“Baby? Who called you a baby?” my dad asked, slipping his hands into his front pockets and shooting me a serious look.
Then before I could answer, as if on the worst kind of cue, my grandparents appeared. My grandma took one look at me and cooed, “Aw, now there’s my baby girl!”
I scowled.
Like, seriously, scowled.
I mean, yeah, I was happy to see them. Yeah, I’d missed them while I was out ushering all those lost souls across the bridge. Heck, I’d even found myself mentally rehearsing the stories I’d planned to share with them later. And I fully admit that deep down inside, I even appreciated the fact that they cared enough about me to go through the charade of pretending they lived there.
Problem was, I knew better.
I knew they had other, better places to be.
I’d seen the footage. Watched the whole thing back when I was forced to go through my completely humiliating life review when I first arrived Here.
I’d seen my dad jamming with a group of musicians—rockin’ out to his favorite old tunes.
I’d seen my mom in a paint-splattered smock—creating a masterpiece that back on the earth plane would’ve been good enough for any museum wall.
I’d seen my grandmother caring for the tiny babies that departed the earth plane too early.
I’d seen my grandfather, who’d always seemed so old and serious in all of his photos, whooping and hollering as he surfed a fifty-foot wave.
They were all enjoying their soul work—or at least that’s how the Council explained it. Everyone had a job to do Here, and as much as I was beginning to enjoy mine, it was also becoming uncomfortably clear that it was all that I had.
If I wasn’t out catching lost souls, I had no idea what to do with myself.
My grandmother sprang toward me, ruffled my hair in that way that she had. Wasting no time in leaving a pink-colored lipstick stain right smack on my cheek.
And when she started to go on about my being her “baby girl” yet again, my dad was quick to jump in and say, “Riley’s no baby. Hasn’t been for a very long time now, right, kiddo?”
Um, yeah.
Whatever.
I’d gone from baby to kiddo in just a handful of seconds. And while I guess it was progress, it really wasn’t the kind of progress I was after.
All I wanted, all I ever, truly wanted, was to be thirteen. That’s. It.
And the only way I could think to achieve that was to excel at my job. To catch so many wayward ghosts that I’d end up glowing so bright the Council would have no choice but to bump up my age—along with the physical changes that go along with it.
And while I wasn’t exactly sure that this was how it worked, it really did seem to make the most sense.
Bodhi had told me there were many levels to this place. That my pale green glow clearly marked me as a member of the level 1.5 team.
He also said that each new color got you to a new level, and that each new level was better than the one that went before. If I kept up the good work, he assured me I’d be transcending that level and color in no time.
And there was no doubt I was transcending. Since my time in the Caribbean, my glow had grown even deeper.
But now, thanks to the Council, I had no immediate ghosts to cross over.
No way to glow myself into being a teenager.
This forced vacation was holding me back.
“You know, I think you’re right!” my grandma said, exchanging a quick look with my dad—one they’d convinced themselves that I’d missed. “Riley’s no baby at all! And would you look at that glow!”
She was placating me. There was no getting around it. But she also loved me, wanted the best for me. There was no getting around that either.