himself at the cops, we left. And John Henry left for good. I guess he went back to Minnie.” I’m sitting across from Adam in the cafeteria, but neither of us is eating much because we’re too busy talking about what’s happened the past few days.

“But you didn’t just leave,” Adam says. “You
flew
.”

“I didn’t really fly because my body was back in bed. It was just the way my spirit moved that felt like flying.”

Adam shakes his head. “The only time I’ve flown is in an airplane.”

“And I’ve never done that,” I say.

“Hey, can I sit down?”

Caylie
is standing by our table with her tray. Her hair, which is usually pulled back in a tight braid, is loose and free. And even though she has on a Holiness-style long denim shirt, she’s wearing a Hello Kitty T-shirt with it.

“Sure,” I say, pulling out the chair beside me.

As soon as
Caylie
sits, her mouth spreads in a grin. “Guess what?” Before I can answer, she blurts out, “Daryl turned himself into the police. He told them it was him who planted the drugs in Mama’s car. I don’t know why he done it, but he done it.”

Adam makes eye contact with me and thinks,
How are we going to handle this
?

I put a finger to my lips so he’ll know to let me start doing the talking. “Really?” I say. “That’s amazing. So is your mom out of jail?”

“Not yet,”
Caylie
says, still smiling. “But her lawyer says she will be soon. He’s in talks with the D.A., and he thinks Mama’s verdict will be overturned because of new evidence.”

“Wow, that’s really great,” I say. “Isn’t it, Adam?”

“Really great,” he says, like he’s scared to say anything else.

“Mama’s old boss at the store says she can have her job back once she’s out,”
Caylie
says. “Mama says maybe we can get an apartment in Morgan. I tell you what—the first thing I’m gonna do once I’ve moved out of
Mamaw
and Papaw’s is put on a pair of jeans. And the second thing I’m gonna do is get my hair cut.” She squirts mustard on her corn dog. “And hey, I wanted to thank you guys for trying to help. I know your way of doing things didn’t work out, but I still appreciate you for trying.”

“Well, what’s important is that things worked out,” I say. “How they worked out doesn’t matter.”

Even without looking into Adam’s mind, I can tell it’s killing him to keep his mouth shut. But the only time he opens it is to take a bite of his sandwich.

Once
Caylie
has left and Adam and I are walking back to our lockers, he says, “Why didn’t you tell her we’re the reason Daryl confessed?” He winces. “Or at least that you and Abigail and John Henry were. It wasn’t like I was part of the equation.”

“You helped too,” I say. “But I didn’t say anything because it seemed like so much trouble to explain. And if I did explain it, would she even believe me? There’s only so much you can expect a regular person to believe.”

“Yeah, I guess if I hadn’t seen the whole thing with Minnie and John Henry at the cabin, I would’ve had a hard time believing it.”

“Exactly,” I say, “and it’s not like you’re a regular person.”

Adam smiles. “Thanks, I think.”

“It was supposed to be a compliment.” I feel a wave of shyness wash over me, but then it passes. “Anyway, I figure we’ve taken credit for helping people in the past, and we’ve ended up in the newspaper and stuff. There’s no need for us to make a big deal of it this time.”

“So sometimes we can just help people from the shadows like Batman?” Adam says. When I don’t answer, he says, “You’ve at least heard of Batman, right?”

“I’ve heard of him. He’s a superhero, right?”

Adam shakes his head. “Really, you might as well be Amish. Yeah, Batman’s a superhero, but he’s not a superhero the way Superman is.” I can tell he’s gearing up for a lecture. “Batman doesn’t have any superpowers. He doesn’t have superhuman strength or X-ray vision, and he can’t fly. But he’s a really smart detective, and he has lots of cool gadgets and knows how to use them.”

“Like you,” I say. “You’re not a ghost like Abigail, and you don’t have the Sight like me, but you’re a smart detective and can use all this technical stuff Abigail and I don’t have a clue about. You’re Batman.”

Adam grins. “Batman. That’s kind of cool, actually.”

The bell rings, signaling the end of lunch period. While I’m grabbing my books, Adam says, “My mom’s supposed to call your mom today about my birthday. Make sure Abigail knows she’s invited too, okay?”

We’re at Pizza Hut in Morgan, but this time it’s a lot more pleasant than when we were meeting Daryl
Chumley
. We’re sitting at a long table in the middle of the restaurant: Dr. and Mrs. So, Mom and Dave, Granny and me. Abigail’s here too, but she thought it would look weird for her to have her own seat since she’s invisible to everybody except me. So instead, she’s sitting on my lap. She doesn’t weigh a thing.

I don’t guess this is a regular thirteen-year-old boy’s birthday party. Most boys Adam’s age would want to play paintball or some other contact sport with guys their age instead of going out for pizza and a horror movie with a girl, a ghost and some grownups. But then, Adam isn’t a regular thirteen-year-old boy.

Every time I think of him moving away a big lump comes into my throat.

He nudges me. “Hey, what’s the matter? You look sad.”

“I was just thinking,” I say, playing with Abigail’s curls as she sits on my lap. “I’m so happy we found a way to keep Abigail. I wish I could find a way to keep you too.”

“But Abigail was going away forever,” Adam says. “I’m just moving three hours away. Also, even though it’s my birthday instead of yours, I have a little birthday present for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. Mom and Dad bought me a new laptop for my birthday, so I thought I’d give you my old one. My mom talked to your mom about getting an Internet connection at your house, so you and I can e-mail each other.”

“May I e-mail you too?” Abigail asks, bouncing up and down on my lap.

“Sure,” Adam says, grinning.

“Wow,” I say. “Do you think I can learn how to do it?”

“I can teach you,” Adam says. “By summer you’ll be as big a geek as me.”

“Thanks,” I say, but then I can’t say anything else because two servers come to our table with our pizzas. It’s probably just as well because I’m really touched by Adam’s thoughtfulness, but I know if I say anything emotional, it’ll embarrass him.

“Did Adam tell you about his laptop?” Mrs. So asks me once everybody has been served a slice.

“Yes, that’s really generous,” I say. “Thank you.”

“Well, we’ve got to make sure you two stay in touch,” Mrs. So says. “We were thinking you might even want to come stay with us in Louisville in the summers if it’s all right with your mom. You could stay as long as you wanted. A couple of weeks, a couple of months.”

I try to imagine spending summers in a real city, but I’ve had so little experience with real cities I hardly know what to imagine. “I’d love to,” I say.

“And I’d love for you to,” Mom says. “I’ll miss you like crazy, of course, but it’s a great opportunity for you to soak up some culture you can’t get in Wilder.”

“Would I be allowed to go too?” Abigail asks.

“Of course,” Adam says. “You have freedom of movement now, right? You can go where you want to go.”

Dr. So raises an eyebrow. “Who are you talking to, son?”

Adam develops a sudden interest in the pizza on his plate. “Uh, nobody. I was just...thinking out loud.”

Mrs. So smiles. “I can tell being the parent of a teenager is going to take some getting used to.”

“Oh, this boy won’t give you a bit of trouble,” Granny says, reaching over to ruffle Adam’s hair. “He’ll be a good boy at any age. I can see that about him. Like that one over there”—she points a crooked finger at Dave— “he’s a good one too. A keeper.”