Betelgeuse-A Beetlejuice Novel

Chapter 5: Must Love What I Hate

    Disclaimer: I do not own Beetlejuice or related characters, he belongs to Tim Burton. I do not own Beetlegeuse. I don't own Betelgeuse? I don't own any of the weird spellings for his name.

Betelgeuse?

Written By: Melanie Ray

Chapter Five: Must Love What I Hate

Neitherworld, Juno's Office . . .

"JUUUUUUNOOOOO!!"

Everyone ducked and covered in the joint while Beetlejuice started to head angrily to Juno's office. This time, she didn't mind to see him.

"You're here?" Juno gave him an odd look as she took another drag off her cigarette. "Where have you been?"

"That's what I want to know," Beetlejuice whined. "You mean, you don't know?"

"We've been looking for you." Juno put out her cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "Every WDP has been looking for you. Didn't you find a way onto the other side?"

"No." Beetlejuice said roughly. "Not yet, but what happened?" He started to growl. "At least tell me, is Lyd okay?"

"I don't know."

"I need to see her now!"

"If she wanted to see you, she would," Juno said to him. "She just has to say your name three times. You know that."

"Haven't you been blocking her?" Beetlejuice yelled in surprise.

"If she is being blocked, a WDP did it," Juno said. "For good reason. Things are not good, Beetlejuice. No one even knows where you've been for two months, including you. The last thing you need to do is involve that innocent living being into your messed up afterlife."

Beetlejuice groaned. "I want to check up on her. Make sure she's not missing any time."

"I will have someone check on her," Juno gave in. "You will not go, someone else will."

"I want to see her," Beetlejuice whined.

"Someone else will go or no one will go," Juno yelled at him. "Now get out. Until your problems start getting some solutions, you are not seeing her."

"Fine," Beetlejuice started to get up out of his chair angrily, "but you can't keep us apart for much longer!"

Juno watched as Beetlejuice stormed out again. It was a good thing he had that dust upon him. Who knew how out of control he would get?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Living World/Bathroom . . .

Lydia groaned as she went to the bathroom. She had started to yell at her parents when they started laying into her because she'd been gone since one P.M. "I totally need a bath."

Lydia got undressed and started to relax in the bath.

Then, it happened. It did, every once in awhile.

It started with a sniffle. Stop it. I've got to get over everything. Lydia tried to stop, but she couldn't. She cried harder as she realized just how much she must have hurt Bertha and Prudence that night. They had shown up at the party despite the refusal. Quit. Everything's changed now. She sighed and tried to control herself as she let the bath water relax her. It's over now.

Yet, she still had to give in to a couple of nice memories. The memory of Betty Juice and Bertha and Prudence all out camping. The memory of Lydia's party where the party-in-a-can made an appearance. Lydia smiled. "Beetlej-" Her eyes opened wide. Oh, I barely caught myself. She shook her head. She could think about him. She could think about Bertha and Prudence. She could think about spiders and horror films. She could think about her old life, but it was gone now.

Whatever she hated, she had to love. Whatever she loved, she had to hate now. Lydia splashed a bit of water. Everything from her room to her appearance had to have a makeover. No connection to the past her. No connection to the other side. That was the deal.

It was a hard deal to keep. Lydia didn't want to treat her parents bad, or go to parties, or hang out with Claire. She had no choice though. Her other option would be so much worse. She closed her eyes and wiped her tears.

But . . .being the complete opposite of herself wasn't the worst part.

Even if I have to be mean, I've got to cherish these times. These are my last times with them . . . She started to get out of the bath and pulled the plunger out. She watched the water slowly start to drain. She thought about her last outting with her dad as it drained. She thought about Bertha and Prudence as it continued to drain. Down, down the drain the water went. It was a perfect metaphor for her life. Her family, circling round and round. Bertha and Prudence, slowly draining away. Beetlejuice . . .

She heard the sound of the water completely disappearing out of the tub. It was gone. The water and her old life. She had to enjoy the few precious things she still had before she had to go.

Lydia started to get dressed in her pajamas and went to bed. Seeing that her parents weren't even going to bother yelling more at her tonight, she went by their room. She stared at their door. How much longer would she get to stare at it?

She continued to walk down the hall and into her own bedroom. She gazed out the window that was left open. The breeze was playing with her curtain. It reminded her of when she summoned Beetlejuice. She quickly closed the window. A part of her wished she had never met him. If he had never met her, this never would have happened. Ever. She could still be friends with Bertha and Prudence, she could get along with her parents, she could be her real self!

She started to head toward her bed. At the same time, it wouldn't have been the same though. Beetlejuice never meant for anything bad to happen. Beetlejuice was just . . . Beetlejuice. He was crude, very ill-mannered and lacked proper hygiene but he was a good guy with a good heart. He was her best friend, and even with everything that happened, she'd never forget that. My best friend. She smiled sadly. I miss you, BJ. I wish, I could call to you. I wish everything could just go away.

But it couldn't and it never would. Things had been set in motion and she couldn't just think about a friendship anymore. There was so much more at stake. Lydia sighed and crawled into her bed. She closed her eyes and started to dream. Dream of her childhood. Of first meeting the Ghost with the Most. Of better times . . .

Of better times . . .