Bridge Over the River Winter
a Beetlejuice fanfic
by
C. "Sparky" Read

Chapter Six

"Yes, this is Delia Deetz...what?" Delia frowned at the phone. "Lydia's what?"

"Lydia's disappeared," Miss Shannon, on the other end, said. "It was during first period. She went outside and did not come back."

"Oh dear." Delia put a hand to her mouth. "You don't suppose she...ran away?"

"I was hoping you might be able to answer that," responded Miss Shannon. "Has there been any trouble at home?"

"Well, not really...although I believe my husband may have been reprimanding her for not coming directly home after school."

"Then that is your culprit," said the headmistress matter-of-factly. "Trust me, Mrs. Deetz, I have worked with young girls for many, many years! They get rebellious when denied their freedom."

"Oh dear," said Delia again. "What should be done?"

"You must discipline her," answered Miss Shannon sternly. "As soon as she returns home, confine her to her room and let her out for nothing but school. She will learn that a little freedom is better than none at all."

"Yes," said Delia flatly. "I suppose you're right. Thank you so much for calling."

"Good day."

Delia hung up. Lydia? Run away? She frowned at the thought. Had Charles really been that stern with her? It was difficult to imagine Charles stern with anyone. Still, it wasn't likely that Lydia might have been snatched from as secure an area as the grounds outside Miss Shannon's school, so she must have run away. Delia sighed. She had until whenever Lydia decided to come home to decide on what to tell Charles. And, to finish decorating for the party, which in Delia's opinion was shaping up rather nicely. The plans she had sketched out were working out wonderfully! This would definitely be a party to die for.

o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Lydia snapped pictures. This place was amazing! The contrast between light and dark, the sharp edges, the tasteful curliques...This was her idea of Subject Heaven.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing down.

Beetlejuice paused in his hunt for airbourne insects to look. "That's the Neitherworld's biggest nightclub," he said. "Wanna go?"

"Um...don't you have to be over 21?"

Beetlejuice had to laugh. "Nah," he said. "no one cares about age here, I mean, when you're dead you're dead."

"But I'm not dead."

"Oh." Beetlejuice thought. "Then, maybe you shouldn't drink anything. But come on, it'll be fun." He took her wrist and they flew down out of the Neitherworld sky and through the nightclub doors.

"Wow," commented Lydia. "This place is really jumping." She had to grab a table to keep from falling over as the building hopped rhythmically up and down.

Beetlejuice nodded. "Yeah, its great." Then he frowned at Lydia.

"What? What's the matter?"

"Your clothes, babes!" Beetlejuice cried. "That private school look has got to go!"

Lydia shrugged helplessly. "Well, I don't have any other clothes with me!"

Beetlejuice stroked his chin and looked around. Finally his gaze rested on the table Lydia clung to. It was covered with a red cloth with a spiderweb design on it. "That's perfect!" he said, and with a wave of his hand, Lydia's uniform was replaced with a black leotard, and the tablecloth swept over her until it became a shroud, draped over her shoulders. Her hair magically tied itself into a gravity-defying topknot.

Lydia looked into a mirrored wall at herself. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "I love it! It's so...gothic!"

Beetlejuice buffed his fingernails on his suit. "Yeah," he said. "If you want to be seen with me, you gotta be ghastly. Come on, babes!" He seized her wrist once again and hauled her into the crowd.

"It's Lydia!" she shouted.

"What?" the ghost shouted back. It was becoming hard to hear over the pounding music.

"My name is Lydia!"

"Oh! Right, Lydia! Hey! Do you want something to eat? This place has got a great spread! Spiders, cockroaches..."

"No thanks!" Lydia took a hold of the ghost's sleeve. She didn't want to risk losing her guide in the tightly-packed throng. "I'd like to take more pictures!"

"You got it!" Beetlejuice continued to pull Lydia along until they were just below the stage where the band was playing. "How about those freaks?"

"Perfect!" Lydia focused her camera on the bizarre members of the band.

The bassist stopped playing and glowered down at the pair. "Hey!" he boomed. "Did someone just call us freaks?"

"Who called us freaks?" asked the lead guitarist, not pausing in his own playing.

"It was dose two, I hoid 'em!" answered the drummer, a skinny, nervous-looking fellow with wild hair. He pointed a drumstick at Beetlejuice and Lydia. "Dey called us freaks!"

The lead guitarist stopped playing when he realized he and the keyboardist were playing all alone. "Hey!" he shouted. "What gives?"

"Um, maybe we'd better go, Beetlejuice," commented Lydia.

Beetlejuice turned around. The crowd had stopped dancing and were shouting angrily at the lack of music. There didn't seem to be an easy way out.

The keyboardist, meanwhile, kept playing.

"Let's squish 'em!" cried the drummer enthusiastically.

"Yeah," agreed the bassist, swinging his guitar over his head like a warclub. "Squish!"

"Um, Beetlejuice..." Lydia backed up into the ghost.

"Hey! Yous two got a problem?" the lead guitarist demanded, leaning over the edge of the stage. "We're tryin' to do a set here!"

The crowd was getting uglier.

The keyboardist played merrily.

"Beetleju - "

The ghost interrupted Lydia swiftly. "One more time, and one or both of us is out of here," he reminded her.

"I don't think that would be such a bad idea!"

"It would be if it were me and not you."

Lydia slumped. He was right. "So what do we do?"

"I'll take care of this." Beetlejuice stepped onto the stage. "One side, Jethro," he told the lead guitarist, taking his instrument and booting him into the crowd.

"Hey!" protested the bassist.

"You'll pay for that!" swore the drummer.

The keyboardist kept playing.

Beetlejuice slung the guitarstrap over his shoulder. "I call this," he began, "A Real Show Stopper." And he slammed out a riff.

Lydia covered her ears. When she uncovered them, the room was silent. For a moment she thought she was deaf, until Beetlejuice spoke.

"Thank you, thank you very much," he was saying to the crowd, which, along with the band members, had become as still as statues.

"How - How did you do that?" Lydia marveled.

Beetlejuice tossed the guitar to the floor of the stage. "I just gave them a little Juice," he explained. "Let's fly."

Lydia thought that was a marvelous idea.