A GHOSTLY AFFAIR

Chapter 1- In which Sam doesn't believe

"Football sucks," Sam murmured, soft enough so the fellow jocks wouldn't hear him. The football players guffawed and fell down laughing at regular intervals. One too many beers, Sam thought.

Sam didn't care that he was the only sober one. He didn't care thar he would be driving their drunk asses home so they don't accidentally run off a cliff. And most definitely, Sam didn't care for ghost stories.

Suddenly Chip, the short, muscley kicker, staggered up and looked around at the drunken crowd. Sam didn't make eye contact.

"Hey, *hiccup* you guys! Wanna go look at the old ghosty school?"

Everyone except Sam nodded eagerly and smiled their idiotic smiles.

"Sam! You're driving us to McHenry school!"
"Chip, two things. One, it's McKinley, and two, I'm not driving you guys anywhere."

Mark, the linebacker, smiled a wide smile that gave him the look of a shark. He narrowed his eyes at Sam.
"I don't think you have much of a choice, Princess."

Twenty minutes later, the jocks were parked in the deserted lot of McKinley High. Sam looked around from the drivers seat. The parking lines were faded and the ground was damp. Police tape still littered the ground, half-buried in the dirt that appeared in random splotches.
Even after thirty years, they still couldn't clean up around here? What kind of a cowtown is this? Sam shook his head.

Mack and Chip jumped—or fell—out of the car first and looked at the school with bleary eyes. Plants reached up the faded dull grey walls. The pipes were red with rust. In all, the school looked just about ready to collapse.

After the rest of the football team exited the car, Sam climbed out and pocketed his keys in his letterman jacket. He pulled the thick fabric tighter around himself.

Chip, meanwhile, was prying away the locks on the school's doors with his large, meaty hands. For such a small guy, Chip was unusually strong. Stronger than Sam, who was the buff quarterback. While the other jocks and Chip were otherwise occupied, Mack walked over to Sam and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Ever heard of the McKinley Ghosts, Princess?"

Sam shook his head slowly, eyeing the jock. The corners of his mouth were turned down and his eyes held something to be discovered. Was Mack… Scared?

"Well, legend tells that the school was attacked," he explained. "There was some kind of Glee club and somebody in there snapped…"

Mack's eyes widened and Sam raised an eyebrow. Mack continued.

"Some say they were teased too much," he said, a new air of mystery to his voice. "Others say that they were crazy from the beginning. Just all out wrong, you know? Anyway, they took a shotgun to school once and had a field day before eating the barrel."

Silence ensued, long and ominous as everybody contemplated what had been. Sam sighed heavily and shook his head.

"I don't believe in ghosts," he admitted. Mack's eyes lost their drama and adopted anger.

"What's that, Princess?" he said, folding his arms in an intimidating way, though a twinkle in his eyes seemed playful. "You don't believe?"

He looked behind him at Chip who had finally finished snapping the lock. Chip turned over his shoulder and nodded to his leader. Without realizing it, Sam was was hoisted into the air by his teammates and carried to the doors even though he wriggled and fought their grip. They tossed him through the open doorway and before he could make another protest, the doors had been closed and locked behind him.

Sam quickly regained his balance and rushed back to the front entrance. He pounded on the door, desperately trying to be free. Amidst his attempts, he yelled, "Come on, let me out!"

Mack walked up to the small window and grinned wickedly.
"We'll come back in the morning, Princess," He laughed while the rest of the team joined in. "Have fun with the ghosts."

As he and the others walked away, Sam reached into his pocket, searching for his car keys, only to find an empty space. Damn pickpockets. I hope they drive off the freeway.

Behind Sam, an eerie sound echoed through the empty halls. Realizing it was a voice, fear gripped him and he was frozen.

The voice said in a low, humorous whisper, "Haven't changed much, have they?"

Finally regaining his mobility, Sam stumbled around to face the pursuer.