Kylie dropped her head on her knees and moaned. "See, I knew you would say that." Socks came running over as if to check on her.
Holiday put her hand on top of Kylie's head. "When one door closes, find another."
Kylie gazed back up. "And what if there isn't another door?"
"Then you try the window."
"And if there's not a window?" Kylie asked.
"Then you find a sledgehammer and make a window. Life isn't supposed to be easy. Generally speaking, the harder something is the more rewarding the results will be."
"But what if I fail?" Kylie asked. "What if someone is stabbed to death because I wasn't smart enough to find the right answers? I've done what you said and asked specific questions and all the ghost ever does is repeat the warning. She just keeps saying, 'This will happen to someone else,' if I don't stop it. She won't tell me who, when, or where. How the heck am I supposed to find those answers?"
"How do you know someone will be stabbed?" Holiday asked.
"Because she's bleeding profusely and it looks like her gown has been sliced and diced. Bullet holes are round."
"You've seen a bullet hole?" Holiday asked.
"On television."
Holiday bit back a grin. "Okay, I see where you might think it's about a stabbing, and she could be trying to tell you that, but remember when Daniel first came to you, you thought he'd been wrongly accused of a war crime."
Kylie slumped back on her pillow. "I suck at this."
"At what?" Holiday asked. "Communicating with ghosts? I told you, they're the ones who need a refresher course in getting their messages across."
"Not just the ghosts," Kylie said. "Everything. I suck at not being human."
"Not true." Holiday bumped Kylie with her shoulder. "You've done better than I ever thought you would."
Kylie cut her eyes up to the camp leader. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
Holiday chuckled. "Yeah, it is." She paused. "Hey, if it makes you feel any better, sometimes I'm pretty sure I suck at everything, too."
Kylie stared at Holiday and saw a touch of regret flickering in the depth of her eyes. "Do any of those things involve Burnett?"
"That is a subject I think I'll pass on right now." Holiday let go of a deep breath that hinted at frustration and Kylie felt certain it was all about Burnett.
Kylie remembered telling Miranda she shouldn't ask her about relationships, but for some reason Kylie couldn't stop herself from speaking up now. "Della was right tonight when she said you seemed to care about him."
Holiday twisted her ponytail in a tight knot. "I care about world peace.
I care about the mangled moral compasses of today's politicians. I care about all the innocent creatures pancaked on that stretch of road two miles past our camp. Point is, I care about a lot of things, and my caring isn't going to change a thing-especially not a relationship between myself and that stubborn, egotistical, macho vampire."
"You're attracted to him," Kylie said. "And don't try to deny it. You've even admitted that much to me."
"Okay, I won't deny that. He's got that whole hard body, vampire
magnetism going for him. But when I was young, I had a crush on Big Bird.
That wouldn't have worked out either."
"Big Bird. Really?" Kylie asked. "It was the Cookie Monster for me."
They both laughed, and then Kylie added in a serious tone, "It could work if you wanted it bad enough."
"I haven't got that much patience."
"Hmm," Kylie said. "Some very smart person just told me that the harder something is the more rewarding the results will be."
Holiday studied Kylie. "Do you really not have enough worries of your own to chew on that you want to take on my issues, too?"
"Everyone else's seems easier than mine." Kylie smiled.
"Ever heard that saying about the grass always looks greener on the other side? Well, it's the same way with problems. We all have our hurdles to overcome. So why don't you solve yours and let me take care of mine?" Holiday brushed a lock of Kylie's hair behind her ear. "But thank you for caring."
Holiday smiled and Kylie once again felt the bond between them inch closer. Kylie had long wondered what it would be like to have an older sister. She couldn't help but think this was as close as she'd ever get to that type of relationship.
Holiday studied Kylie and her eyebrows twitched. Kylie knew Holiday was testing to see if Kylie had opened up the doors of her mind. The first day at camp, Kylie had learned that supernaturals had the ability to read brain patterns. Supernaturals also allowed other supernaturals to read deeper, to get a glimpse of who and what they were.
Not Kylie, of course. The only brain pattern she'd been able to see had been that of the ghost of her real dad. And while other supernaturals could see Kylie's brain pattern, she had yet to learn to open up to let anyone get a deeper glimpse.
"Are you doing the mental exercises I told you to do?" Holiday asked. "Yes," Kylie said, and watched the camp leader's brow crease. At least twenty minutes a day, Kylie was supposed to meditate. But so far it hadn't helped, or at least if it had, no one had told her.
"Anything?" Kylie asked, not wanting to be the odd duck anymore.
"No. You're still tight as a drum. Any luck reading anyone?"
"No. Maybe I'm a supernatural retard."
Holiday rolled her eyes. "If anything I think it's just the opposite. I think your brain is holding off giving you your powers until it thinks you're capable and mature enough to deal with them."
"Are you calling me immature?" Kylie made her point and stuck out her tongue.
"Not immature." Holiday chuckled. "I think you're wiser than a lot of girls your age." Her expression went serious again. "But that doesn't mean that you haven't got a lot to learn." Holiday stood up. "Do you think you can sleep now?"
"Maybe," Kylie said, but deep down, she doubted it.
Holiday got to the door, then turned back. "Oh, about the ghost problems.
If she doesn't give you anything to work with the next time she shows up, tell her you're going to shut her out until she offers something more concrete. Then do it. If she doesn't give you something different, change channels on her. Nothing ticks off a ghost more than being ignored.