Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life Read online

  “It is simple,” she replies. “We are here to help others.”

  Bobby looks up. “Then what are the others here for?”

  “Hush, child,” she says, playfully tapping him on the head with the comb. “The things that come out of your mouth!”

  Lizzy laughs, but I actually thought it was a valid question. Could it really be that simple? If everyone helped everyone, there would be world peace. Maybe it is that simple. Somehow though, I don’t think that’s quite right. I’m all for people helping each other, but that seems more like a good idea, rather than the reason we’re here in the first place.

  Even though it’s not that hot out today, I’m feeling sweaty and sticky. When was the last time I showered?

  I thank Mrs. Sanchez and follow Lizzy up to the twins’ apartment. Samantha opens the door, dressed in black from head to toe. “To get in the right mood,” she explains when she sees us checking out her outfit. Even her eyes are rimmed in black.

  Suddenly a lightbulb goes off in my brain. “Hey, eyeliner! That’s what eyeliner is!”

  Samantha gives me a strange look, and Lizzy kicks me in the shin. I’m trying to figure out the most important questions in all of humanity, and my biggest breakthrough is about girls’ makeup? I am truly pathetic.

  “Come on,” Samantha says, leading us down the hall. have the Ouija board set up in the living room.” Without turning around, she says, “Why do I smell peanut butter?”

  I do a quick underarm check. Yup, it’s me. I really ought to keep up with my showering schedule better.

  Rick is waiting for us. He is not in black. He is, however, wearing a cape. “Don’t ask,” he says. “Samantha made me. She said if I didn’t wear it and we couldn’t contact your father, it would be all my fault. Too much pressure, so I’m wearing it. It’s from an old Halloween costume. It’s not like I just happened to have a cape handy.”

  This is the longest speech Rick has ever said to me. And it didn’t even have anything obnoxious in it. Maybe Lizzy was right about him.

  The curtains have all been pulled, and Samantha switches off the lights before sitting cross-legged on the rug. You’d never know it was daylight outside. Lizzy, Rick, and I join her on the floor. The Ouija board is set up in the middle. That little plastic pointer thing is resting in the corner of the board. I haven’t used a Ouija board since my sixth-grade lab partner’s birthday party. We were trying to contact the spirit of George Washington, because he was the only dead person we could agree on. Everyone accused everyone else of cheating and pushing the pointy thing. Two kids went home crying. I hope this ends better.

  “We are ready to begin,” Samantha says in a hushed tone. “Everyone join hands.” Reluctantly, I take Rick’s hand on one side, and Samantha’s on the other. “We are going to call upon the spirit of—” Out of the corner of her mouth she whispers, “What’s your dad’s name?”

  “Daniel Fink,” I whisper back.

  “We are going to call on the spirit of Daniel Fink,” Samantha continues. “Mr. Fink, if you can hear the sound of my voice, please send us a sign.”

  I can hear the sound of my own breathing, along with faint sounds of traffic. A horn honks outside, and Samantha says, “Thank you! We will take that as a sign of your presence and your willingness to speak with us.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but Lizzy shoots me a look from across the Ouija board. Samantha lets go of my hand, so I let go of Rick’s. He and Lizzy keep holding hands until I clear my throat, and she hastily drops his.

  “Okay, everyone,” Samantha says. “Now gently lay the first two fingers of your right hand on the pointer.”

  We all lean a little closer to the board and do as she says. She closes her eyes and begins to sway slightly from side to side. “O great spirit of Daniel Fink, we call upon you to answer our plea. Please tell us where we can find the keys to the box you left for Jeremy.”

  For a few minutes, nothing happens. It’s more difficult than one might think to keep your hand resting lightly on a piece of plastic. I begin to get a cramp in my left leg. I stretch very carefully, lest I move the pointer and be accused of cheating. If my father were truly here, I would feel his presence, wouldn’t I?

  “Do you feel anything?” Lizzy whispers, reading my mind.

  “Yeah,” I reply. “I feel like an idiot.”

  Rick snickers. For the first time he’s laughing with me, not at me or Lizzy.

  “Shh!” Samantha whispers loudly. “Now concentrate!”

  “What if Jeremy’s dad was already reincarnated?” Rick asks. “He might even be a five-year-old by now. He could be little Bobby Sanchez!”

  “Shut up!” Samantha says, glaring at him. “Jeremy’s father is not Bobby Sanchez!”

  “How do you know?” Rick asks.

  Lizzy pipes in with, “He and Jeremy do get along really well….”

  “This is ridiculous,” I say, pulling my hand away from the pointer. “I knew I should have spent the day figuring out how to be invisible!” As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret them. What is wrong with me? Why do I just hand people reasons to make fun of me?

  But instead of laughing at me, Rick says, “You want to learn how to be invisible? I can show you, no problem.”

  Samantha groans. “Not that again! I thought you wanted to start fresh here. You know, be normal.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Rick says, springing to his feet. “She’s just jealous she’s not able to do it.” He takes off down the hall, cape billowing behind him.

  Having no other option, I look at Lizzy for guidance. She shrugs. “Couldn’t hurt.”

  “That’s what you said about this!” I point to the board.

  “It’s not her fault,” Samantha says. “Maybe I did something wrong.” She looks so disappointed that I instantly feel bad.

  “No, you were great,” I say, trying to sound sincere. “I’m not sure I really believe it’s possible to contact my dad. But thank you for trying. I know you were only trying to help.” I hurry after Rick before she can answer.

  As I turn the corner, I hear her say to Lizzy, “He’s so sweet! Are you sure you guys aren’t dating?”

  “I’m positive!” Lizzy replies without hesitation.

  I’d blush at being called “sweet” if I weren’t still under the dark cloud of my existential crisis. By the way, I looked up existentialism, and the definition is: an analysis of individual existence in an unfathomable universe and the plight of the individual who must assume ultimate responsibility for his acts of free will without any certain knowledge of what is right or wrong or good or bad. I had to read the definition twice before I could understand it. One word sure can cover a lot of ground!

  Rick’s bedroom is easy to pick out by the big skull and crossbones sticker. I knock on the door, half-hoping he will have disappeared and won’t be in there. What am I doing? Why am I trusting him?

  “Come in and take off your sneakers,” he calls out.

  I tentatively push the door open and find him on the floor, surrounded by books. As I pull off my sneakers, I notice a colorful poster with all these lines and shapes hanging over his bed.

  “That’s a Sri Yantra diagram,” Rick explains. “The interconnecting triangles are supposed to lead you into a hypnotic state. It will be part of our training.”

  I join him on the floor and peek at the book titles. The Dummy’s Guide to Mysticism, The Holographic Universe, and New Physics: It’s Not Your Father’s Physics. My heart quickens. These are the types of books I would read! Well, maybe not the mysticism one. I’m more of a science guy.

  “Did you read all these?” I ask.

  “Twice! And in order to become invisible, you’ve gotta understand the nature of reality. Now, you know there’s no such thing as objective reality, right? Like an actual, tangible reality?” First Mr. Rudolph tells me the word meaning has no meaning, and now this? Doubtful, I ask, “How is reality not real?”

  “Everything we think we know is r