The Guidance

chapter Seventeen

Emily wasn't around this morning when I woke up, although Sonoma the Bear had been moved from my rocking chair to my bed in the middle of the night. I guess she's giving me some distance after the whole freak-out with Mom; I've hardly seen her this whole week.

Saturday, I help Mom out in the yard, planting some bushes around the back fence. I never knew her to have such a green thumb, but she seems motivated to be the Happy Homemaker today. Plus, it's good spending time with Mom as just her daughter, not the kid she's worried about.

Mom and Dad have a dinner date with another couple, so Jason comes over to watch movies with me and hang out. Kaitlin's got Penny Carmickle sleeping over, and I'm allegedly chaperoning. All I want to do, though, is lock them in her room, turn off the lights, and make out with Jason.

He seems annoyed with me. Has he seen the drawing of Emily too? As one of my favorite movies of all time, French Kiss, plays on the DVR, I try to snuggle into the nook of Jason's arm.

"Can't we watch Iron Man?"

"I thought you wanted to watch something romantic," I say with a frown.

"No, Kendall, I said I wanted romantic time with you."

I spread my hands wide. "What do you call this?"

He rolls his eyes skyward. "I call it baby-sitting."

"Yeah, sorry about that. It was the only way Mom and Dad would let us be alone in the house."

He harrumphs. "Don't they trust you?"

I laugh at him and pick at the zipper of his hoodie. "I don't think they trust you."

Jason sighs hard and removes his arm from around me. "Jesus, Kendall. How many people's permissions do I have to get to be with you?"

I sit up, and my mouth drops open. "No one's. I mean, what are you talking about?"

He stands and nearly trips on the sneakers he discarded when he got here an hour ago with pizza, soda, and a smile. "Between not having classes together at school and you always being with my sister, Celia, and Becca, and all of your ghost hunting, and this obsession with what Courtney's going through—"

"Hey! Now, wait a minute. I—"

"And now your parents not trusting us to be together and you having to baby-sit. Not to mention your imaginary friend who's constantly around. It gives me the creeps knowing she's always watching us." He spins back to me, his blue eyes ablaze. "When do I rate some of your time, Kendall? I'm your boyfriend."

"I know, Jason! I'm so sorry. There's just so much going on, you know that."

"That's the sad thing, Kendall. I do know it. You know how long it's been since we just hung out, you and me?"

"We're hanging out now."

"With your little sis and her friend upstairs."

"We went bowling," I say meekly.

He throws his hands up. "Yeah, with Taylor and Ryan and Celia and Dragon and—"

"I know—"

"And it turned into a ghost investigation."

My chest hurts over his words. Not 'cause he's being mean, but because he's right. I don't make him cookies or leave him love notes or fix up for him like I should. I look down at my ratty jeans and Bobby Hull Chicago Blackhawks hockey jersey that I love so much. Would it have killed me to put on a little eye shadow and blush and foof up my hair and wear one of those new outfits from my Atlanta shopping spree?

"Jason, I'm sooooooo sorry."

I walk up to him and wrap my arms around his firm waist. He's hesitant, but he finally gives in and hugs me back. "It's hard being with you, Kendall."

"Why?" I ask, muffled against his chest.

"Because I'm never just alone with you."

Pulling away a little bit, I stare dreamily into his amazing eyes that had me from the get-go. "We're alone now," I say with a tease in my voice.

He smiles. "Sort of."

Feeling bold, I lift up on my tiptoes and place my lips on Jason's. At first, he's a little stiff and distant, then he cuddles me into his arms, nearly raising me off my feet as he deepens the kiss. Ahhh ... there we go. That's much better.

We work our way over to the couch in the flickering light of the television. Images of Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline traipsing through the French countryside fade into the distance and all I concentrate on is the feel of Jason's mouth on mine and his taut, athletic body lying next to me as we make out on the couch.

I love kissing. It's so personal. And so giving. There's nothing like it. I think I was born to do nothing but kiss this boy. His lips are soft and full, and he certainly knows what he's doing. I don't want to think about all the practice he's had before me—especially not the hours spent with Courtney Langdon. I hope he thinks I'm as good a kisser as she was. God, I shouldn't think of things like that. Jason must think I'm a good kisser too 'cause he does this little moany-groan thing when our tongues touch. It's like the best dessert I've ever had without the guilt of thousands of evil calories.

Jason's hands get a little bold, roaming across my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. I wiggle a little bit to resist. However, I'm also enjoying his warm touch as his fingers grip my stomach and bunch up my shirt. I unzip his hoodie and push it off his arms. I want to be closer to him. I can feel his body heat through the thin Atlanta Braves T-shirt he's wearing. He moves in again to nip at my lips and continue our soulbonding kiss.

Everything's going just fine until his hands move lower on my belly, dangerously close to the snap of my jeans. Then—pop!—the first button fly is loose. I'm exhilarated! I'm scared shitless! I don't know if I'm ready to take this to the next level with Jason. Certainly not with my little sister and her best friend upstairs. We've only been dating a couple of months after all, and we haven't really had a lot of quality time together. But I am enjoying the sensations rippling through me. Things I've never felt before.

Right now, I'm not a psychic, a sensitive, or a ghost huntress. I'm just Kendall, Jason's girlfriend.

Maybe one more button, but I won't let it go any further.

Then Jason reels back. "Ouch!"

My eyes jerk open. "What?"

"Shit, Kendall! Why'd you pull my hair?"

"I didn't." Did I? I mean, my fingers were woven into his soft tresses at one point, though I don't remember tugging on them. In fact, I know I didn't.

His eyes are dark as he peers down at me. He looks perturbed.

"I would have stopped. All you had to do was say so," he says, releasing a pent-up sigh.

"I swear, I didn't pull your hair. One of my hands was on your back and the other was ... well, it was sort of on your butt." The heat of my blush raises my temperature to a feverish degree.

Jason sits up and reaches to the floor for his hoodie. Suddenly, he falls off the couch and hits the hardwood floor with a resounding boom.

"Damn it! Why'd you go and do that?"

I scramble up and rebutton my jeans. Diving for the nearest light, I turn it on and look around to see if Kaitlin's in here mucking with us. "I swear I didn't do anything, Jason. Maybe you just slid off."

He stuffs his arms into his zip-up and huffs at me. "I got kicked off the couch and you know it! What's the deal, Kendall? I thought we were having a good time."

"We were!"

I'm perplexed about why this is happening. We were making out and getting in to each other, and it's like my parents walked in and caught us in the act of—

Suddenly, it's very clear to me.

Emily.

"Emily! You're intruding."

He was taking advantage of you, Kendall.

"Oh my God! It's not taking advantage when I'm going along with it. You know, the whole takes-two-to-tango thing?" And baby, we were tangoing.

Jason runs his hands through his mussed hair. "I don't believe this. You're talking to your ghost, aren't you?"

"Emily pulled your hair and kicked you, Jason. Not me. She's really protective of me."

"Are you kidding?" he asks derisively. "You don't need protection from me. I love you!"

"I love you, too. Emily, leave us alone, please!"

The boy wanted to have his way with you.

"So what?" Not that I was gonna go all the way or anything.

Don't make the same mistake I made.

"What mistake was that?"

"I'm not a mistake," Jason says.

"I wasn't talking to you."

Jason jams his feet into his sneakers, not even bothering to untie them first. "Great. Now you're talking to her instead of me, or whoever. I can't do this, Kendall. Either you're with me or you're with your ghost friends."

"Jason, please. I'm finally getting some clues on who Emily is and trying to—"

"I don't want to hear it, Kendall." He snatches the keys to his Jeep off the top of our piano, which is by the front door. "Call me when you have time for me, okay?"

"Jason, don't leave!"

Too late. I'm staring at his back, and then the door slams shut.

If I weren't so pissed off, I'd cry.

Emily, I swear to God ...

Don't do that, Kendall. I was just protecting you.

"Look, ghost! I already have a mother. I don't need another guardian."

I have to watch out for you, Kendall ...

"Umm, no, you don't. I didn't ask for you to be in my life and I didn't request that you run my boyfriend off. Thanks for ruining my night."

Please don't be that way. I only did what I thought was right. Boys get carried away and girls are too emotional to stop them ...

I grab my hair, wanting to jerk every strand out of my head from frustration. "Ugh! Why don't you find someone else to haunt, Emily."

With that, I storm up the stairs, bang the door to my room shut ... and I do cry.





Sunday morning, I have a heartache hangover. I tried calling Jason last night, but it went straight to voice mail. Fine. I needed to get some sleep anyway, which I did. Emily didn't bother me and I didn't even wake up when Mom and Dad got home.

My dreams were racked with images of ghosts and spirits and all of the conflicts in my life. Jason was there in the distance, standing apart, as Celia, Taylor, Becca, and I investigated an old abandoned warehouse. Courtney was there, channeling the spirit of every ghost who'd ever been in this building. She was crying out to me, begging for help, asking that I do everything in my power to free her. I awakened with a jolt, knowing I have to exorcise this chick from my life. Only then can I make things right with Jason.

I dress and head over with my family to Christ the Redeemer Holy Episcopal Church for some solace.

Ahhh, church ... the last refuge of a scoundrel.

When the service is over, I tell my parents I'll walk home and to go ahead without me. I linger in the vestibule of the church as all of the other parishioners compliment Father Massimo on his sermon. Something about Peter and the Church and I don't know because I was so kerfuffled over thinking about how to help Courtney. Courtney, Courtney, Courtney—she has taken over my life! Ghost hunting has taken over my life. Jason's right. Ugh!

Still, I can't get past the unavoidable fact that Courtney was stupid enough to open herself up to something that is now imposing its will on her. No matter what Jason or anyone thinks, it is my duty as a psychic medium to try to wrestle the thing away from her.

I cram down the sting of Jason's walking out on me last night and keep my eyes on the task at hand, getting the best advice that I can.

"How'd you like today's sermon, Kendall?" Father Mass asks when the last few people head out of the church.

"It was great, one of your best." Man, I'm lying to a priest in church. Now who's evil? "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't know. Can you?" he says with a smirk.

Great. Even my priest is a smart-ass. "May I?"

He lifts his vestment off of his shoulders and nods his head back toward the church. "You know I'm always here for you."

I follow him up to the altar, where he gathers the remains of today's Communion and puts them away. He kisses his vestments and hangs them carefully in a cabinet behind the choir loft.

I strike out with the burning question. "Can I ask you about exorcisms?"

His handsome face is scrunched into a pained look when he turns to me. "Now, why would you need to know anything about that?"

"I thought I'd read somewhere that the Episcopal Church has a ceremony for it."

Father Mass removes his robe slowly and hangs it in the closet also. Then he lets out a long sigh. "The Book of Occasional Services does indeed talk about exorcisms and provisions that can be made for them. However, there aren't any definitive rites or rituals to be followed."

"But you know how to do one, right?"

He squints. "I might. I'm not allowed to though."

"Why not?"

"Because there are rules within the church, Kendall. I can't perform an exorcism without the permission of the bishop. He has to bring in psychiatrists and physicians to examine the person in question and approve of a cleansing of the possessed."

I hold my index finger up. "Aha. What if it's not a possession but an oppression?"

"Semantics, Kendall."

I sit in one of the choir chairs. "Loreen says if a spirit is oppressing you, he or she is influencing your actions and behaviors without actually inhabiting your body or possessing you."

He harrumphs. "Loreen again, huh? She sure has a lot to say about everything."

"Loreen's given me tons of good advice. That's why I'm here talking to you. I e-mailed her about what's going on, and she said I needed to get guidance from you."

His mood lightens. "Very well, then. Why don't you tell me exactly what's happening?"

Father Mass sits next to me, and I tell him what's been going on with Courtney since the incident at the Halloween party escalated like it did.

"Oh, that girl. I tried contacting her family afterward. Only, no response."

"Yeah, her."

And like that, his disposition darkens again. "Look, Kendall. If that girl is possessed, we're looking at some nasty business that you and your friends should not get involved in."

"We haven't done anything yet, Father, I promise. But Courtney's messed up and needs help."

He places a finger beneath my chin. "Under no circumstances are you ghost huntresses to attempt an exorcism on your own. Don't fool with that!"

Defending my group, I say, "We don't think it's something demonic; we think it's this Union soldier we've encountered over and over again who just generally seems pissed of fat everything." Ooops. "Sorry about that, Father."

"That's okay. 'Piss' is in the Bible." He pauses a moment. "Kendall, you've got a good head on your shoulders, and you've been taking advice very well. If you need me to intervene and talk to Courtney, I'll do it. But she has to know what's going on first. It has to be her decision."

"I know. That's the tricky part."

"Well, you'll think of something," he says with a devilish smile.

"Loreen said she'd help too."

Father Mass chuckles as he stands up. "It doesn't hurt to have all of your bases covered."

"Thanks, Father. I'll keep you posted."

As I head out of the church, he calls to me. "Kendall. If Courtney truly let a spirit inside her or is allowing it to manipulate her, only she can dispel it."

A moan involuntarily escapes me. "That's what I was afraid of."





The next day at school, my BlackBerry bbbbrrrrrringggs, signaling a text message. From Celia.

>More Courtney oddities.

>Dish

Two seconds later—

>Chk e-mail

Sure enough, there's detailed information from Celia.





From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Langdon Case





Overheard Mr. Preston, the band director, talking to the school nurse, known forward as Witness 1 and Witness 2. Seems C. Langdon was in the band room this morning sitting on a table, playing a brass instrument, thought to be a cornet perhaps. Witness 1 says C. Langdon doesn't actually play a trumpet or cornet that he's aware of. Witness 1 says C. Langdon was playing a "soulful rendition of 'Amazing Grace' and was crying as she was playing." Witness 2 reports that C. Langdon was brought to the office where she complained of having a stomachache. Tums were dispensed and C. Langdon returned to class.

Celia

She is such a dork. But I appreciate the information all the same.

I observe Courtney across the cafeteria. The girl has two trays in front of her and she is shoveling in food as if she hasn't seen a decent meal in months. (Which, considering her daily gastrointestinal pyrotechnics, is probably the case.) This is so not like her well-documented near-bulimic self. My God, there's so much food: Rice and beans. French fries. A cheeseburger with the works. Chocolate cake. Mac 'n' cheese. Carbs, carbs, carbs. There is no way in holy hell that I'm going anywhere near the girls' bathroom after lunch for what's sure to be a puke-fest for the ages.

Later on, in physiology, I'm busy working on our piglet while Courtney stares down at it as if she's hypnotized. And she very well may be.

"Courtney?" I prompt softly. "You okay?"

She hunches her shoulders and then begins scratching under her left armpit. Ewww!

"Damn lice," she mutters in a dark voice. "I've done everything I can to get rid of them"

My mouth gapes as I scrutinize her actions. Others around us turn to look.

I lower my voice. "Courtney, are you telling me you have lice?"

She starts pawing through her long blond hair. "With all of this, the bugs are liable to take root for years. Colonel told all of us to wash good with the lye."

Senses on overload, I'm picking up images of the Union soldier who entered her body at the Halloween party. He's in an encampment, sitting around a fire with other men. He's preoccupied and distracted. He's worried about getting dysentery. The image shifts and disappears as quickly as it came.

Courtney interrupts by saying, "So many of my friends have died from dysentery."

"Really? Like who?"

Picking at the pig with a scalpel, she says, "Mills, Doyle, Clark, and Dolan. Hell, Dolan was just a baby—only nineteen. Didn't deserve to die like that. Had a girl back home. He wrote to her all the time and carried her picture with him. No one ever wrote to me."

This isn't Courtney at all. Sure, physically it's her, but she's not alone in her body. The soldier from the party is with her now! He was the one making her act all weird at the football game. And here he is, right beside me.

Boldly, I take her hand and squeeze hard.

"Courtney. Are you in there?"

The soldier's ominous laugh echoes not only in my head but throughout the science lab. Pain like a steak knife slicing through a piece of meat spreads from one temple to the other. My right eye begins to twitch, and the hand I'm holding pulsates underneath my fingers like the blood is nearly at a boiling point.

"Who are you?" I ask.

No response.

I move closer, leaning to whisper in her ear. "Courtney, is there any way you can reach out to me? Anything. I'll help you. I swear I will, no matter what."

The soldier jerks her hand away, knocking it onto the corner of the lab table and breaking one of her perfect nails.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"I know your game," she growls through clenched teeth. "I know all about you."

While Courtney moves to "adjust" herself with one hand, she nabs a pencil with the other. She tries to write something, but it seems the soldier inside won't allow her to do this. Instead, she reaches for her cell phone, which I doubt the soldier would have the first freakin' clue about. She furiously moves her right hand over the buttons and then turns the phone to face me.

The soldier cackles again in my head, intensifying my pain and the eye twitch.

I slide the phone toward me and hold my breath.

>PLZ SAVE ME!

Courtney is in there. She heard me. And she wants my help.

"I'm on it."