Chapter 5: Ghoul School

Silence as thick as the swamps of the bayou had grown between George Gracey and Clarisse Parker as the mortal followed the ghost down a long hallway. After clearing his throat, George said, "If it's any consolation, I do feel terrible about what has happened."

"Uh huh," Clarisse returned with a roll of her eyes. "You certainly weren't that sensitive about it earlier."

George grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, I tend to get carried away with my spiel."

"Yeah. What exactly was that about?"

"It's just something I do." He faltered under her stare. "I, um, have a lot of time on my hands."

He looked so pathetic then that she almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

"So who is this magic woman you're taking me to see?" she asked.

"Our resident psychic, Madam Leota. She has a remarkable head for--" He heard a loud creaking behind him.

"What was that?" Clarisse turned around. Standing against the wall was an old suit of armor. "Odd, I don't remember seeing that."

"This place plays lots of tricks of the light," George explained. "Now, Madam Leota is--" Creak! Creak!

Clarisse turned around. The suit was now standing alongside the wall, a couple of feet away from its last spot, motionless. "Adam?" she whispered into the visor hopefully. Its only response was silence. With a sigh, she turned back around. "How many ghosts are here anyway?"

"Nine hundred and..." He stopped and glared at the suit, which was making bunny ears behind Clarisse's head. "Will you cut that out!" The metal arm dropped with a groan. "As I was saying, we have nine hundred and ninety-nine happy haunts...well, actually, counting your late husband, we now have a thousand. But I assure you that will soon change."

She bit back any sharp retort and nodded. "Thanks."

He blinked his blue eyes in surprise. "You're welcome."

"So, where do you think he is now? Where do most of the new ghosts go?"

"To be perfectly honest, there's no telling. But I'm sure he's somewhere where we can find him easily, and has probably found a friend or two to fill him in."

"Good lord!" exclaimed Adam as he looked down at the party. He and the trio were standing on a balcony overlooking the grand dining room/ballroom. Ghosts of all shapes and sizes, and from all time periods, laughed and drank. Six ethereal couples waltzed to an erratic dirge being played by a transparent organist. Each time his fingers hit the keys, skull shaped wraiths soared out of the pipes. Nearly a dozen spooks sat at a long table, happily chatting. At the far end, a plump elderly woman with red hair sat in front of a cake, blowing out the candles only to have them relight themselves a moment later. Two spirits swayed drunkenly on the chandelier, while another swung from it with his cane. On the far wall were two portraits of distinguished looking gentlemen clutching revolvers. Every few seconds they would float out of the paintings, backs to each other, turn, and fire, and then disappear.

"It looks fun in an eerie, morbid sort of way," he said.

"Well, kid," Ezra clapped a hand on the younger man's back. "Time for your first ghost lesson: Flying."

"F-flying?"

"Sure," Phineas chimed in. "It's part of the whole 'don't have a body, don't have to worry about gravity' thing."

"So, how do you do it?"

Phineas and Ezra grinned at each other mischievously. "Like this!" they exclaimed at once and shoved him off the balcony.

Frantically waving his arms, Adam fell, screaming the whole way down.

"Don't tense up! Don't tense up!" Phineas commanded.

THUD!

"He tensed," Gus muttered.

"Eww," Ezra winced. "Hey, he hit the cake! That's gotta be worth five points, right?"

Adam sat up on the table and wiped frosting off the back of his head. "Sorry about that," he said to the redhead.

"Oh, it's all right, dearie," she replied, looking forlorn. "I could never get those stupid flames to go out anyway. You're new, aren't you?"

"Uh, yeah, I'm-- Gah!" He fell through the table.

"This is just sad," Ezra sighed as he and his two friends floated down to the floor. Looking down, he spotted two pairs of feet sticking out from under the table. He grabbed one and pulled. "Oops, sorry Hal." The drunken Hal Lucination hiccupped.

"'S'all right."

The skinny specter slid him back under and grabbed the other, more modern shoes and tugged. "You okay, kid?"

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Adam grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Good." Ezra didn't so much as drop his feet as throw them down. Dusting his hands off, he said, "We should go to lesson number two."

Adam gave him a leery stare. "And what would that be?"

"Why, going through walls, of course!" Phineas answered happily.

"You're not going to slam my head into some walls, are you?" the young spook asked worriedly, prepared to run at any moment.

Gus, Ezra, and Phineas shot surprised looks at each other and laughed nervously. "No!" cried Gus. "Of course not!" Phineas concurred with a chuckle. "You know me, man!" Ezra grinned.

"All right," groaned Adam. "Let's continue with the spook school." He started walking away, limping with one hand on his sore hip.

"So, how are we going to teach him how to go through walls now?" Phineas hissed into Ezra's ear.

"Let's take him to the graveyard," suggested Ezra. "That place is like a giant obstacle course anyway."

"And we haven't tortured Dustin," Gus added.

"And we have yet to torture Mr. Dust today." Ezra quickly looked about. "Hey Adam? Adam! Don't run away from us, we got more to show you!"

Clarisse jumped as the door handles on either side of her rattled and shook frantically. "How--how long have they been in there?"

"Oh, about a century," George answered nonchalantly. "The corridor ghouls are always a little antsy."

One door was bulging out into the hallway, as if it was taking deep, quick breaths. As Clarisse walked past, it stopped. Hopefully, a voice behind it called out, "Candy gram!"

"You're kidding me," she said. "That's the best you can come up with? If I was stuck in there, I'd be trying harder."

"Uh...singing telegram!"

"Nope, sorry. You failed to convince me to let you out." She and George continued on.

"Avon!"

Clarisse snorted. "Is that the scariest you have here? I know a bunch of seven-year-olds who are more frightening."

George chuckled. "I'm about to show you one of the most scary spooks we have here..." He reached forward, gripped a door handle that was shaped like a dragon, and opened the door. "After you."

The redhead smiled as she walked past. "I suppose chivalry is dead, huh?"

He couldn't help grinning back. "Touché, Miss...er, Mrs. Parker." He watched her walk into the dark room, and closed the door behind him as he entered.