It is time for yet another chapter for this story. And that means more bonding for our protagonists. I hope that you enjoy what I have in mind for this chapter.
"What's the Netherworld like?" asked Lydia.
Betelgeuse smirked at her. She never gave up. Once his girl found something that interested her, apparently nothing could distract her for long. Of course, since he also seemed to interest her, he felt rather all right with that trait.
"You've asked that before, Lyds," he said. "Remember?"
"So? I doubt you've told me everything."
Leaning back, he nodded lazily. Bringing Lydia up on the roof involved dodging the attention of her parents and ghosts, flattening a section of the shingles so the angle wasn't as dangerously steep to sit on, floating her up from the window to his prepared perch on the roof, and warming the area around her to combat the chill of October, but it made her smile to sit up there staring at the stars that shone out of the darkness. And even if he would never figure out why, he liked seeing Lydia smile. So a little power to make sure she didn't freeze or fall and break her neck didn't even faze him.
"All right, Babes. What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
That answer made Betelgeuse grin. He chuckled and twirled his unlit cigarette between his fingers, her hungry look for knowledge making her seem more alive and cheerful than he could have ever imagined when they first met. Lydia certainly knew what she wanted and would never stop looking.
"Let's see," he said casually. 'What would be the most interesting stuff about the place?"
Popping the cigarette in his mouth finally, he flicked his thumb like a lighter and summoned a small flame. One he lit the cigarette, he cut off the power to extinguish his thumb. When he blew out a smoke ring that looked more like a coiled snake, he saw Lydia roll her eyes.
Betelgeuse described carefully, "Maps don't really work for the Netherworld. Geography, geometry, physics, and all those other topics they teach you at your school just don't really work the same. Things can overlap each other, occupying the same space from different angles. Things can be bigger on the inside than the outside. Almost nothing has ninety degree angles or real straight lines. If it looks straight, it is probably an optical illusion. There are lots more curves, coils and impossible angles. Put all that together and there's no possible way to sketch it out on a flat sheet of paper. And trying to think about it and figure out how it fits together will probably make your brain melt out your ears."
That visual image made her chuckle a little and he smirked in return. He blew a little more smoke before running a hand through his hair.
"Honestly, I really don't know what to tell you. That place isn't that great. And when you're stuck there with no way out, it feels pretty small and you get bored fast."
"And you hate boredom," said Lydia. "So what have you been up to? You keep vanishing. Avoiding boredom out here?"
He gave a short nod. She'd left him out for a couple weeks and he took full advantage of it. Betelgeuse spread around a lot of business cards, charmed a couple of drunk women desperate for a good time, and explored some of the neighboring towns. He enjoyed his freedom and refused to squander it completely. But he made certain to wander back to Winter River every couple of days or so. And Betelgeuse made sure to show up for the movie nights, watching "Psycho" and "The Omen" with his girl when they played them on the big screen.
"Something like that, Babes. Mostly spreading my name around and enjoying myself," he said.
"Enjoying yourself, huh? Alone or with company?" asked Lydia, raising an eyebrow.
Chuckling lightly, he said, "You know me so well. Yeah, I found a few breathing ladies who don't notice a missing pulse. The living can be so oblivious, Lyds. Especially when drunk. A guy could get used to this."
Lydia started to roll her eyes again, but broke into a brief coughing fit halfway through. Betelgeuse watched carefully so she didn't cough herself off the roof, though it didn't seem bad enough for that to be an issue. Honestly, it wasn't something he generally worried about for himself anymore. Breathing wasn't a necessity for the dead like it was for the living. It was more of a habit and useful for talking.
"Sorry," she said when the coughing died down. "Can you put out the cigarette? The smoke keeps going in my face and it's bugging me."
Twisting it between his fingers, he said, "It isn't bad for your health like normal ones. It won't hurt the living."
"Doesn't mean I want to keep breathing it," she muttered.
She would've never (metaphorically) survived as Juno's assistant. A little flick of power to extinguish the cigarette and Betelgeuse tucked it back in his pocket for later. It was better than having her hack up her lungs all night.
"So anything good coming up? Maybe another decent movie or maybe those girls at your school need another scare?"
Shrugging a little, Lydia said, "Well, Tuesday is my birthday. Barbara is baking a cake and Delia is talking about making a fancy dinner for the occasion, so I'll be busy that day. But any other day, I'm free to do whatever you want. And the movie on Friday is 'Poltergeist.' I'm sure you'll love talking about what a bunch of amateurs they are."
"Wait, your birthday? So you're turning…"
"Thirteen," she said. "A few days and I'll officially be a teenager."
The child was growing up. His girl was getting older, but still a child. She was just getting into that muddled area between childhood and being an adult, where it was even harder to guess ages, even for the living. She was reaching the point where boys and men started noticing. Lydia would need someone to keep an eye out and make sure she enjoyed the rest of her childhood without some other creep going after her. One underaged proposal by an older guy was enough.
Of course, the fact she was getting older meant something else too. Betelguese had picked up enough over the centuries to know that the living tended to make a big deal over birthdays now. He couldn't even remember when his birthday might have once been, but Lydia probably still thought birthdays were important. She mentioned it casually, but she probably did care about marking the passage of time. She was young and the novelty of surviving another year hadn't worn off. They liked celebrating birthdays with gifts. Gifts of what they wanted most.
Betelgeuse tucked an idea away for later. It would take time to arrange and make sure his girl would be fine. He didn't want her to get hurt by something intended to make Lydia smile. And he was almost certain it would bend some rules or more likely shatter them. But it would be fun. He would get to make his girl happy and do something that would infuriate Juno if she ever found out. What could be more amusing than that?
"Thirteen," he muttered. "I bet Chuck loves that. His baby girl growing up and everything."
"He lives in a continuous state of stress, so this doesn't really change much. Though Delia's occasional story about what she did as a teenager does make his eye twitch sometimes."
"Sounds fun. You still sure you want me to leave them alone? Messing with those two some more could be amusing. Maybe just a little?"
"No, Beej. One poltergeist haunting is enough. Another encounter with you would probably be too much for them to handle."
Chuckling in agreement, he said, "Good thing you don't take after them. Otherwise you would be dull and wouldn't get along with me as well as you do."
She was silent for a moment, shifting in place. The girl stared up at the stars with a distant expression while rubbing her arms absently. She wasn't cold. He'd made certain the weather wouldn't affect her. This was something else.
"I always took after Mom more than I did Dad," she said quietly. "We look a lot alike and most people said we acted like each other sometimes. She wasn't as high-strung as Dad and was pretty fun. She was smart, patient, and nice. And I think she might have seen ghosts too." Lydia glanced towards him briefly and added, "I think she could have handled you too."
There was that sensitive topic again. Betelgeuse remembered how the only way that spiteful blonde managed to bother his Lydia was by bringing up her mother. It hurt her. He refused to pry then. But she was the one bringing it up this time.
Since Lydia was the one broaching the subject, how much should he poke at it? Self-control wasn't his specialty. And unlike before, he felt curious. He wanted to keep learning more about his girl and that included wondering about her missing mother situation. It was a missing puzzle piece to the jigsaw of his girl.
But he also didn't want to hurt Lydia. The very idea of it made the pit of his stomach squirm like it was filled with writhing maggots. And not even the tasty kind. He still didn't understand where these impulses were coming from, but they weren't going away. So he wasn't sure how far he could push.
Diving in and hoping for the best, he said, "Sounds like she was an interesting woman. Might have been nice to meet an older version of you. Though she probably would have kicked me out of the house for trying to make a deal with you."
A ghost of a smile briefly crossed her face, but there was plenty of buried loss behind it. Gone or dead? Abandonment or deceased? He could ask. She might even answer. But not tonight. He wouldn't pry further tonight. She needed a distraction and he could do with something more fun to think about. Things were getting too serious for his taste.
"Speaking of deals, did I tell you about when this weird guy named Howard Phillips Lovecraft managed to call me up?" he said. "It was around eighty years ago, give or take a few decades. He was a writer or wanted to be one. I don't remember the details. But he was looking for inspiration and doing research, which led to him summoning yours truly. He asked for a little help after he got past the shock of me appearing in front of him. He asked to be inspired."
She stared at him with an expression somewhere between surprise, horror, and amusement. One hand covered her mouth as Lydia struggled not to break out into giggles. That was better than her sadder look previously.
"You didn't."
"He seemed to have some real issues with seafood," he said with a grin.
That broke her willpower. Lydia started laughing hard, her whole body shaking with it. His girl actually started sliding towards the edge of the flattened section of the roof. Betelgeuse grabbed her shoulder to steady her and keep Lydia from falling. A tumble over the edge would break something important on her. Like her leg. Or her neck.
"You… You helped Lovecraft write his books?" she managed to ask between her laughter. "You're responsible?"
"Hey, he already had plenty of talent and creepy ideas. Not as interesting as that Poe guy that I heard about, but he wasn't a complete loser. I just gave him a few extra nightmares."
"You're terrible," she said, still chuckling.
Tilting his head with a proud expression plastered on his face, Betelgeuse said, "Ghost With The Most, Babes."
Lydia started writing a journal years ago when she was just starting to appreciate the wonders of the written word. She wrote sporadically, so she hadn't filled the thick pages completely yet. Days, weeks, or even months might pass between small entries that barely took a dozen words. Over time, she sketched on the cover and made her journal more personalized. She poured a lot of her personality and thoughts into the thing over the years. And when she moved to Winter River, her life became eventful enough to warrant longer and more frequent journal entries.
She pulled the book out from behind the radiator where she hid it. Recently, keeping a journal had become a bit more entertaining. She'd turned it into a bit of a scavenger hunt for the poltergeist, moving it all over the room to make it more of a challenge for him to find it. Betelgeuse's presence also made it more fun to reread her past entries.
Talked to Barbara and Adam finally about Betelgeuse showing up in my mirror a little while ago. As I predicted, they weren't exactly happy about him being around. Can't completely blame them for the reaction. They wanted to charge straight to Juno and tell her. It took a little while to talk them down.
After convincing them not to tell their caseworker, I had to explain that I honestly think he's sorry about the almost wedding. That was a little trickier, but I did it. I considered calling him up to help support my story about him not actually knowing my age at the time, but I knew it would probably make things worse and more complicated.
They still weren't happy about him, but they trust my judgment to an extent. Which is part of the reason they're awesome ghost godparents as far as I'm concerned. Talking them into not telling Dad or Delia wasn't quite as tough. I just pointed out that neither of them would react well to the news and Dad would probably give himself a heart attack out of stress. Of course, Delia might just try to turn him into her new muse, which would be scary to imagine in an entirely different way than Betelgeuse seems to prefer.
But anyway, they promised to not tell anyone as long as I promised to tell them the moment he tried to do anything inappropriate (after banishing him if possible). Then they gave me a hug and asked me to be careful.
I'll probably still try to keep him out of the house as much as possible. It wouldn't be good if he managed to freak all of them out with his usual behavior before I have a chance to make sure that my theory is right.
I have no interest in getting shanghaied by your step-mom to be her muse. Granted, she wasn't half-bad looking, though the brunette in the attic is pretty decent in the flower dress too…
Stop writing in my journal, Beej. And stop commenting on Delia and Barbara. That's my step-mom and sort-of godmother. Do you know how creepy that is for me?
I can't help it that both of them are attractive, Babes.
They're married. And stop writing in my journal.
I can be patient. And what theory are you talking about?
Stop writing in my journal.
You keep responding, Lyds, so I got to keep it up. What theory?
The one that you're not as bad as you seem.
…You repeat that idea to anyone and I'll leave your bed on roof next time I visit. I have a reputation to maintain.
Whatever you say, Beej.
Yeah, it was probably best to just accept that privacy was a thing of the past. But this was actually pretty funny.
Lydia smiled and turned to the next entry in her journal. This one was from a few days after the previous one. This one dealt with the start of their ongoing movie nights.
Well, after some minor misunderstandings about what I was asking, Betelgeuse agreed to go to the movies with me. They play classic horror movies at the theater at this time of the year and I thought it would be fun.
So we ended up watching "The Exorcist." Beej has probably seen it more times than I can count. But he spent most of the movie laughing and didn't mess with the rest of the audience. Which is a good sign. We didn't have popcorn since I ate dinner before the show, but it was a good evening. I think we both had fun.
After the movie was over, we walked back towards home. And we sort of chatted. I pointed out the constellation Orion to him and he suggested I get a warmer jacket. He even mentioned that if I couldn't find one I like, I should make one. His comment about the Industrial Revolution and how casually he mentioned it really drives home exactly how old he is. Beej has been a ghost for a long time.
A really interesting fact is how the chilly weather started feeling warmer on the way home. It happened almost like magic. Funny, huh?
What can I say? The weather can be temperamental. And "The Exorcist" is one of my favorite movies. Lots of good ideas for haunting and hilarious stuff if you like a good comedy. We've got to do that again sometime, Lyds.
They have another horror movie this week too. They're playing "Psycho."
Perfect. I remember when that movie showed up in theaters the first time. It really messed with people. Though "The Shining" is more fun.
They're saving that one for the Halloween marathon. But if you want to watch "Psycho," we can go. Alfred Hitchcock could definitely do suspenseful storytelling.
He wasn't bad for a guy with a pulse and no powers. So yeah, I wouldn't mind watching it with you. Just bring a jacket this time. The weather might not be as cooperative.
I'll keep that in mind, Beej.
Lydia shook her head ruefully and closed her journal. If she didn't know better, she would call the poltergeist a mother hen over his worrying about the weather. A little cold wouldn't be the end of the world.
Movie night was certainly turning into a fun tradition. They both had pretty similar taste in films and sometimes they ended up with some pretty interesting conversations afterwards. Betelgeuse felt the movie would have been better if Norman Bates' mother was literally haunting him. Lydia did her best to explain why most people didn't consider Damian surviving the film to be a happy ending, though she was half-convince Betelgeuse was just messing with her with his "imagine the fun an Anti-Christ kid would cause" spiel. And then there was the debate they had on whether seeing something scary directly or only getting hints was more effective a making people freak out.
The only thing that left her unsatisfied was the knowledge it would soon end. Once the Halloween marathon ended, there would be no more classic horror movies for a year. She knew they would have to find something else to do then. It wasn't like they could watch movies at home. If Dad and Delia didn't notice, Barbara and Adam certainly would. And that would lead to an evening of awkwardness instead of laughing at people on screen who didn't have any common sense in an emergency situation. Basically, she and Betelgeuse would have to find something else to do once Halloween passed.
Of course, that all assumed that he wouldn't get bored of her and move on to someone or something more interesting. Quite some time would have passed by that point. And yet Lydia felt confident that even with his dislike of boredom, Betelgeuse would stay around. Whether because of his inexplicable obsession that neither of them could explain or because he actually enjoyed her company, he would stay. He would stick around and that meant she would need to figure out a new way to keep him entertained. Otherwise he might decide to start tormenting Claire and her cronies for fun.
Lydia briefly entertained the idea, imagining what the poltergeist might do. Then she rejected it. Not even Claire deserved Betelgeuse's full attention. And it wouldn't be fair to treat him as a weaponized ghostly haunting to turn loose on anyone who vexed her.
"Lydia," called Barbara, the no-longer-soundproofed walls letting her voice carry. "Dinner is about ready."
"Give me a minute," she called back.
Taking a moment to slip her journal under her pillow for later, Lydia headed downstairs towards the dining room table. Delia brought out her baked chicken while Dad carried a bowl of sautéed red potatoes. Adam finished setting the table just as Lydia arrived. She didn't see Barbara, but she was probably putting the finishing touches on the cake she'd planned.
"Happy birthday, Pumpkin," greeted her father. "How does it feel to be thirteen?"
"So far, a lot like being twelve. Though the fact they didn't give us homework today was pretty nice."
"Don't worry," Delia said, carrying in the dinner rolls. "You'll see the difference between being a child and being a teenager soon. Before you know it, you'll have dozens of boys following you around. I know that happened to me when I was not much older than you."
Charles grimaced at the picture that his wife was painting with her words. Lydia rolled her eyes instead. Leave it to Delia to turn this into something about herself, however inadvertently. She was trying, but she still needed work. Not to mention the comment about dating. The woman was borderline delusional with that one.
"Considering the fact that girls and boys go to different schools on the opposite sides of the town, I don't think they'll be beating down the door anytime soon," she said.
"That never stopped me and Adam," remarked Barbara as she entered the dining room. "But that doesn't mean you should be in such a hurry. There's plenty of time to find someone."
With that particular piece of advice, everyone settled down in their seats. Technically, Barbara and Adam didn't need to eat. They wouldn't starve and they didn't really feel hunger. But they liked to eat. They enjoyed food and some habits from being alive remained even now. So when there was a family dinner, the entire family participated. Living and dead.
"I'm surprised you didn't invite one of your friends from school to come over this evening. It is your birthday dinner," said her father as he cut a piece of chicken.
Peering over the edge of his glasses, Adam said, "You do remember most people won't see us."
"Oh… yes… That might be a little awkward to explain," he said sheepishly.
"And I don't have a lot of close friends to choose from," said Lydia, taking a bite of her potatoes.
Barbara might be the undisputed champion of baking in the household, but Delia wasn't useless in the kitchen. Her potatoes were succulent, her chicken was seasoned to perfection, and the dinner rolls were fluffy and warm. Any of her rich and eccentric friends would adore the menu. The only thing missing were the additional courses required for dinner parties.
"What about that friend of yours that you've been spending all your time with recently?" Delia asked. "The one you've been watching movies with every week?"
Lydia froze briefly in surprise. Delia noticed? Of all the times for the woman to gain observation skills, she chose now? Lydia did her best to adopt a neutral expression while Barbara and Adam exchanged uneasy looks. They could at least guess who the culprit might be. And while they promised to keep quiet, they weren't completely happy. But they could recognize that Lydia was on the edge of a minefield.
"That's different. We just hang out sometimes. And he's not exactly someone you want over for dinner," she said carefully.
"He? You've been going out with a boy?" said Delia with a bright smile, pouncing on the slip of the tongue like a tiger. "What's his name? What's he like?"
Correction. Lydia was trapped in the dead center of a minefield. Her dad and step-mother were too focused on the girl to notice the worried expressions on the resident ghosts. Not that Adam and Barbara would be much help navigating her way out. She was stuck. Dad and Delia were paying attention and taking an interest in her life, just like she always wanted. But this time, Lydia desperately wished that something would distract them away from her. How's that for irony?
"His name is Beej," Lydia said, trying to avoid lying as much as possible. "He likes horror movies, he's kind of funny, and he's pretty good about listening to me. He's also rude, can hold a grudge, and causes a lot of trouble wherever he goes."
"What's Beej short for?" her father asked, reaching for a dinner roll.
Forced into a corner and having to tell a slight lie, she said, "Benjamin. But it is better to call him 'Beej.' I think he prefers it to calling him by his actual name."
"So Lydia is dating a bad boy," said Delia with a pleased smile. "This is so exciting."
Barbara looked furious while Adam looked like he was choking on his glass of water. Lydia just felt like burying her face in her hands with a groan. If Delia had any clue who they were talking about, she would certainly change her tune. It wasn't like she cheered Lydia down the aisle when the poltergeist tried to marry the girl. But she didn't know. Dad and Delia didn't know the truth and everyone else just felt horrified by the implications.
"We're not dating. Honest. We just get along and like the same movies. Besides, he's too old for me to date anyway."
"An older bad boy," cheered the woman. "How fascinating and mysterious. You're going to have so much fun going out with him."
Charles narrowed his eyes suspiciously and asked, "How old exactly are we talking, Pumpkin?"
"I don't know exactly. I didn't do the math. But thanks to the age difference, neither of us are interested in dating each other. Ever."
"You wouldn't be protesting this strongly if there wasn't something there," said Delia coyly.
"We're just friends," Lydia said. "That's it."
Huh. That's the first time she ever called him that, even in her own head. And she realized that she was telling the truth. Other than the Maitlands who were more like family, the insane poltergeist that once tired to forcibly marry her was the closest thing she had to a friend. And somehow that didn't bother Lydia nearly as much as she would have thought. There were certainly worse people.
"You say that now, but just wait," said Delia.
All right. If her step-mother refused to drop the subject, Lydia would break out the heavy ammunition. She knew exactly how to derail Delia's attempt to discuss the topic of dating. It would increase the awkwardness, but it would work.
"Since I almost got married to a dead guy a couple months ago, it is probably safe to say I'm not interested in dating anyone right now."
And with that reminder of that chaotic night, all conversation died and they were left eating in silence. Betelgeuse certainly left an impression. Barbara and Adam shot Lydia meaningful looks, but she simply shrugged. Just because she forgave him for the misunderstanding didn't mean she wouldn't use it to escape Delia's mental matchmaking. Desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.
As the meal came to an end and the weird mood began to fade, Barbara and Adam vanished into the kitchen. Adam came out first carrying a pair of presents balanced in his arms. One would be from him and his wife while the other was from Dad and Delia. And a moment later, Barbara walked out with the cake.
Lydia studied the cake as everyone began to sing. It wasn't fancy or professional. The cake was a simple rectangle covered in purple frosting. In red icing, Barbara had carefully wrote out "Happy 13th Birthday, Lydia." And while some people might have drawn flowers, this cake was covered in black spiders, cats, and bats constructed out of icing to better suit the girl. The thirteen red candles just added the final touch. Lydia smiled at the delicious creation; Barbara really outdid herself.
As the song wound to a close, Lydia tried to think of a wish. Compared to a year ago in New York City, she really didn't have a lot to ask for. She finally settled for wishing that things would continue to go smoothly for a while and blew out her candles.
And so Lydia is now officially a teenager. Good for her. She slowly growing up.
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