The Spirit House (14 page)

He resisted a little as we neared the spirit house. “Have to understand, Julie. Spirit not so angry at me today, because I give pig brain. But …”

“But what?”

“But not enough. Spirit never really forgive me. I never really be safe—until give spirit Buddha pendant. Because that what I promise. Soon, spirit angry at me again.”

That was something I hadn't realized. It only made me more impressed that Bia had given me the pendant in the first place, and then sacrificed it for Sak.

“But the spirit granted my wishes. Both of them,” I said. “Look, I've got a plan. Take me to the shop where you sold the Buddha pendant. I'll make a deposit, I'll buy it back someday. And then I'll give it back to the spirit”—I took a deep breath—“when I'm in Thailand.”

“You? In Thailand?” Bia stared at me, his mouth open. For once I had really floored him.

“I'll go there. The spirit gave me everything else I wished for. Why shouldn't she bring me to Thailand too? Especially if I promise to give her the pendant there. That's what started the whole thing. That's what she really wants. That will solve your problems with her. Not to mention,
I'll
have a
really
unusual vacation.”

He smiled at me, an open, natural smile, as though he was finally beginning to believe things might be okay after all. “A vacation in Thailand you never forget, Julie,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “I promise you that.”

17

There is a two-note chime as the seat-belt light blinks on. The cabin attendant makes the announcement in Japanese, Thai, and English: “Please fasten your seat belt, and make sure your seat back and tray table are locked in the upright position for our arrival in Bangkok.”

I've been flying for twenty-four hours, awake most of the time. I was so dazed and exhausted when I changed planes in Tokyo that I almost missed the connection. But now my fatigue has melted away like the old makeup I washed off in the bathroom a few minutes ago. I'm bursting with energy and impatience as I peer out the window at the green and brown landscape, the tiny red-roofed buildings. In ten minutes I'll be in Thailand. And I'll see Bia again! It's amazing how much I've missed him.

Though I have to admit I did enjoy having Sak around. He was very different from Bia in some ways, very proper and studious. There was less mystery to him, partly because he wasn't living a lie and partly just because his English was so much better. But there were similarities too—his rare but irresistible smile, his quiet voice, his beautiful manners, his respect for Mom and Dad and the teachers. And once he got over his initial shyness, he surprised us all with a crazy sense of humor. He was always finding something to laugh with us about. I learned a little Thai from him. I can't wait until Bia hears me!

Bia ended up telling Mom and Dad the truth, at my urging. Of course they didn't think the spirit had done anything—
that
was nothing but coincidence! It was true that nothing really impossible had happened. And it actually worked to Bia's advantage that Mom and Dad didn't believe in the spirit. It freed him from any responsibility for Sak's accident, in their eyes. They just thought the ticket had accidentally fallen into his hands and he had rashly used it, believing that Sak couldn't. They were so impressed by what Bia had done to get Sak the money that they forgave him for pretending to be someone he wasn't. Most important of all, they understood why Sak, and his family, must never know who Bia really was.

But there was no way we could pretend to Sak that another Thai boy hadn't been living with us. Even if everyone in the family could have managed to keep Bia's presence a secret—which was doubtful—the other kids and the teachers would certainly have mentioned him to Sak.

The story we told everyone wasn't too distant from the truth: the boy named Bia had taken advantage of Sak's accident and come in his place under his name. But when Sak got well, we said, Bia insisted on going back, out of fairness to the boy we originally intended to sponsor. The school administrators were a little puzzled at first, but all it took was Sak's passport to prove to them that this boy really was Thamrongsak Tan-ngarmtrong, and soon they accepted the situation.

Sak was the most surprised by the story, and we gave him a few more details. We said Bia confessed to us that he had stolen Sak's ticket and papers from the post office in Bangkok, where he worked at night cleaning the floors. “So strange, so strange,” Sak kept saying, shaking his head.

It was fortunate that no one photographed Bia while he was with us, or Sak would certainly have recognized him. But what was most important was that Bia had taken the extra precaution of giving us a false nickname. He didn't know he was going to do it, he said, until he arrived—and then the name
Bia
just popped into his head. His parents, and Sak's parents, will never suspect he used Sak's ticket to come to America. It was a
kamoi
, a thief named Bia, who stole the ticket from the post office—not Kob, who they believed faithfully mailed it.

I'm the only one in our family who knows Bia's real name is Kob. I'm the only one who knows his address in Bangkok. He and I have been writing to each other, but I haven't shown anyone else his letters. And though I've been writing to him as Kob for eight months, I still think of him as Bia.

I studied harder than I ever had before, and I did so well in school that Mom and Dad are rewarding me by giving me a trip to Thailand for the summer. I didn't tell them that was the third wish I made.

And because they're paying for the trip, I was able to buy back the Buddha pendant from the pawnshop with my savings and extra money I earned from baby-sitting and working part-time at the library. I kept going back to check on it, making a payment each time. And luckily, no one else wanted it that whole time. Yesterday I made the final payment, and put it around my neck again. And tomorrow I'll give it to the spirit, as I promised her I would, at the Erewan Shrine, where Bia made his first bargain with her. That will complete the circle.

We're so close to the ground now that I can see the steeply sloped roof of a temple. I can just make out the statues of grimacing demons on the walls, part man, part animal. It hits me how strange and exotic everything is going to be here. I've never been out of the country before. I hope I won't have any problems.

Sak is staying in America for the summer, going to summer school; I'll stay with his family when I'm not traveling around the country. One of his sisters may come with me. They'll all be meeting me at the airport.

And Bia will be with them. We have it all worked out. It'll be a little tricky at first, acting like we don't know each other. But we'll get to be friendly very soon. He's the right age for me, and he speaks English. It's only natural that he and I would start spending time together.

Bia did not just walk out the door of our house and try to make his own way back to Thailand, as he had thought he'd have to do. The day after he told his story I made the first payment on the pendant—and that night Mom and Dad decided to let him use the second half of the ticket. Dad lent him several hundred dollars as well. He promised to pay them back, and he's already sent them more than half of what he owes. He also continues to give money to his parents, so it's not easy for him. But he's doing better now.

Because of the money Dad lent him, he was able to repay his friend Chai. Loyalty to his old friend was not the only reason it was important to pay him back as soon as possible. He also didn't want to have any connection to the shady aspects of Chai's life. Not being indebted to him made it easier for Bia to keep his distance.

And because of the money from Dad, Bia didn't have to return to his old job right away. It turns out that he did work cleaning floors, though in an office building, not the post office. The little he told us about it did give credibility to the story we told Sak.

As soon as Bia got back to Thailand he brought flowers to the spirit at the Erewan Shrine; he put gold leaf on the Buddha there. Then he visited his parents, and Sak's parents too. Because he didn't have to go back to work immediately, he was able to spend some time with them. He was especially helpful to Sak's family.

And—after I'd made the second payment on the pendant—a very lucky thing happened. One of Sak's sisters had just started working as a maid in a hotel in Bangkok. She knew of an opening there, carrying luggage. Bia got the job. He did well. His English had improved after six weeks in America, and of course he had perfect manners. A few months later I made another payment—and Bia wrote that he had been promoted to bell captain. Three weeks ago I made the next to last payment. That's when they gave him a much better job, at the reception desk. He got me a very good rate at the hotel. I'll stay there after I leave Sak's family's house. We'll go sight-seeing together on his days off.

The plane is landing now—and I know that takeoffs and landings are the most dangerous moments of a flight. I reach up to touch the Buddha pendant around my neck.

It's not there.

The plane hits the runway, bounces, and hits again, shuddering. Where is the pendant? I lean forward to look on the floor. Wind screams against the wing flaps. It's got to be here! I can't reach the floor because of the seat belt, so I feel for the pendant on the cushion and in the crack between the seats; I reach into the pocket in front of me. I can't find it.

I'm panicking now. I promised I'd give it to the spirit. Spirits must be stronger here than in America. I think of the grimacing demons I saw on the temple only moments ago. Maybe I packed the pendant in my carry-on bag. But I know I didn't. I remember touching the pendant on my neck when we landed in Tokyo.

But I don't remember touching it when we took off.

I pull my bag out from under the seat in front of me. I check through it frantically, even though I know the pendant won't be there—and it isn't. Did I lose it at the Tokyo airport, where I was so dazed? The thought bites into my stomach. I never did have a chance to get the clasp fixed; it was so loose it could easily have fallen off. And I had promised Bia I would never be careless with it!

The man next to me starts to get up, even though the seat-belt sign is still on. The cabin attendant appears instantly and tells him to sit down. “Excuse me,” I say to her. “Did anybody find a pendant in the bathroom, a gold chain with a jade Buddha? I lost it. Maybe it fell off in there.”

“No. I don't think so,” she says. She pretends to look concerned, her perfect eyebrows moving almost a sixteenth of an inch. “I will ask,” she promises, and moves quickly away, busy and preoccupied. She has more important things to do.

The seat-belt sign goes off. I squeeze down onto my knees and reach under the seat. The pendant isn't on the floor. I push the wrong way against the crowd, into the bathroom; no pendant. It must have fallen off in there, and someone must have taken it. Or else it's in Tokyo.

I'm the last person on the plane now; they'll throw me off in a minute. The heat is sudden and fierce when I step outside. Aching with worry, I follow the other passengers down the steps to the runway. The air shimmers above the pavement. We stand sweating in a crowded bus that rumbles slowly to the terminal. I wait in line to have my passport stamped. I keep telling myself that this isn't a disaster; it just means I'll have to use almost all of my spending money to buy the spirit another pendant.

But that was the one that started the whole thing—the one Bia promised her, the one I promised to give back to her if she brought me to Thailand. That was the one she wanted. And now it's gone. How can I
help
feeling this is ominous? I think of those demons again.

Will Bia be furious? I try to assure myself that he'll be so glad to see me he'll forgive me for this. He'll know what to do; he'll tell me not to worry. Dragging my suitcase, I push through the doors to the outer terminal, where people are waiting. I look through the crowd. There are many Thai people, none of them familiar. Where's Bia? He
must
be with Sak's family.

Then I see Sak's father, his mother, the whole group. His father is holding a piece of cardboard with my name on it, but I would have recognized them anyway from the pictures Sak showed us. Suddenly I feel shy, knowing that none of them speaks English. Communicating with them isn't going to be easy.

They're not smiling, as they were in the photos. Even when I wave at them and they recognize me, their smiles are halfhearted, forced. Clearly something is wrong.

Bia isn't with them.

Acknowledgments

The author wishes to acknowledge

Surachest Chum-Up

Chrea Sek

Lynette Feather-Hatton

for their invaluable help with this book.

About the Author

William Sleator (1945–2011) was an American science fiction author best known for his young adult novels. Raised outside of St. Louis, Missouri, Sleator was the eldest of four children. After graduating from Harvard University with a degree in English, he moved to England for a short time, where he played music for ballet classes and developed the ideas for
Blackbriar
, his first novel. For many years, he was the rehearsal pianist for the Boston Ballet.

Sleator is the author of over thirty books, including
The Angry Moon
, which was awarded the Caldecott Medal and nominated for the National Book Award, as well as the quasi-autobiographical science fiction thrillers:
The Night the Heads Came
,
Others See Us
, and
Oddballs
. In his later years, he split his time between Boston and rural Thailand.