Chapter Seventeen

"WHO'S IDEA WAS THAT Under the Sea Disney theme from the nineties for the dance?" Celia asks as she helps me out of my wheelchair.

"Courtney Langdon," Taylor tells us. "What do you expect?"

"At least she ordered food," I quip, taking a jab at Courtney's well-documented upchucking after meals at school.

"Bad one, Kendall. Baaaad one," Becca says.

Mom greets us in the front foyer with a tray of popcorn and chocolate chip cookies. She's really turned into the quintessential Southern hostess. "How was the formal?"

It was an evening to remember. Jason and I danced to every slow song they played. Of course, he had to hold me up most of the time because I'm still weak as a newborn kitten. It was so sweet. He let me stand on his feet as he moved us along. Clay and Celia were adorable, discussing some program they saw on the Discovery Channel most of the night. Taylor and Ryan made out when the teachers weren't looking, and Becca and Dragon spiked the punch. Special memories that I will always cherish of a time we'll never recapture, especially since Jason and Taylor will be moving to Alaska soon.

"Awesome," I say, keeping out most of the details of the evening. "Taylor was crowned queen!"

She lifts the rhinestone tiara into the air and waves heartily like Queen Elizabeth II. "Merci! Merci!"

"That's fantastic, girls. Make yourselves at home and stay up as late as you'd like."

"Wow, your mom is like a whole new relaxed person," Becca whispers to me.

"I think it was my near-death experience that brought everything to light in our relationship. Not that it wasn't good, but it was strained because of my whole psychic awakening."

There's a tap at the front door. It's after one in the morning. Please don't tell me it's someone searching for ghost hunters. I'm so not ready to go there again.

"It's Jase," Taylor says.

I make my way slowly to the door and see him standing there with his tuxedo tie loose around his collar and the top two buttons undone. He holds up my small black beaded evening bag. "You left this in my Jeep."

"Thanks," I say and then purse my lips at him.

He tugs me out the door onto the porch. "Can we sit in the swing for a minute?"

"Sure."

We park ourselves on the bench and he puts his arm around me. "So I'm leaving soon..."

"I know."

He clears his throat. "It'll be hard to date when we're like a kajillion miles from each other."

I fiddle with the elastic on his hematite bracelet. "I know that too."

"I'll always love you, Kendall."

My hand covers his mouth and I stop his next words. "We don't have to do this, Jason. I mean, we're not breaking up because we want to, but because we have to. You'll always be one of my best friends and we can't lose that. There's e-mails and Facebooking and all that."

He smiles bright at me. "You're amazing, you know that? Don't ever change."

I kiss him soundly, enjoying the feel of what may be our last intimate moment. "Yeah, well, you don't change either. I don't want to hear about you doing things in Alaska like shooting wolves from helicopters or anything barbaric like that."

"I promise."

At that moment, his bracelet snaps off in my hand, and the magnetic hematite beads tumble off into his lap.

"Whoa! What just happened?" he asks.

My bracelet breaks too. Matching beads spill onto the wooden porch, falling between the cracks in the hundred-year-old building.

"That's the weirdest thing ever," Jason notes.

"Not really." I explain: "See, Loreen told me that we don't wear hematite, it wears us. We take in its energy for as long as we need it. When it's done with us, well, it ... breaks."

He screws up his mouth. "You mean to tell me that this bracelet knew we were breaking up so it just, like, self-destructed?"

I shrug. "I don't make the rules of the metaphysical world, I just follow them."

Jason pulls me to him. "You are the cutest thing there is. I'm going to miss the hell out of you."

My face is so close I can feel his breath on me. "You haven't left yet."

Man, I love kissing this boy. It's something I will never forget. Not in five minutes, five years, or five lifetimes. Who knows what our futures will bring? Maybe we'll end up at the same college or backpacking through Europe together. Everything happens for a reason, so at this time, I'll simply enjoy the making-out that's happening.

There's a rustle near the front bushes that makes us jump apart. Eleanor, one of my cats, hops up on the railing and wails at me.

"Oh, get over yourself," I say.

But she's merely telling me I have company.

"Shelby-Nichole, is that you?"

She rustles up in her taffeta dress, holding her high heels in her hand. "Colton took me home after the dance and all hell's broken loose. I'm not going back there."

I call to Taylor, Celia, and Becca to come out and join us. They gather around as Shelby-Nichole details her state of mind. "Something was in my room watching me when I got home. I could feel it. It got all cold in the room and I could see my breath."

"It is late February," Becca says.

"In Georgia," Celia notes. "Keep going."

Shelby-Nichole sits and fans herself with her shoes. "Donn left earlier to go see her friend in Atlanta. She said the activity had increased so much that she doesn't want to stay there anymore. Honestly, she's looking into getting the city to destroy the property altogether to get rid of whatever this Sherry woman is doing."

"You can't do that," Celia pleads. "The spirit is attached to the property, yes, but tearing it down will not ease her pain. She has to be dealt with once and for all. She has to go into the light." Celia directs her stare at me.

"I'm scared shitless of that place. Helllllo. She tried to kill me!"

"I can't go back there," Shelby-Nichole says weakly. "It's no way to live."

I sigh hard and lean back into the swing. Yeah, I'm petrified of that place. I'm even more terrified when I think of confronting Sherry Biddison again. But something has to be done. Celia's right—she has to cross over.

I'll be damned, though, if I'm going to be the one to help her do it.

I poke my head into Divining Woman Saturday midmorning to find Loreen working on the store's bookkeeping, which totally amazes me because I've barely ever seen her sell anything. Makes me wonder how she stays afloat.

"Look what the cat dragged in," she says with a laugh. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

"Ahh, queen of the clichés, I see." I walk gingerly into the store, still feeling the physical effects from my fall and recent hospital stay.

"The sayings are cliché for a reason."

Lowering myself to the couch, I snag a pack of Rider-Waite tarot cards from the table nearby and shuffle through them. An old familiar friend, almost. How interesting that the cards have enabled me to decipher details of so many other people's lives yet couldn't help me see the particulars of my own.

Loreen grins at me. A knowing look that only adults can give, one that indicates they were right about everything. No words need to pass between us. We truly are kindred spirits, brought together by life's amazing twists and turns.

"I've been praying hard for you, sweetie. You had me so worried."

"I had a lot of people worried," I say jokingly. Our mailbox has been full of cards with get-well wishes and concern. The house has several new plant additions, thanks to all the ones I got when I was in the hospital. Even my former nemesis Courtney Langdon sent a bouquet of flowers on behalf of the Radisson High cheerleading squad. Though I'm still a relative newcomer to the town, people reached out in my time of need.

"Massimo has me attending his masses regularly," Loreen adds. "I haven't done that since I was a kid."

"See what love can do?"

Her blush is all the indication I need to know that she has fallen hard for my Episcopal priest. Good thing he's not of the Catholic faith so they can maybe get married one day. My intuition tells me that's where they're headed, but I won't spoil the surprise for her.

She walks across the room, takes the cards I've been fidgeting with, and sits down next to me. "Something's bothering you. Your aura isn't glowing right."

"Geesh, where do I start?" The snarkiness rises from me. "I'm healing from a massive blood transfusion from my best friend and my boyfriend; I had a partially collapsed lung; and, apparently, I no longer have a spleen. I don't even have a freakin' clue what I needed a spleen for in the first place. I just know I've got a scar from losing it—but I'm alive. I'm breathing and walking and doing stuff at school. There's just one thing I don't want to do anymore."

Loreen's eyes soften. "I talked to Donn Shy. I know what's been going on at her house. It's gotten bad, Kendall."

Suddenly I'm fascinated with the silver zipper on my hoodie; I tug it up and pull it back down. I try to block my thoughts from Loreen, but it's impossible.

"Talk to me, Kendall."

I heave a sigh and say, "I don't want to be psychic anymore."

Her hand moves to the back of my neck, where she rubs and sends me Reiki energy. "Oh, honey. I've felt that many times. It's not something we can walk away from."

"I read one time that if you eat a lot of olives, the brine in them will actually block your psychic abilities."

"Pure hogwash," she says. "Yes, you can bury your talent and not use it, just as if you were musically inclined but chose not to practice your instrument anymore. It's a choice only you can make." Loreen strokes my hair. "People like you and me, Kendall. We have something not a lot of other people have. A rare gift that helps, not hurts."

I drop my eyes down. "I got hurt wicked bad."

"Yeah, you did."

My pulse rockets away like it's on some sort of illegal street drug. I'm dizzy and confused and I really just need someone—anyone with more rational thinking than me at the moment—to tell me what's right. I muster up the courage to say "I don't want to ghost hunt anymore."

"Have you told your friends this?"

I shake my head.

Loreen pushes me more. "If it's because of the near-death experience you told me about, you can't let that stop you."

"Ummm—yeah, I can."

"Kendall, look at me." Loreen pauses as I slowly turn my head. "I'll keep repeating this until I'm blue in the face. You. Have. A. Gift. If you want to give up ghost hunting as you've been doing it formally ... fine, I understand. However, you can't abandon your God-given talent to help others."

"Why not?" I ask in a whimper I barely recognize as my own voice.

"Because, sweetie," she starts, "if you give up, then they win."

I think hard for a moment, letting her words soak in. "Who is they?"

Her lips flatten together. "The bad elements and entities that exist on the other side. The ones that wreak havoc on the living. Those like Sherry Biddison who cause physical pain and suffering not only to you but to people like Donn and Shelby-Nichole. Who will she hurt next?"

My mentor isn't telling me anything I haven't already mulled over in my mind. I think of Grandma Ethel's words to me during my time—if that's what you can call it—with her. She believes in me. My mom and dad believe in me. So does Loreen and Father Massimo and my team. I need to believe in myself.

There will be a moment in the quiet of my room where I will search my soul and let Loreen's advice sink in. No, I don't want them to win. This world is for the living, and those at unrest need peace of their own. I've done it before—I suppose I can do it one last time.

"Okay." I let out a long sigh. Loreen already senses what I'm going to say, I can see it in her eyes. "Get Mayor Shy on the phone. Tell her the ghost huntresses are on the case. We'll take care of Sherry Biddison once and for all."

God help me.