A/N Thanks for all the positive reviews! I really appreciate all the response this fic is getting. I love writing this! PS. If you have any ideas for the little things at the top, let me know. My own ideas are wearing a little thin.

Mil

Sophomore Year at Hollybridge Heights

Recommended Reading List

"Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott

"The Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown

"The Hunt for Red October" by Tom Clancy

"Oliver Twist" by Charles Dickens

"Cold Mountain" by Charles Frazier

"Memoirs of a Geisha" by Arthur Golden

"The Talented Mr Ripley" by Patricia Highsmith

"To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee

"The Godfather" by Mario Puzo

"A Tree Grows in Brooklyn" by Betty Smith

All books are available from the School Library.

Chapter Four

Susannah scoffed, and dropped her English Lit. folder into her lap with a sigh. I looked up from where I had been pretending to write avid notes on today's lesson – but had actually been desperately plotting to stop the proposed rendezvous between Paul and Susannah this evening – and saw her tearing her reading list in two.

"Susannah," I said calmly. "I don't really think that was a good idea." She shrugged. "I'm not photocopying mine for you in a month's time when our professor asks for progress and sees you haven't even got the list any more."

"Whatever," she replied, happily, and she hopped off her bed. We were in her dorm – for a change, though the whole room smelt of vanilla and was starting to irritate my nose. Plus there was a trail of tights and what-nots on the floor between Susannah and Cassie's sides of the room. "Hey Jess, you're a boy."

"Nicely spotted," I said, dryly. She rolled her eyes and flung open her closet door to reveal a carefully ordered chaos that hurt my eyes to look at. I thought of my own closet, organized by season and then by type of garment.

"If you were taking me on a date-" My heart flipped. "What would you like me to wear?"

I studied her clothes from where I was sitting cross-legged. "Well," I began. "Something like..." I pointed to a jacket, and she stuck her tongue out in disgust. She slung it off its hanger and threw it onto Cassie's bed.

"It's not mine," she said. "It must have got into my closet by mistake." She plucked a short skirt from the depths of her wardrobe and held it to her waist.

"Querida," I said softly. "What are you doing tonight?"

She spun around in surprise, the skirt still pressed to her body. "Why?" she demanded. I obviously hadn't been subtle enough. I tried to make out like I had planned something for the two of us.

"Oh, you know," I said, nonchalantly. "There's "Bring It On" on tonight. I was thinking it might be appropriate – seeing as you got into the cheerleading squad. Plus, it's your favourite film." She smiled, and leant over to kiss my cheek.

"Oh Jesse," she replied, sweetly, tossing the skirt over her bed and trying to match it with various shirts. "You're so sweet. But I can't – I have a date tonight."

"It's not on till midnight," I told her. "Won't you be finished by then?"

"Nope," Susannah said, avoiding my eye. "That's when our date starts. We're going…stargazing."

"How romantic. Who's your date again?" I asked, carefully. Susannah chewed her bottom lip – a habit that showed she was nervous. I watched her lip darken.

"…Bryce," she decided on, and it hurt me that she was so obviously and blatantly lying to me. I chose to look surprised.

"Really?" I thought of Bryce, and his leering and scruffy hair. I knew at once Susannah wouldn't consider him. Then again, I never thought Paul would be her type either. "That's an…interesting choice." She looked distracted.

"Mm-hmm…" she muttered, and she leant on one leg to find her ankle boots. "Yeah. Turns out we have something in common. We both really like squash."

"Softball," I corrected her. "Bryce plays softball. And football. But not squash."

Susannah blushed. "Oh, right. Yeah, my bad." She unzipped her jacket and cleared her throat. "Can you turn around? I wanna get changed."

"Oh." I matched her blush. "O.K." I swivelled around so that I was facing the wall above her headboard – which was decorated with flyers concerning several major events about campus, as well as pictures of us. My favourite photo is when we were at the beach last summer vacation, back in Carmel visiting family. I'm giving her a piggy-back, but she's covering my eyes. The one next to it is in the same place, only I'm holding her upside down and her mouth is wide open, enjoying the ride.

"You know what?" I said, eventually, getting off the bed – but not turning around, of course. "I'm going to go. You have fun with…Bryce. Call me when you get in." I closed the door behind me with a sigh. Keep safe, I added silently. God knows what Paul Slater has in mind.

"Hello?"

I looked up from where I had been resting on her door and staring at the floor to see a young girl standing in front of me – one leg crossed in front of the other, and her hands twisted together nervously. She must have been about my age – perhaps younger, and had blonde, curly hair that fell in golden cascades down her front. She was glowing, slightly, and had a sad smile.

"You're a ghost," I whispered, and she nodded.

I guess I must have forgotten to tell you that one tiny thing.

I hadn't seen one since I'd started back at Hollybridge Heights. The place had seemed strangely empty as I walked the halls on my first day – no glowing figures, no pleading faces, no ghostly wails. It was perfect and tranquil – a life I'd never really gotten to experience.

Maybe I should elaborate. I, Jesse De Silva, am a mediator. A guide, if you like, for lost souls, looking to move on to the next plane of consciousness – whether that be Heaven or Hell, or their next life. Personally, being a devout Catholic like the rest of my family solely believe in Heaven and Hell, and that there is no next life. Susannah, however, is a firm agnostic.

This is the one thing I have over Paul Slater – this special bond with Susannah. Not of course, that she knows I share her gift. She confided in me that first month she spent at Junipero Serra, convinced I was going to think she was insane. But instead I'd get quiet and nodded, and she'd been so relieved I thought she was going to pass out. It was what had cemented our relationship – that I knew her secret, and really, that was the opportune time to tell her I was a mediator too. But then our lunchtime was over, and we'd been ushered back in homeroom. The moment had passed, and another chance had never come along.

The girl before me looked concerned. I hadn't taken my eyes off her – I was deep in thought, wondering why all of a sudden another ghost had appeared. "Are you O.K?" she asked me. I jumped at the sound of her voice, and nodded slowly.

She smiled, and uncrossed her legs. "You're a mediator," she said. "Here I was looking for the girl, and instead I find you. Have I got something wrong?"

I shook my head. "No," I assured her. "Susannah is a mediator too. I just happened to be leaving her dormitory." The girl raised an eyebrow.

"Isn't that against the rules?"

I ignored her. "You were a student at Hollybridge Heights?" Her inquisitive mouth curled into a gloomy purse of the lips, and she nodded her head gently. Then she stuck out a white hand, with perfectly manicured fingernails and slim fingers.

"Julia James," she told me. "Biology major, with a minor in English Lit, senior year. I died at the hands of four frat guys."

My mouth dropped open. "One of the fraternities on the campus?" I asked. "Have they been charged with your murder?"

"No," she replied. "It wasn't one of the fraternities on this campus. I was at a party last weekend, at another university, out of town." She flinched at the memory. "A few of the frat guys drunk a bit too much and things began to get a bit violent."

"It's O.K," I said, wrapping an arm around her and walking her down the corridor. "We'll get this sorted out."

"Really?" She looked doubtful. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." I smiled warmly at her. "It's what I do."

My alarm clock rang all too quickly. I fumbled for the snooze button, thinking immediately it was morning – until I saw it read 11:55p.m, and realised that I was in fact doing extremely important detective work.

I threw back the covers and got out of bed, being careful not to make any sound. I was lucky enough to get a dorm to myself – but the neighbouring dorm belonged to Bryce Martinson and Brad Ackerman – both of whom were light sleepers. If they knew I had gone, I would not be getting out alone.

Room 201… that was in the science block. Of course, I should know that, the room being the chamber of torture I'd been forced to endure in the form of detention and Science Club in the last two days. I zipped up my jacket and pulled on my trainers, before snatching up the keys to my door and leaving, running on my tip-toes. I was grateful no-one was around to see that.

I had to be careful once I left the dormitory block. Teachers were on almost every corner – watching for students out of bed. It was only the seniors who were allowed out of their dormitories at night, and any minor caught sneaking about would automatically be issued with a week's worth of detention, and a black mark on their record. Normally I wouldn't even consider risking my record. But this was different.

This was for Susannah.

"Hey." I flattened myself against the wall in shock, my breath short and hot, my heart hammering. I pressed a hand to my chest and saw Julia chuckling at me, her blonde hair wavering slightly in the cool midnight air in the courtyard. "You should have seen your face!" she cried, holding her stomach and laughing.

"Not funny," I hissed at her, as I continued through the courtyard and on into the science block. "I could have had a heart-attack!"

Julia smiled. "Perfect," she replied. "Hottie ghosts aren't that common."

I took a hair grip from my pocket – one of Susannah's that I had swiped from her bedside table – and stuck it into the lock of the science block. Hollybridge Heights wasn't that careful about its security – considering how prestigious they were about their scientific achievement – as the lock gave way with a quick click and the double doors swung open to reveal a darkened hallway. Julia raised an eyebrow.

"You're going to go in there?" she asked me, with a jerk of the head. "Its kinda dark, and you're so gonna get busted."

I shrugged. "I have to stop her getting involved with such a creep. I love her."

"So you ruin her social life and then she's meant to fall spectacularly in love with you?" Julia looked a little sceptical. "I see."

"Something like that," I said hurriedly. "Now be quiet before I change my mind." She clicked her tongue impatiently, but followed me inside the science block, and we passed room 190, the gold lettering barely legible in the dark.

"You know," Julia announced, after a while. "You do realise once you interrupt their little tête-à-tête, he is able to give you detention, being a teacher and all." I considered this, and then sighed.

"I guess," I replied, eventually. "But I can't stop now. I'm too curious. I have to eavesdrop." Julia chewed on her fingernails, bored.

"Okey-dokey then," she surrendered. "Your school record, not mine."

Rooms 192, 193 and 194 slipped past us as we silently crept through the science block. So far, we were successful, until we reached the flight of stairs – and at the top stood room 201. I shivered at the suspense of it all, and even my gentle body movements could be heard in the intense quiet.

"…you weren't going to come."

I froze mid-step after hearing Paul's greeting to Susannah. Julia stood rigid too, her eyes wide. I heard the door to room 201 swing open, the light-switch snap on, and then Paul shut the door softly. It was safe to continue.

"Of course I was coming," Susannah replied. I could see her now, through the rectangles of glass inserted in the wood. She was sat on one of the lab tables, her bare legs crossed and dangling freely. Paul was stood in front of her – less than metre away from her body. His back was turned to me, so I couldn't see his face.

"Let's turn off the lights," he suggested, and I had to duck out of sight as he padded towards the wall and snapped off the electric lighting. Now everything was pitch black again. I flattened myself against the wall beside the door, breathing hard, awaiting the next part of the conversation.

A meagre orange light was reflected in the panes of glass, and I could just about see the figures of Susannah, and Paul – who was edging closer, wielding a lighter.

"How romantic," Susannah remarked dryly, and I pressed my face to the window to see Paul dip the flame into the well of the candle that Susannah held in two hands, the wick blackening as the flare licked it hungrily.

Paul laughed – his mirthless chuckle audible even from my distance – and snapped his lighter shut. Susannah scooted over on the lab table, and Paul took a seat next to her, wrapping his hands around hers, clutching the candle and admiring the flame.

"I'm not sure we should be doing this," she whispered, the tip of her nose hardly centimetres from his. "It's against the rules." Paul took the candle and set it down on the table.

"I've never been one for rules," he replied, and I began to feel sick. He leant in closer towards Susannah, who promptly reached for the candle and held it between their faces. I breathed a sigh of relief. Paul chortled again. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Thinking about your precious Jesse?"

"Jesse and I aren't dating," she said, a little too fiercely for my liking, and Paul placed a hand on her slim thigh.

"Prove it," he challenged. Susannah looked a little doubtful. Paul's face was coming closer and closer to hers, his nose practically touching the fire.

Susannah lowered the candle, and by the dim light I watched their lips touch for a second, one of her hands snaking around his neck, and one of his sliding up her back…

And then she blew the candle out.