Somewhere along the way, the beach had managed to transition from a misty shroud of white sand and turquoise waters into a desolate, seemingly forgotten, fog-free, patchy-grass graveyard without my even noticing.
A seriously decrepit, seriously old graveyard.
The kind with crumbling tombstones, sunken graves, and creepy-looking trees with cruel, leafless branches that hovered in such a way they looked as though they’d pluck you right off the ground and into their clutches.
The kind of graveyard you see in scary movies.
Only this was no movie, this was the real thing.
I squinted at the tombstone that’d tripped me, searching for a name, a date, something that might mean something to me or provide a clue of some kind. It was so old and crumbly, all I could make out was the vague outline of what might’ve been an angel’s wing, but could’ve just as easily been something else entirely, along with a partial name and date that’d been etched away by the cruel hand of time.
I looked all around, seeing there were more—lots and lots of them. Some similar, some not, some with elaborate markings and angels and crosses and things, some not much more than a sad little stump.
And just as I remembered what Bodhi had said about the Phantom Dog’s penchant for guarding graves and tombs and such, I saw it.
Not the dog.
Not—well, not anything substantial enough for me to really put a label on.
Let’s just say it was more of a shimmer.
A soft, pink-gold shimmer.
And I watched, mesmerized, pretty much spellbound really, as it twirled and danced and flitted and jumped. Bouncing lightly from the head of each grave, gracefully leaping from tree to tree, until it finally landed before me. Hovering in place as I scrambled to my feet and watched in amazement as that glowing ball of energy slowly stretched, and curved, and transformed itself into a pair of eyes, a nose, a mouth, and teeth—
Transformed itself into—me!
It was all there.
All of my features present and accounted for.
Lanky blond hair: Check.
Bright blue eyes: Yep.
Semi-stubby nose: Roger that.
Completely flat chest: Um, unfortunately, yes.
Fussy, overly frilly dress, with way too many sparkles and bows: Wha—?
I was speechless.
Really and truly speechless.
My eyes darting all around, searching for Bodhi and Buttercup, wondering if they were somehow behind it, determined to freak me out, creep me out, and teach me a lesson about making up my own assignments.
But when I turned back to her, er, me, er, it, I started to get really annoyed by the dress. I mean, seriously, one frivolous accent would’ve been more than enough, but to add frills and lace and ruffles and bows and buttons that actually sparkled and shone, well, it clearly amounted to complete and total overkill.
Besides, anyone who knew me knew I wouldn’t be caught dead (literally!) wearing a dress like that. So that meant either Bodhi was seriously determined to get back at me for ignoring his rules, or someone else, someone who obviously didn’t know me at all, had made the mistake of seriously underestimating me.
“Sorry.” She smiled, instantly transforming my features into ones that belonged to someone else, someone who was totally unrecognizable to me.
The hair became brown and curled instead of blond and limp, the eyes a deep hazel instead of bright blue, the nose long and elegant as opposed to, well, the way mine was built, and a chest that bloomed into something a little more substantial than the pathetically flat version I was stuck with.
A chest that bloomed in a way mine never would.
But for some strange reason, she chose to keep the dress, which, had it been me, would’ve been the very first thing I would’ve ditched.