Riley Bloom Dreamland (2 page)

It was a Hollywood move.

Slick.

Superficial.

Spurious (thank you, word-a-day calendar!) in the very worst way.

The kind of move that either makes your heart flutter, or makes you go
blech.
And seeing Bodhi do it, well, it just made me feel weird.

But when the move didn’t win him the reaction he’d hoped, when the members of the Council didn’t swoon all over themselves, he shifted gears, cleared his voice, and looking directly at them, uttered a very serious-sounding “Hello.”

To be honest, I was a little embarrassed by the double greeting, but before I could do anything to stop him he said, “As you know, Riley, Buttercup, and I ran into a little trouble recently, and …”

He rambled.

Oh boy, did he ramble.

He rambled in a way that was nothing but a bunch of bippidy blah blah to my ears.

Rambled in a way that made my head go all dizzy and squeezy.

Rambled in a way that wasn’t the least bit effective—or at least not where the Council was concerned. And I knew I had to stop him before it got any worse. So the second he paused, I jumped in to say, “I think what Bodhi means is—”

He swung toward me, glaring in a way that was half rage, half horrified disbelief. But it wasn’t enough to stop me. Not even close.

But before I could even get started, Royce, with the dark wavy hair, smooth dark skin, and glinting green eyes that amounted to the kind of breath-stealing good looks usually reserved for movie screens, said, “That’s enough, Riley.”

I froze—too afraid to look at Bodhi—too afraid to look at anyone—those three simple words stopping me cold. Not once in my ridiculously brief twelve years of life had I heard that phrase used for anything other than to stop me from some type of behavior an adult found extremely annoying.

An awkward pause followed, broken by Celia, who stood beside Royce, her usual cornflower blue glow once again beaming at full force when she said, “There is no need to continue. No need to make excuses or explain. We have seen everything.” I nodded. Gulped. It was all I could do.

My eyes locking on Samson’s deep violet ones as his hands clasped either side of his seat. “You acted on your own. You acted willfully, wildly, you ignored Bodhi’s instruc-tions, and put yourselves in great danger.” He rose to his feet and stood rigid before me.

“In the future we ask that you consult with us first before you go off on your own. No matter where you find yourself on the earth plane, you must never forget that we are but one telepathic message away.”

He shot me a stern look, Bodhi too, the two of us frozen, unsure what to do, when Aurora said, “There is no need to fear us. We are here to offer guidance, support, and assistance if you find that you need it. And while I know you are eager to advance, you must trust that each and every assignment has been carefully selected to match your level of progress.” Her gaze locked on mine, making sure I understood, before she went on to add, “That said, you have still managed to succeed where many other Soul Catchers have failed. Congratulations.” Bodhi softened, as a whistle of air I didn’t even know I’d been holding escaped from my lips. And when I glanced down at Buttercup, I watched as he raised his rump high and let loose in a flurry of wiggles—an overdose of cuteness. I found myself wishing he’d stop.

There was no need to overdo it. Not when I’d just been acknowledged—no, scratch that—not when I’d just been
congratulated
by Aurora, who I was pretty sure was the Council’s queen bee.

I’d put myself in danger. I’d taken great risks. I’d done the exact opposite of what Bodhi had ordered—and look where it got me:

Glowing before the Council.

Graciously accepting great praise.

Congratulations!

The word spun through my head.

I wasn’t in trouble. All was okay. Actually, it was better than okay. Once again, I’d succeeded where others had failed.

I knew it.

The Council knew it.

And my glow proved it.

It was Bodhi who needed the attitude adjustment. Me—I was at the top of my game.

I reveled in my success, reliving the praise over and over again.

My thoughts interrupted by the melodic lilt of Aurora’s voice when she added, “It is obvious that you are in need of greater challenges in the future, so we will do our best to provide them for you.”

I nodded, arranging my face into the perfect expression of humility, saving the victory dance for later.

My attention was soon stolen by Claude, whose long, slim fingers fiddled with the scraggly beard that stopped just shy of his waist, as he said, “And so, in light of all that you have accomplished, we agree that you two are in need of a break.”

I glanced at Bodhi, taking a sidelong peek at the brand-spanking-new sneakers I was sure he’d manifested just for this meeting, the dark denim jeans that pooled around his ankles in that cool-guy way, his slouchy blue sweater that skimmed his lean form, making my way up to his ridiculously cute face, which, just the sight of it alone, caused my throat to go all lumpy and hot as an unexpected wave of nostalgia for all that we’d shared threatened to swallow me whole.

As much as I’d longed for a new guide (pretty much since the moment Bodhi and I met), just when I was about to get one, well, I could hardly believe our days of Soul Catching together were coming to such a quick end. After this meeting, we might never see each other again.

For some strange reason, the thought didn’t spark the kind of joy I would’ve expected. If anything, it did just the opposite. It made me feel all twisty and turvy and a little bit empty.

But, as it turns out, I was wrong.

Dead wrong.

The Council had other ideas.

“Take a break from Soul Catching,” Aurora said, nodding in a way that made her hair dance and swirl. “Take some time to relax and enjoy yourselves.”

My face squinched, unsure how to take that.

I mean, hadn’t I just been congratulated?

And didn’t that sort of praise mean I could skip a few grades and move on to the kind of big, scary ghosts the experienced Soul Catchers dealt with?

It was Celia who set me straight. “While we are all quite delighted with your perform-ance, Riley, and while it’s clear that we’ll need to find greater challenges for you, we think you could use some time off.” Her tiny hands fluttered at her waist like a humming-bird before a feeder. “And once you’re suffi-ciently refreshed, we’ll happily send you and Bodhi on your next assignment. We are delighted with the way you two work together.

Clearly you bring out the best in each other.” I gaped. And I’m talkin’ the bug-eyed, jaw-to-the-knees kind of gaped. I mean, seriously?
Bring out the best in each other?
Was she kidding? Had any of them actually reviewed the footage of Bodhi and me attempt-ing to work together?

All we did was fight!

And argue.

And willfully oppose each other every chance that we got. The only times we ever pitched in, rolled up our sleeves, and put our vast and varied differences aside was after things were so far gone we had no other choice but to rely on each other.

But apparently that wasn’t all. Oh, no, they were a long way from done, because right as I was still reeling from that, Royce piped in and said, “While we take some time in choosing your next assignment, you and Bodhi, and yes, even you, Buttercup—” Royce’s eyes sparkled when Buttercup, upon hearing his name, licked his chops and wiggled his rump once again. “—you should all enjoy your time off. Spend some time with family. Visit with friends. The important thing is for you to rest up and recharge. Don’t worry, we’ll find you when it’s time for your next assignment. But for now, you are released.”

Released.

Freed.

Undeniably dismissed
.

And yet, even though I’d heard every word, all I could do was just stand there and gawk, watching as Bodhi and Buttercup shot across the stage and made a mad dash for the door.

Suddenly

paralyzed

by

the

horrible

realization that, unlike me, they had other, better places to be.

The Council had vanished—just
poof
and they were gone. And knowing it was lame (not to mention pathetic) to keep standing there long after everyone else had vacated, I hung my head low and retraced Bodhi’s and Buttercup’s steps.

The dismal truth of my existence blooming before me: While I may have excelled at Soul Catching, I was a total failure when it came to having an afterlife.

My social life was even deader than I.

I had no friends. No hobbies. No place to go other than my own room.

And while it’s true that my parents and grandparents were Here, it’s also true that they were busy with their own afterlives.

The Here & Now was nothing like the earth plane. I didn’t need anyone to pay my bills, prepare my meals, sign permission slips, drive me around, or just generally look after me in a shelter-food-and-money kind of way. Everything I could possibly want, and/

or need, could be had simply by wishing it—which meant that other than dropping by to check in and say hi, my family was no longer responsible for me.

They’d moved on.

And the pathetic truth was, from what I’d seen, my grandparents were way more popular than I.

I slammed through the door and hurled myself outside, determined to do whatever it took to get myself an afterlife.

3

T
he first thing I saw when I pushed through the door was that Bodhi and Buttercup had waited for me.

Bodhi leaned against the iron stair rail, a dented green straw wedged between his back teeth, while Buttercup sat at his feet, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

I ran toward them, dropped to my knees, and hunched my shoulders ’til I was nose to nose with my dog. Giving him a good, long scratch between the ears, and smiling when he closed his eyes and sunk his head low, feeling just as contented as he. So immersed in the moment, so overcome with the thrill of them waiting, that all of my earlier sadness melted away.

While it was true that I didn’t have much of an afterlife, at least I wouldn’t have to go it alone.

I cleared my throat, knowing I should say something nice. Nothing too mushy, I’d never been comfortable with that sort of thing, but still, I wanted to show the full extent of my gratitude. Let them know how happy I was to find them both there.

My lips parting, just about to speak, when I saw the way Bodhi’s knee jiggled—the way his thumbs tapped hard and fast against the rail—and I knew I’d misjudged the whole thing.

Bodhi had no interest in hanging with me.

He was still in guide mode. Waiting was an act of duty.

Perhaps even pity.

He was just making sure I had somewhere to be—that I wouldn’t make any more trouble—so he could head off on his much-anticipated

vacation

with

no

further

thoughts of me.

I was the very last item on his to-do list.

A terrible realization that made all the nice words die right on my tongue. While the words that sprang up to replace them were anything but.

“So,” I said, still petting Buttercup as my gaze fixed hard on Bodhi. “The Council seemed pretty dang happy with all of my accomplishments. Bet that came as a big shock to you, huh?” I paused, waited for him to reply, hoping he’d volley right back with something sarcastic so I could return it with something even worse.

I was looking for a fight. There was no getting around it. Mostly because I would not, could not, stand for him to pity me. That just wouldn’t do.

Bodhi squinted, stared at me for a good long bit. And when he did finally speak, his voice was so casual you’d think he’d misunderstood the tone of my words. “Why do you say that?” he asked, the green straw sliding across his front teeth.

“Um, maybe because they
congratulated
me
?” I said, stealing a moment to tack on a nice, dramatic eye roll to go with it. My energy growing so heated, so riled up and angry, it wasn’t long before Buttercup whined and scooted away from me.

But if Bodhi was fazed, he sure didn’t show it. Instead he just laughed. Well, it was actually more of a cross between a laugh, a huff, and a grunt, but anyway, he just made a sound, tucked the straw in the side of his mouth, and said, “No, what I meant was, why did you say that bit about my not being happy for your accomplishments?”

“Uh, because you’re not?” I made a face, frowning even more as I watched Buttercup scooch closer to Bodhi and farther from me.

Bodhi shrugged, gazed all around, as his knee picked up the tempo, jiggling so fast it practically blurred.

And that’s when I got it.

That’s when I completely understood.

It was worse than I’d thought.

Bodhi hadn’t been waiting for me. This had nothing to do with me. He’d been waiting for someone else to catch up with him.

I swear, if I’d still been alive, that would’ve been the exact moment when my cheeks would’ve burned so bright I would’ve had no choice but to run and hide. But, as it was, I stayed put, looking at him when I said,

“Surely you remember what you said just before we came here? That because of me, because of my insistence on disobeying your rules—‘we may never glow again.’ You said that the Council can ‘give and take at will.’

You said all of that, and yet, check it out—I still got my glow on!”

I thrust my arm toward him, hoping he’d take a good look. But it was no use. His attention was claimed. He was already moving away.

I watched as he ran a hand over his hair and his clothes. Trying to appear jaunty, self-assured, totally and completely in control, but I knew him well enough to know better.

He was making a colossal effort to hide a major case of nerves.

Though it’s not like
she
noticed.

Oh, no. She was too busy swinging her long, shiny black braids. Too busy adjusting her sweater and straightening her short, pleated skirt. Too busy smiling, and waving, and looking really cute.