CHAPTER ONE

I was starting to think my boring, average life wasn't going anywhere. I was 17, and a senior at a private school. A private uniform wearing school, mind you. It was only my dad and I, up until he married about 5 months ago. Yep, just me, dad, Carol, and her two teen aged nightmares.

Currently, I was sprawled out on my massive bed staring idly at the aged ceiling. Carol had called me at least 4 times to come help with dinner, but I totally ignored her. I was to busy thinking. Thinking, and counting the faint cracked lines that ran in all directions on the ceiling. I sighed deeply; what I wouldn't give to be back at home with mom doing our nightly Pilates tape, and eating cold ramen noodles. As quickly as I let the thought enter my mind, I banished it. Mom was just to busy for a kid, and that's what I was to her, an "adolescent". Not an almost 18 year old adult. I sat up in bed, ready to make my appearance at dinner when a strange feeling came over me. You know, the one where it feels like you're being watched? That one. Although, it wouldn't really surprise me if I was, you know, being watched. In fact, for me, it's a daily -albeit- nightly occurrence.

Okay, you're probably wondering why someone would be so interested in watching me (the word boredom in the human form), and why I wasn't really surprised. To be perfectly frank, it's because I can see, and talk to ghosts. No joke, and I've been cursed with this lovely little ability since I was about 5 years old. There I was doing what every other normal 5 year old does- I was watching Barney (I know right? Barney. But cut me some slack, I was 5). I had had a feeling I wasn't alone, like I was being visited or something. And sure enough, there was my gray haired grandma sitting in the rocker watching me, knitting, and everything! Of course being 5 I was slightly confused to see her, seeing as how I had just come from her funeral not more than a few hours before, but nonetheless I toddled right up to her and began babbling. Well, my parents didn't take to that so well, they thought I was certifiably insane. But there she was! We talked as normally as we had when she was alive. Not that my parents believed me. For a while I think they thought I was just traumatized she was gone. But nope. She was definitely dead, and definitely very real to me. That's when I began to see more and more of these so called "spirits".

Well now that you know my freaky, godforsaken talent, I might as well tell you some more about myself, the things people would more or less call normal. I'm 17 years old, and if you ask me it blows. Since I turned 17 everything is going wrong. My dad remarried right after mom, and him divorced (apparently he had had an affair with her. Can you say scandal?). She's nice enough,a perfectionist to say the least, but I haven't forgiven him for marrying her so soon, and moving me across town. Oh that's another thing! My dad made me move with him all the way to Grand Rapids! Which is 3 hours from where mom, my friends, and normalcy is. So that's why I'm mad at him. He thinks it's just teen angst, PMS, and my love life (or lack thereof) that's bothering me.

Right.

So I have longish curly brown hair, and green eyes. Average. I'm also 5 foot 3 and a quarter with only a 34B bra size. Also average. In fact minus this whole ghost-busting, mediating business I'd have to say my life is all around very dull.

Which brings me back to staring at my ceiling, wondering why my life was going nowhere, but south for the winter. I had just reached a new level of boredom and self pity when I heard Carol calling for me yet again.

"Kristen Elizabeth Harding if you are not down here to help in 2 minutes I'm going to have to ground you!"

I grunted. No way could this wannabe mother tell me what to do. I was a senior, and almost 18, and I barely knew the woman. No way can she come into my life and make me do anything I didn't want to. I rolled my eyes as well as my body from my back onto my stomach, and let my head hang off the edge of my bed. My dark hair hung loosely over my head, and I stared at the wooden floor. My house was at least 300 years old so we have no carpeting. One of my dad's more brilliant ideas..buy a house with no carpet.

Idiot.

I heard someone open my creaky door just then. Looking up I saw it was my nasty 19 year old step-brother Jake. I could not stand him.

"Go away," I moved my head back to staring at the floor, picking out patterns in the woodwork.

He sneered, "not 'til u go downstairs. Mom wants you."

"'You're,'" I emphasized, "mom can set the table herself. Or whatever the hell it is she wants. I on the other hand, have better things to do than to be bothered with this fake "family time" you're all craving. This isn't the freakin Brady Bunch, I'll eat when I'm good and ready!"

This apparently was the wrong thing to say. "Damn it "Krissy" (he knows I loathe being called that horrible word)get your ass down there, or I'll drag you. What do you have to do that's so effing important? Wallow in your self pity?" he asked quite sarcastically.

I glared into his brown eyes. "You want it done so bad Jake the flake? Go do it yourself." He glared right back, and banged his way out of the room. I felt a little bad. I could've helped, but he made me to angry, and I honestly couldn't have cared less about dinner. I knew he was right though. I was wallowing' but I didn't need him calling me on it.

I sat up begrudgingly in bed, and looked around. It was an old room. Made sometime in the late 1700s. It gave me the creeps. We had just moved into this house about a week ago, and although I hadn't seen any yet, I knew I'd be dealing with lots of um "spectral friends" here.

I sighed deeply to myself, feeling the air reverberate around my lungs. I made to get up to go downstairs when I had that feeling again. Someone was watching me. It had left when Jake the flake came in, but in his absence it returned. I looked around the room, and shrugged. Ghost busting could wait for another day, right now all I wanted was food.