When I pull out of the school parking lot, Spencer is sitting in the passenger seat, staring at me with his brows pulled together. I’m not very surprised to see him this time. “Bailey, what happened back there? What’s the matter? You’re starting to worry me.”
Sparing him only a quick glance, I grip the steering wheel tightly with both hands and let out a crazed laugh. “You’re seriously asking me that? My hallucination wants to know what’s wrong with me? How about, I’m losing my mind! They’ve downed my meds, and now I am completely stark raving mad. Mrs. Schneider’s probably already called Dr. Moscowitz, and he’s probably waiting at my house with a straitjacket.”
My rant is met with silence, so I glance again at my ghostly companion and find him staring wide-eyed at me with his lips sucked into his mouth as if he’s biting down on them. “What is that face?” I snap, though it’s not hard to guess he’s holding back laughter when his shoulders start to shake.
“I’m sorry!” he croaks, finally releasing a laugh that comes all the way from his gut. “I know it’s not funny, but I’ve never seen you have a nervous breakdown before. I had no idea it would be so cute.”
Well, there’s one thing I will say for my shattered mind: for all the pieces it’s in, it certainly remembers Spencer with utter clarity, because that response is just so…him. It makes me want to laugh and scream all at the same time.
“You’re not going crazy, Bailey. I promise you, I’m real.”
I’ve reached my neighborhood, and I nearly run a stop sign, so I slam on the breaks and pull off to the side of the road before turning to yell at Spencer. “You can’t be real!” I shout. “You’re dead!”
I’m worked up enough now that Spencer’s amusement fades. He sighs a little and shifts sideways in his seat to face me. “I’m dead,” he says calmly. “Not imaginary. I’m a ghost, Bay, a spirit.”
As I shake my head, I wonder if I’m arguing with Spencer, or berating myself because I am arguing with him. “Ghosts aren’t real.”
“I’ll prove it to you. Come with me back to the tree house. I left something there that you don’t know about. If I help you find something that you didn’t know existed, then I have to be real, right? A hallucination can’t tell you things you don’t know.”
After thinking it over, I decide to indulge Spencer for two reasons. First, if he can truly prove that he’s real, it will be a great comfort to know I’m only ghost-whisperer crazy and not schizophrenic-shouting-at-the-voices-in-my-head insane. Second, the idea that Spencer kept something secret from me seems impossible. I’m too intrigued to ignore him.
This new mission quells my mental breakdown. Or postpones it, at least. As I pull into my driveway, my panic is gone, my heart has slowed, and I am now able to think straight. With my newly found clarity, I finally start to process what happened in Mrs. Schneider’s office.
“Spencer?” I ask as I hop out of the car and bypass the house, heading straight for the tree house in the backyard. “What’s going on with Wes? Mrs. Schneider said something about a situation, and now you’re telling me he needs me. Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Spencer stops walking. (Yes, walking, not floating. He claims to be a ghost, but he still moves as if he were an ordinary human.) He looks up at the sky and blows a big breath out of puffed cheeks before he turns to face me. “I can’t tell you that.”
It must show in my expression that I’m hurt by his answer, because his face crumples and he fists his hands in frustration. “I would, Bay. I want to tell you so much; there are so many things I wish I could say to you, but I can’t. There are rules.”
“Rules?” I find this highly disturbing for some reason.
Spencer doesn’t elaborate. Instead, he changes course, leading us toward the garage. He waggles his eyebrows at my curious look. “Remember how we used to always play Indiana Jones? You’re going to have to dig for your hidden treasure.”
After finding a shovel, Spencer and I walk to the trunk of the tree where Spencer lines himself up exactly with my bedroom window and starts counting off heel-to-toe paces. Once he hits twenty, he stops and stares at the ground. There’s no sign that the earth has ever been disturbed in the particular spot where he was standing. He glances at the tree and eyes my bedroom window, scratching his head thoughtfully. “We could be a little off. My feet aren’t the same size they were when I was twelve. You might have to dig a fairly big hole.”
“Twelve?” I ask. “I’m looking for something you buried in my yard when you were twelve?”
“Something Wes and I buried together.” He points to the ground beneath his feet and then takes a step to the side. “Start right here, but be gentle. You don’t want to break it if you hit it.”
A thrill surges through me as I kick the shovel into the dirt. It feels like one of our old make-believe adventures. Spencer is once again Indiana Jones, and I’m Marion. Who, of course, was actually Princess Marion in disguise. I scan the bushes and the corners of the house, almost expecting Wes to come sneaking up on us. He almost always played the bad guy in our adventures because he liked to be the one to steal Princess Marion from Indiana Jones and hold me hostage.
Wes and Spencer would always end up fighting over me, and while they were pretend punching each other and rolling on the ground in a wrestling match, I’d sneak away and claim the treasure for myself. It was usually some sort of Hostess snack, and I would have half of it eaten before they realized I was gone.
“I’m warning you now, if this is a four-year-old Hostess Cupcake, I am not eating it, no matter what you say.”
Spencer laughs so loud I stiffen, afraid my mom will hear him and come ask me what I’m doing. But then I remember that no one can hear him except for me. I start to worry again, that he’s a figment of my imagination and I’m digging a hole, looking for something that doesn’t exist. How will I explain the torn up yard to my family if I don’t have any buried treasure to show for it?
It takes me ten minutes and three holes, but my shovel finally hits something solid. I drop to my knees with a gasp and start frantically using my hands to uncover my treasure. My fingers feel plastic beneath the loose soil, and I grin up at Spencer. I’m nine years old again, and this is my most exciting adventure yet.
I unearth a silver Hello Kitty jewelry box and gasp again. “This was mine!” There’s a whine in my voice that makes Spencer burst out laughing. “I went crazy looking for this. Why did you steal it and bury it?”
I climb to my feet, brushing the mud from my old keepsake. I haven’t seen it in so many years that it feels magical resting in my hands now.
“We needed something that the bugs couldn’t break into. That was the only thing we could find. It’s not our fault you left it in the tree house.”
I shake my head, chuckling to myself. I can totally picture Wes and Spencer sneaking into the tree house to steal my jewelry box one night when Wes was sleeping over, to use as some sort of secret buried treasure.
“No! You can’t open it!” Spencer shouts when I reach for the tiny latch. He makes a grab for the box, and his hands pass right through it.
I meet his frantic eyes with a wicked grin. “Looks like you can’t really stop me.”
“Bailey Marie Atkinson, you wouldn’t dare!”
I’m tempted. Desperately. But I won’t if he really doesn’t want me to. Still, I bring the box up to my ear and give it a little shake. Several small items rattle around inside. “Ooh, sounds exciting.”
“Seriously, Bailey. You can’t look in there.”
He’s only making my curiosity stronger. “Why? What’s in it? More of my stuff that you and Wes stole?”
“It was a time capsule, okay? Wes and I put a bunch of stupid stuff in there, but it’s private.”
The secret is killing me. What on earth would twelve-year-olds Spencer and Wes put in a stolen jewelry box and bury that’s so embarrassing I can’t know what it is? “This is my jewelry box, and it was buried in my yard. I should at least get to see what’s inside.”
“Come on, it’s super secret guy stuff. No girls allowed. Promise me you won’t look.”
Spencer is genuinely worried that I’m going to peek. He’s bouncing on his toes with his hands poised to make another grab for the box even though it wouldn’t work, and he’s pleading with his eyes. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen, and it’s enough to make me relent. “All right. I promise not to look inside, but why did you tell me to dig it up if I can’t see what’s in it?”
Spencer sags with relief. “Because you needed proof that I’m real, and Wes needs what’s inside that box.”
Spencer’s reminder about proof makes the truth finally sink into my mind. The jewelry box slips from my fingers, and my eyes gloss over. He was beautiful before, but now that I know it’s really him—that he’s really, truly, standing in front of me—he’s positively radiant. He’s a dream that’s just stepped out of my head and into real life. I start to shake and can barely find my voice. “Spencer?”
He smiles, happy that I finally know it’s really him, but his eyes are so full of longing that my heart burns with a fierce ache. “Hi, baby.” His voice is soft, a whisper on the breeze, and it trembles. “I miss you so much.”
My eyes burn, but at the same time I’m soaring with a happiness that I’ve never felt before. I catch a sob in my chest, and it bursts out of me in a strangled laugh. “I miss you, too. So much. I can’t believe you’re here.”
I reach out to touch him. I want to feel him so badly I’m in physical pain. Spencer lifts his hand to meet mine and holds it in place just a millimeter from my skin. I know I won’t feel anything, but I push my fingers through his anyway. “How is it possible?” I ask as we fall into a sort of game, trying to capture each other’s fingers.
Spencer sighs and lets his hand drop. “It’s complicated.”
“Try?”
He can’t say no. With a small, sad smile he glances at the tree behind us. “Join me for a secret rendezvous in the forbidden tower, Princess?”
I laugh. It’s the same invitation he’s given me ever since I was ten and I confessed to him that I felt like a princess in my tower when I was up there. Grabbing the Hello Kitty jewelry box, I follow him to our old fort.
Spencer steps up to the tree house ladder, sweeping his hand out in a gesture for me to go up first. “After you, milady.”
I snort. “Dork.”
Affronted, Spencer clenches a hand over his heart. “The appropriate response is ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ or ‘Why, Spencer, you’re such a gentleman!’”
Giggling, I kiss the palm of my hand and blow it toward his lips. “My hero.”
The twinkle returns to his eyes as he pretends to catch my kiss and plaster it on his mouth. “That is acceptable. You may proceed.”
I laugh all the way up the ladder. When I throw open the entrance hatch and climb inside the tree house, I find Spencer leaning against the window that faces my bedroom. He chuckles when I glance over my shoulder, looking for the boy I’d left standing on the ground, and points a finger at himself. “Ghost. Remember?”
My lips quirk up into a grudging smile. “Show-off.” Of course, this makes his grin double in size. “You needed me to drive you home from school, but you can just pop in and out of the tree house?”
“Sort of.”
He moves away from the window and plops down onto our old blanket—not that his movement makes any sound, but the action looks like a plop. I move to sit in front of him, crisscrossing my legs instead of taking a seat beside him, because I want to be able to see his face. Leaning back on my hands, I patiently wait for more explanation. He grins again. He’s always loved being the center of attention, and he has mine completely undivided at the moment. “I’m tied to you specifically,” he admits. “I have to stay close.”
The idea that he’s bound to me makes me smile. Spencer sees my grin and winks, happy with the arrangement as well. He leans back against the side of the tree house and laces his fingers behind his head. After a moment of silence, he starts to talk again as I sit there wondering how he can lean against anything. Though, I’m not sure he’s actually touching the wall or the floor he’s “sitting” on. He’s just kind of…there.
“Not everyone gets to come back,” he murmurs. “And those of us that do can’t just run around doing whatever we want. Spirits come for specific purposes, and we have restrictions to keep us on task. Otherwise, the temptation to wander around pining after our old life is too strong.”
His face grows somber, and he pulls his hands into his lap. He stares down at them for a moment before glancing up at me from beneath his lashes. “Heaven’s not a bad place, but the transition is hard. The pull to be with the loved ones we left behind is…” He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “We aren’t supposed to come back, but sometimes souls have a hard time letting go and accepting our death.”
I swallow back a sudden lump of emotion. I know exactly what he means. I haven’t been able to let go or accept his death, either.
“Sometimes we have unfinished business that keeps us from being able to embrace our afterlife. Depending on our motives and the task we want to complete, certain people are given the chance to fix their mistakes or take care of the thing that’s holding them back.”
My eyes fall to the jewelry box cradled in my lap. Whatever’s inside of it is his unfinished business. Wes is his unfinished business. “So…you came back because you need me to give this to Wes and not look at whatever’s in it.”
His reply is quiet, full of guilt. “It’s important.”
It shouldn’t hurt that he came back to fix things with Wes. He chose to show himself to me, after all, not Wes, and we really didn’t have anything left unfinished. We’d been so happy and in love. Still, I feel a sting of jealousy and bitterness when I think about Wes and Spencer. They had a side to their relationship that I was never included in. A bond that I didn’t understand and wasn’t a part of. It had always hurt, and knowing that bond has tied them together beyond the grave makes it worse. Once again, it’s them against me. Even now, Wes is driving a wedge between Spencer and me.
“I know things weren’t always good between you and Wes, but will you help me? Will you do this for me?”
My chest tightens. “If I help you complete your task, will you go back? Will you stop visiting me?”
Spencer chews on his bottom lip as he nods.
I want to smash the box. I want to throw it out the window or bury it again so that he can stay with me forever. Spencer guesses my thoughts. “I’ll go back either way. I don’t get to stay forever. I only have a little bit of time to try and accomplish my task, and I only get the one chance. If I fail, I fail, and it will simply haunt me for the rest of my afterlife.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Will you help me, Bailey? Will you just be grateful for this miracle we’ve been given that we get to see each other one last time and help me put my soul to rest?”
I’m too overwhelmed to speak, drowning in too much emotion, so I simply nod my head.