“I’ll sit in the corner and not say anything. Promise!”
I hesitated, wondering how reliable Mindy’s promises were. She might be two months older than my mother, but she still talked like an eleven-year-old. I wondered if ghost children never grew up.
“If you let me hang out, I’ll tell you a secret,” she offered.
“Awkward details from my mother’s childhood? No thanks.”
Mindy shook her head. “It’s something really important. Something you need to know.”
“Okay, I guess.” Mindy knew more about the afterlife than I did. And given Yamaraj’s warnings about dangers and predators, it wouldn’t hurt to learn more. “What’s your big secret?”
“There’s a man watching our house,” she said. “He’s been there for three days.”
* * *
I took the backyard path, the recycling bin trundling behind me. My mother had seemed a little surprised when I’d volunteered to take it out, but she hadn’t argued.
Mindy was walking ahead, checking that the way was clear, but my nerves were jumping. I had no reason to trust Mindy. My mother had never even mentioned her. What if there wasn’t anybody watching the house, and this was some kind of . . . ghost trap?
But what else could I do? Pretend Mindy hadn’t said anything?
“He’s not in the back lane,” Mindy said from the other side of the gate. “He usually parks his car in front of the Andersons’ house.”
“Who are the Andersons?”
“You don’t know our neighbors very well, do you?”
I didn’t answer, pulling open the gate and rattling the bin into its usual spot in the back lane. Ghosts had plenty of free time on their hands, I supposed, and spying on the neighbors was probably more interesting than staring at the walls of my mother’s closet.
With a glance at the house to make sure Mom wasn’t watching, I headed up the lane, staying a good distance behind my ghostly escort. Out here in the daylight, Mindy looked more out of place than she had in my bedroom. It wasn’t just her bold checked shirt and wide 1970s belt. The way the late-afternoon sun played on her looked wrong.
And then I realized it—she had no shadows. Not just the big shadow that should have been rippling along the ground beneath her, but all the little ones in the wrinkles of her clothes were missing. The sunlight didn’t texture her the way it would have a living person.
I’d found a way to spot ghosts, at least in daylight.
From the end of the back lane we could see the car, a black sedan with California plates.
A young man with dark hair sat in the driver’s seat, a tablet computer of some kind propped on the steering wheel. He was reading from it, tapping on the screen, but then his eyes lifted to peer at my house. After a long moment, his gaze fell back to his tablet.
“Crapstick,” I whispered. “You weren’t kidding.”
“I don’t kid about scary men,” Mindy said.
I stood there, willing my heart to slow down. “Can you go see what’s on his screen?”
Mindy looked at the ground, kicking without effect at a dry leaf blowing past. “I’m kind of scared of him. Can you come with me?”
“Um, not invisible. Remember?”
“But you’re a pomp.” She frowned. “Can’t you cross over?”
“You mean, into the afterworld?”
She giggled. “Just call it the flipside. Dork. That’s what you say when you’re walking around up here, and not down in the underworld.”
“Okay, the flipside.” I wondered if I could manage right here in the alley, or if I even wanted to. That meant remembering what had happened at the airport, replaying it all in my mind again. “Maybe.”
Mindy cocked her head at me, wondering if I was kidding. When my expression didn’t change, she held out a hand.
I took it a little hesitantly, and felt the distant tingle of her palm in mine. The cold place inside me responded to her touch, swelling into icy fingers that stretched around my heart. The earth seemed to sink beneath my feet, like when an elevator begins its descent.
It was happening again, right here in my back lane.
I almost dropped Mindy’s hand, but she squeezed tighter—suddenly her small fingers felt real and solid. The cold inside me pulsed and surged, sweeping through my body. It flooded my head and fell across my senses, turning everything gray and quiet.
The afterworld air had its familiar taste, like I was holding a rusty nail under my tongue. The dead leaves stirring around our feet were silent.
“Huh.” My own voice sounded distant in my ears. “It’s not usually that easy.”
“Maybe because you’re new.” Mindy had turned gray, like the rest of the world. “But the man can’t see you now. You’re just like a ghost.”
I looked around, breathing hard. It was strange seeing my own neighborhood turned colorless and flat, like the airport. I realized that Mindy was the opposite of Yamaraj. Her touch had pulled me over to this dead, gray place, while his had sent me back to the world of the living.
I took a few cautious steps. My feet felt numb, as if they’d fallen asleep. When I stamped my bare soles against the asphalt, I felt only a dull ringing in my feet.
I hadn’t noticed any of this the first times I’d crossed over. Maybe I’d been in shock. Or maybe it was different when Yamaraj was there beside me.
“This is weird,” I said.
“Sucks to be dead,” Mindy agreed. Then she saw my expression and added, “Not that you’re dead. You’re just a psychopomp.”
“I think maybe I’m going to use another word. One that’s less . . . psycho.”
She shrugged. “That’s what everyone calls them.”
I looked at the black sedan again. My shaky first steps had taken me out into the road a little, but the man hadn’t looked my way. Of course, the terrorists hadn’t been able to see me at the airport. One had walked straight through me.
But Mindy’s touch had made it seem too easy. “You’re sure I’m invisible?”
Mindy nodded. “Does he look shiny to you? No way can he see the flipside.”
I looked at my own hand. The shine wasn’t as radiant as on Yamaraj’s brown skin, but it was definitely there. My shadow had disappeared completely.