First installment of their meeting each other—enjoy!
Normal First Day Arc Pt.1
"I'm very sorry..."
Harmony flinched when she heard Charity Pherson's voice ring out from the kitchenette. She peeked around the corner cautiously tip-toeing through the front door and tried to close it without the lock clicking too loud.
A clunky, white, wireless house phone from the 90's was nestled in between Charity's ear while she peeled potatoes over the cutting board before her. "Yes, I see," she said every few chops. Past the kitchen and up the stairs, Harmony willed herself to become weightless in her careful creeping ascent, but it failed terribly.
"Yes," said Charity one last time, sighing heavily. In her hands the knife stopped moving and she set it and the half-peeled vegetable on the cutting board. "I assure you it won't happen again. Thank you, goodbye." slipping the phone to her hands, Ms. Pherson pressed the 'call end' button and returned the device to its charging station.
That same moment her mother finished up the conversation over the phone, Harmony's infamous clumsy feet betrayed her. She lost her footing on one of the carpeted steps, the top one, and fell with a bang, grabbing the banister so she wouldn't tumble down the whole flight.
Great, she thought, I'm officially dead.
"Harmonia Anastasia P. Pherson." Her mother's usually soft voice had become as cutting as a steak knife. Oh, the full name card was a very very bad sign.
Harmony swallowed once before answering; the punishment was sure to be severe, something terrible like staying out in sunlight for a full half-hour. Her inner goth screamed in revulsion at the thought. "Y...es?"
"Downstairs," ordered the angered parent. "Now."
She felt five years old again, figeting in the hard wooden chair at the dining table. Leaning on said table opposite from her daughter, Charity stared at the rebellious teenage girl and frowned sternly. "Now, about Paulina and art class?" Her tone was even but threatening enough to make Harmony jump in her seat.
Anger rose to her cheeks at the sudden accusation, and the whole story came out in a rush. "First of all, she started it," Harmony blurted; she counted off on her fingers the excuses. "Second, I was minding my own business. Third, it was self-defense AND she ruined my painting. Fourth-,"
"I know exactly what happened."
Skeptical, Harmony crossed her arms. "Really?"
"I also know that they may have blamed it on some random ghost, but-"
It wasn't fair at all, how she could figure out things like that.
"I didn't MEAN to use it, I was really mad and-"
"I know, but you've got to learn how to control it, do you want to move again?"
Defeat rang from every bell tower around. "...no," she said quietly, and stuck out her lower lip in a pout. So much for her first day of school.
This place was supposed to be safe, thought Harmony. She stood unmoving outside the classroom door, too afraid to enter. Something dangerous was on the other side-she could tell the second she approached it. Pressure had built around her in that hallway, the closer she neared the door. Again, that familiar chilling sensation took her breath away and made her gasp, the same feeling that caused her palms to break out in a sweat and a hollowness to grow in the pit of her stomach.
Her ghost sense.
To be safe, she knocked first, but what good that would do her was yet to be seen. Why would ghosts care if someone knocked before entering a room? She took a deep breath in and opened the door, stepped into the class, tripped over her own boot and fell flat onto her face.
"Ow," she mumbled at the ground.
Laughter echoed around her as she picked herself up, blushing a bright tomato red that matched the shade of her eyes perfectly.
"Oh," said Mr. Lancer, sarcastic. "seems like you've decided to join us-" he glanced at the clipboard in his hands to confirm her name. "Ms. Pherson. Your seat is over there, next to Foley." A boy wearing a Barrette and glasses waved at her and pointed to the empty seat on his right.