The Bertie Mansion

XII

Caleb explored his new bedroom with delight written on his face. "It's beautiful. Is the furniture all original?"

"As far as I know," Jeremy replied. He sat on a chair turned 180 so he could rest his forearms on its back. "You like it?"

"I love it! Thank you, Jer," Caleb said. He laid down on the bed and sighed against the soft sheets. The mattress was very squishy and he sank so low he almost disappeared into it.

Jeremy ran and leapt onto the bed beside him. "Do I know you or do I know you?"

"You know me," his friend said with a satisfied sigh, nose snuggling into the pillow and eyes fluttering closed. At that moment Rob came into the room and leaned against the doorway.

"Hello," said the ghost.

"Mom sent you up here to keep an eye on us, didn't she?" Jeremy groaned into a second pillow. His glasses frames twisted and dug into his face. "Why does she think we need adult supervision as adults? I'm not a walking disaster anymore."

"This is a good thing. Rob, would you please sit down?" Caleb asked politely.

Rob complied and sat on a nearby desk. "Yes?"

"Are you comfortable telling us your secret? The one that will send you out of here." Caleb had an honest face, ready to listen. He had pulled himself to a sitting position. By contrast, Jeremy stayed lying down. Getting new mattresses had been a great idea.

Rob had his feet on the seat of the chair and he watched his hands as they sat on his knees. His expression was guilty; he had been found out. "You'll never look at me the same way."

"How do you know that?" Caleb questioned, a look of determination taking over his expression. "We want to help you."

Jeremy waved his arms around from his position on the bed. "Hey, I want to help too, but why do I have to say good-bye to him? Can't he stay here?"

Caleb sighed and frowned at him. "I told you. It's not fair on Rob for you to be greedy and keep him here for your own gain. Maybe he has old friends he wishes to see but can't since he's stuck here. And what about when the sun explodes? Does he turn into ghost dust?"

"I didn't really have friends," Rob offered, though it was clear he was tempted to take up Caleb's offer after hearing about his possible demise. "Just acquaintances. And your grandfather, although he's off the list now."

Jeremy sprung out of the bed with a burst of energy and walked out the door, resituating his glasses. "I'm going to find those paintings. They have to be in the attic somewhere."

Two pairs of footsteps followed behind him and he could feel eyes on his back as he lowered the stairs and stomped up them.

"You know it's the right thing to do, Jeremy Findale!" Caleb called after him. "Stop being selfish."

Jeremy shoved through the antiques and searched for the paintings once more, flying through areas with a mighty rage. He was careful not to harm anything, although he wasn't particularly delicate if he didn't need to be. His search brought him to a new part of the attic.

Why did he think bringing his friend up here was a good idea? The distance and time between them had made him forget their differences. At a younger age it didn't matter, but now it did. They were at an age where friends were found through common interests, because otherwise there was nothing to talk about. It wasn't like they could go out in the yard and throw a ball around. Caleb could barely catch. Not that he didn't enjoy having a smart friend, but it was hard with others constantly comparing them.

There was always that someone out-shining him. When it was his brother, he could take out his frustrations through roughhousing. He refused to take it out on Caleb that way, though. He'd rather spend a night on the street, wet and dirty from the rain, too ashamed of himself to find a way home. As he had left Caleb's apartment he had decided not to bother his friend anymore if he could help it.

He was too violent, an outcast of society. He knew that now. And Rob's so-called feeling. What was that about? Had he brought his best friend into danger? What kind of friend did that? He was very selfish too. That could be added to his list of faults.

A terrified scream brought him out of the hunt. There was silence after that, save for some whimpering.

"Caleb? Is that you?" Jeremy was worried. He tried to get back to his friend but as quick as he ran, he felt he couldn't find him fast enough.

Suddenly Caleb came into view. He had managed to grab a hold of the rope hanging from the ceiling and was clinging to it like his life depended on it, his legs curled up to keep his feet off the ground.

Jeremy ventured closer and saw the squirrel staring up at his friend, chittering madly. Small animals didn't usually scare Caleb, but even Jeremy was concerned. He felt around until he got an empty box and threw it down over the squirrel. Then he wrapped his arms around Caleb's waist and carried him to safety, several meters away.

"See? Didn't bite you. You're fine. It's alright," he assured, rubbing his friend's back. Acting protective was his specialty.

Caleb clung on to Jeremy's shirt and buried his head in his shoulder. His entire body was shaking. "I was trying to help find your paintings, and I found these ones and I was looking at them, but the squirrel found me. I don't know what's wrong with it, just that I probably shouldn't let it touch me."

Jeremy sighed, negative feelings washing away. He felt like a bit of an idiot. Everyone had their strengths and he shouldn't fall prey to jealousy. He had to be strong in that aspect. Being strong came in handy.

"I've got you now," he said. "I'm right here."

The squirrel squawked in outrage but couldn't figure out how to escape.