A/N: I am in such a great mood! NINE REVIEWS! You guys rock the world, I
swear. I promise, Jesse will come in soon, and yes, he IS good! You'll find
out his reason soon enough, okay?
KEEP REVIEWING! I love feeling loved . . .
Did I get this up fast? Well, that's because I got reviews! Can we make 15? Sorry, I have a thing with fives.
I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!
Er . . . that was weird, wasn't it?
**************************************************************************** *******************
Last Chapter: 'I'm still here because of my killer. His name is . . .' He trailed off. I could see that his fists were clenched, so his knuckles were shining white. Whoa. Suddenly, things around my room began to shake slightly.
'Paul!' I said in alarm. 'Just tell me the dude's name, and stop it! You're scaring me!' he was too.
He relaxed, but only a bit.
'His name,' he said, spitting slightly in loathing, 'is Jesse De Silva.'
**************************************************************************** *******
I sat in my computer chair, listing to him intently. Oh, that voice was so deep, and masculine, and enigmatic. It cast me in a secret spell that captivated me. I didn't know what it was, yet, but I knew that Paul was bad. Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .
And that was why I was scared to death.
He was sitting on top of my canopy. "Huh?" you say. I know, it I tried, it would so break, but Paul's a ghost, and gravity doesn't count for him all the time. I mean, it does most of the times, but when he is thinking about elevation, or whatever, he can make anything float.
Including himself.
And he always liked to be in a top position.
'Yeah,' I said, my voice very thin, 'But HOW did you die? Like, were you drowned, or shot, or what?'
He was still glaring at me. 'No, I'm not telling you that,' he said softly. 'I'm just telling you who. That's all you need to know for now, Susie.'
I saw red.
'Don't,' I warned, 'CALL ME THAT!'
He grinned in a way that transformed my anger to fright.
'Susie,' he said teasingly. His grin only added to his deadly, dark appeal. His whole face was in shadow, for it was near midnight at the moment. The half-moon outside was glowing dully outside, trying to peak through the thick, black clouds. The sky was a gloomy, deep and overcast blue that seemed to go on forever. The stars had no hope of being seen this dark, dead night.
I shivered, because the gentle breeze that was blowing from outside through the open window was so COLD. I released a shuddering breath, and turned back to my Chemistry book. We were learning about elements. I know, way basic, but Miss Phillips is a French fry short of a Happy Meal, in my opinion.
Come on, Suze, study.
Don't think about bad ass Paul, just study.
Study or Miss Phillips will have your brains for breakfast . . .
'Oh, Susie . . .'
I spun around, my heart beating fast. 'WHAT?!' I shouted in pure frustration, slamming my Chemistry book shut.
But Paul had gone.
I turned back to the periodic table, my heart rate ever increasing -
'Boo!'
I screamed, and I saw Paul's face right in front of mine. He'd totally materialized right in front of me, so his shadowy, tanned face was smirking at me. He had even stepped through my desk, being a ghost!
'PAUL!' I roared, 'Get OUT!'
He walked around me, looking at me with mock hurt. 'Oh come on, Suze,' he said. 'Liven up.' He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
I just shut my eyes and slowly counted to ten. If I kept yelling like this in the middle of the night, someone was bound to come up and ask what the hell was wrong with me. Dopey would claim to need beauty sleep, (and trust me, he needed plenty of it,) and Doc would give me that "Is there something paranormal here that I should know about?" stare. But Sleepy wouldn't have a problem. He just wouldn't wake up.
'Paul, look,' I said carefully, still not looking at him. I could feel his gaze burning on the back of my neck. Again, I shivered, but this time it wasn't due to the cold. 'I have to study. I know you're . . . bored, but I have to study. I have a test tomorrow, and if I -'
'Suze, seriously, why are you wasting your time on Chemistry?' he asked with a laugh. It was a nerve-jangling, humourless laugh. He really was bored. 'You could be focusing on other things. Things that I could teach you . . .'
I had to admit, that sounded really intriguing. Again, I turned around, blinking cluelessly. 'What do you mean?' I whispered. I looked way up at his face, trying to decide whether he was just messing with my mind. He seemed to like doing that.
He stooped slightly. 'I could teach you about . . . yourself. What you are, and what you can really do as a mediator,' he breathed with a mildly fervent twinkle in his eyes.
He was telling the truth. I could feel it. And I was getting excited. He could tell me the secrets, and why I was what I am! He . . .
**Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .**
I stopped myself, and turned back around to my studies. It took great strength to open up that text book, and turn away from the truth about who I was. But I had willpower enough to do it.
'Suze,' he said in chiding tones. 'You don't understand what I'm offering here, do you?'
I ignored him.
Study, Suze!
"The periodic table is composed of elements -"
This time, it was Paul who slammed the Chem. book shut. I gasped, and recoiled slightly. He stood behind me, playing vaguely with my long, dark hair. I looked straight ahead stubbornly. Not good, not good, not good . . . It was like Satan himself was trying to give me the forbidden fruit from the tree.
And I was falling for it.
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he tutted, running a chilling finger down my bare arm. My nerves went freakin' haywire, and Paul could sense it, if the way he continued to do it was any indication. My whole body felt like it had pins and needled. It was painful, yet it felt so good at the same time. I released a low, frightened gasp, squeezing my eyelids tightly shut, trying to escape this moment.
He hissed alluringly in my ear, 'I could teach you so MUCH, if you'd only just open your mind to me, and let me tell you everything that you are meant to be, and how powerful you really are. How powerful we could be . . . ' He rested a cold hand on my shoulder. It had no warmth, no caressing feeling. Just enticing . . .
For the third time, I shuddered.
'P-P-Paul,' I faltered. This was tearing me up. I knew he wanted me to give in, but I wouldn't. I would be tempted by his most likely false realities. 'If . . . If I want your help, I'll ask for it. Now back off, I'm studying.'
His hand slid off my shoulder in disgust, and I heard him step back.
'Fine, Susie,' he said tauntingly. 'When you want answers, and you will . . . you know where to find them . . .'
And I heard him dematerialize with a shimmering, tinkling sound, like dropping thousands of infinitesimal crystals on a sheet of cold glass.
As soon as I was sure that he was definitely gone, I went to bed, terrified. Never in my life had I felt like this, so tempted, and so terrified!
Sleep claimed me immediately, yet my dreams were not at all comforting. They were dark, misty, and always featured a shadowy figure.
Paul was even haunting my sleep . . .
~*~
'Suze! Get up now! You've got TEN MINUTES!' Sleepy roared up the stairs.
I rolled over on my bed groggily, groaning.
'SUSANNAH SIMON!'
Now that screech, I couldn't ignore!
'Okay, mum, I'm up!' I yelled back. Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself to my wardrobe, and randomly grabbed something cute to wear. Then, with a furtive look around, I dashed into the bathroom and got changed. I mean, this is what I'd done ever since I realized that Paul had watched my change once. And that's just . . .
Wrong.
. . . Ewww . . .
I mean, having a pervert living in your bedroom? NOT cool. No, it's really actually quite disgusting. I mean, I'm not saying that I look hideous in the buff, but that's not the point! It's just corrupt to look at someone in the nuddy!
Especially when that someone is ME!
And the looker is Paul Eat-Me Slater!
I sighed. What did I ever do?
I didn't feel like having a shower that morning. And with only ten minutes, there wasn't any point. I did, however, wet my hair and blow-dry it. It looked all windswept now. And my little ensemble of clothes was totally cute. I had this little blue cardigan over a yellow singlet top, and a pair of woolly pink trousers. Very snazzy.
What? I like pink.
Oh, shut up . . .
After I washed my teeth, I went back out and lay in bed for a moment, my chest rising and falling. I looked over, and suddenly realized that the window was shut. Oh, how sweet. Paul had closed it for me.
It was weird. Even though I hadn't seen Paul since last night, it felt like he'd been near me the whole night. I hadn't forgotten how he'd entered my dreams, and how he'd warped my sleeping mind. Well, okay, he wasn't doing it directly, but the way he treated me when I was awake was reflecting in my dreams.
They were now nightmares.
I just hoped he wasn't an *incubus as well as an asshole . . . that would send me over the edge. (A/N: *Look it up, kiddies. Lol)
For the millionth time, I shuddered in spite of the pleasant warmth.
'SUZE!'
'I'm ready!' I snapped back. I grabbed a piece of toast from Andy, and hopped in the car.
~*~
I should probably tell you about CeeCee Webb and Adam McTavish.
I'd made friends with CeeCee on the first day, because this total cow, Debbie Mancuso, was paying her out for being albino. I mean, so? What a racist bitch, huh? So, I, oh, I dunno, threatened to snap her fingers. Nothing much.
That shut her up pretty quickly.
So CeeCee, after getting pissed at me for defending her, befriended me. Me, Suze Simon, who was destined to only have one friend her whole life because she was such a standoffish moo-cow.
Thank you, I'm honoured.
But yeah. CeeCee is seriously beautiful. She has this sheet of perfect white hair, and a face that's a single shade creamier than snow. Not a zit to be seen. Damn girl. She's like, school editor, and is hell smart, aye. But, alas, she isn't very high in the social pyramid.
And Adam, well, he's just a riot. He's pretty good looking, but nothing too special. He's the class clown, but is still looked down on as dog poop smudged on someone's shoe.
He's not that bad.
Oh yeah, CeeCee has this mega crush on him. Shhhh! Don't tell her I told you, she'd crucify me . . .
'Suze?'
I was standing in front of my locker by then. I turned around. There, CeeCee stood there, with her eyebrows raised. I blinked at her.
'What?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't pretend that I haven't been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes now. Jeez, wake up. What's gotten into you today, anyway?' she asked with a frown.
I shrugged, and went to work on my combo. 'Nothing. Had a shitty sleep, that's all.'
'Oh,' she said skeptically.
After three attempts, I finally got my locker open.
That was kind of when the siren sounded.
'Crap!' I cursed, as CeeCee ran, and waved goodbye, telling me to move my ass. I filed through my locker, looking for my Lit book. This was so annoying!
'Hey, bitch.'
What?
I turned my head, and there, beside me, was Heather.
~*~
I forgot, you don't know about Heather Chambers, do you? Yeah, she's the ghost of this total glam puss skank who used to have my locker. So, after she committed suicide because her boyfriend called it quits, she thought the whole thing was a little unfair, how she was stuck as a ghost. Well, "a little unfair" is probably the understatement of the year.
She was passed pissed.
'Take a hike, Heather, I'm busy,' I groaned, turning back to my search. That annoyed her.
'I'll give you, "take a hike," Simon!' she shrieked, and instantly, all the lockers began to shake.
'Shut up!' I hissed, and elbowed her to the floor.
Oops.
'You'll pay for that, Simon!' she screeched, her honey locks flying everywhere. She launched herself at me, smashed me into the locker.
What the?!
Uh, ow! My shoulder was SO going to bruise now! So, I socked her back, and got her in a head lock. Nothing major, but then she kicked back, and got my stomach. I hell on the ground, and she pounced, her hands around my neck, choking me . . .
'Heather! Stop it!' commanded a deep voice.
Huh? I looked wildly around, but I only saw the principal, Father Dominic, standing about thirty or so meters away. But . . .
There was no one else around.
On second glance, I saw that this priest dude was coming right at us. Huh?! Another mediator?!
IS THE WORLD COMPLETELY SCREWY?
As Heather was slugging me, and I was yanking her hair, Father Dom had reached us. He gently pulled Heather off of me.
'Heather, you know better than to hurt anyone. It is your own fault that you are no longer living, and you have no right to make others that way,' said the priest in a reprimanding tone.
Okay . . .this was somewhat odd.
Heather glared daggers at me. 'I'll be back for you,' she promised venomously, and dematerialized with a shower of glittering blue light.
'Whoa,' I said, 'What a day.'
Then I turned to Father Dominic. He was pretty tall for an old guy. He six- feet stature was topped with a head of perfect silvery-white hair. His baby blue eyes were eyeing me cautiously.
'You are a mediator, Susannah,' he said.
How many people are going to tell me that?!
'Uh, I kind of knew that,' I said in annoyance. I mean, come on. I just flogged a ghost, you couldn't expect me to find that perfectly fine, and not know what I was. I sighed, and straightened my hair.
'Come with me to my office,' he advised, his eyes twinkling, 'Before Sister Ernestine sees all these dents in her lockers.'
Who could disagree? I followed the old dude.
~*~
'Yo, Padre, why didn't you tell me you were a mediator too?' I asked as I sat coolly in the seat in front of him.
He stared at me fleetingly. 'Well, I couldn't just ask you, in case you were not one of us,' he said, as if stating the obvious.
Oh yeah . . .
'But . . . You didn't have to get Heather to brain me just to see if I was one,' I said, disgruntled.
He smiled. 'That was unintentional, I assure you, Susannah. Now, why don't you tell me about yourself? And about your history?'
'I already told you about myself in the interview you gave me,' I said bluntly. I mean, autobiographies are so BORING.
He looked up, as if praying for patience. 'No, Susannah. I meant about your, uh, "ghost history."'
'Oooh,' I said. 'Gotcha. Well, what do you want to know, Padre?'
He sniffed. 'Call me Father Dominic, I pray, Susannah. And tell me about your methods, of course, and some ghostly encounters you have made. Tell me about ghosts you have met before, and how you've dealt with them? How they have reacted to a mediator of your . . . your . . .'
'Say it,' I said, wrinkling my nose at him. '"Femininity?"
He looked awkward. 'No, youth,' he said quickly, fixing me with a baby blue gaze.
So I told him every single detail I could recall, like, how I'd seen my first ghost at two years old . . .
Everything, except, of course, Paul.
Well, what do you expect? I mean, "Oh yeah, Padre? Another thing is that there's kind of a ghost living in my bedroom now. How coincidental is that, man? And, he's trying to tell me how powerful I could be if I'd just 'open my mind to him.' Oh, he thinks I'm hot, too."
Yeah, that'd go down really well.
Well, at least I'm not alone in this.
Man, Heather was SO going down after this . . . she should have known not to mess with Susannah Simon.
**************************************************************************** ***************
A/N: Well? Tell me what you think. Please keep reviewing, this party's just getting started! And it's going to be nothing like the first book. Hold your breath, Jesse's on his way . . .
Well, not for one or two chapters or something, but whatever!
KEEP REVIEWING! I love feeling loved . . .
Did I get this up fast? Well, that's because I got reviews! Can we make 15? Sorry, I have a thing with fives.
I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!!
Er . . . that was weird, wasn't it?
**************************************************************************** *******************
Last Chapter: 'I'm still here because of my killer. His name is . . .' He trailed off. I could see that his fists were clenched, so his knuckles were shining white. Whoa. Suddenly, things around my room began to shake slightly.
'Paul!' I said in alarm. 'Just tell me the dude's name, and stop it! You're scaring me!' he was too.
He relaxed, but only a bit.
'His name,' he said, spitting slightly in loathing, 'is Jesse De Silva.'
**************************************************************************** *******
I sat in my computer chair, listing to him intently. Oh, that voice was so deep, and masculine, and enigmatic. It cast me in a secret spell that captivated me. I didn't know what it was, yet, but I knew that Paul was bad. Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .
And that was why I was scared to death.
He was sitting on top of my canopy. "Huh?" you say. I know, it I tried, it would so break, but Paul's a ghost, and gravity doesn't count for him all the time. I mean, it does most of the times, but when he is thinking about elevation, or whatever, he can make anything float.
Including himself.
And he always liked to be in a top position.
'Yeah,' I said, my voice very thin, 'But HOW did you die? Like, were you drowned, or shot, or what?'
He was still glaring at me. 'No, I'm not telling you that,' he said softly. 'I'm just telling you who. That's all you need to know for now, Susie.'
I saw red.
'Don't,' I warned, 'CALL ME THAT!'
He grinned in a way that transformed my anger to fright.
'Susie,' he said teasingly. His grin only added to his deadly, dark appeal. His whole face was in shadow, for it was near midnight at the moment. The half-moon outside was glowing dully outside, trying to peak through the thick, black clouds. The sky was a gloomy, deep and overcast blue that seemed to go on forever. The stars had no hope of being seen this dark, dead night.
I shivered, because the gentle breeze that was blowing from outside through the open window was so COLD. I released a shuddering breath, and turned back to my Chemistry book. We were learning about elements. I know, way basic, but Miss Phillips is a French fry short of a Happy Meal, in my opinion.
Come on, Suze, study.
Don't think about bad ass Paul, just study.
Study or Miss Phillips will have your brains for breakfast . . .
'Oh, Susie . . .'
I spun around, my heart beating fast. 'WHAT?!' I shouted in pure frustration, slamming my Chemistry book shut.
But Paul had gone.
I turned back to the periodic table, my heart rate ever increasing -
'Boo!'
I screamed, and I saw Paul's face right in front of mine. He'd totally materialized right in front of me, so his shadowy, tanned face was smirking at me. He had even stepped through my desk, being a ghost!
'PAUL!' I roared, 'Get OUT!'
He walked around me, looking at me with mock hurt. 'Oh come on, Suze,' he said. 'Liven up.' He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
I just shut my eyes and slowly counted to ten. If I kept yelling like this in the middle of the night, someone was bound to come up and ask what the hell was wrong with me. Dopey would claim to need beauty sleep, (and trust me, he needed plenty of it,) and Doc would give me that "Is there something paranormal here that I should know about?" stare. But Sleepy wouldn't have a problem. He just wouldn't wake up.
'Paul, look,' I said carefully, still not looking at him. I could feel his gaze burning on the back of my neck. Again, I shivered, but this time it wasn't due to the cold. 'I have to study. I know you're . . . bored, but I have to study. I have a test tomorrow, and if I -'
'Suze, seriously, why are you wasting your time on Chemistry?' he asked with a laugh. It was a nerve-jangling, humourless laugh. He really was bored. 'You could be focusing on other things. Things that I could teach you . . .'
I had to admit, that sounded really intriguing. Again, I turned around, blinking cluelessly. 'What do you mean?' I whispered. I looked way up at his face, trying to decide whether he was just messing with my mind. He seemed to like doing that.
He stooped slightly. 'I could teach you about . . . yourself. What you are, and what you can really do as a mediator,' he breathed with a mildly fervent twinkle in his eyes.
He was telling the truth. I could feel it. And I was getting excited. He could tell me the secrets, and why I was what I am! He . . .
**Everything about him was bad, and if I listened to him too long, I would turn bad too . . .**
I stopped myself, and turned back around to my studies. It took great strength to open up that text book, and turn away from the truth about who I was. But I had willpower enough to do it.
'Suze,' he said in chiding tones. 'You don't understand what I'm offering here, do you?'
I ignored him.
Study, Suze!
"The periodic table is composed of elements -"
This time, it was Paul who slammed the Chem. book shut. I gasped, and recoiled slightly. He stood behind me, playing vaguely with my long, dark hair. I looked straight ahead stubbornly. Not good, not good, not good . . . It was like Satan himself was trying to give me the forbidden fruit from the tree.
And I was falling for it.
'Suze, Suze, Suze,' he tutted, running a chilling finger down my bare arm. My nerves went freakin' haywire, and Paul could sense it, if the way he continued to do it was any indication. My whole body felt like it had pins and needled. It was painful, yet it felt so good at the same time. I released a low, frightened gasp, squeezing my eyelids tightly shut, trying to escape this moment.
He hissed alluringly in my ear, 'I could teach you so MUCH, if you'd only just open your mind to me, and let me tell you everything that you are meant to be, and how powerful you really are. How powerful we could be . . . ' He rested a cold hand on my shoulder. It had no warmth, no caressing feeling. Just enticing . . .
For the third time, I shuddered.
'P-P-Paul,' I faltered. This was tearing me up. I knew he wanted me to give in, but I wouldn't. I would be tempted by his most likely false realities. 'If . . . If I want your help, I'll ask for it. Now back off, I'm studying.'
His hand slid off my shoulder in disgust, and I heard him step back.
'Fine, Susie,' he said tauntingly. 'When you want answers, and you will . . . you know where to find them . . .'
And I heard him dematerialize with a shimmering, tinkling sound, like dropping thousands of infinitesimal crystals on a sheet of cold glass.
As soon as I was sure that he was definitely gone, I went to bed, terrified. Never in my life had I felt like this, so tempted, and so terrified!
Sleep claimed me immediately, yet my dreams were not at all comforting. They were dark, misty, and always featured a shadowy figure.
Paul was even haunting my sleep . . .
~*~
'Suze! Get up now! You've got TEN MINUTES!' Sleepy roared up the stairs.
I rolled over on my bed groggily, groaning.
'SUSANNAH SIMON!'
Now that screech, I couldn't ignore!
'Okay, mum, I'm up!' I yelled back. Rolling my eyes, I dragged myself to my wardrobe, and randomly grabbed something cute to wear. Then, with a furtive look around, I dashed into the bathroom and got changed. I mean, this is what I'd done ever since I realized that Paul had watched my change once. And that's just . . .
Wrong.
. . . Ewww . . .
I mean, having a pervert living in your bedroom? NOT cool. No, it's really actually quite disgusting. I mean, I'm not saying that I look hideous in the buff, but that's not the point! It's just corrupt to look at someone in the nuddy!
Especially when that someone is ME!
And the looker is Paul Eat-Me Slater!
I sighed. What did I ever do?
I didn't feel like having a shower that morning. And with only ten minutes, there wasn't any point. I did, however, wet my hair and blow-dry it. It looked all windswept now. And my little ensemble of clothes was totally cute. I had this little blue cardigan over a yellow singlet top, and a pair of woolly pink trousers. Very snazzy.
What? I like pink.
Oh, shut up . . .
After I washed my teeth, I went back out and lay in bed for a moment, my chest rising and falling. I looked over, and suddenly realized that the window was shut. Oh, how sweet. Paul had closed it for me.
It was weird. Even though I hadn't seen Paul since last night, it felt like he'd been near me the whole night. I hadn't forgotten how he'd entered my dreams, and how he'd warped my sleeping mind. Well, okay, he wasn't doing it directly, but the way he treated me when I was awake was reflecting in my dreams.
They were now nightmares.
I just hoped he wasn't an *incubus as well as an asshole . . . that would send me over the edge. (A/N: *Look it up, kiddies. Lol)
For the millionth time, I shuddered in spite of the pleasant warmth.
'SUZE!'
'I'm ready!' I snapped back. I grabbed a piece of toast from Andy, and hopped in the car.
~*~
I should probably tell you about CeeCee Webb and Adam McTavish.
I'd made friends with CeeCee on the first day, because this total cow, Debbie Mancuso, was paying her out for being albino. I mean, so? What a racist bitch, huh? So, I, oh, I dunno, threatened to snap her fingers. Nothing much.
That shut her up pretty quickly.
So CeeCee, after getting pissed at me for defending her, befriended me. Me, Suze Simon, who was destined to only have one friend her whole life because she was such a standoffish moo-cow.
Thank you, I'm honoured.
But yeah. CeeCee is seriously beautiful. She has this sheet of perfect white hair, and a face that's a single shade creamier than snow. Not a zit to be seen. Damn girl. She's like, school editor, and is hell smart, aye. But, alas, she isn't very high in the social pyramid.
And Adam, well, he's just a riot. He's pretty good looking, but nothing too special. He's the class clown, but is still looked down on as dog poop smudged on someone's shoe.
He's not that bad.
Oh yeah, CeeCee has this mega crush on him. Shhhh! Don't tell her I told you, she'd crucify me . . .
'Suze?'
I was standing in front of my locker by then. I turned around. There, CeeCee stood there, with her eyebrows raised. I blinked at her.
'What?'
She rolled her eyes. 'Don't pretend that I haven't been trying to get your attention for like, five minutes now. Jeez, wake up. What's gotten into you today, anyway?' she asked with a frown.
I shrugged, and went to work on my combo. 'Nothing. Had a shitty sleep, that's all.'
'Oh,' she said skeptically.
After three attempts, I finally got my locker open.
That was kind of when the siren sounded.
'Crap!' I cursed, as CeeCee ran, and waved goodbye, telling me to move my ass. I filed through my locker, looking for my Lit book. This was so annoying!
'Hey, bitch.'
What?
I turned my head, and there, beside me, was Heather.
~*~
I forgot, you don't know about Heather Chambers, do you? Yeah, she's the ghost of this total glam puss skank who used to have my locker. So, after she committed suicide because her boyfriend called it quits, she thought the whole thing was a little unfair, how she was stuck as a ghost. Well, "a little unfair" is probably the understatement of the year.
She was passed pissed.
'Take a hike, Heather, I'm busy,' I groaned, turning back to my search. That annoyed her.
'I'll give you, "take a hike," Simon!' she shrieked, and instantly, all the lockers began to shake.
'Shut up!' I hissed, and elbowed her to the floor.
Oops.
'You'll pay for that, Simon!' she screeched, her honey locks flying everywhere. She launched herself at me, smashed me into the locker.
What the?!
Uh, ow! My shoulder was SO going to bruise now! So, I socked her back, and got her in a head lock. Nothing major, but then she kicked back, and got my stomach. I hell on the ground, and she pounced, her hands around my neck, choking me . . .
'Heather! Stop it!' commanded a deep voice.
Huh? I looked wildly around, but I only saw the principal, Father Dominic, standing about thirty or so meters away. But . . .
There was no one else around.
On second glance, I saw that this priest dude was coming right at us. Huh?! Another mediator?!
IS THE WORLD COMPLETELY SCREWY?
As Heather was slugging me, and I was yanking her hair, Father Dom had reached us. He gently pulled Heather off of me.
'Heather, you know better than to hurt anyone. It is your own fault that you are no longer living, and you have no right to make others that way,' said the priest in a reprimanding tone.
Okay . . .this was somewhat odd.
Heather glared daggers at me. 'I'll be back for you,' she promised venomously, and dematerialized with a shower of glittering blue light.
'Whoa,' I said, 'What a day.'
Then I turned to Father Dominic. He was pretty tall for an old guy. He six- feet stature was topped with a head of perfect silvery-white hair. His baby blue eyes were eyeing me cautiously.
'You are a mediator, Susannah,' he said.
How many people are going to tell me that?!
'Uh, I kind of knew that,' I said in annoyance. I mean, come on. I just flogged a ghost, you couldn't expect me to find that perfectly fine, and not know what I was. I sighed, and straightened my hair.
'Come with me to my office,' he advised, his eyes twinkling, 'Before Sister Ernestine sees all these dents in her lockers.'
Who could disagree? I followed the old dude.
~*~
'Yo, Padre, why didn't you tell me you were a mediator too?' I asked as I sat coolly in the seat in front of him.
He stared at me fleetingly. 'Well, I couldn't just ask you, in case you were not one of us,' he said, as if stating the obvious.
Oh yeah . . .
'But . . . You didn't have to get Heather to brain me just to see if I was one,' I said, disgruntled.
He smiled. 'That was unintentional, I assure you, Susannah. Now, why don't you tell me about yourself? And about your history?'
'I already told you about myself in the interview you gave me,' I said bluntly. I mean, autobiographies are so BORING.
He looked up, as if praying for patience. 'No, Susannah. I meant about your, uh, "ghost history."'
'Oooh,' I said. 'Gotcha. Well, what do you want to know, Padre?'
He sniffed. 'Call me Father Dominic, I pray, Susannah. And tell me about your methods, of course, and some ghostly encounters you have made. Tell me about ghosts you have met before, and how you've dealt with them? How they have reacted to a mediator of your . . . your . . .'
'Say it,' I said, wrinkling my nose at him. '"Femininity?"
He looked awkward. 'No, youth,' he said quickly, fixing me with a baby blue gaze.
So I told him every single detail I could recall, like, how I'd seen my first ghost at two years old . . .
Everything, except, of course, Paul.
Well, what do you expect? I mean, "Oh yeah, Padre? Another thing is that there's kind of a ghost living in my bedroom now. How coincidental is that, man? And, he's trying to tell me how powerful I could be if I'd just 'open my mind to him.' Oh, he thinks I'm hot, too."
Yeah, that'd go down really well.
Well, at least I'm not alone in this.
Man, Heather was SO going down after this . . . she should have known not to mess with Susannah Simon.
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A/N: Well? Tell me what you think. Please keep reviewing, this party's just getting started! And it's going to be nothing like the first book. Hold your breath, Jesse's on his way . . .
Well, not for one or two chapters or something, but whatever!