"How could you not feel that?"

"I guess it was a ghost weapon or something…." Jazz trailed off quietly. I could tell she felt very awkward, and I almost felt sorry for her – mom and dad, too.

I ate the rest of my breakfast in the stark, uncomfortably obvious silence, then rose wordlessly from the table. The scene of my sister smashing the gauntlet played over and over again in my head as if to mock me. By the time I had reached the top of the stairs, I could bear my painfully stored anger no longer. I felt like I would implode with its contained pressure.

"I almost wish you would tear me apart molecule by molecule! I shouted, fleeing into my room, though feeling a heavy weight lift off my spirit and a great release inside me.

As soon as I stepped in, however, my faint good cheer faded. My ghost sense went off as if in scornful greeting, but it was too late to avoid the inevitable, unwanted conflict.

"Hello, ghost child." It was Skulker – the ghost hunter who had sworn to kill me - grinning like a skeleton.